I was going to work from home all morning, since my exterminator was expected some time between 8:00 and 11:00. However, he arrived at just after 9:00, so I jumped in the shower in an effort to make the 9:50 bus.
With just a couple of minutes left, I was unable to find my badge—I HATE THAT—and when I finally found it (in the console of my car!), I missed the bus.
I drove down the road and parked in the street, close to the Wolfline bus and caught the #9 Greek Village bus.
I spent most of my day migrating a Web site into our organization’s Drupal-managed website.
I spent an hour of my day listening to the second (of three) candidates interviewing for the University IT Accessibility Coordinator position, which is a job under my boss’s boss, and someone who will sit a couple of doors down from me in our office.
What was most interesting about today’s candidate was that he was blind. The other two candidates are not. Nor was the person previously in this job, so it definitely isn’t a requirement.
There’s no doubt this guy is technically qualified, and the fact that he’s sight-impaired is very attractive to me—in terms of him having instant credibility in the job. The thing I struggled with the most, and feel a little guilty about, though I’m not sure I should, is that he didn’t seem like he’d be fun. I like working with fun people.
I liked his overall philosophy, though, and I particularly liked how he answered one of the final questions by saying, “Sometimes you just can’t make something accessible, so you work on some acceptable alternate solution.”
Today’s buscapade was on the way home, and it involved a binder. I caught the Wolfline bus home, and a young student sat across from me on the bus going through a folder of notebook papers—all of which had a variety of formulas and math problems on them, definitely from a calculus, chemistry, or engineering class of some kind.
The papers were in one of those softback folders with a pocket on the inside front and inside back. It looked like he was turning them to all face the same way and perhaps putting them in order by date.
Most of them were on graph paper, which I haven’t seen in years, but at one point he pulled out a three-hole punched sheet, got out a binder, and placed it inside. As soon as I saw that binder, I thought of one of this week’s PostSecret entries, which I will probably think about now for the rest of my life when I see one:
There, now you, too, can have this thought for the rest of your life when you see them. Binders, that is!