Xavier Bishop

FRIDAY, MARCH 7, 2008

5:35 a.m.: The cell phone alarm chimes quietly. I retrieve it from the nightstand and draw it close to my face.
It’s always my first decision of the day: whether to Dismiss the alarm and get out of bed or take the 10 Minute Snooze. I press the side wheel on the phone dismissing the alarm and slowly make my way out of bed.

Like magic my feet find the slippers by the side of the bed and I shuffle toward the bathroom avoiding an army of toys like they’re landmines on a battlefield.

It takes me 30 minutes to shower, shave and clothe before I’m out the door.

The drive to work takes me over a high rise bridge where I witness the beginning of a crimson sun struggle to get from behind a wall of clouds. I imagine the sun and clouds arguing over who gets to decide what kind of day it’s going to become.

6:45 a.m.: I arrive at my office trailer with coffee and muffin in hand, the grease from the muffin bleeding through the white paper bag. Seated at my desk I eat and drink while browsing the online news. Shortly past seven a worker arrives to empty the waste cans and ready the trailer for another day of business.

I hear a light rap at the door and know it’s the fire chief paying me a visit. He’s visibly worn and I learn he’s distraught over the results of last night’s board meeting, where once again no action was taken on the discipline of two firemen. He expresses his concern for the morale of his men and wonders aloud what can be done to remedy the situation. I remind him of what he already knows: I’ve exhausted all of my authority over the matter, and the Board has made its decision on how it wishes to discipline the firemen. Disappointed he soon leaves.

A short while later the HR Director arrives and she too wants a quick update on the board meeting. Normally she would have attended the meeting, but she chose not to do so for reasons that required no explanation. She listens intently while I speak, then finally expresses her opinion. In the end she leaves knowing she made the right decision not to attend the meeting.
I finish the early morning by firing off some memos, realizing that I’ll be talking about the board meeting throughout the day.

8:00 a.m.: The doors are unlocked and city hall is open for business. The once quiet trailer is soon filled with the sound of office banter. Our first customer is a man wanting to obtain a building permit. He’s told that building permits have moved to a different trailer and he’s directed where to go. Moments later I’m buzzed on the intercom and told there’s a person on hold wishing to talk to me. The caller talks rapidly, and I’m unable to catch his name. He said generally he’s disappointed in the progress the city has made since the storm, but he wanted me to know he agrees with my veto. We chat briefly and after thanking him I turn my attention back to the mass of emails I’d been working on. I’d managed to whittle down the number from 171 to 90 before stopping to confer with my assistant on two meetings she’ll attend that morning. Our conversation lasts all of about 15 minutes before I’m pulled away to take two “important” phone calls that are waiting for my attention.

10:00 a.m.: It’s moments away from my first of two interviews to fill the vacant building inspector’s position. But first my secretary rushes in to inform me there’s a resident waiting to schedule an appointment as soon as possible, but my calendar appears full for the next several days. The resident has an issue with the Inspections Department I’m told. I unholster my Blackberry and type “Mtg w res on Insp prob” into the Monday 10 a.m. slot, creating a conflict with another meeting that’s already scheduled.
I proceed to the waiting area expecting to welcome the interviewee only to find three firemen seated about the room. I assume they’re there to see me but when asked they say it’s the HR Director they came to see. Still I take a moment to greet them with handshakes and we exchange pleasantries, when the resident I’d just scheduled the Monday meeting with approaches me.
“I’ll be here exactly at ten,” she informs me, “so don’t cancel on me.” I’m wondering if I’d cancelled a previous meeting with her but rather than engage her on the subject I simply respond by saying, “don’t worry, I won’t cancel if you won’t,” and I motion for the interviewee to follow me to my office.

Candidate A is a local contractor who has decided he’d like to become the City’s building inspector. He settles his slight frame into the chair opposite my desk and the interview begins. He starts with a summation of his background and his many years of experience. His brown eyes come alive when he describes the improvements he’d like to make in the department if he’s chosen for the position. “Things will be a lot different,” he assures me.

The interview lasts about 30 minutes leaving me roughly 15 minutes before the next interview begins. I fill the time making notes and reviewing the application of the next candidate, and in no time it seems my secretary alerts me that Candidate B has arrived.

A robust man, Candidate B hails from northern Mississippi where he’d once served as a building inspector and code enforcer. He drove 6 hours for the interview. He said he wanted to return to inspections work but only in a city where codes and ordinances were applied equally to all businesses and residents.

I stressed to both candidates my intention to fill the position with someone who possessed field experience AND the ability to lead and manage people; someone capable of learning AND teaching others. Confidently they each assured me they were the right person for the job.

12:15 p.m.: I arrive at the gym and quickly change into my workout clothes. It’s day three of my weekly workout and I’m eager to get started and get it over with. At 51 I find nothing sexy or romantic about working out. I’ve abandoned any hope of ever having a sculptured physique and so I go to the gym for one reason and one reason only: to promote good health. That said my routine is simple: a 20-minute resistance workout (legs, arms and abs) followed by 40 minutes of cardio (bike, stairs and treadmill.)

1:45 p.m.: After a much-needed shower I’m back in the office reviewing the mockup of a newly designed form we’ll soon put into use. There’s a meeting with an event organizer in 15 minutes and we’d like to use the form for his upcoming event.
While reviewing the mockup I’m interrupted by a call from the city engineer. He wants to discuss projects the Board has asked him to work on. For the next 15 minutes we discuss the projects within the scope of the city’s finances and pending FEMA projects, then conclude additional information is needed in order to reach a final decision on how to proceed. So a meeting is scheduled in the coming week to gather that information.

With that out of the way I spend the next 20 minutes discussing the board meeting with two more staff members. I find it repetitious but the discussion gives me valuable insight into their feelings about the situation.

3:15 p.m.: Even though the meeting with the event planner ended without him viewing the mockup, I still want to complete my review of the form. But there’s another phone call, this one from someone with Habitat for Humanity. The soft spoken woman on the other end of the line says that Habitat wants to build a home that requires a variance on the minimum square footage required by the city.

Her call reminds me of how frequently people turn to me for help in solving their everyday problems. Whether it’s to explain the cause of an “excessive” water bill, or to get a pothole fixed - out of respect or out of desperation they see me as the person capable of making things right.
While it’s flattering to be viewed with such dominion, making phone calls to get peoples’ problems solved is not the most effective use of my time. In the best of times someone has to care for the daily problems while someone else markets and promotes the city.

Still, following a five-minute conversation with the Inspections Department, Habitat is placed on the agenda for an upcoming Board of Adjustment meeting.
3:45 p.m.: I settle in to spend the next thirty minutes privately discussing several issues in the police department but the meeting is interrupted by news that a member of the civil service board is there to hand in his resignation. The resignation creates a two-person vacancy that could affect our ability to fill vacancies in a timely manner.

4:15 p.m.: I’m at my desk munching on raw almonds, completing my review of the mockup. After making notations I return the form for what will hopefully be a final edit. Next I turn my attention to the stack of mail that has accumulated for several days. Announcements, invitations, policy changes, and memos make up the bulk of the roughly 6-inch stack of papers. When I’m done each piece of paper will fall into 1 of 4 categories: papers to be trashed, something to be cared for by someone else, something that requires a response, or papers to be filed.
Meanwhile as it nears the end of the workday my secretary comes in and hands me a small stack of phone messages that she’s recorded while I’ve been holed up in my office.

5:15 p.m.: Everyone has left the building and the phones are no longer ringing. Silence envelops the office the way it did nearly 11 hours before. I continue to work through the stack of mail, though my pace has slowed considerably.

6:00 p.m.: Making certain the trailer doors are locked I change into my yoga pants and unfurl the sticky mat I keep tucked away in my office. I dim the office lights and for the next forty minutes remember to breathe as I engage in postures with names like downward facing dog, cobra, bow and tree. At journey’s end I relax into corpse pose and the process of realignment is completed.

7:00 p.m.: There’s no place like home. With a large vegetarian pizza I arrive home to waiting smiles, hearty appetites and the comfort of a loving family.