Princeton, Day 3 Tuesday, June 25, 2002

Another day of work creeps slowly by in Princeton. In addition to the strong representation from the Indian subcontinent, our meetings are attended by Cris, an ex-cipherspook from the NSA.

During lunch, Cris—a bachelor, not uncommon among intelligence and ex-intelligence guys—invites me to see Minority Report at the local movie theater that evening.

I have plans with former college roommate Phil for Wednesday night, but nothing going on tonight, so I accede.

Later, as we are in a break from the group meetings, I consult with Analytics executive Jim on a problem he's having. He invites me to join him for dinner, and we arrive at the solution of making it a party of three for dinner, with Cris and I going on to the movie afterwards.

Dinner proves to be somewhat morally questionable.

We go to a local semi-upscale steak and seafood restaurant. The menu really has only three entree options: shrimp, assorted steak varieties, and Chilean sea bass.

Chilean sea bass, which is not really a sea bass at all, but a form of toothfish, has generated considerable concern among environmental activist groups regarding possible endangerment of the species due to illegal overfishing.

A number of high-profile boycotts have taken place, but the issue is not entirely black and white. The U.S. State and Commerce departments have a fact sheet on the matter which explains that the Chilean sea bass is not officially endangered, and while some abuses may occur the fish is also being caught and imported legally to the U.S. Whether from actual conviction or simply due to pressure from activists, some restaurateurs have joined the boycott while others continue to serve it, asserting that their supplies are legitimate and legal.

On one hand are assertions that "The popularity of Chilean sea bass, both in the U.S. and in Asia, led to a huge increase in catches of this species in the mid 90's, causing concern for the condition of the stocks of this slow-growing fish. In recent years, though, increased enforcement of fishing quotas has led to a large reduction in catches (and a large increase in price)." (found here)

On the other is the Environmental Network, claiming that "For every pound of legally caught fish, an estimated five pounds are hooked illegally."

So, is the problem receding or is it still very much with us? Can we even know for certain how much of a problem there is? By definition, an estimate of the number of pirate catches must have a very wide margin of error, since the whole point of successful pirating is not being noticed.

It seems possible to me that the problem is diminishing, but environmental groups don't want to abandon the momentum of an issue that is getting them a lot of coverage in the news. I can't say I entirely blame them if that's the case—a lot of them could use the attention, but I do think it's best to focus attention on real issues and prioritize the most important ones.

On the other hand, it could be a very real and ongoing situation of danger for the Chilean sea bass.

Ultimately, I decided that since I've never had it before, I would give it a try. I won't order it a second time without establishing to my satisfaction that the restaurant has obtained their fish from legal suppliers, but I gave myself the benefit of the doubt for the first time, just to see what all the fuss is about.

It is quite a delicious fish, with a very nice texture. However, it's certainly not so unique as to be irreplaceable if it is overfished.

So that was my morally questionable dinner.

Afterwards, Cris and I repaired to the local movie theater to take in Minority Report. If I had finished this part of the travelogue in anything approaching a timely manner, I might have reviewed the movie here.

Instead, I'll just make an observation here that I haven't spied in a dozen other blogs & reviews: all of those pro-Precrime commercials bear an eerie resemblance to the "I'm supporting terrorism" anti-drug campaigns that launched during the Super Bowl to near-universal derision. I wonder if that was intentional. If so, score a satire point for Spielberg.

Also, my overall feeling is that this movie is more Kubrickian than the Kubrick ball picked up by Spielberg for A.I., the movie that (to continue the metaphor) he ran down the field for a touchdown...at the opposing team's goal!

The comprehensive, elegant visual styling of the future world, the sense of paranoia and compression, the lingering eye of the camera on seemingly insignificant details—where was this stuff in A.I.?

After the movie, Cris and I wander around the mall discussing the movie for a while before parting ways and heading to our respective temporary homes in Princeton.

Princeton—not my idea of a fun summer in general, but at least now I have one worthwhile acquaintance here, in the world's most improbably happy and normal ex-spook.

I'm a one hell of a good employee. Much better than I ever realized.

There are people in the world who can make 40% of a man-year's worth of work take an entire year, just through mindless foot-dragging and selective memory. They are not in short supply in Princeton.

I on the other hand make my man-year's worth of work take 70% to 80% of the time, and I spend the savings on learning new technologies, browsing the web, and yes, maintaining this site. But even maintaining this site serves as a test bed for new technologies and design ideas.

Some people do put in 150%, especially in careers like law and medicine, but I don't want to be one of those people. I simply give a wee bit more than all that is needed and reasonable to expect from one person, with the added benefit of being someone who can and will learn anything you ask me to learn.

That's my number one asset, really—I am a can do person.

My lesson from the past two weeks is that the corporate world is mostly populated with "can't do" people. They will invoke almost anything to find a way to avoid having to take a risk, jump in with both feet, and learn something new.

This is the biggest problem with most companies today—they don'rt reward risk-taking, and that stifles creativity. I don't entirely blame the individual employee, because if taking a risk means the potential to lose your livelihood, what are you going to do?

It makes me appreciate the level of freedom and risk-taking in our IT department even at my current company, which is in most respects mind-numbingly staid and conservative. And it makes me appreciate that even if I am not the sort of person who sells his soul to the company and works 60-hour work weeks, I am a damn fine employee, because I get things done.

I don't whine about the glass being half empty, I bloody well fill it up.

As Kevin Spacey put it in American Beauty, "I rule!"

If things had gone according to plan, I would have arrived in Austin last night just in time to join my friends for one of our customary sushi-and-bubble-tea outings at Pango.

Instead, for the second time in a row, my departure from Newark was delayed by a massive thunderstorm groundi8ng all departures from the airport.

And once again, I found myself cooped up in the plane when this occurred.

Not only that, but in anticipation of my stepping out immediately upon my return, I was looking quite spiffy in my new red shirt. The which, in the end, was seen by essentially no one but the friendly (but happily wedded) Miramax employee sharing the row with me. A rather disappointing debut.

She found herself making her first visit to Austin for the premiere of Spy Kids 2 (which one hopes will enjoy a more momentous reception than the aforementioned red shirt.) Thanks to a pleasant conversation with her about Austin and Princeton and movies in general, the whole ordeal was not quite as excruciating as the 6-hour in-plane horror story I had last time.

And, as today is laundry day, and no one in Austin has actually seen me in my sleek red accoutrement, I can wash it and wear it to Tony's birthday celebration this evening with impunity.

Heaven for small favors, as they say.

Next time, though, I shall have to try another airport.

I am, apparently, cursed by the rain god of Newark, New Jersey.