Well, a fit of insomnia has me up posting.
Why? A funny, scary story.
Buddy of mine at work–Brian–ran into me as I was leaving today. He gave me that zombie look that’s attendant to everyone working one project [our commercial ISS payload]. My manager had remarked earlier today that, in the last week, a “out-and-out miracle” had been performed to get the project to where it is now.
I found out why when Brian asked, “What’s 16, 16, and 11?” I knew what 11 was–the number of hours he’d been at work today. Rather incredulously, I said, “43? Don’t tell me that you worked 16’s the last two days.” He nodded in such an achingly tired way that it was clear that yes, he had. I asked, “You are getting overtime, right?” He replied with a grin that only a person who’s worked that much overtime can have:
“Hey, every 20 hours over is a grand in my pocket. My next paycheck will be over six-kay.” He smiled tiredly and walked away.
I think I’ll stick to scheduling, thanks.