Sitting down today to read through my endless RSS feeds – I have a bunch, don’t you? – with my trusty, always there wherever I may be, Google Reader, I thought about the time I invest in reading others words in relation to mine own.
I don’t write enough. I’ll attempt to rectify this with trying to convert the mind-numbing television viewing time with creative, semi-productive time.
Why only semi-productive, you ask? (See, I can read your thoughts already!) Well, if it was fully productive time, then there presumably would be some sort of end product, whereas all that ever gets produced is are 0’s and 1’s, that is some sort of combination make up bits and bytes, which then come together to form words and possibly express thoughts or whatnot.
So if all it is is a bunch of zeroes and ones, what really does it amount to?
Earlier tonight I had an experience I never thought about, and if asked, I’d probably have replied with, “That would be cool, but not on the top ten list.” That statement would be hard pressed to provide said list, as there isn’t one at the moment, and probably never will be, as I’m lazy that way. If there’s a list, and it has items that are on it that aren’t checked off, then there’s potential for them to never be checked off, and why not live up to your potential, as I was always taught – yet rarely practiced.
A vendor that my company works with – and pays well for their superb product and services – hosted a nice evening of after work drinks and snacks at the New York Stock Exchange trading floor, right here, a few blocks from my place, on Broad Street (the entrance is not on Wall Street, as common misconception would have it). This was in response to their being bestowed the honor of the following morning’s “Ringing of the Bell” – a 9:30am wak-up call for the market, which begins the trading. Once a mundane, boring aspect of some guy’s job, now an honorarium.
Security was tight, as it always is, and you have to be on the list to get through the front door, after which metal is unfairly discriminated against by means of gateways that will beep angrily if you have any on your person. Greeted by vendor representatives, and escorted along the way by ushers, you finally step out on to the trading floor.
Now we’re not talking about a nice little hall, that people mill around and chat, but the actual trading floor itself, where the combination of old-school methods and decor are mashed together with an abundance of new-school technology – from touch screens to ticker tape, this place is a sight to look at.
High ceilings, clocks and tickers everywhere, phones and computer consoles galore. A lot of them even had Playstation-like controllers hooked up to them – I have absolutely no idea why.
Open bar, so I got me a nice scotch on the rocks, and my colleagues and I spent some time walking around, tasting yummy-looking stuff, and spoke to some other visitors about companies and compared some stories.
We also had a chance to talk to some vendor representatives, where after we three voiced our appreciation and happiness with their product, I was emboldened by the knowledge that “an unhappy customer is a chance to improve the business via feedback” line of thinking, and voiced a couple of items that I believe they could do better on. This information was met with appreciation, and I am glad that I voiced my thoughts. I usually let the inner monologue go forth, but on those times when restraint is prudent, it’s good to know that some of the inner can be outer and do well as such.
In any case, it was pretty cool, and I got to stroll around a place that has unspeakable amounts of money pour through it daily, affecting millions of people’s lives, and it was quite pleasant.
There’s a picture behind here, for the skeptics.
It was taken on a gosh-darned iPhone, which has its uses – just not enough of them, and touched up slightly by Picasa. Apparently, taking a photo on the iPhone is harder than it should be – it has zero auto-stabilization, which almost every single cheapie Sony Ericsson does. Ah well.