Head Phones. Phones for your Head.

Several years ago I bought a pair of those pricey (overpriced?) Bose headphones with noise-reduction capabilities. After about a year and a half of use, a plastic component attaching the earpiece to the headband snapped. I called the company to find out if it would be possible to get a replacement piece, and because my headphones were still under warranty, they sent me a new pair.

A few months ago, the replacement pair broke in the exact same spot. I didn't think they're covered by any sort of warranty anymore, so I just put them in a drawer and left them there.

The thing is, I can focus so much better when I wear them, even if I'm not listening to music or anything. Maybe it's partly because they function as a giant Do Not Disturb sign. Little in-your-ear headphones have a similar effect, but they get uncomfortable after a while.

So on Sunday I bought some glue (for gluing together plastic models), and applied it to the broken spot. Hopefully it will hold. So far, so good (five minutes into wearing).

The bottom line is, I'm relieved to have my headphones back. Even if they break again in a week or two, that window of time will be worth it.

But given that both sets of headphones have broken in the same place, doesn't that suggest a design/manufacturing problem? Or does Bose manufacture products with planned obsolescence in mind? Because if they do, I definitely don't want to support their business anymore.

Run a Tight Ship

Ahh, office dynamics.

Let me 'splain. My "office" is actually a cubicle. It makes me want to laugh bitterly every time I hear that a group of architects want to tour our building, because it has to be one of the worst possible working environments imaginable. The labs are actually great. It's just the offices. It's not just that my office is a cubicle (and actually, it could be much, much worse). The thing is, there are four cubicles in my office section, and these four cubicles are ringed by additional offices, each of which houses two people. The three offices directly opposite my cubicle are most likely to be occupied, but there's also an end office that is occupied by a Very Important Person. At any moment, there's at least one person in an office. Often they leave their doors open while holding conversations. And not only are we in cubicles, we're in cubicles with fake "windows" in the upper sections of the dividers. Now seriously, people. Either bone up to the fact that the actual walls end a foot above the desk, or put in REAL dividers. These half-dividers are ridiculous because they mean that D and I have to look through 1-2 panes of glass to talk to each other.

Now, let me 'splain how academics work. A lot of what I do involves writing. Writing (or academic writing, for me at least) requires a lot of concentration, interspersed with a lot of what looks like goofing off. Okay, it probably *is* goofing off. It's also accompanied by awkward-seeming postures, because for some reason the conventional arrangement of sitting in a chair with my feet on the ground is uncomfortable. [Back in the undergraduate days, I used to slouch in the lecture hall seats and would often drape my legs across the seat in the row in front of me. You get the idea.]

Well, the Very Important Person was gone for most of the summer, which meant that D and I could let loose in our cubicle section because nobody was watching us. I think those days are now over. No more reading books with my feet propped up on the desk. No more eating lunch while sitting at my cubicle. No more surfing of extraneous websites (yeah, right).

Of course, this will probably encourage me to act more professionally and get more done. But wait a minute--I became an academic because it meant I didn't have to act professionally! Augh.