Last week, in hiring committee, we're reading a packet in which a female interviewer Mary described a series of actions by the candidate, which left her feeling subtlely but definitely slighted. (This is vague on purpose, to prevent any sexist bastard readers from gaming the system during interviews!)
Me: [reading the description] This is pretty bad. If this is true, I don't think we should hire.
Recruiter #1: Well, I spoke to Eleanor (senior recruiter) and apparently this happens every time we set up an interview with a female interviewer in this particular format.
Brandon: Yeah, we probably already hired a bunch of people who would've shown this kind of sexism, except we didn't put them through this setup.
Me: That's ... probably true. [becoming depressed]
Recruiter #1: Yeah, Eleanor said not to set them up in this way in the future, because it always happens.
Me: That's not true. I did one exactly like this on Monday, and the candidate was perfectly respectful and didn't do any of [waving the packet] these things.
Martin and Brandon: [simultaneously] That's because it was YOU, Niniane.
Me: Are you saying that I look like a man?
Martin and Brandon: [still in unison] NO.
Recruiter #1: Okay, so it might just be that Mary (the interviewer) made the candidate nervous. That could explain his actions too.
Recruiter #2: Yeah. [turning to me] Niniane, a bunch of candidates told me you made them nervous.
Me: What?? I make such a big effort to be friendly!
Recruiter #2: Sure, but they walk in there, not expecting to have a senior engineer interview them who's ... pretty. They're expecting ... one of these guys [gestures toward Martin and Brandon, who are surprisingly unoffended].
Me: Okay, so to test out this theory, we should have an attractive female engineer re-interview this candidate. I suggest Wendy S.
Everyone else: [complete silence] ... [crickets chirping, tumbleweed, etc] ...
Recruiter #1: Uh ... anything I say in reply to that might end up in a lawsuit.
...
There are a bunch of things screwed up about this. The part that bothered me the most was the idea that perhaps in comparison, I actually have it easy. Perhaps other women deal with a lot more sexist crap. I know this is true for China and other countries and other companies, but maybe it's true even within Google's primary-colored walls.
sigh.
I'm already annoyed at the subtle (and not so subtle) sexist jabs that I have to deal with. So if other women have it worse, I'm amazed we have ANY women in computer science.
I guess if women can push watermelons through straws, then they can deal with anything.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Blog of schoolteacher in Japan.
I'm reading this blog of a black man teaching English in Japan to high school students. It's very funny, and sometimes contemplative.
Hee hee hee:
and:
And this one.
Hee hee hee:
In this class, I was supposed to talk about what I did on Sunday. ...But I didn't really do anything on Sunday. So I decided to spice it up a little with an opening joke. I said that I went to Tokyo and fought with Godzilla. He was a very tough opponent! But then I kanchoed him, and I was the winner! I looked down to see 30 serious Japanese faces, concentrating hard on what I was saying. I finally had to break the tension by announcing it was a joke. Some of them laughed. Some of them had to erase the notes they'd taken on me fighting Godzilla. In their minds I'm not that much smaller than Godzilla, so this was entirely possible.
and:
I was at the gym with a female Japanese friend. We were watching the news on TV when suddenly she turns to me and asks "So, you're American, right? How many guns do you have?"
Notice the word usage here. Not "if" I have guns, no! "How many" guns do I have. Because surely, as a red-blooded American, I own guns. Yee-haw, when I'm not drinkin' my root beer and eating myself damn to death, I sure love me to shoot some stuff! *thumbs up*
Clearly, I needed to set her straight. I pointed my first finger at her in the classic "Now let me tell you something..." pose, but before words could escape my mouth, she innocently said "Oh, only one gun?"
And this one.
Parties, like cotton candy
Orkut tax season bash:
Chatting in kitchen:
Misha cowgirl party with mechnical bull:
Jon Perlow's hat, a work of art in itself:
Chatting in kitchen:
Misha cowgirl party with mechnical bull:
Jon Perlow's hat, a work of art in itself:
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Friday, April 14, 2006
lying broken on the floor
Friday bottomed out at 12:35pm.
I had decided to attend the lunchtime group exercise class "Body Sculpt and Abs". I've been ill and not in peak exercise condition, but that's not going to get in the way when there are abs involved.
Anyone who reads this blog will realize that I went with fantasies of fellow exercisers showcasing perfectly sculpted abs framed by spandex. Sha-mayn later laughingly corrected me, "Those people don't go to abs classes! Group classes are for motivation!"
The instructor led us in exercises, starting with biceps, then back, legs, shoulders. "This is easy," I thought at first. 15 minutes later, not so easy. Another 15 minutes later, quite hard.
"I'll get a bottle of water," I said to myself.
By the time I walked across the gym to the water supply, I realized I needed to sit down, or would be forced to by my body going on strike. I dropped into one of the red velvety chairs, and rested my head against its cushioned back. I sat, my chest growing tighter and the desire to keep my head lower steadily increasing.
2 minutes later, my primary goal in life was to make my head vertically level with my heart. As it's not acceptable to suddenly lie down in the middle of the gym, I began the trek to the locker room. It was only 30 steps away, but made difficult by the bright white light coating my vision.
I finally navigated my way in, and was greeted by a woman inside. I said nothing in return, and still don't know who it was, since facial recognition abilities were long gone at that stage.
I stumbled past the changing area and into one of the shower stalls. As soon as I snapped the door closed, I collapsed onto the floor, lying face up on the chilly tile. Then followed wretching, 3 spasms over half a minute where I could feel bile rising up my throat. "Good thing I picked the shower," I thought. "Easy to clean."
It brought me back to elementary school, when I didn't know how to pace myself while exercising (a skill I only learned at age 20). All those sunny P.E. hours when I would be following instructions, running around the track or around the bases or around the field, when my throat would start to burn and an unbalanced pressure would tighten in my chest.
Staring at the grey shower wall at 12:35pm, I remember my childhood self and how fervently I hated exercise back then. There's a unique feeling of simultaneous strength and loneliness which comes from lying on the ground and fighting a battle within your own skin. Who knew I would go from that to one day running 10k races for enjoyment?
Just like all the previous times, suddenly I crested the tide, and the pressure began to recede. I managed not to vomit. My head cleared, and I went back to the exercise class to finish out calf exercises and the promised ab crunches.
Perhaps the class sculpts your abs not through strength training but by inducing vomiting and inability to keep down food. That should be their tagline:
"Want better abs? Find bulimia too difficult? Come to 'Body Sculpt and Abs' every Friday at noon!"
I had decided to attend the lunchtime group exercise class "Body Sculpt and Abs". I've been ill and not in peak exercise condition, but that's not going to get in the way when there are abs involved.
Anyone who reads this blog will realize that I went with fantasies of fellow exercisers showcasing perfectly sculpted abs framed by spandex. Sha-mayn later laughingly corrected me, "Those people don't go to abs classes! Group classes are for motivation!"
The instructor led us in exercises, starting with biceps, then back, legs, shoulders. "This is easy," I thought at first. 15 minutes later, not so easy. Another 15 minutes later, quite hard.
"I'll get a bottle of water," I said to myself.
By the time I walked across the gym to the water supply, I realized I needed to sit down, or would be forced to by my body going on strike. I dropped into one of the red velvety chairs, and rested my head against its cushioned back. I sat, my chest growing tighter and the desire to keep my head lower steadily increasing.
2 minutes later, my primary goal in life was to make my head vertically level with my heart. As it's not acceptable to suddenly lie down in the middle of the gym, I began the trek to the locker room. It was only 30 steps away, but made difficult by the bright white light coating my vision.
I finally navigated my way in, and was greeted by a woman inside. I said nothing in return, and still don't know who it was, since facial recognition abilities were long gone at that stage.
I stumbled past the changing area and into one of the shower stalls. As soon as I snapped the door closed, I collapsed onto the floor, lying face up on the chilly tile. Then followed wretching, 3 spasms over half a minute where I could feel bile rising up my throat. "Good thing I picked the shower," I thought. "Easy to clean."
It brought me back to elementary school, when I didn't know how to pace myself while exercising (a skill I only learned at age 20). All those sunny P.E. hours when I would be following instructions, running around the track or around the bases or around the field, when my throat would start to burn and an unbalanced pressure would tighten in my chest.
Staring at the grey shower wall at 12:35pm, I remember my childhood self and how fervently I hated exercise back then. There's a unique feeling of simultaneous strength and loneliness which comes from lying on the ground and fighting a battle within your own skin. Who knew I would go from that to one day running 10k races for enjoyment?
Just like all the previous times, suddenly I crested the tide, and the pressure began to recede. I managed not to vomit. My head cleared, and I went back to the exercise class to finish out calf exercises and the promised ab crunches.
Perhaps the class sculpts your abs not through strength training but by inducing vomiting and inability to keep down food. That should be their tagline:
"Want better abs? Find bulimia too difficult? Come to 'Body Sculpt and Abs' every Friday at noon!"
Thursday, April 13, 2006
new vocabulary word
Today Joby set his IM status message to indicate that he got little sleep last night, followed by "gg D:"
Me: [over IM] What is "gg D:"?
Joby: [replying over IM] D: is a very upset face, like this.
I swivel around in my seat to catch a glimpse of him rising out of his chair and making a wide-mouthed horrific expression, which, had I captured on film and put here, would surely cause a submission of the Blog Removal Request Form.
Me: [laughing] What is the "gg" for then?
Joby: good game.
Me: [confused] What? How does it apply here?
Joby then sent me the link to urbandictionary.com.
The first definition was the one that I'm familiar with:
The third definition, which is the one used by Joby, made me almost fall out of my seat in mirth:
Me: [over IM] What is "gg D:"?
Joby: [replying over IM] D: is a very upset face, like this.
I swivel around in my seat to catch a glimpse of him rising out of his chair and making a wide-mouthed horrific expression, which, had I captured on film and put here, would surely cause a submission of the Blog Removal Request Form.
Me: [laughing] What is the "gg" for then?
Joby: good game.
Me: [confused] What? How does it apply here?
Joby then sent me the link to urbandictionary.com.
The first definition was the one that I'm familiar with:
A polite remark uttered after the end of a round, game, or other measured interval to indicate that a match was fair and enjoyable.
At round end:
Volmarias: gg
Rill-a-roni: gg
Dagashi: gg
The third definition, which is the one used by Joby, made me almost fall out of my seat in mirth:
Exclamation: A way of resignedly expressing one's own defeat or disgust with a situation. Often followed by the object in question.
*toy breaks*
person: gg plastic
person was killed by headshot from awp
person: gg overpowered awp
Cats: You have no chance to survive, make your time.
Captain: gg
Hiring committee banter.
This morning, in hiring committee.
Martin: [looking at candidate packet] Whoa, why is this candidate's lunch interviewer so enthusiastic to write this big recommendation?
Me: Yeah, what could he have said over lunch to impress his interviewer so much?
Martin: Perhaps he chose his food extremely wisely. [imitates interviewer writing feedback] "Made nutritious and filling choices."
Me: Or perhaps he took all the food on his plate and mixed it together before eating it, to increase efficiency. [mime using fork to stir everything into a big blob] "Efficient food digestion. O(N) in stomach operation."
Martin: "But not very object-oriented."
Martin: [looking at candidate packet] Whoa, why is this candidate's lunch interviewer so enthusiastic to write this big recommendation?
Me: Yeah, what could he have said over lunch to impress his interviewer so much?
Martin: Perhaps he chose his food extremely wisely. [imitates interviewer writing feedback] "Made nutritious and filling choices."
Me: Or perhaps he took all the food on his plate and mixed it together before eating it, to increase efficiency. [mime using fork to stir everything into a big blob] "Efficient food digestion. O(N) in stomach operation."
Martin: "But not very object-oriented."
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Removal Form.
Today Peter asked me to remove some of the posts featuring him. "You compared me to a monster in a movie!"
Later Dan asked that his picture be changed. "My eyes are rolled back so much that you can hardly see my pupils! I look like a monster!"
sigh.
To make future requests easier, please use the following form:
(Criticisms of my HTML form writing abilities are not welcome.)
Later Dan asked that his picture be changed. "My eyes are rolled back so much that you can hardly see my pupils! I look like a monster!"
sigh.
To make future requests easier, please use the following form:
Niniane Blog Removal Request Form
(Criticisms of my HTML form writing abilities are not welcome.)
Food philosophy w/ coworkers.
Joby: Did you hear they're installing a frozen yogurt machine?
Me: We already have Ben & Jerry's ice cream in the kitchens.
Joby: But frozen yogurt is better for you.
Me: Well ... [explain eating philosophy] ... So if you eat what you really want, you'll be satisfied sooner and you'll end up eating less overall.
Joby: No, I would eat the same amount of ice cream or frozen yogurt. So I'd be either eating three thousand grams of fat, or three thousand grams of sugar.
Me: We already have Ben & Jerry's ice cream in the kitchens.
Joby: But frozen yogurt is better for you.
Me: Well ... [explain eating philosophy] ... So if you eat what you really want, you'll be satisfied sooner and you'll end up eating less overall.
Joby: No, I would eat the same amount of ice cream or frozen yogurt. So I'd be either eating three thousand grams of fat, or three thousand grams of sugar.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Rebalanced.
My pH has recovered itself since the weekend roller coaster. This was actually 95% thanks to Dan. Here's a random picture of Dan from the ol' internet, which is a very representative pic since he's rolling his eyes:
It wasn't any particular insight from Dan, but rather the simple joy of swapping funny (mostly Google) stories for 4 hours, something that Peter and I had difficulty doing. We gossiped about how Eric, Larry, and Sergey handle disagreements between themselves (gracefully), recent product launches, our friends J & J who just quit their startups.
Dan mentioned his high school girlfriend Jenny, which reminded me of my All-Time Favorite Dan Story. ...
The story goes that Jenny really liked a mom-and-pop donut shop in the mall. One day, she was out of cash but nonetheless went in and asked if she could have a donut, for free.
The answer was of course no.
"It's almost closing time," she said. "What are you going to do with these leftover donuts?"
"Throw them away."
"Well, why not just give them to me instead?"
"We can't do that. Then everyone would ask us for them."
"What if I take them out of the dumpster after you throw them away?"
"Well, we can't control what happens after we throw them in the dumpster."
"So what if I stand in the dumpster and catch the donuts as you throw them in?"
At this point, the cashier rolls his eyes and says, "Well, I guess that would be fine."
An hour later, the cashier goes out back with a plastic bag of donuts and Jenny is indeed standing in the dumpster along with her friends.
"Oh my God!" he says. "Fine, look, you don't have to stand in the dumpster. I'll just give you the donuts in the future, if you meet me here at midnight. Don't tell anyone else."
So she would go every night and get free donuts. After a while, they got used to her, and it got to the point where she could walk into the store at any time of day and get a free donut.
It wasn't any particular insight from Dan, but rather the simple joy of swapping funny (mostly Google) stories for 4 hours, something that Peter and I had difficulty doing. We gossiped about how Eric, Larry, and Sergey handle disagreements between themselves (gracefully), recent product launches, our friends J & J who just quit their startups.
Dan mentioned his high school girlfriend Jenny, which reminded me of my All-Time Favorite Dan Story. ...
The story goes that Jenny really liked a mom-and-pop donut shop in the mall. One day, she was out of cash but nonetheless went in and asked if she could have a donut, for free.
The answer was of course no.
"It's almost closing time," she said. "What are you going to do with these leftover donuts?"
"Throw them away."
"Well, why not just give them to me instead?"
"We can't do that. Then everyone would ask us for them."
"What if I take them out of the dumpster after you throw them away?"
"Well, we can't control what happens after we throw them in the dumpster."
"So what if I stand in the dumpster and catch the donuts as you throw them in?"
At this point, the cashier rolls his eyes and says, "Well, I guess that would be fine."
An hour later, the cashier goes out back with a plastic bag of donuts and Jenny is indeed standing in the dumpster along with her friends.
"Oh my God!" he says. "Fine, look, you don't have to stand in the dumpster. I'll just give you the donuts in the future, if you meet me here at midnight. Don't tell anyone else."
So she would go every night and get free donuts. After a while, they got used to her, and it got to the point where she could walk into the store at any time of day and get a free donut.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Cost benefit analysis.
At dinner.
Joby: Why is that I eat 2000 calories per day, and I don't exercise, but yet I don't balloon up?
Me: Because just by living, you expend 2000 calories each day.
Joby: Really?
Me: Yeah. See, a pound is 3500 calories. So let's say you do the elliptical machine for 20 minutes each day and burn 100 calories. Then after 35 days, you would lose one pound.
Joby: I am never exercising again.
Joby: Why is that I eat 2000 calories per day, and I don't exercise, but yet I don't balloon up?
Me: Because just by living, you expend 2000 calories each day.
Joby: Really?
Me: Yeah. See, a pound is 3500 calories. So let's say you do the elliptical machine for 20 minutes each day and burn 100 calories. Then after 35 days, you would lose one pound.
Joby: I am never exercising again.
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Convo with Andrew.
At lunch with Andrew.
Me: I told my mom that I may never find the right person to get married. But regardless, I still plan to have kids. When I'm 34, I'll either adopt or get artifically inseminated.
Andrew: You said that to your mom?
Me: Well, not the last part. I actually said, "I'll either adopt ... or I won't." She knew what I meant.
Andrew: What did your mom say?
Me: She stood there in silence for half a minute, then said, "I think you should have your own kid instead of adopting." Which implied she's okay with the out-of-wedlock part.
Andrew: Raising a kid by yourself is hard.
Me: I know. But falling in love is so unlikely! It's like winning the lottery! Come to think of it, childbirth is so difficult that it also seems impossible. If I didn't know that billions of women had already done it, and you described childbirth to me, I would say that it's impossible! It's like pushing a watermelon through a straw!
Andrew: [shocked laughter] ... But you want to do it, huh? You want the watermelon?
Me: I want the watermelon.
Me: I told my mom that I may never find the right person to get married. But regardless, I still plan to have kids. When I'm 34, I'll either adopt or get artifically inseminated.
Andrew: You said that to your mom?
Me: Well, not the last part. I actually said, "I'll either adopt ... or I won't." She knew what I meant.
Andrew: What did your mom say?
Me: She stood there in silence for half a minute, then said, "I think you should have your own kid instead of adopting." Which implied she's okay with the out-of-wedlock part.
Andrew: Raising a kid by yourself is hard.
Me: I know. But falling in love is so unlikely! It's like winning the lottery! Come to think of it, childbirth is so difficult that it also seems impossible. If I didn't know that billions of women had already done it, and you described childbirth to me, I would say that it's impossible! It's like pushing a watermelon through a straw!
Andrew: [shocked laughter] ... But you want to do it, huh? You want the watermelon?
Me: I want the watermelon.
Sad.
At lunch with Rolandall (Randall + Yolanda = Rolandall).
Me: Falling in love is so rare! I don't know how all these other people do it. ... So I've accepted the fact that I may never get married.
Randall: In 20 years, we can introduce our kids to you as our weird spinster friend.
Me: That's right. I'll get 19 cats. As you're leaving, I'll throw a cat or two at you.
Randall: When I was a kid, there was an old neighbor down the street. She was 70 when I knew her, but had been a widow since her 20s when her husband was killed in war. All she would do is watch Wheel of Fortune and chain smoke. After she died, I had to go help clean out her house, and scrape nicotine off the walls.
Me: Don't worry, I'll pre-pay professional nicotine scrapers as part of my will.
Me: Falling in love is so rare! I don't know how all these other people do it. ... So I've accepted the fact that I may never get married.
Randall: In 20 years, we can introduce our kids to you as our weird spinster friend.
Me: That's right. I'll get 19 cats. As you're leaving, I'll throw a cat or two at you.
Randall: When I was a kid, there was an old neighbor down the street. She was 70 when I knew her, but had been a widow since her 20s when her husband was killed in war. All she would do is watch Wheel of Fortune and chain smoke. After she died, I had to go help clean out her house, and scrape nicotine off the walls.
Me: Don't worry, I'll pre-pay professional nicotine scrapers as part of my will.
Monday, April 03, 2006
BBQ, Beijing style (from March 26)
This is what happens when your parents hold a barbeque for 45 guests, and your family comes from Beijing where the worst nightmare is running out of food while hosting a party:
Three tables of food, two days of preparation,
and a week's worth of leftovers:
Three tables of food, two days of preparation,
and a week's worth of leftovers:
awe-inspiring left and right brain merging
Yesterday I went to the Seattle Asian Art Museum with my coworker Reza. We saw this thousand-armed statue (that fan-shaped object attached to his back is a mass of arms):
I adored the color of this vase (it does lose a little in translation into a photograph):
Then I drove over to Min's house, which may as well have been another museum.
I walked in and immediately dropped all my bags in order to kneel in worship before this painting-in-progress:
HOW? How can one person be that good at computer science AND that good at painting?? It boggles my mind. The pathways between her left and right brains must be busier than the 101 in rush hour.
I forced her to pose with this one of her paintings:
She wouldn't sell me this one for $160 (another buyer had reputedly offered $150):
Oh, she also cooked me amazing stewed meat, couscous, and peach tea.
...
Can a more talented person exist?
The answer is no.
I adored the color of this vase (it does lose a little in translation into a photograph):
Then I drove over to Min's house, which may as well have been another museum.
I walked in and immediately dropped all my bags in order to kneel in worship before this painting-in-progress:
HOW? How can one person be that good at computer science AND that good at painting?? It boggles my mind. The pathways between her left and right brains must be busier than the 101 in rush hour.
I forced her to pose with this one of her paintings:
She wouldn't sell me this one for $160 (another buyer had reputedly offered $150):
Oh, she also cooked me amazing stewed meat, couscous, and peach tea.
...
Can a more talented person exist?
The answer is no.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
maybe he was just baiting me
Tuesday night I attended a 10-course dinner with chinese reporters who flew in from Beijing on Google's dime to interview the company. There were around 15 reporters, and 7 Googlers accompanying them for dinner.
Over a meal of lobster, peking duck, and jellyfish, the reporter to my left turns to me. He looks a little like this Hong Kong action film star.
"So you've been an engineer for so many years?" he asks. "Do you think you'll keep at it forever?"
I pause. One day I'd like to found my own startup, and if takes off, my main focus would no longer be writing code. "Maybe not," I say.
"Okay, because women aren't very suitable for engineering."
I sigh inwardly. "You should read my Google China blog article on this topic."
"Women are .. not logical enough. If they're debugging code with a lot of bugs, they'll get frustrated, whereas a man will be more calm."
I resist the urge to say, "Is that because it was the man who created the bugs in the first place???"
Instead I say sweetly, "I haven't found that to be the case."
"Let me tell you, I used to work as an engineer," he declares in a this-will-explain-it voice. "We had a few female engineers come into the company, and they quickly found a bunch of men to do all of their programming for them. Then they would get married to one of the best programmers, and quit their job to stay home as a housewife."
I double-sigh inwardly. "That may have been your experience, but if you worked at Google, I think the reality would change your mind."
That having failed, he tries a new tactic. "I'm sure you must do presentations for execs. And they're usually men. If they do something overstepping professional boundaries, then the women will get uncomfortable."
"Uh... That's illegal in the US," I answer.
"It is?" He seems disconcerted. "Well, women just aren't analytical enough to be engineers."
In the ensuing silence floats an unspoken "QED."
Kai-fu said to me last October that the first step to combating discrimination is making it socially unacceptable to voice it openly. People will still think it, but they will no longer be comfortable saying it. After enough time passes in this manner, the discrimination will be eliminated gradually from the minds as well.
China has a lot further to go on this first step than the US.
...
Or he could've just been baiting me, hoping to write an article headlined "GOOGLER EXPLODES WITH RAGE, HITS REPORTER IN FACE WITH CURRIED JELLYFISH."
Over a meal of lobster, peking duck, and jellyfish, the reporter to my left turns to me. He looks a little like this Hong Kong action film star.
"So you've been an engineer for so many years?" he asks. "Do you think you'll keep at it forever?"
I pause. One day I'd like to found my own startup, and if takes off, my main focus would no longer be writing code. "Maybe not," I say.
"Okay, because women aren't very suitable for engineering."
I sigh inwardly. "You should read my Google China blog article on this topic."
"Women are .. not logical enough. If they're debugging code with a lot of bugs, they'll get frustrated, whereas a man will be more calm."
I resist the urge to say, "Is that because it was the man who created the bugs in the first place???"
Instead I say sweetly, "I haven't found that to be the case."
"Let me tell you, I used to work as an engineer," he declares in a this-will-explain-it voice. "We had a few female engineers come into the company, and they quickly found a bunch of men to do all of their programming for them. Then they would get married to one of the best programmers, and quit their job to stay home as a housewife."
I double-sigh inwardly. "That may have been your experience, but if you worked at Google, I think the reality would change your mind."
That having failed, he tries a new tactic. "I'm sure you must do presentations for execs. And they're usually men. If they do something overstepping professional boundaries, then the women will get uncomfortable."
"Uh... That's illegal in the US," I answer.
"It is?" He seems disconcerted. "Well, women just aren't analytical enough to be engineers."
In the ensuing silence floats an unspoken "QED."
Kai-fu said to me last October that the first step to combating discrimination is making it socially unacceptable to voice it openly. People will still think it, but they will no longer be comfortable saying it. After enough time passes in this manner, the discrimination will be eliminated gradually from the minds as well.
China has a lot further to go on this first step than the US.
...
Or he could've just been baiting me, hoping to write an article headlined "GOOGLER EXPLODES WITH RAGE, HITS REPORTER IN FACE WITH CURRIED JELLYFISH."
you know you're considered an ancient relic when ...
Today I receive an email from Tom, my darling brother (pictured below in a state of embarrassment over being in Starbucks with his camera-toting sister):
He asks if I'd like to receive this T-shirt for my birthday:
"Of course not," I say. "Why would I wear such a mean shirt?"
His reply:
My answer to him:
He asks if I'd like to receive this T-shirt for my birthday:
"Of course not," I say. "Why would I wear such a mean shirt?"
His reply:
The inside joke is that the founder of myspace.com (a blog site),
automatically forces everyone who uses myspace to be his friend.
Thus, people were angry, and wore shirts such as: "Tom is NOT my
friend."
My answer to him:
I KNOW WHAT MYSPACE IS, TOM. You don't need to define it. I am not that out of touch with today's youth. I don't yet look like this:
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Ballmer joke
It isn't every day that a slashdot comment actually makes me burst out laughing. The post said:
The first comment said:
I can hardly quote the follow-up comment, as my hands are shaking with laughter.
"In a recent Fortune interview with Steve Ballmer, the newer kinder Microsoft CEO is not only ready to take on the videogaming, search, music download and mobile markets - but he's also laying down the law in his own house. Steve says that his kids are not allowed to use Google or have an iPod."
The first comment said:
I'd take the other approach - if they choose rival manufacturers then study first hand why they do so.
I can hardly quote the follow-up comment, as my hands are shaking with laughter.
Whoa, study? It's Steve Ballmer we're talking about, if he as much as SEEs his kids anywhere near iPods or within 20m of a computer displaying a Google page it'll be Chair Throwing time, he'll Fucking Bury(TM) them. He's done it before and he'll do it again. He's going to Fucking Kill(TM) his children.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
another Google China blog mention
Kai-fu mentioned me in his latest entry on the Google China blog. It's an
article about chinese engineers at Google.
article about chinese engineers at Google.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
This is so hot.
I LOVE the Windows Disk Defragmenter. I sit there and watch it for minutes at a time, as it increases the performance of my machine.
But today I learned of something even more magnificent: Mac OS X on-the-fly defragmentation.
That's so hot.
But today I learned of something even more magnificent: Mac OS X on-the-fly defragmentation.
That's so hot.
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