I visited Google yesterday, compliments of Jon G., ostensibly as a favor for a family friend but, of course, I, too, prospered with some curiosity satisfied and a Sergey sighting to boot.
It was a long day of travel. I left my sister's apartment in the morning, stuffed duffle bag in tow, to take the MUNI to a Caltrain station, where I would catch a train to Mountain View. All in all, it was a 2.5 hour trip; a daunting number and likely deterrent for most, but I have an unusually high fondness for public transportation.
I boarded the MUNI at Cole and Carl, and ended up finding a seat in the last car. Two rows ahead of me was a large black man, his hair a bright orange-yellow, a thick mustache framing a pair of wet lips that seemed perpetually in a sneer-like smile. About 50% of the time, he was bent over in his seat, so I didn't notice him until he yelled out "Does anyone even smoke cigarettes anymore!?" at which point I realized that not only was he there, he was crazy.
He kept turning around to make comments to the other passengers, his eyes half closed and his hands, with fingernails painted in red nail polish, clawing the air, feline-like. I'm not sure whether he noticed me or not, as I kept my eyes averted and pretended not to notice his yelled observations, internally extremely thankful for the row that separated us.
You forget about these things when you're in a suburb. I was glad to get off the MUNI without having to awkwardly converse with him, although thankful for the writing fodder.
There's not much to report about the Google visit. I still haven't heard anything, although this is allegedly a good thing, as immediate rejections are processed much more quickly than potential candidates. The position (of associate product manager) is still the only job that I have found whose requirements I seem to meet and whose function I am 100% interested in, but thoughts of a prolonged unemployment period have kicked my job search into gear.
It's unfortunate - many of the jobs I'm interested in have to do with design or user interfaces. Their requirements are often along the lines of a graphic design degree, or an educational focus in typography. Typography. If only I knew I could validate my love of fonts with an education! Alas, an undergrad squandered. There is always grad school.
Squandered? Squandered?! May I never hear that about a Berkeley degree in Mathematics again. Forgive my passions, but I am a firm adherent to the party that believes utility does not equate to a good education. All the world lies before you, my dear. Now, if you had learned *typography* for four years, I would say you had squandered an education. Unless, of course, you turned out to be Johann Gutenberg or John Baskerville.
ReplyDelete--your one and only M.
Ah, Monica, I can always trust you to set me straight!
ReplyDelete(Although, who knows, maybe the world did lose out on Virudachalam San Serif. But I'm only 22, it's still not too late.)
Indeed, although I do believe we would have to choose a name more amenable to easy pronunciation: perhaps "Viruda"? Incidentually, that word is the feminine nominative singular form of the adjective for "green, vibrant" in Latin. Not bad, eh?
ReplyDelete- M.
P.S. I have thought of a nom de plume.
Well you know, Virudachalam has Sanskrit roots and essentially means mountain of knowledge. I'm pretty sure that "vrd" (not sure how to spell in Sanskrit) means knowledge. I wonder what the relation to the Latin word is.
ReplyDeleteWhat a cool surname you have. Far better than mine, I'd say.
ReplyDelete