Corette Garance June 9, 2021 Spreadsheet
Lester‘s temporary office at the Factory was glassed on all sides, and surrounded by the sights, sounds, searing temperatures, and smells of the smelting and pouring areas. Originally, the cubbyhole had been used for storing coal and coke until the plant converted to gas-fired furnaces in the mid-‘50s. Over the next three decades a succession of plant superintendents used the room to boink their secretaries, which necessitated its windows being painted a squalid olive drab. During 10 years of performing this chore every six months, Lester had scraped two panes clear, so now he could gaze into the murky, smoky, smelly pit outside as he waited for the grinding computer and clackety printer to spit out a stream of spreadsheets.
The former hangs like a transparent curtain four feet above the floor and shrink-wraps itself to anyone bold enough to attempt passing through. The latter represents a fragrant blend of beer, cheap cologne, and unkempt toilets, and assaults an unsuspecting visitor‘s nose like an aggressive index finger. By Saturday, the fragrance would be pungent enough to cause mere mortals to speak in tongues. Lance led the way with Lester in tow, dodging around dark figures that emerged from the nicotine and odoriferous fog. Lester had difficulty keeping up, licking the lenses of his glasses and tie-drying them as they wove their ways toward diffused light they assumed was the bar area where lusty women awaited.
Structured Query Language, often referred to as SQL, is a grammar of instructions that allows us to tell a relational database to add, modify or delete data. The key benefit, pardon the pun, of SQL is that it allows us to craft instructions relating large sets of data together. In this way SQL is the natural complement to the single cell and formula based interface of spreadsheets like Microsoft Excel. Imagine you had five hundred appointments from your business calendar laid out in a table. Each appointment might have a day, time, location and description. Now imagine you also had five hundred appointments from your partners business calendar, also each having a day, time, location and description.
”Rippeto‘s Rendezvous” was only a block away, and attracted patrons from all levels of the social spectrum: Primarily fringe types, college students, and the occasional Young Urban Professional. It was near the University, and close to Civic Arena and Three Rivers Stadium. On clear nights, you could look out Rippeto‘s windows and see the Monongahela River afire in the distance. Two things are striking about Rippeto‘s when one weasels through the wall of humanity standing outside, and plasters oneself against an identical living wall inside: The smoke and the smell.
His entomological collection occupied any open areas large enough to accept skewered insects. And his Buddy Holly collection consisted of three scritchy albums the talented tunester recorded before dying at 22 when his plane crashed in Iowa. Lester wore black horn-rimmed classes identical to those of the late singer, and considered these a statement to the world that a ”cool” persona existed within his ”bean counter‘s” body. Too, Lester was a college graduate: Penn State, class of ‘78. He maintained a solid ”C” average over four years, and finally earned ”Certified Public Accountant” status on his fifth try. ”Reversing entries are hemorrhoids in the ass of accounting,” he remarked flatly during a first interview with his present employer, who dwelled briefly on his gradepoint average and numerous shots at CPA accreditation. ”They tricked me every time!” In spite of his lackluster academic record, the firm hired Lester and beginning Day One sacrificed him to Bourgeois and 20 other mediocre accounts.
At times, Lester became so furious his face radiated heat and fogged his glasses. When this happened, he yanked them from his puffy eyes and wiped the lenses with his tie. On this late Friday afternoon, however, Lester felt exhilarated. The printer regurgitated its last run of printouts and as he scanned the rows of figures he penciled in tick marks to indicate matches with numbers found in the corporate ledgers. The task complete for another 180 days, he removed his glasses, rubbed his aching eyeballs, and inhaled deeply to savor the fluttery feeling of excitement flooding his upper chest. Then, Lester logged off the computer, tapped the surge protector power switch with his toe, and shut down the wheezing system.
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