USA. Summer. It is 95 degrees outside, and I am shivering inside a sandwich shop.
I have discovered how Americans forge strong souls.
Outside, the sun is trying to kill everyone. Inside this small restaurant, it is winter. My breath does not fog, but it is thinking about it. A man near me is eating a cold sandwich while wearing a jacket. In summer. Indoors.
In Japan we would simply turn it down. Americans do not turn it down. And now I understand them better than they understand themselves.
This cold is not an accident. This cold is a gift.
The owner has built, inside his shop, a second season. He invites you in from the brutal heat and hands you the one thing the sun has denied you all day: a reason to be cold. To endure it is to be tempered. You walk in soft and sweating. You walk out sharp and clear, a slightly stronger person than you were.
So I did not complain. I removed my outer layer and offered it to the woman at the next table, who was hugging herself. She said, "Oh, no, I'm fine, thank you." She was not fine. Her lips were blue. But she, too, understood the training. She would not break first. I respected her deeply.
The owner asked if everything was okay.
"It is perfect," I said, through my teeth, which were chattering. "Thank you for the winter."
He said, "...I can turn the AC down if you want?"
I told him no. A man does not ask the mountain to be shorter.
I stayed two hours. I ordered a hot coffee to survive. Then a second one, to hold. By the end I could no longer feel my hands, but my spirit had never been clearer.
So now, on the hottest days, I seek out the coldest rooms. I sit. I shiver. I sharpen.
And when I finally step back out into the summer heat, and it wraps around me like a warm bath, I feel it.
Reborn.
A man who has survived the winter, in August, indoors, for the price of a sandwich.
My wife's book club is meeting at our house tomorrow night.
She asked me to "make sure the wifi is working really well because Sarah always complains."
Our wifi works fine, I know that because it works fine for me and my wife and everybody else.
Sarah uses an iPhone XR from like 2019 and she refuses to update it.
But I can't tell my wife that because then I'm "making excuses" and "not being supportive."
So I said I'd "optimize the network" for tomorrow. What I'm actually going to do: nothing. The wifi is fine.
But tomorrow morning I'll restart the router, which takes 90 seconds and does basically nothing.
Then when Sarah inevitably complains about connectivity, I can say "I optimized the system this morning.
It might be a device compatibility issue on your end."
My wife will think I tried. Sarah will blame her phone instead of our wifi. I'll have done essentially nothing but everyone will be satisfied.
Technical support at home is just like technical support at work lol.
MacBook Pro in 2017: Horrible deal, horrible computer
MacBook Pro in 2021: Pretty good deal, fantastic computer
MacBook Pro in 2026: Best deal, best computer
Facilities just sent me an email asking why the server room temperature is set to 62°F.
They said it's "excessive" and they want to raise it to 68°F to save on cooling costs.
I replied with a six-paragraph email explaining "thermal load balancing," "equipment MTBF degradation," and "catastrophic failure risk."
I cited a "study" that showed every degree above 65°F reduces server lifespan by 15%.
There is no study. I made that up.
But I CC'd the CFO and said if Facilities wants to take ownership of a potential $200K hardware replacement due to overheating, they're welcome to adjust the temperature.
Facilities backed off immediately.
Here's the truth: the servers would be fine at 70°F. Data centers run hotter than that all the time.
But I like the server room at 62°F. It's the only place in the building where I can go to cool off and get some peace and quiet.
Plus, now I have an email chain proving that I "advocated for infrastructure longevity" while others wanted to "cut corners."
Technical decisions are rarely about what's right. They're about who's willing to use more jargon.