1. leaving

	Welcome to my musings about the workplaces I've inhabited. These pages follow in the tradition of my travel pages. I market myself on the pages dedicated to my résumé. The two ought not be confused.

It was the middle of a hot summer, in May 2001, when I started a new consulting project at Renovis, a biotechnology company. Located on the campus of Oakland Children's Hospital (actually under the helipad), Renovis was set to move to their new South San Francisco location only ten days or two weeks later. This would be a more convenient commute for me, but as you'll soon see, hardly a more interesting one.

My morning commute starts with an eastward stroll from our cottage through the Castro and past the Mission Delores church.

We're heading to the 16th Street BART station. I could take the MUNI from Castro station downtown, and then switch over, but it's a beautiful day, so why not enjoy the outdoors?

Between the Castro and Mission commercial districts it's pretty much residential, but things begin to become more interesting once we cross Guerrero Street. Across the street is Pakwan (Pakistani cuisine), Picaro (Ibearian).

Just past Katz Bagels, home of the UFO bagel flying outside the shop, is one of the most interesting artifacts of the class struggle underway in the Mission.

The dot com boom intensified an ongoing gentrification, and the local artists, poets, and other white-collar knowledge workers are flaming mad about the increase in rents and building purchases.

I probably didn't mention the flyers recommending that the neighborhood folks use their house keys to scratch any upscale cars, especially SUVs.

Finally we're on the corner of Valencia Street, looking south. Across the street is We Be Sushi (Japanese) and Senic India, both favorites. It's time to meander a quarter-block, to the coffee shop.

I get a smile and a hot caffè latte. And I do mean hot. I'm barely able to down any of the fragrant, steaming beverage before I arrive at my next stop.

It's back to 16th, around the corner, and down to the BART station. I sip a only a bit before I have to smuggle the contraband consumable past the BART workers and transit police.