Miscellany
Jul. 17th, 2025 06:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mtbcAgain, a small update with unconnected trivia:
Some while ago, I noted that I should read Joseph Conrad's The Secret Agent. (I never attach actual reasons to such notes.) I finally got around to starting it and found the story to increasingly match details of a series we had started recently on Netflix. R. helpfully reminded me that the latter's named … The Secret Agent. The plots don't match each other wholly; I have yet to learn how far they diverge.
Previously, I read Iain Banks' Raw Spirit, a book about travelling around Scotland trying different whiskies. I had not read it before, the subject matter not greatly appealing to me. Still, I am glad I did: it was generally entertaining, and mixed whisky notes with driving and car thoughts, also tellings of all manner of anecdotes. It is strange to get a sense of the author from his quite personal writing, and to have him travel so many now-familiar places, given that he passed away some time ago. Belatedly, I get to know a local whom I shall never meet.
Last weekend, R. and I went camping with our dog L. It was a rather hot weekend, which R. found draining. I was surprised not to have to wrap up very well overnight. On the first evening, I managed to slip on loose moss and face-plant onto a rock; I still sport a fine black eye. Also, my leg remains rather stiff, I suppose it will sort itself out in time.
My in-the-office days continue to be tiring. Annoyingly, I remain in a poor position to use the transit time well: I feel up to reading people's journals here, etc., and the free newspaper on the train home, but little more. I often feel fairly tired and just want to rest instead. Perhaps cooler weather will help, or I will get more used to the new routine. Until now, I hadn't had much of a commute since high school and my previous two jobs were wholly remote. In my last couple of years of school, I got into the habit of napping on the bus home.
Uber annoyed me. At work, we use Uber for business travel, not that I shall need it much in my role. Before long, I could no longer log in to Uber's website. Many customer service interactions failed to fix it, with no discernible improvement at any point. Then, I had the idea of simply having them delete the account, maybe I could start from scratch. That started several more interactions, all of which resulted in their suggesting actions for which I first have to be logged in. Now they have moved on to always telling me to just continue a previous support conversation except, again, one needs to be logged in to do so. I explain everything clearly in each request, not that they show any sign of having read what I wrote. It seems implausible that I am being pranked, I think their customer service must just consistently be spectacularly incompetent. At least I found that out before using them as a private customer and having some out-of-pocket issue never getting fixed, not that I was eager to use them anyway given how often I see poor driving from cars marked with their name.
Some while ago, I noted that I should read Joseph Conrad's The Secret Agent. (I never attach actual reasons to such notes.) I finally got around to starting it and found the story to increasingly match details of a series we had started recently on Netflix. R. helpfully reminded me that the latter's named … The Secret Agent. The plots don't match each other wholly; I have yet to learn how far they diverge.
Previously, I read Iain Banks' Raw Spirit, a book about travelling around Scotland trying different whiskies. I had not read it before, the subject matter not greatly appealing to me. Still, I am glad I did: it was generally entertaining, and mixed whisky notes with driving and car thoughts, also tellings of all manner of anecdotes. It is strange to get a sense of the author from his quite personal writing, and to have him travel so many now-familiar places, given that he passed away some time ago. Belatedly, I get to know a local whom I shall never meet.
Last weekend, R. and I went camping with our dog L. It was a rather hot weekend, which R. found draining. I was surprised not to have to wrap up very well overnight. On the first evening, I managed to slip on loose moss and face-plant onto a rock; I still sport a fine black eye. Also, my leg remains rather stiff, I suppose it will sort itself out in time.
My in-the-office days continue to be tiring. Annoyingly, I remain in a poor position to use the transit time well: I feel up to reading people's journals here, etc., and the free newspaper on the train home, but little more. I often feel fairly tired and just want to rest instead. Perhaps cooler weather will help, or I will get more used to the new routine. Until now, I hadn't had much of a commute since high school and my previous two jobs were wholly remote. In my last couple of years of school, I got into the habit of napping on the bus home.
Uber annoyed me. At work, we use Uber for business travel, not that I shall need it much in my role. Before long, I could no longer log in to Uber's website. Many customer service interactions failed to fix it, with no discernible improvement at any point. Then, I had the idea of simply having them delete the account, maybe I could start from scratch. That started several more interactions, all of which resulted in their suggesting actions for which I first have to be logged in. Now they have moved on to always telling me to just continue a previous support conversation except, again, one needs to be logged in to do so. I explain everything clearly in each request, not that they show any sign of having read what I wrote. It seems implausible that I am being pranked, I think their customer service must just consistently be spectacularly incompetent. At least I found that out before using them as a private customer and having some out-of-pocket issue never getting fixed, not that I was eager to use them anyway given how often I see poor driving from cars marked with their name.
