Day 71 to 74

Day 71

Jan drinks “Two-buck Chuck,” the shitty-but-drinkable red wine from Trader Joe’s. Exclusively. He buys it by the case, and spends 60% of his waking hours sitting at the kitchen table, pouring wine into a tiny wine goblet and drinking glass after glass. I offered to buy Jan a bottle of Scotch. Rose forbids it.  Jan is only allowed to drink wine – no hard liquor – and must use the tiny wineglass to drink it. Both are unsuccessful attempts to curb Jan’s drinking.

For someone who drinks multiple bottles of wine each day (and lives in the middle of California wine country), Jan is completely ignorant about all things vino.

Noah: Jan, what is it about Two-buck Chuck that appeals to you? The bouquet? The palette? The antioxidants?

Jan: (long pause) I just like the way it tastes.

Noah: And how does it taste?

Jan: (cheerfully drunk) Like wine!

Day 72

I believe Jan is threatened by my scientific credentials.  Here’s a guy who never went to college , moved out to California just in time for the computer boom. He works for a while in a series of technology-related jobs. Now he’s basically living in the past.  Jan frequently feels the need to ask me oddly-timed technical questions about my job. Most of these questions seem aimed at tripping me up and making him sound smarter to his family in the process.  Usually, however, his efforts only serve to expose his ignorance.  Witness this dinnertime conversation:

Jan: Hey Noah, why does the hydrogen cyanide in peach pits make my skin look younger.  [Editor’s note: 80% of Jan’s face is covered with a  long, Unabomber-style beard]. 

Noah: Seriously? 

Jan: Yes.

Noah: Well, there is hydrogen cyanide in peach pits, but only a tiny amount.  High quantities in-

Jan: (grinning maniacally,  as though he’s trapped me in a lie) But I rub peach pit cream on my face to make it look younger.  Why is that?

Rose: Jan, aren’t you talking about apricot scrub? 

Jan: (losing confidence quickly) Uh, no.

Noah: You rub peach pits on your face to appear younger?

Jan: (obviously lying) Yes.

Day 74

Three weeks after starting, I am called into the boss’ office and was told that I’m not making the kind of progress he’d hoped for when he hired me.

I’ll let that statement sink in. Anyone who’s worked in a lab is probably already chuckling. Three weeks in science is an eyeblink; it’s like calling an office worker in 15 minutes after he’s been hired and complaining he hasn’t hit his yearly sales goals. Put another way, thousands of scientists have spent billions of dollars and countless man hours trying to cure Alzheimer’s disease. None of them managed to do it in three weeks, or in over 100 years, for that matter. Accordingly, none of these scientists were given grief for failing to find a cure in their first three weeks.

Making a gentle version of this point, I requested clarification. Mcboss refused to talk specifics, and repeated the corporate idioms that we needed to meet our corporate milestones and advance our mission statement.  My co-workers assured me this was something he did every few months.  The prevailing sentiment was that it was therapeutic for him.  Susan mentions that this was the first day I mentioned looking for a new job. 

Other problems are evident. When I’d interviewed, I noticed the staff was missing. All of them were at a farewell lunch for a departing scientist. One of several, it turns out. I learned – courtesy of the oversharer – that literally the entire scientific staff was turned over shortly before I arrived. One guy quit, one was fired. In any event, it sounded ugly.

Next Time: A naked Susan meets Jan, and a run-in with negligent homosexuals.