Back to Palo Alto

The flight to San Francisco only took 14 hours (I guess prevailing winds are a wonderful thing) and I was through Customs and picking up my bag before 9am. It was touch and go for a bit; they have automated machines at SFO to collect your information before you hand your passport to a person in a bulletproof vest, but for some reason the camera and the flash on the machine weren’t playing nice. It kept taking a picture of me so over-exposed you could almost make out my pupils and jawline, and nothing else, and then complained that the picture wasn’t clear and would have to be taken again. Technology, I love you.
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Don’t you have homes to go to?

I’m walking home from the office. It’s almost 11pm. I was checking emails at 4 this morning while consoling my phlegmatic child, I was in the office on a phone call at 8:30 this morning and although somebody was kind enough to drag me away for lunch and also ensure I left the office in time to see my daughter to bed, in one day I’ve racked up eleven hours either at my desk or staring at a screen. This is one of the downsides of globalization. Not as bad as having robots eat your job or somebody else exporting their pollution to your country, but aggravating.
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