Most of my posts over the past few weeks have been complaining about work. Sorry about that, it just seems like that's all I've been doing lately. Working, and complaining about it.
But no more! The consul came back on Thursday and I gratefully handed back the consular reins and went back to pol/econ, where I found myself completely unable to accomplish anything. After a frantic week and a half I was exhausted, but there's still more to do, so I prescribed myself a weekend of intensive nothing-doing. I ate. I slept. I cooked. I read. I wasted time on the internet. I watched TV. I played Wii. I spoiled the cat. Yes, I also went to the gym, did some tax research, added a new page to the blog, and did some ironing, but mostly I stayed true to the original dolce far niente intent.
And I think it worked. I feel refreshed and perky and ready to get back in the swing of things. Here's hoping that feeling keeps going on Monday morning.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Sunday, February 19, 2012
NO
In A-100 they tell you that the way to do well in your career - to become a well-respected and sought-after employee and colleague - is to say "yes" a lot. By this they don't necessarily mean to be a yes-man (although in the FS, as in other organizations, disagreeing with the boss can be a risky move) but to be willing to take on extra projects and to make the effort to look for solutions to problems instead of declaring the situation impossible from the outset. I have found this to be good advice so far, but in the last week I've also started to discover the virtues of saying "no".
Being a consular officer in Guinea requires you to say "no" more often than you can say "yes", no matter how much wheedling and pleading comes from the other side of the window. That's just how it works. This is something we practiced in ConGen, but refusing real people real visas is rougher than any simulation. I'm slowly getting used to it though. I am also bringing a new level of "no" to my econ portfolio; time management in a crunch means prioritizing, and prioritizing means being able to say "no" sometimes. Or at the very least "maybe later but most definitely not now". There's no point in saying "yes" and not being able to follow through. So for a while at least I am embracing my inner stubborn 2-year-old, and I'm finding it liberating and empowering.
Being a consular officer in Guinea requires you to say "no" more often than you can say "yes", no matter how much wheedling and pleading comes from the other side of the window. That's just how it works. This is something we practiced in ConGen, but refusing real people real visas is rougher than any simulation. I'm slowly getting used to it though. I am also bringing a new level of "no" to my econ portfolio; time management in a crunch means prioritizing, and prioritizing means being able to say "no" sometimes. Or at the very least "maybe later but most definitely not now". There's no point in saying "yes" and not being able to follow through. So for a while at least I am embracing my inner stubborn 2-year-old, and I'm finding it liberating and empowering.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Learning By Doing
When you're a brand-new baby diplomat in ConGen, just learning the basics of consular work, they throw a lot of information at you all at once. It can be a little overwhelming, but the instructors have some words of comfort to see you through. Don't worry, they say, no one expects you to walk in on the first day and just start banging out visas like you've been doing it your whole life. There's a couple of days, or in some cases weeks, of on-the-job training before you'll have to stand on your wobbly legs like an adorable newborn vice-consular lamb and do your very first solo visa adjudication. They say this because it's true. Most of the time.
However, sometimes it transpires that the consul and the vice-consul are unexpectedly both away from post at the same time, requiring the backup consular officer to step up to the plate and take over the section. And sometimes it so happens that the backup consular officer has never adjudicated a visa in her whole life and indeed has hardly even thought about consular work since she finished ConGen, just shy of a year ago. Sometimes the backup consular officer has her own busy portfolio and is already filling in for another missing colleague. But the Needs of the Service require her to square her shoulders, take a deep breath, and make it work, so she does.
The first day was rough. In fact, probably the roughest day since I arrived in Conakry with the possible exception of the day I had food poisoning but came to work anyway and disgraced myself by throwing up on my shoes outside the main entrance. But this is Africa, and that sort of thing happens. On the first day I was hindered not only by some system problems and not knowing exactly what I was doing, but also by feeling like I didn't know what I was doing. There are few things I dislike more than feeling incompetent. Day 2 was a little smoother, Day 3 smoother still. I'm getting the hang of this, sort of, but that doesn't mean I like it.
At this point I look forward to the return of my consular colleagues like Jews await the Messiah: I'm pretty sure they'll show up one day and I'll be really happy when they do, but I have no idea when. And in the meantime, I suffer.
However, sometimes it transpires that the consul and the vice-consul are unexpectedly both away from post at the same time, requiring the backup consular officer to step up to the plate and take over the section. And sometimes it so happens that the backup consular officer has never adjudicated a visa in her whole life and indeed has hardly even thought about consular work since she finished ConGen, just shy of a year ago. Sometimes the backup consular officer has her own busy portfolio and is already filling in for another missing colleague. But the Needs of the Service require her to square her shoulders, take a deep breath, and make it work, so she does.
The first day was rough. In fact, probably the roughest day since I arrived in Conakry with the possible exception of the day I had food poisoning but came to work anyway and disgraced myself by throwing up on my shoes outside the main entrance. But this is Africa, and that sort of thing happens. On the first day I was hindered not only by some system problems and not knowing exactly what I was doing, but also by feeling like I didn't know what I was doing. There are few things I dislike more than feeling incompetent. Day 2 was a little smoother, Day 3 smoother still. I'm getting the hang of this, sort of, but that doesn't mean I like it.
At this point I look forward to the return of my consular colleagues like Jews await the Messiah: I'm pretty sure they'll show up one day and I'll be really happy when they do, but I have no idea when. And in the meantime, I suffer.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Democracy in Action
Once upon a time, an American was having some difficulties in Guinea and wanted the U.S. Government to help. He wrote his congressman. His congressman (or his congressman's staff) wrote the State Department. The State Department funneled his letter down to the Guinea desk, who organized a whole bunch of people from a bunch of different agencies to get together on a conference call and see what can be done to help this guy out.
As a U.S. citizen, voter, and taxpayer, I think it's great that the system can (not always, but at least sometimes) work the way it's supposed to. You have a problem, you contact your elected representative, he goes to bat for you, and half a dozen little bureaucratic worker bees whose salaries you pay try to fix it for you. They may not always be able to, but they'll try. Just like in the government textbooks. Amazing.
On the other hand, as a slightly overloaded little worker bee, I am less than enthused.
As a U.S. citizen, voter, and taxpayer, I think it's great that the system can (not always, but at least sometimes) work the way it's supposed to. You have a problem, you contact your elected representative, he goes to bat for you, and half a dozen little bureaucratic worker bees whose salaries you pay try to fix it for you. They may not always be able to, but they'll try. Just like in the government textbooks. Amazing.
On the other hand, as a slightly overloaded little worker bee, I am less than enthused.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Slavedriver
Since I got back from vacation I have been unusually whiny about all the work I have to do. Partly this is from getting soft and lazy over the course of my nearly-month-long break, and partly because our political officer is taking his vacation, so there's some slack to be picked up. However, in the course of incessantly whining and moaning to anyone who would listen (you know who you are, and you're the best!) it occurred to me that I myself am at least partly responsible for my plight.
My job is very self-directed, which is both a blessing and a curse. It's a sharp contrast from my last job, which was entirely client-driven: whatever I was doing I did because someone told me to, and it came with precise specifications on the form and content of the final product and a strict deadline. I have clients in this job too, but their requirements are much less specific. Broadly speaking, my job is to know about the Economy of Guinea and to tell the folks back in Washington the Important Things They Should Know, while carrying out Activities That Advance U.S. Economic Interests. But who decides which Things are Important? Who decides which Activities I should devote my time and energy to? For the most part, I do. I'm not completely a free agent - I do get some mandatory assignments and I run everything by my bosses of course - but there's a lot of latitude there.
This much freedom was absolutely terrifying when I first started. I had a huge terrain to survey and absolutely no idea where to start. I eventually got the hang of it, and now I mostly really enjoy being able to have some control over what I do at work all day. But then when I find myself overburdened it's my own damn fault, because I gave myself too many projects and set the bar a tiny bit too high. No one's standing over me making sure these self-assignments get done; if they don't get done, it's quite possible that no one will notice or care. Except me, because I have professional pride. So I still have all this work to do but I can't really complain about it. The worst of both worlds.
Well, that was kind of cathartic. I guess I'll get back to work now.
My job is very self-directed, which is both a blessing and a curse. It's a sharp contrast from my last job, which was entirely client-driven: whatever I was doing I did because someone told me to, and it came with precise specifications on the form and content of the final product and a strict deadline. I have clients in this job too, but their requirements are much less specific. Broadly speaking, my job is to know about the Economy of Guinea and to tell the folks back in Washington the Important Things They Should Know, while carrying out Activities That Advance U.S. Economic Interests. But who decides which Things are Important? Who decides which Activities I should devote my time and energy to? For the most part, I do. I'm not completely a free agent - I do get some mandatory assignments and I run everything by my bosses of course - but there's a lot of latitude there.
This much freedom was absolutely terrifying when I first started. I had a huge terrain to survey and absolutely no idea where to start. I eventually got the hang of it, and now I mostly really enjoy being able to have some control over what I do at work all day. But then when I find myself overburdened it's my own damn fault, because I gave myself too many projects and set the bar a tiny bit too high. No one's standing over me making sure these self-assignments get done; if they don't get done, it's quite possible that no one will notice or care. Except me, because I have professional pride. So I still have all this work to do but I can't really complain about it. The worst of both worlds.
Well, that was kind of cathartic. I guess I'll get back to work now.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Things I've Liked on the Internet Recently
Everything I Know About Love I Learned From Cats. #4, in particular, seems like sage advice.
Etymology Man! And the sequel! I find it both entertaining and frustrating that the answer to every word-source origin question seems to be "no one really knows for sure, but..."
Outstanding photography-themed Rube Goldberg machine
Rude concert-goer vs. world's classiest violinist
Lithophones: musical instruments made of stone. Yes, he beat you to the Flintstones joke.
Seriously amazing typewriter art
Aaaaaaand books:
Etymology Man! And the sequel! I find it both entertaining and frustrating that the answer to every word-source origin question seems to be "no one really knows for sure, but..."
Outstanding photography-themed Rube Goldberg machine
Rude concert-goer vs. world's classiest violinist
Lithophones: musical instruments made of stone. Yes, he beat you to the Flintstones joke.
Seriously amazing typewriter art
Aaaaaaand books:
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Conversion
When I first got my Kindle I was less than enthused. I adopted it out of necessity and expected to use it grudgingly for its utility value rather than getting any enjoyment out of it. Well, after eight months or so of acclimation I'm pleased to say that I really quite like it. I like the portability and the instant gratification (so dangerous!). I like the easy access to the built-in dictionary. To my surprise the Kindle has turned out to be even better than a book for pooltime reading; the fact that you can both hold it and turn the pages comfortably with one hand means no wet smudges on the edges of the pages and leaves the other hand free for something else, like holding a cocktail. Given the amount of reading I've been doing in a pool float since the dry season started (that's right bitches, swimming in January!) this is a major point in the Kindle's favor.
My Kindle love is not unbounded. I do not like that I have to interrupt the reading flow to change pages more often with the one-page display than with two-page spreads. Some of the books I've gotten for it have trouble displaying poems or songs or pictures interspersed in the text, though most of those were free and it may be a case of getting what you pay for. I really do miss that lovely book smell. But all in all I'm pleased with my transition to Book 2.0.
My Kindle love is not unbounded. I do not like that I have to interrupt the reading flow to change pages more often with the one-page display than with two-page spreads. Some of the books I've gotten for it have trouble displaying poems or songs or pictures interspersed in the text, though most of those were free and it may be a case of getting what you pay for. I really do miss that lovely book smell. But all in all I'm pleased with my transition to Book 2.0.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Avatar
I just got back from a four-day visit to the Fouta Djallon, Guinea's central plateau region. This was a work trip, my first since a thorough tour of Guinea's bauxite mines back in July. These trips can be a little exhausting - long hours on rough roads and nights spent in hotels that may lack running water or electricity or both - but I enjoy the chance to get out of Conakry and see some more of the country I'm living in and supposed to be an expert on. The Fouta was lovely, all beautiful hills and plains and cool enough this time of year to break out a sweatshirt in the mornings, a rarity for Guinea. The people were very friendly, the food was excellent, and I had a very nice time.
However, one thing about these upcountry trips that I find just unspeakably weird is that when I go to Labe or Pita or Timbi Madina or another town or village in Guinea on official business I am suddenly an Important Person. I am not accustomed to being Important. In everyday life I tend to be something of a wallflower, and in my job in Conakry I play a minor supporting role while the ambassador takes center stage. But in these smaller towns in the interior my presence is a big deal, an occasion for photographs and reporters and ceremonial dinners and such. It feels very strange, being Important, and I'm not terribly comfortable with it yet.
But when the reporters and the local government officials and so forth turn out to meet me they aren't really there for *me*. They show up for THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. Which, despite rumors of decline, is still kind of a big deal. It just so happens that at that particular moment, at that particular potato farm or hydroelectric dam or artisans' cooperative, THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA chooses to make itself manifest in the form of me, hiking boots and messy hair and all. (Note to self: in the future, THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA really ought to remember to bring her hair straightener on upcountry trips.)
It's a tricky thing, learning to stop being me for a moment, or at least learning to be me and THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA at the same time. I don't think I'm very good at it yet, but I guess that's part of the reason I get to go on these trips, to practice. Any gaffes I may happen to commit in Pita or Labe are unlikely to do much damage in the grand scheme of things and will help train me up, so if I am one day called upon to be THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA on a somewhat larger stage I'll be able to do the job creditably. I hope.
However, one thing about these upcountry trips that I find just unspeakably weird is that when I go to Labe or Pita or Timbi Madina or another town or village in Guinea on official business I am suddenly an Important Person. I am not accustomed to being Important. In everyday life I tend to be something of a wallflower, and in my job in Conakry I play a minor supporting role while the ambassador takes center stage. But in these smaller towns in the interior my presence is a big deal, an occasion for photographs and reporters and ceremonial dinners and such. It feels very strange, being Important, and I'm not terribly comfortable with it yet.
But when the reporters and the local government officials and so forth turn out to meet me they aren't really there for *me*. They show up for THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. Which, despite rumors of decline, is still kind of a big deal. It just so happens that at that particular moment, at that particular potato farm or hydroelectric dam or artisans' cooperative, THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA chooses to make itself manifest in the form of me, hiking boots and messy hair and all. (Note to self: in the future, THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA really ought to remember to bring her hair straightener on upcountry trips.)
It's a tricky thing, learning to stop being me for a moment, or at least learning to be me and THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA at the same time. I don't think I'm very good at it yet, but I guess that's part of the reason I get to go on these trips, to practice. Any gaffes I may happen to commit in Pita or Labe are unlikely to do much damage in the grand scheme of things and will help train me up, so if I am one day called upon to be THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA on a somewhat larger stage I'll be able to do the job creditably. I hope.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Epiphany
Yesterday the endlessly entertaining blog Thought Catalog had a post entitled "What 20-Somethings Want." Here's a choice excerpt:
People, I have made it! I have achieved adulthood!
Not that everything in my life is perfect right now - for example, back rubs and flirty texts are in notably short supply - but I have a steady job, and checking AND savings accounts that actually have something in them. I have an iPhone! The iPhone itself isn't really that exciting, though it is a nice phone; the revolutionary part is that I bought myself this phone, fresh and new from the Apple Store. I didn't get it as a present from my parents or as a hand-me-down from someone else who just upgraded to the newest version, and when I handed over my credit card I did so in the comfortable knowledge that I could pay this bill off in full without having to live on ramen and Rice Krispies for a month to make up for it.
I feel stable, grounded, and generally pretty happy with who I am and the way my life is going. Five years ago I never would have believed it. Five years ago I was figuring out ways to feed myself on $5 a day and despairing of ever having a job I enjoyed that challenged me and paid a living wage. When I looked in the mirror I saw failure, and I wondered whether it would ever be any other way. Well, now it is.
Maybe it's significant that I didn't get to this point until the very end of my twentysomethings. So now in a couple of months, having checked off a lot of those boxes, I can move comfortably along to whatever it is that thirtysomethings want. One of the higher-ranked Google results suggests that this is "individualized attention in service, authenticity in product and experience, and knowledge that feels more like the inside scoop." Interesting.
You want a job, a vacation, heath insurance, validation, a back rub, a scalp massage at the place where you get your haircut, people who are jealous of you, an ex who won’t stop texting you when they’re drunk, Twitter followers, happiness maybe sorta, someone to buy you lunch at a fancy restaurant, a mentor who can tell you what the hell to do with your life, a reliable internet connection, a reliable human connection, a gift card to the grocery store, dinner parties with friends where everyone will pretend to have their crap together for just one night, a nice flirty text message to wake up to every morning for the rest of your life, for everyone to like you even if you don’t like anyone, and one of those nights that doesn’t end till 9 AM and reminds you what it feels like to be young and alive.I don't agree with everything in the article, but it did crystallize a peculiar feeling I've had for a while now, a thought that's been lurking around in the back of my skull for a while but never came to the forefront because it seemed so outlandish:
People, I have made it! I have achieved adulthood!
Not that everything in my life is perfect right now - for example, back rubs and flirty texts are in notably short supply - but I have a steady job, and checking AND savings accounts that actually have something in them. I have an iPhone! The iPhone itself isn't really that exciting, though it is a nice phone; the revolutionary part is that I bought myself this phone, fresh and new from the Apple Store. I didn't get it as a present from my parents or as a hand-me-down from someone else who just upgraded to the newest version, and when I handed over my credit card I did so in the comfortable knowledge that I could pay this bill off in full without having to live on ramen and Rice Krispies for a month to make up for it.
I feel stable, grounded, and generally pretty happy with who I am and the way my life is going. Five years ago I never would have believed it. Five years ago I was figuring out ways to feed myself on $5 a day and despairing of ever having a job I enjoyed that challenged me and paid a living wage. When I looked in the mirror I saw failure, and I wondered whether it would ever be any other way. Well, now it is.
Maybe it's significant that I didn't get to this point until the very end of my twentysomethings. So now in a couple of months, having checked off a lot of those boxes, I can move comfortably along to whatever it is that thirtysomethings want. One of the higher-ranked Google results suggests that this is "individualized attention in service, authenticity in product and experience, and knowledge that feels more like the inside scoop." Interesting.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Vicarious Tourism: Banjul
Despite being demographic misfits Alfred and I had a pleasant time, enjoying the beach, the fancy salads, the well-paved roads, reliable electricity, and other such luxuries unobtainable in Conakry. Aside from beach bumming, for entertainment Banjul and its environs offer some golf courses, a craft market, some modest museums on local history and traditions, and a pond full of crocodiles docile enough to pet. It's not a terribly impressive place, but a sleepy little resort town is a nice option to have when the din and dysfunction of Conakry starts to get to you.
*Not his real name, but he picked it out
One consequence of my flight misadventure was that my first vacation of the year kind of blended into the second one, so instead of going straight back to Conakry I met up with my friend Alfred* for a weekend in Banjul, the capital of the Gambia, that little squiggly country in the middle of Senegal. A strip of hotels on the coast just outside Banjul has developed a fairly brisk trade as a budget-luxury resort destination, accommodating fleets of charter planes full of mostly British snowbirds craving a break from the dreary English winter but unwilling to spring for a trip to the Caribbean. The place was bustling with middle-aged couples who sounded like they had just stepped off the set of EastEnders and constantly reminded me of Monty Python's travel agent sketch. There was also a significant crowd of over-painted under-dressed older women on the prowl for friendly young African men, one of the Gambia's most abundant natural resources.
 |
| Which way is the spa? |
*Not his real name, but he picked it out
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)