Pranks, Academia Edition

You know it's going to be a good day when someone says "I need to prank the shit out of someone."

There is a long history of inspired creativity around these parts, and no better time than April 1st to execute such ideas. What if, hypothetically, a series of emails were sent to an unsuspecting AE (let's call him Z) from an economist, such as Steve Levitt? In particular, it is known that Z despises Levitt and widely disparages his research. So, how would he respond to an attractive job offer from a prominent economist?

These emails were sent from a Hotmail account, rather than a spoofed U of C account. After all, the goal here was to be a jerk, not ruin lives.

Email #1

Z,

Congratulations on your recent admittance to the University of Chicago Economics Department. As you may know, I currently direct the Becker Center on Chicago Price Theory housed at the Booth School of Business. I have familiarized myself with your work on DSGE models, and I believe it is in line with the contributions of the Becker Center. To that end, I thought I would make you aware of an opportunity here at the Becker Center. Each year we take on several Graduate Assistants, these are people who we believe show promise. More than half of our Graduate Assistants have gone on to become Becker Center Research Fellows. This position would allow you to work closely with the Becker Center faculty such as myself to develop your ideas as you progress through your degree. I realize you have not yet finalized your graduate school decision yet, but I hope that this offer may help you to understand all of your options. Please e-mail me if you have any questions or to follow up about the position.

Steven Levitt

Let's review: this email included a rather unusual offer, and was sent on April 1st from a Hotmail account. I thought it would get spotted as fraudulent in about 30 seconds. Much to my shock, Z replied sincerely, saying that he was interested in meeting Levitt and looked forward to seeing him at the Chicago open house tomorrow. What now? Clearly, this is a cue to up the ante and become progressively more outrageous.

Email #2

Z,

Outstanding. While you're here I'd like to make sure I introduce you to Gary. Unfortunately he's been a bit moody recently but the color purple seems to have a soothing effect on him (the doctors have called it "neurochromopathy") so if you can make sure to include it in your ensemble it would be for the best. I look forward to our meeting and discussing some of my research with you. Please e-mail me if you have any further questions.

Steve

That's bizarre enough that warning flags should triggered, right? Or, it could result in Z borrowing a purple sweater...

Time to bring out the over-the-top guns.

Email #3

Z,

Do you mind swinging by Treasure Island on your way over and bringing some Greek style plain yogurt for Gary and I? I really love the luxurious silky texture of the yogurt in my mouth. When I eat it while listening to a bit of Chopin it, it really helps me focus on the current problem. Perhaps you can try it with us.

Steve

At this point, it was time to call it quits before serious damage was done. Z took the news well, and for the record, claims to have known it was a joke. Also, he said that he did not notice the Hotmail address, since Gmail automatically hides headers unless you click "details."

Lessons learned:

1) The most credible pranks are ones that give the prankee something they desire.

2) Never trust email sent from Hotmail.

Changing of the Guard

At a meeting of Associate Economists last fall, our department head casually asked how many of us were applying to grad school or otherwise planned on leaving in the next year or so. Given the competitive nature of grad applications, I am not entirely surprised that there was complete and total silence; no one responded and we all sort of shifted uncomfortably in our chairs. Since the probability of getting rejected from all the grad programs you apply to is quite nonzero, we have pretty strong incentives to ensure that we are not replaced by a new hire. Though, to be fair, many of us (myself included) were uncertain at that point about where we would be in a year.

Flash forward to the end of March, and grad school results are in. A quick survey reveals that 9 out of the 20 AEs currently employed will be gone by next August, a whopping 45% turnover. (I did not include the casework department in these figures.) Of the 11 remaining AEs, at least two are considering pursuit of unrelated fields (not econ/math/business). Perhaps my unorthodox exit strategy is rubbing off on others.

About a year ago, I was pondering the transient nature of my social circle and felt a little left behind. Today, I can say with confidence that I have not stagnated and I am going places. About 7,700 km away, in fact. And despite the large exodus of AEs this summer, life at the Fed will still go on and on and on and on...

Anyway, congrats to everyone who was accepted to grad school this year. Anecdotally, it seems like this year was as tough or even tougher than last year. (I heard of someone who won his school's undergrad thesis award and had two incredibly well-known recommenders who hasn't gotten in anywhere.) So, it is no small feat that many AEs have landed spots in respected econ PhD programs.

Internetless, or Why I'm Never Becoming a Hermit

(Oh yeah, I think most of you already know this, but due to a number of hilarious bureaucratic snafus, I am actually moving to Italy in May, with a flight out of JFK on 5/23. Anyway, that is outside of the scope of this post.)

Day 1:

9 am. I call AT&T tech support to angrily complain about my lack of internet. They tell me that according to the diagnostics, the modem has died and I'll have to replace it. Zetsuboushita! In an instant, I realize I have lost all Truth and Knowledge in the world. And what about the state of my Google Reader? Panic. I tweet my distress through the only means possible: text message. Since I haven't set up notifications to my phone, if there are responses, I won't be able to read them.

11 am. After going for a run, I return home to discover...I have no messages. No email messages, no im messages, no tweets, no unread posts in Reader. I feel sad and lonely. With a vague sense of liberation. No eff that, I'm going to work on a weekend.

3 pm. Inbox and RSS feeds have been cleaned, Facebook messages have been responded to, must-see YouTube clips have been watched. I calculate the cost of a new modem ($80) versus the amount of time I have remaining in Chicago (~7 weeks) . I scan Craig's list for used modems, and email a couple, asking them to please call me rather than email. The Cornell-Wisconsin game is happening, but I need to get going. I ask a friend to text me the results. Turns out, we won 87-69. I celebrate without reading post-game analysis on ESPN and don't check to see if Cornell is trending on Twitter.

12 am. Have returned from a long dinner party. My 5 glasses of wine/martinis help me buzz along home, where I remember, once again, that I have no internet. Sans distractions, I topple into bed immediately.

Day 2:

7 am. I awake to the sound of NPR and actually listen to it, rather than shutting it off. I wait to hear the weather forecast. In the meantime, did you know there's a Mauwi tribe that celebrates divorce? (I wonder if "Mauwi" is the correct spelling, but don't have a way to look it up.) They have a saying, "The more time you spend in divorce, the more beautiful you are." Apparently, when you divorce, they throw you a divorce party even larger than your wedding party. And now, the weather: pleasant, sunny skies, high near 53. Oh, and the health care bill has passed! I itch to check HuffPo.

8 am. Breakfast is eaten, clothing has changed. Normally, this is where I'd start reading the morning's news and blog posts, but Chrome haunts me with repeated messages of "This webpage is not available." Sadness. I check to see if there's unsecured wifi anywhere nearby. Alas, this building is full of stingy, technologically savvy misers. I play some music, an activity that doesn't require an internet connection. I realize that the tracks are not being scrobbled by Last.fm. Ack, this will totally skew my listening data. If "Eating Me Alive" by Miracles of Modern Science gets played and don't get added to my history, does anyone actually hear it? After pondering the absurdity of this question, I turn off my computer for the first time in years, since there's no instant messenger client it needs to be running.

9 am. At work. Can't remember the last time I made it to work this early. GReader at 22 unread now.

5 pm. Spot an ad for an AT&T DSL modem on Craig's list. Call to ask where in "northwest Chicago" they are located. Harlem? Are you kidding me?? But wait, the other dude offers to drive to the loop Right Now and drop off the modem! I agree without hesitation. Then I check my pockets for cash. I have exactly $27 on me, and the ad was for $30. I have no ATM card on me. Conundrum. Quick, who can I shake down for three measley dollars? I dash over to the cubicle next door and beg Rob for money. He agrees readily, with the caveat that I will owe him 20% interest. Oh those econ types, always hilarious.

5:45 pm My Craig's List dude calls me and says that he is a tad lost. I try to give him directions, but it soon becomes apparent that he is completely unfamiliar with the loop. (He claims to be driving on Congress and crossing Van Buren...those streets are parallel.) After another 5-10 min of circling, I finally flag him down, where we do a quick and dirty exchange on the street corner. The modem is MINE.

11 pm. Return home after attending a TV premiere party. Gleefully reach for the "new" DSL modem and plug it in. Lights on, hit F5 aaaand...still nothing. Panic that I've paid $30 for another useless pos modem. I call AT&T support once again, and the woman guides me through some basic questions. I humor her by turning my modem on and off again, and use Internet Explorer for the first time in years. We finally sign on successfully and pages are loading without a hitch. I start breathing normally and thank her as I hang up. Pidgin is running, TweetDeck loads 95 new tweets, virus definitions are updated, and life is good.

Andrò in Italia!

I think most people reading this know already, but just to put it in writing, I am moving out of Chicago. To Italy. In one month. Yeah.

That is my lame excuse for this being the first post of the year on this blog. The last month has been filled with the excitement of bureaucratic arm-wrestling, selling off all my possessions, and speed-learning Italian. As a side note, there is nothing like the threat of moving to a foreign country to motivate you to learn a language. If only I could have convinced myself that I was relocating to Beijing as a kid.

What on earth am I doing in Italy? I will be enrolled at the University of Gastronomic Sciences as a master's student in their Food Culture and Communication program. The campus is located in Colorno, Italy, a little outside of Parma, which is the namesake for Parmesan cheese and Parma prosciutto. The program lasts for one year, and the language of instruction is English. (Phew!) Course titles include "Medieval Food History," "Sociology of Food Consumption," and "Food Economics."

The other popular question is what I expect to do after my year is over. Obviously there are no Monster listings for gastronomers, but alumni have gone on to work for wine importers, marketers, agricultural NGOs, etc. I'd like to go into food writing, but we'll see where the darts land. The program also ends with an 8-week internship, so that might help open some doors. At the least, it will be a year-long adventure in Italy, with a few trips to neighboring countries (Belgium, France, Spain, Greece).

The economists, suffice it to say, are supportive but a bit confused. The Fed is meant to be a fertile training ground for future econ phds, so my departure for something completely removed from econ grad school has been met with a bit of surprise. Overheard in the kitchen last week: "Did you hear? She's going to gastronomy school...yeah, I don't know. With a G."

Happily, my economists have also been nothing but supportive. I've gotten tons of unsolicited advice, well-wishes and (most importantly) translation help. The finance team held a happy hour last week, and as I left, I felt truly lucky to have worked with such smart, witty, rationally choosy people. It's been a great run at the Fed, and now that the financial crisis is over (at least according to credit spreads), I am moving on new projects.

My flight out of JFK leaves on March 7th, and classes start on March 10th. I just told HR that my last day at work would be Feb 26th. I have been continuously employed since high school, and the thought of not having an income scares the hell out of me. In case you are wondering, I am funding this entirely on my own. With Chester in college and the economy in its current shape, money is tight at home. So, while I won't be sleeping in the streets, I am definitely passing on a trip to El Bulli (not that I'd be able to get a reservation).

Seeing as Chitown Chatter suggests that Chicago will be topical, I've decided to start a new blog for my new adventures in Europe. Further information will be posted after I figure out some design details.

Notes on Las Vegas

This is a young city, where buildings are considered aged at 20 years (compare that to my house in MA which was built in 1893). And recession be damned, this is a growing city, with last week's unveiling of City Center and an additional 4,000 new hotel rooms. The Strip is slated to double in size in the next couple decades, stretching south to reach the M resort.

Water conservation is a major issue, and houses are allotted a certain amount of water usage annually. Or you can drill private wells. The tap water here does not taste very good; Lake Michigan is better by far, and the Finger Lakes top that. If you destroy your lawn by covering it with gravel or sand, you can get compensation from the government by sending in photographic evidence. Housing and land are cheap and plentiful, which makes the city surprisingly car friendly and conversely, pedestrian unfriendly. Parking on the strip is generally free at casino lots, and free with validation downtown. I can't think of another urban center that boasts free parking. There is no subway system (other than the Strip lightrail), but the bus system seems fairly extensive. Walking down the Strip is a slow process due to crowded sidewalks and the overhead crosswalk system. Each time you cross a street, you have to climb up and down a flight of stairs (or take the escalator). The streets are laid out on an imperfect grid system similar to Chicago's, with 8 blocks to a mile, and the Strip dividing addresses east and west. Avoid driving on the Strip whenever possible; it can take over an hour to traverse the four miles. However you can travel 60 or 70 blocks in just 10-15 minutes if you head away from the Strip.

There is a vibrant "Chinatown" just a couple miles west of the Strip, a series of shopping plazas and storefronts along Spring Mountain Road. I found it quite diverse compared to other asian enclaves, which are generally dominated by one ethnicity. In this two mile stretch though, there are strong Korean, Japanese, Vietnamese and Filipino offerings. Prices are low, possibly due to the proximity to CA. For a dollar, you can pick up 12 heads of garlic, a pound of tilapia or 3 pounds of limes. Restaurants are abundant and many are cash only. The pho I had here was just okay, but the duck feet and reindeer were excellent.

Las Vegas must be the only city in the world which characterizes itself by imitating other cities. In the four miles of the Strip, you will pass a mock Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty, Venetian gondolas, an Egyptian pyramid, Roman columns and a medieval castle. And in case that's not enough to grab your attention, you can watch an exploding volcano outside of the Mirage (colored water and lights set to music) and scantily clad bucaneers at the Treasure Island pirate show. I was warned that this was NOT family friendly, but opted to drag the crew there anyway for maximum hilarity. Unfortunately, it is currently closed for the winter.

I didn't take any of the prostie cards that they pass out on the Strip (figured they might be infectious), but Steven and Stanley grabbed them by the dozen (for Irony, I imagine). Having collected about fifty or so, they then decided to try standing on a corner and passing them out. This was rather unsuccessful. Then Stanley tried to drop one into a homeless guy's hat, and the homeless guy got mad and started yelling after him, "Boy! Leave me alone!"

Hoover Dam and the Grand Canyon

The artificiality of the Strip aside, the Las Vegas area actually has lots of natural attractions worth seeking out. Red Rock Canyon is a short drive away, and you can get to Lake Mead and Hoover Dam in less than an hour. With 4-5 hours of driving, you will reach the Grand Canyon in AZ, and if you drive west instead, you will hit Death Valley in CA. With a bit of internet scouting, I found a $79 bus tour that would take you to see Hoover Dam, Lake Mead and the Grand Canyon in an all-day excursion. So, one morning at 5 am, we all bundled up and hopped onto a tour bus to escape the city.

Hoover Dam was constructed at the height of the Great Depression, and completed in 1936, under budget and 2 years ahead of schedule, an amazing feat for a public works project. Lake Mead is the reservoir created by the dam. At completion, Hoover Dam was the world's largest hydroelectric power generating facility and the world's largest concrete structure. Currently, it is ranked 38th in hydroelectric power generation.

If you are ever depressed about the state of American science, hearing about the ingenuity of Hoover Dam construction will cheer you up. Two cofferdams were constructed to create a dry riverbed for construction. To divert the flow of the Colorado River, four diversion tunnels were blasted into the walls of Black Canyon, with a combined length of over 3 miles. To smooth the sides of the canyon, high-scalers were suspended from the canyon walls with ropes. They strategically placed dynamite in crevices, then swung away just in time to avoid the blast. There were 112 deaths recorded during dam construction, but contrary to rumors, no bodies were buried inside the dam. However, there is a dog buried inside, a mascot adopted by the construction workers.

When the Bureau of Reclamation solicited bids for dam construction, there was no single company with the capabilities to construct a dam of this size. So, six construction firms on the West coast banded together to bid for the contract. Appropriately, they called themselves "Six Companies." This being the height of the Depression, stable jobs were scarce and Six Companies was able cut corners on worker safety and pay. When striking workers demanded greater access to water and better working conditions, they were fired and replaced.

Two years after construction began, engineers were ready to pour concrete for the dam. Since concrete contracts and generates heat as it hardens, the dam was built in interlocking trapezoidal pours to prevent cracking. If the dam had been done in one single pour, it is estimated that it would have taken 125 years to cool and harden.

As you drive over the top of the dam, you cross the border from Nevada to Arizona, or vice versa. Since AZ doesn't observe DST but is in the Mountain time zone, there are two clocks on either side that show the correct time.

The dam is curved like an eggshell to better distribute water pressure. Two spillways protect the dam from being overtopped by water. These have been used only 3 times in the history of the dam. Lake Mead contains over two years worth of water from the Colorado River. You cannot overemphasize the impact that Hoover Dam had in reshaping the development of the West. Looking at the dam, I felt a mixture of awe, pride and terror at mankind's ability to reshape his environment.

The kids

The old people

Afterwards, we continued west through Arizona to the Grand Canyon. This is the first time I've been in a desert climate, and the mountains are drastically different from the verdant Appalachians that I am accustomed to seeing. I fell sleep for a couple hours, and when I woke up, the landscape had morphed from arid desert dirt to picturesque snow-capped mountains and pine trees. Looks like I came all the way from Chicago to be surrounded by more snow and wind.

We stopped at a visitor's center for lunch, and watched a half-hour National Geographic IMAX film titled "Grand Canyon: The Hidden Secrets." Unsure of whether or not to see the movie, the tour coordinator told us, "It will be the best $12 you've ever spent. I used to tell people that if they saw it and thought it wasn't worth the $12 bucks, they could call me and I would refund their money...then a group of 58 people called and wanted their money back." With such a rousing recommendation, we all decided to see the movie, and it was totally worth every penny, definitely the best IMAX film I've ever seen. I would go so far as to say it was better than seeing the actual canyon, because the footage of the inner canyon walls and whitewater rapids is something we wouldn't be able to see. You also learn about the history of exploration in the canyon, and how the canyon is still relatively untouched by modernity, an untamed pièce de résistance by Nature. If you visit the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, definitely make a point to stop and see this movie.

We have arrived! You can't see the ground, but it was treacherously icy near the edge, and my mom was freaking out about one of us slipping and falling underneath the railing.

Mather's point, the widest part of the Grand Canyon

This area is where ~90% of photos of the Grand Canyon are taken

Group shot in front of a stagecoach with everyone except Uncle Thuan

Stanley and Marilyn sword fighting with hiking sticks in a gift shop, luckily we didn't get kicked out.

Stanley pretending to be a unicorn. Icicles were an immense source of fascination for the Cali kids.

Sunset over the Grand Canyon, framed by picture-perfect snow-covered pine trees

Christmas

I have now celebrated 25 Christmases, and though they've varied wildly in terms of location, company and gift quality (the bubble gum pink shoes were a nadir), every celebration has been marked by reconnecting with people I haven't seen in a while. This year, Christmas sort of turned into this domino effect of families latching onto other friends and families to converge in Vegas. At one point, we had a roving horde of 20 asian people. Seriously, if I weren't part of this group, I would be scared of us. It was loud. I tried to get people to form battle formations, but this proved to be too complicated/people were inept at making rows of four. Then, I assigned everyone a number and tried to get people to count off. This was also a formidable task because people kept forgetting their numbers. Le sigh.

Three years ago, when we gathered with this set of relatives, we put together a gingerbread house. Since the constructing-something-gingerbread thing clearly needs to become a tradition, I picked up a gingerbread tree this year. The piping of the icing was surprisingly tricky, the green icing didn't look at all like leaves (the way the box looked) and the overall effect was sort of like slime dripping down steps.

Here's the finished tree, with a snowman on the bottom-left and presents in front. Some of us (high school boys, ahem) looked at the presents (upside-down) and immediately started making comments about boobs.

Then of course, we immediately dismantled the entire thing. The gingerbread was pretty tough to bite, but it was still edible overall. Mmm, sugar, preservatives and Red 5.

That's right, we were all drinking (mock) mojitos by noon on Christmas. What better way to celebrate a birthday??

As a reminder that we are in Vegas, the house down the street has this ridiculous 90,000 light display, synchronized to music broadcast on 95.9 FM for a four-block radius. According to the hand-out, the owners begin work on the lighting system after Halloween, and the light show goes live after Thanksgiving. There are 16 dedicated circuits of 20 amps each powering the lights, and the electricity bill is comparable to one month of heavy summer a/c. You can't see it in the video, but there is a custom made Ferris wheel, built in pieces similar to an erector set. During the off-season, the lights and equipment are stored in a large barn. Why do they do it? "We are both still kids at heart, and enjoy seein the smiles on all the children, especially the "adult" ones. This is our Christmas gift to everyone." Let's hear it for public goods.