Statistics, or the Funky Number Conga

[.Lucy.]

I've never been good at numbers.

Yet I am a sociologist. In the entire year I've worked here, my job has never required me to work with statistical analysis until today. This huge grant report is due Thursday afternoon, and the numbers are dancing the conga, the mambo and groovin' to reggaeton on the N-teenth excel spreadsheets before me.

I've forgotten how to calculate percentages.

I am, after all, a writer- an English major who penned her thoughts in steno books. I wasn't much into basing my thoughts in anything concrete like facts, formulas, equations.

But today, of all holy days of numerical calculations, I've had to face the numbers head on. And, I am not one of those who likes to hide my ignorance. I will try my best in something, but I know my limitations. Much rather look the fool asking a question and admit my ignorance than to look a greater fool for making assumptions and do something incorrectly.

I ask my supervisor, who has always been genuinely kind to me, for the formula.

"You should really brush up on that." She said, a little rise in her voice something like a hint of carefree laughter but her tone threw me off, made me feel silly.

I apologetically admitted to not having worked with percentages since college, at least 3-4 years ago. It was embarassing, because I perhaps should be on top of everything, be knowledgable of everything that comes my way. I've been working on this grant for months now, and I knew the statistical part was required at fiscal year end's reporting, which is solely mine to work on.

Yet a part of me countered mentally- my job has never been to take on the role of a social worker, or a statistical analyst. I'm a "government grants coordinator", a fancy name for data entry/grants funder/administrative assistant. I readily admit I should have brushed up on this sooner. Yet the weight of this major report has been burdening me, and until a few days ago, they were only allowing me to work part-time hours on a full-time project. I do feel entitled to at least make sure I know what I'm doing and take the risk of asking the "stupid" question.

I felt ridiculous, but I got the formula and have been working on the numbers ever since. Perhaps I'm wrong, perhaps I should've found another means of obtaining the formula...but I know I would have been paranoid at the outcomes, been worried I'd made some kind of mistake. Or perhaps I'm just letting my overworked mind develop erroneous conclusions about what people around here think about me. I always work to my 1000%- I'm allowed to be human too.

Lunch break is over. Back to the grind.

[mtmynd]

A great little snippet, Lucy and one I enjoyed reading despite the content which you phrased like a pro!

TY

[still.trucking]

you are a mean lean writing machine

I deleted a long ramble about the statistics course that ended my twelve year career as a college sophomore because I was thinking I sounded weird. But you knew that. Annie Fay had to flame me about that.

[still.trucking]

Another day a another long mindless ramble.
sorry

I thought the bit about your supervisor was interesting. Left me contemplating how women get along with each other. Virginia Woolf said it is a guy thing, that men find women so much more interesting than women find men.

I usually save my deleted replies I have not been able to find that one I deleted. Not like I was hitting on you or anything like that.

Not so much the feeling that I might be invading your space but more a feeling I was trying to tell you something about my search for self knowledge.
"What I wish for now is no longer to be happy but only to be aware." Camus

As if could tell you anything about my experience that was relevant to yours.

Pompous maybe.
or
oompous

That course in statistics shattered my brain or maybe it was the Peyote. It seemed so strange, the concept that the only reality in this best of all objective space time worlds about us is statistical.
I could do the math but I was too far gone to deal with the truth.

My reply to a revolutionary rabbit poem

That course in statistics shattered my brain or maybe it was the Peyote.

All that I can deal with
it is all so human

It is the calm reasoned discussions of what to do about it that crack me up
I shattered my world on statistics and mescaline. I never have been able to get it all together again in one piece, not completely, fracture lines still not healed. It is all so fragile, one well reasoned opinion can leave me in shards. A quantum mystic in my old age.


the shattered-consciousness

I was always a whiz at math, but not a good student. I am not completely sure why I deleted my original post. I guess maybe because it seemed too long and not germane.

but all human behavior is over determined I have read.

[saw]

the workplace can make infinite demand, so too can we make those same demands of our self......i like this introspective look at how we eternally question whether we are good enough, if we measure up, a most stressful endeavor that us humans seem to be unable to avoid....perhaps the message here is, do your best, considering all the variables of each new day.....and fuck the rest.....

[SmileGRL]

it's good to let these things out from time to time. and yes, all we can do, is do our best with what's available to us.