thebarerider
03-03-09, 10:24 PM
Describe the busiest time of your life. It must be a period of more than two weeks.
Foo - Busiest two weeks of your life
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AllenG
03-03-09, 10:26 PM
http://homepage.mac.com/awcg/.Pictures/2009/Pop.2.jpg
It will be more than two weeks.
It will be more than two weeks.
c0urt
03-03-09, 11:23 PM
accepted a job in guam, the same day was on my way to get a vasectomy, on that day got home and had to be driven to the e.r., and then dropped into a coma, attacked 4 nurses, had to be tied to the bed for several days, was clinically dead for a bit, and to be transferred 180 miles in an ambulance, and learned I love morphine
http://stupidhurts.org//cpg14/albums/uploads/me/normal_thumbsup.jpg
lost my memory for two years+
from what i understand a lot when on that two weeks. oh and went in 190pounds, come out around 140 and really needing to shave.
http://www.bikeforums.net/attachment.php?attachmentid=96681&stc=1&d=1236161286
http://www.bikeforums.net/attachment.php?attachmentid=96682&stc=1&d=1236161286
http://stupidhurts.org//cpg14/albums/uploads/me/normal_thumbsup.jpg
lost my memory for two years+
from what i understand a lot when on that two weeks. oh and went in 190pounds, come out around 140 and really needing to shave.
http://www.bikeforums.net/attachment.php?attachmentid=96681&stc=1&d=1236161286
http://www.bikeforums.net/attachment.php?attachmentid=96682&stc=1&d=1236161286
kniprm
03-03-09, 11:36 PM
we have a winner.
nekohime
03-03-09, 11:38 PM
My busiest time started two weeks ago and will continue for two weeks more. Finals are approaching, I've got research deadlines coming up to here *gestures over head*, I still have to gather data because the data I have is inconclusive...aaaaugh, more subjects, and... and... and... :twitchy:
I just want the quarter to be over. I can haz spring break nao?
I just want the quarter to be over. I can haz spring break nao?
Wordbiker
03-04-09, 01:21 AM
It was three weeks...of hell.
The company I worked for got hooked up with some National Council of Prefabricated Homes or some such, and since a log home, even a custom one built in another location then transported to the homesite fits this qualification, we get hooked into participating in a "special project", building a house out in Cortez about 1:45 away from here.
The home is on an Anasazi reserve and belongs to a woman that at one point was a personal advisor to Ronald Reagan. This has now become a Big Deal. I wouldn't even be needed for this project if the local Cortez contractor hadn't dragged his feet and pushed us to a month from the photoshoot deadline. I spend a week in the shop making up specialty distressed casing and base, all by hand, then head over on Monday with so much wood on my truck, I bog down to 30MPH on the pass out of Durango.
When I arrive I'm met by the president of our company at the local lumberyard. The clerk is ecstatic at us placing such a large order for prehung doors (it was actually under a dozen), and promises they'll be there in a week. This fits into our scheduling, so we set up an account and leave for the jobsite.
The prez introduces me to the homeowner who turns out to be a very sweet lady, then we go on a brief tour. The land there is only sold if a contract is signed that stipulates if Native American artifacts or remains are found, the owner pays for the archaeological dig. Cool stuff and I'm honored that they trusted me to do the job right and get it finished. The rest of the day is spent in unloading all the trim, setting up hotel rooms, and meeting up with Paul (more about him later).
The next day we find out why the project is so much behind. The local yokel contractor shows up as we're starting work...late. From what we've seen of the house so far, I already think he's an idiot. He didn't disappoint. This guy shows up in a truck that looks like something off the Beverly Hillbillies set...and so does he. Seriously, the guy has a bridge of front teeth, yet refuses to wear them...perhaps preferring the look of Adirondack charm it lends him. After some brief conversation wherein he is let know that I am in charge now, I set him to task doing the most menial and unimportant job we had to do, setting parquet flooring.
Paul and I had worked together for many years, but not often on the same tasks. Paul is a brute and can get a lot of work done in a day, and because of this is a great rough framer...less so a finish carpenter as he lacks the patience for fine work. Since we were behind schedule, I got Paul. I made Paul work closely at my side until I felt he wasn't going to screw anything up. The first week went great and we busted out a lot of projects, right on schedule to install doors. We actually had a lot of fun being out of town, and in the evenings either swam in the hotel pool or checked out the local dives. Having decided on a six day workweek, on Saturday evening we went back home to spend Sunday with our families.
Monday I headed in to the lumberyard to pick up the doors and the same clerk I dealt with before looks at me like he doesn't know me. When I inquire about them, he slaps his head, apologizes and says he "forgot" to order them. Uh huh. I let him know that this is an important job and that the doors must be there with time for us to finish installing them. I go over the list carefully, reorder and am again promised delivery in a week.
The mason shows up this week, as well as the furniture...? We find out that the furniture, nicely distressed (though stained in odd colors) is to be the bathroom cabinets, modified to be permanently mounted. We take jigsaws and sawzalls to brand new furniture, rip off the tops replacing them with tile roughtops, then set them as cabinets. The drystack style fireplace is turning out great, the hillbilly contractor is making headway with the flooring, and Paul and I make it through another week, again making great progress...though still worrying about the doors as our trim depends on them being installed. We make as many precuts as possible to be ready for the doors, then go home again for Sunday to decompress.
On Monday after laying everyone out, I go to the lumberyard again to pick up the doors...again. The clerk has a fearful look in his eye this time, and when I finally corner him, he says, "You're not gonna believe what happened". He tells me a story that the doors had been prepared, were in the warehouse in Denver...and had accidentally been sold. I had no options at this point and reiterated how critical it was that we had the doors before the photo shoot, he swore an oath that they'd be there...and I went back to the jobsite.
This week was especially fun as we had a mason, a yokel, the owner, tile men, ch!nkers (that's what the goo between the logs is called, but BF censors it) and painters all working on the same small home. We were all tradesman though and the learned courtesy that comes along with that...plus the deadline looming in my mind allowed us all to avoid stepping on one another's toes. Then the decorating crew showed up.
Mary Emmerling herself appears, as does her crew (honestly, I never knew who she was until this job. Google her if you want to know). Mary turns out to be very sweet, but her crew consists of some plain Jane art student begrudgingly building her resume by hanging out with Mary...and one of the biggest homosexuals I've ever met.
By that I don't mean to be insulting. I spent too much time in LA nightclubs to be fazed by queeny behavior. What I mean is that this guy was HUGE! He certainly had presence and started throwing it around like he was in charge...which did not sit well with Paul. We went out with them after the workday and it was obvious Paul was itching to fight this guy. Paul's no small guy either, but outside of work I was willing to watch and laugh at Paul's irritation.
Mary's crew was there to get all the furniture, draperies, beds, linens and decor items set up...and they hadn't brought one single tool. This caused some irritation. All the workmen there had every tool they needed, but this entitled decorator crew started barking orders, making last minute requests that no one had time for, all while treating everyone like crap just because they were with some snooty magazine. At one point, Big Gay Guy barked something at Paul, and seeing the feral snapping look in his eye, I bodily placed myself between them, obviously at my own peril. I was still maintaining order til the photoshoot was eminent...even if it killed me.
Oh, the doors? They showed up the day of the photoshoot...and not prehung! What that means is the doors were blanks, having no hinge mortises routered into them, nor into the jambs which requires either a precision factory setting or a special jig. I fly off the jobsite, hitting every hardware store in the region looking for a jig...no dice. Sweating bullets I end up back on the jobsite, mortising every door in the house, by hand, with a chisel and hammer. As I am performing this arduous and painstaking task, I'm trying my best to keep Paul from killing Big Gay Guy, trying to make the homeowner happy with the work we're doing, trying to keep Mary happy because I know it means a lot to our company, managing Jeb the contractor who's still not done with the flooring...all while maintaining my focus to make the doors come out. I reach down as I'm preparing to hang a door...and my screwgun is missing. I snap. I know exactly who it is: those decorators that came all the way from NY and didn't bring a single frickin tool, even though they knew what type of work they'd be doing, assembling beds, mounting curtain bars, etc. I let fly with some expletives that had my children heard them, they'd be in foster homes.
The homeowner, being a true diplomat calmed me down. We did some incredible set work, propping up the gutless and broken fridge (it didn't actually work, just a shell with no actual compressor, busted in transport) to make it look like the kitchen was complete, slamming baseboards up against doors still wet with lacquer without bothering to nail them as it wouldn't show in the pics...overall an amazing experience.
Later the homeowner had a house party and invited me. I must admit to turning a few shades of red when she related the construction stories to her high society friends, but if I had it all to do over again...I'd have ran off to Mexico.
The company I worked for got hooked up with some National Council of Prefabricated Homes or some such, and since a log home, even a custom one built in another location then transported to the homesite fits this qualification, we get hooked into participating in a "special project", building a house out in Cortez about 1:45 away from here.
The home is on an Anasazi reserve and belongs to a woman that at one point was a personal advisor to Ronald Reagan. This has now become a Big Deal. I wouldn't even be needed for this project if the local Cortez contractor hadn't dragged his feet and pushed us to a month from the photoshoot deadline. I spend a week in the shop making up specialty distressed casing and base, all by hand, then head over on Monday with so much wood on my truck, I bog down to 30MPH on the pass out of Durango.
When I arrive I'm met by the president of our company at the local lumberyard. The clerk is ecstatic at us placing such a large order for prehung doors (it was actually under a dozen), and promises they'll be there in a week. This fits into our scheduling, so we set up an account and leave for the jobsite.
The prez introduces me to the homeowner who turns out to be a very sweet lady, then we go on a brief tour. The land there is only sold if a contract is signed that stipulates if Native American artifacts or remains are found, the owner pays for the archaeological dig. Cool stuff and I'm honored that they trusted me to do the job right and get it finished. The rest of the day is spent in unloading all the trim, setting up hotel rooms, and meeting up with Paul (more about him later).
The next day we find out why the project is so much behind. The local yokel contractor shows up as we're starting work...late. From what we've seen of the house so far, I already think he's an idiot. He didn't disappoint. This guy shows up in a truck that looks like something off the Beverly Hillbillies set...and so does he. Seriously, the guy has a bridge of front teeth, yet refuses to wear them...perhaps preferring the look of Adirondack charm it lends him. After some brief conversation wherein he is let know that I am in charge now, I set him to task doing the most menial and unimportant job we had to do, setting parquet flooring.
Paul and I had worked together for many years, but not often on the same tasks. Paul is a brute and can get a lot of work done in a day, and because of this is a great rough framer...less so a finish carpenter as he lacks the patience for fine work. Since we were behind schedule, I got Paul. I made Paul work closely at my side until I felt he wasn't going to screw anything up. The first week went great and we busted out a lot of projects, right on schedule to install doors. We actually had a lot of fun being out of town, and in the evenings either swam in the hotel pool or checked out the local dives. Having decided on a six day workweek, on Saturday evening we went back home to spend Sunday with our families.
Monday I headed in to the lumberyard to pick up the doors and the same clerk I dealt with before looks at me like he doesn't know me. When I inquire about them, he slaps his head, apologizes and says he "forgot" to order them. Uh huh. I let him know that this is an important job and that the doors must be there with time for us to finish installing them. I go over the list carefully, reorder and am again promised delivery in a week.
The mason shows up this week, as well as the furniture...? We find out that the furniture, nicely distressed (though stained in odd colors) is to be the bathroom cabinets, modified to be permanently mounted. We take jigsaws and sawzalls to brand new furniture, rip off the tops replacing them with tile roughtops, then set them as cabinets. The drystack style fireplace is turning out great, the hillbilly contractor is making headway with the flooring, and Paul and I make it through another week, again making great progress...though still worrying about the doors as our trim depends on them being installed. We make as many precuts as possible to be ready for the doors, then go home again for Sunday to decompress.
On Monday after laying everyone out, I go to the lumberyard again to pick up the doors...again. The clerk has a fearful look in his eye this time, and when I finally corner him, he says, "You're not gonna believe what happened". He tells me a story that the doors had been prepared, were in the warehouse in Denver...and had accidentally been sold. I had no options at this point and reiterated how critical it was that we had the doors before the photo shoot, he swore an oath that they'd be there...and I went back to the jobsite.
This week was especially fun as we had a mason, a yokel, the owner, tile men, ch!nkers (that's what the goo between the logs is called, but BF censors it) and painters all working on the same small home. We were all tradesman though and the learned courtesy that comes along with that...plus the deadline looming in my mind allowed us all to avoid stepping on one another's toes. Then the decorating crew showed up.
Mary Emmerling herself appears, as does her crew (honestly, I never knew who she was until this job. Google her if you want to know). Mary turns out to be very sweet, but her crew consists of some plain Jane art student begrudgingly building her resume by hanging out with Mary...and one of the biggest homosexuals I've ever met.
By that I don't mean to be insulting. I spent too much time in LA nightclubs to be fazed by queeny behavior. What I mean is that this guy was HUGE! He certainly had presence and started throwing it around like he was in charge...which did not sit well with Paul. We went out with them after the workday and it was obvious Paul was itching to fight this guy. Paul's no small guy either, but outside of work I was willing to watch and laugh at Paul's irritation.
Mary's crew was there to get all the furniture, draperies, beds, linens and decor items set up...and they hadn't brought one single tool. This caused some irritation. All the workmen there had every tool they needed, but this entitled decorator crew started barking orders, making last minute requests that no one had time for, all while treating everyone like crap just because they were with some snooty magazine. At one point, Big Gay Guy barked something at Paul, and seeing the feral snapping look in his eye, I bodily placed myself between them, obviously at my own peril. I was still maintaining order til the photoshoot was eminent...even if it killed me.
Oh, the doors? They showed up the day of the photoshoot...and not prehung! What that means is the doors were blanks, having no hinge mortises routered into them, nor into the jambs which requires either a precision factory setting or a special jig. I fly off the jobsite, hitting every hardware store in the region looking for a jig...no dice. Sweating bullets I end up back on the jobsite, mortising every door in the house, by hand, with a chisel and hammer. As I am performing this arduous and painstaking task, I'm trying my best to keep Paul from killing Big Gay Guy, trying to make the homeowner happy with the work we're doing, trying to keep Mary happy because I know it means a lot to our company, managing Jeb the contractor who's still not done with the flooring...all while maintaining my focus to make the doors come out. I reach down as I'm preparing to hang a door...and my screwgun is missing. I snap. I know exactly who it is: those decorators that came all the way from NY and didn't bring a single frickin tool, even though they knew what type of work they'd be doing, assembling beds, mounting curtain bars, etc. I let fly with some expletives that had my children heard them, they'd be in foster homes.
The homeowner, being a true diplomat calmed me down. We did some incredible set work, propping up the gutless and broken fridge (it didn't actually work, just a shell with no actual compressor, busted in transport) to make it look like the kitchen was complete, slamming baseboards up against doors still wet with lacquer without bothering to nail them as it wouldn't show in the pics...overall an amazing experience.
Later the homeowner had a house party and invited me. I must admit to turning a few shades of red when she related the construction stories to her high society friends, but if I had it all to do over again...I'd have ran off to Mexico.
busted knuckles
03-04-09, 01:24 AM
What wordbiker said.
Michigander
03-04-09, 04:26 AM
I have, on more than one occasion, had a large commute and 2 + weeks of 60 or more hours of work per week. It's hard to pick out one specific busiest time.
patentcad
03-04-09, 04:38 AM
That period begins today as my little patent drafting firm goes from very little work to trying to unbury ourselves from the pile of corporate jobs that landed in my e-mail box out of the blue from 2 clients who had been pretty quiet until yesterday between 3 and 6PM.
As we say in the business world, it's better to be buried than dead. MUCH better. Particularly in this F'd up economy.
As we say in the business world, it's better to be buried than dead. MUCH better. Particularly in this F'd up economy.
pgoat
03-04-09, 05:11 AM
probably my last semester undergrad (described more or less in the 'fell asleep in class' thread)...kept getting crazier and crazier right up till the last day.
So stressed....I was living on two packs of Winstons a day. I lost about 50 pounds but it took me four months to do so....and no nurses were harmed, so c0urt def. wins;)
So stressed....I was living on two packs of Winstons a day. I lost about 50 pounds but it took me four months to do so....and no nurses were harmed, so c0urt def. wins;)
KingTermite
03-04-09, 09:06 AM
The first thought that comes to mind was work (same company I work for now) about 8 years ago.
A new project came in that was given to me to bid. I bid about 4 months. As usual, the manager bumped it down assuming that I'd inflated it (which I did...because she always bumped it down...was really about 3.5 months work at my estimate).
She submits it at 3 months to do the work.
A few months later the project drops in my lap with a 6 week deadline from when its given. And it CAN NOT be late because customers were coming in (from Greece) at the completion to witness the final test.
So I worked 70-80 hours a week for 6 weeks straight to complete the project. At the time I lived an hour drive away from work too. I remember nearly falling down from exhaustion at work a few times...it was like walking around in a haze. Reminded me of some times back in college.
A new project came in that was given to me to bid. I bid about 4 months. As usual, the manager bumped it down assuming that I'd inflated it (which I did...because she always bumped it down...was really about 3.5 months work at my estimate).
She submits it at 3 months to do the work.
A few months later the project drops in my lap with a 6 week deadline from when its given. And it CAN NOT be late because customers were coming in (from Greece) at the completion to witness the final test.
So I worked 70-80 hours a week for 6 weeks straight to complete the project. At the time I lived an hour drive away from work too. I remember nearly falling down from exhaustion at work a few times...it was like walking around in a haze. Reminded me of some times back in college.
ModoVincere
03-04-09, 09:07 AM
1999 the entire year. Y2K. Worked 80+ hours/wk 50 wks out of that year installing a new accounting system for a company.
trsidn
03-04-09, 09:16 AM
Navy boot camp. 1977.
I became a trained killer. I learned to fold my shorts.
I became a trained killer. I learned to fold my shorts.
ModoVincere
03-04-09, 09:39 AM
Navy boot camp. 1977.
I became a trained killer. I learned to fold my shorts.
Where can you find pleasure
Search the world for treasure
Learn science technology
Where can you begin to make your dreams all come true
On the land or on the sea
Where can you learn to fly
Play in sports and skin dive
Study oceanography
Sign of for the big band
Or sit in the grandstand
When your team and others meet
In the navy
Yes, you can sail the seven seas
In the navy
Yes, you can put your mind at ease
In the navy
Come on now, people, make a stand
In the navy, in the navy
Can't you see we need a hand
In the navy
Come on, protect the motherland
In the navy
Come on and join your fellow man
In the navy
Come on people, and make a stand
In the navy, in the navy, in the navy (in the navy)
They want you, they want you
They want you as a new recruit
If you like adventure
Don't you wait to enter
The recruiting office fast
Don't you hesitate
There is no need to wait
They're signing up new seamen fast
Maybe you are too young
To join up today
Bout don't you worry 'bout a thing
For I'm sure there will be
Always a good navy
Protecting the land and sea
In the navy
Yes, you can sail the seven seas
In the navy
Yes, you can put your mind at ease
In the navy
Come on now, people, make a stand
In the navy, in the navy
Can't you see we need a hand
In the navy
Come on, protect the motherland
In the navy
Come on and join your fellow man
In the navy
Come on people, and make a stand
In the navy, in the navy, in the navy (in the navy)
They want you, they want you
They want you as a new recruit
Who me?
They want you, they want you
They want you as a new recruit
But, but but I'm afraid of water.
Hey, hey look
Man, I get seasick even watchin' it on TV!
They want you, they want you in the navy
Oh my goodness.
What am I gonna do in a submarine?
They want you, they want you in the navy
I became a trained killer. I learned to fold my shorts.
Where can you find pleasure
Search the world for treasure
Learn science technology
Where can you begin to make your dreams all come true
On the land or on the sea
Where can you learn to fly
Play in sports and skin dive
Study oceanography
Sign of for the big band
Or sit in the grandstand
When your team and others meet
In the navy
Yes, you can sail the seven seas
In the navy
Yes, you can put your mind at ease
In the navy
Come on now, people, make a stand
In the navy, in the navy
Can't you see we need a hand
In the navy
Come on, protect the motherland
In the navy
Come on and join your fellow man
In the navy
Come on people, and make a stand
In the navy, in the navy, in the navy (in the navy)
They want you, they want you
They want you as a new recruit
If you like adventure
Don't you wait to enter
The recruiting office fast
Don't you hesitate
There is no need to wait
They're signing up new seamen fast
Maybe you are too young
To join up today
Bout don't you worry 'bout a thing
For I'm sure there will be
Always a good navy
Protecting the land and sea
In the navy
Yes, you can sail the seven seas
In the navy
Yes, you can put your mind at ease
In the navy
Come on now, people, make a stand
In the navy, in the navy
Can't you see we need a hand
In the navy
Come on, protect the motherland
In the navy
Come on and join your fellow man
In the navy
Come on people, and make a stand
In the navy, in the navy, in the navy (in the navy)
They want you, they want you
They want you as a new recruit
Who me?
They want you, they want you
They want you as a new recruit
But, but but I'm afraid of water.
Hey, hey look
Man, I get seasick even watchin' it on TV!
They want you, they want you in the navy
Oh my goodness.
What am I gonna do in a submarine?
They want you, they want you in the navy
trsidn
03-04-09, 09:50 AM
oh, they want you all right.....
Kotts
03-04-09, 11:17 AM
Busiest 2 weeks at work was when the had to prepare a position paper on a complex issue in 2 weeks, when we normally would have had 2 months.
Busiest 2 weeks of my life would have been adopting my daughter.
By any scale I can imageine cOurt wins....
Busiest 2 weeks of my life would have been adopting my daughter.
By any scale I can imageine cOurt wins....
SonataInFSharp
03-04-09, 11:35 AM
Fours years as a music major. Life has been one very long vacation since I graduated, despite working full time and/or two full time jobs since graduation.
jsharr
03-04-09, 11:39 AM
I do not measure time in weeks. I measure time in BM's. Busiest period was 372.3 in 14 of your days.
pgoat
03-04-09, 01:40 PM
I do not measure time in weeks. I measure time in BM's. Busiest period was 372.3 in 14 of your days.
can we get the amount of calories taken in for that same 14-day period?
can we get the amount of calories taken in for that same 14-day period?
KingTermite
03-04-09, 01:41 PM
Seasons 1-14, they were the most insane two weeks of ANYBODY's life!!!
http://images.rca.org/images/perspectives/2006/JackBauer.jpg
http://images.rca.org/images/perspectives/2006/JackBauer.jpg
jsharr
03-04-09, 01:42 PM
Roughly 1k per BM.
ilikebikes
03-04-09, 04:03 PM
It started the day my youngest was born. I was running back and forth from the hospital as I was trying to get things together for my new born daughter AND trying to set up my oldest daughters (then 4) birthday party, my youngest was born on the 28th my oldest the 29th! The 2 weeks after that day seemed like they lasted 200 years! :twitchy: Thank goodness they're grown! :D
avmanansala
03-04-09, 07:57 PM
Architecture school... 5 years of sleep deprivation culminating every quarter with two weeks of madness filled with adrenaline, caffeine, zero sleep just before final studio presentations. Topped off with 48 hours of straight unconsciousness. Headaches, hallucinations and lack of gross motor skills took place just before projects were recorded. I once (and it seems that everyone I know has, too) had a nightmare about a studio presentation usually a month or so after graduation - mine happened to be on my thesis.
pgoat
03-04-09, 08:07 PM
Roughly 1k per BM.
I can't believe you ate the whole thing!
I can't believe you ate the whole thing!
mrt10x
03-04-09, 08:35 PM
this week and next week.. .ask me again in two weeks... I will tell you the same
downtube42
03-04-09, 08:45 PM
1990
80 hour weeks
2 kids in diapers
gutted the kitchen to studs and rebuilt
what was I thinking
80 hour weeks
2 kids in diapers
gutted the kitchen to studs and rebuilt
what was I thinking
pgoat
03-05-09, 06:30 AM
what was I thinking
same as the rest of us, probably......
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/7/72/Superman.jpg
same as the rest of us, probably......
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/7/72/Superman.jpg
DocM
03-05-09, 06:59 AM
The month before my dissertation defense I decided the chapter I was having trouble with was not working, so I started a new one. I wrote 150 pages in a week, then edited that down to 65 pages. At the same time, I was editing and finishing up rewrites on the other 250 pages. I was also teaching full time and had 100 student portfolios (about 10 pages each) to grade.
wabbit
03-05-09, 07:39 AM
geez right now!
since the last week! dont' ask.....
since the last week! dont' ask.....