“WANTED: Meaningful Overnight Relationship”
I almost did a Starbucks spit-take when I read that one this morning….on a chick’s car.
Archive for the ‘Grab Bag & Whatnot’ Category
For years the big laugh at MaryAnn’s White Elephant Christmas party at work was the bird clock. Nobody wanted it but somebody always got stuck with it. In fact, whenever someone opens a new package, the group at large chants: “bird clock bird clock bird clock.” The bird clock has a different species on each number, and it chimes each hour with the unique warble or chirp of the bird on that number. At 12 o’clock the Mangrove Cuckoo makes itself known, at 1 o’clock the Ruby-crowned Kinglet sounds off, at 6 it’s the Dark-eyed Junco. It’s quite loud and obnoxious, and it gets old veryvery fast.
I found the bird clock a few months ago abandoned like last week’s rubbish in a pile of other garbage destined for the landfill. I rescued the birds and locked them away in my cubesicle credenza.
Now I’ve been told to vacate my cubesicle for good. If I’m being honest I’ll say the company is not getting a huge bang for the buck it is paying me to go through 9 years of stuff deciding what to take home and what to throw out. During that less-than-productive exercise I found the bird clock once more. I also found a magnetic dart board and a marble Solitaire game a former boss gave to me. In stealth I hung the dartboard in Scott’s cube (unbeknownst), and the Marble game in Joel’s (again unbeknownst). The thrill of anonymous “gifting” mounted. And that is when the evil in me took over.
I put fresh batteries (supplied by the company) in the bird clock. Nobody was around so I checked the chime; it worked. It’s loud. I secretly placed the loaded bird clock in a dark corner of the cubesicle across from me where I was sure it would drive Vince crazy, and probably Sally across from him too. Then I left for the gym.
Upon my return, Vince is not in his cube. But as the clock strikes 2, and the Clay-colored Robin starts her tune, Sally comes scrambling out of her cube over to me: “Did you hear that”? I tell her I heard it but that I have no idea from whence it issued. She tells me she and Vince heard it earlier and couldn’t figure out what it was. Frustrated, she returns to her cube muttering about how she’s glad someone else heard it because she thought she was going crazy. “A short trip…” she mumbled.
As the 3 o’clock hour approaches I struggle to contain the giggles. I sneak back over to Vince’s cube, retrieve the bird clock, remove the batteries, and hide it in my backpack. At 2:59 Sally strolls over and tells me she expects to hear it again at 3. We wait. But nothing. She theorizes that maybe someone dropped their mobile phone down behind the cubesicle wall, or maybe it’s Vince’s fax machine. She’s at the end of her wits. It’s now 3:05 and “the noise,” as it has come to be known, has not happened. Back to her cube she skulks.
Vince rolls back at 3:30 and Sally tells him I heard it too. We commiserate for a spell (I’m faking it) and Sally again suggests ”the noise” is coming from Vince’s fax machine. “It’s not even turned on,” he says. But for good measure, with both of us watching, he unplugs it “just to be sure.”
Vince’s wife works in the same area and she stops by shortly thereafter. He tells her the bizarre story describing “the noise” as either “a wounded chipmunk” or an “Amazonian Clicking Cockroach.” He doubts it’s the latter. As do I.
The next day Sally calls over the cube wall to Vince asking if he’s heard any strange noises yet. He hasn’t heard anything, but points out that he hasn’t heard anything since he unplugged the fax machine. “Hmmmm,” Sally mutters. “No more messages from outer space then I guess…”
As soon as Vince leaves his cubesicle for even the shortest minute, I might just sneak over there and plug that fax machine back in.
“Bird clock bird clock bird clock…”
I’m sitting on the church-style wooden pews right in front of a forty-something straight out of a biker movie - West Coast Choppers T-shirt, leather thong around his thinning long hair, leather jacket, pants, boots; a hard looking dude. His twenty-years-ago self walks in and sits down next to him.
“Hey man.”
“Hey. Sorry I’m late. This lady at the ATM heard me talking to you, you know, heard me apologizing for being late? Then she totally took her time. She made three extra transactions on purpose, I know she did. People can be ruthless.”
“Man, that’s rough, but it’s ok, you’re here now. No worries.”
It just goes to show you.
That didn’t take long.
Monday morning now and I arrive at my cubesicle to find that some self-appointed arbiter of signage has removed my “Post No Bills” placard.
Perhaps they took the sign literally and pulled it in an attempt at obeying it.
And still hanging proudly on the cube next to mine is the original that started this whole thing.
After some deliberation, I have taken Prairie Doggin’ Fool’s suggestion. Today I made up a rule, put it on paper, printed it out, and posted it on the column nearest my cubesicle. It simply states:
Oooooh, the irony …
I had originally included a tag line in smaller print that said, “Posting signs on this column makes people think it’s OK to make up rules for everyone else to follow.” But I couldn’t pull the trigger on that part.
Now we wait…
On Wednesday, after “working from home” for two days, I drag my unwilling carcass into the dreary cubesicle. I plunk it down in my Herman Miller mesh-bottom, mesh-back chair and immediately feel the lumbar support putting forth its best effort. Before I can even load up my Google Reader with all the day’s news subscriptions and blog posts, I spy new signage posted on both sides of the column just outside my cube:
None of the other columns on the north end of my building have this sign; only the one nearest me. Whoever took the time to make and hang these flyers wants it to look like I put them up, or they are aiming them at me. Either way I am not on board with this kind of passive-aggressive monkey business. I promptly pull both flyers—with a dramatic flair—and deposit them in the round file.
Thursday I “worked from home.”
Friday I manage to make it back in to the orifice. And lo, the same flyer, in the same color, is taped on the outside of the cubesicle next to mine. On close inspection, the edge of it crosses over onto my cube wall by a few centimeters. That discovery is followed by more flair, a crumple, and, like a crossword puzzle completed any given Sunday morning, a resounding spike in the garbage.
Now it’s Monday and the stubborn flyer has annoyingly returned like the furry hedge that is my ear hair. Someone is clearly not getting memo. I’m not taking it personally; I am not in the orifice enough to be the target of this persistent aggression. I admit that looking out the window is often preferrable to staring at a computer monitor (even the 19-inch High-Def flat dealio I gots), but I can’t believe I do it enough to annoy even the most sensitive of the overpaid and underworked.
My first problem with this type of placard is the actual words used. What kind of idiot would look at that pillar and mistake it for a phone booth? Seriously? A Phone booth? Last I checked, the phone booth had gone the way of the Sunday drive. “Umm, I keep pushing and pulling on it but it won’t open up so I can go inside and make a call.” And “pacing lane”? Maybe you should point out where the pacing lane is then. “I know it’s around here somewheres…” Why not make a list of all the things the column is not and put that on your sign? It ain’t a bulletin board. It ain’t a toilet. It ain’t a hot tub. And it certainly ain’t Michael Flatley (The Lord of the Dance)! How you decided on “pacing lane” is beyond me.
Second is your mis-guided sense of entitlement. Dear genius, take a look around. You sit in an eight-foot square cube with five-foot high walls and a four-foot wide doorway. Soon you’ll be moving into a 12-foot by eight-foot cube that you will share with another. The dividing wall between you will only be four feet high. At the risk of stating the obvious: you have no right to quiet. Your company is not taking any steps to minimize noise around you. On the contrary, it is consolidating employees from eight buildings into six. Things will only get more cramped and more noisy. It should be clear to all that the company doesn’t care about your personal perceived need for peace. And I am under no obligation to obey the homemade rules of your imaginary autocratic state.
If a church or the library is the only place where you can knock out your 6-hour workday, well you’d best check into a new line o’ work.
By ROI
I’m not entirely sure when Halloween became a holiday, but it must have been after the last time I went trick-or-treating in the late 1970s. The other day I saw Halloween greeting cards at Target. What’s next -Columbus Day cards?
If Halloween costumes for the ladies are any indication, I’m sure the cards are inscribed with double-entendres a-plenty (”tricks,” “treats,” “candy,” etc.). Women’s costumes are anchored by a single theme: there’s the witch/hooker, nurse/hooker, vice-presidential-candidate/hooker (yeah, I said vice), red-riding-hood/hooker, and the list goes on and on. Generally speaking, I’m not opposed to the trend, although I draw the line well before the Dora-the-Explorer/hooker costume.
But why is this exhibitionism limited to a single day each year (two if you count Valentine’s day)? If someone tells you the /hooker look is not appropriate for the workplace, don’t believe it. Heather Locklear, the ultimate office professional, pulled off (yeah, I said pulled off) the much-too-short skirt and much-too-low top look to much acclaim on Melrose Place. If you crave that kind of attention, believe you me, there’s no shortage of interest out there, so slut it up all you want 365 days a year (+1 on a leap year).
All this makes me wonder what costumes hookers (er…sex workers) wear on Halloween. The sweats-clad soccer mom? The frumpy hausfrau? The over-stressed executive? Or maybe Halloween really is a holiday for hookers, and they simply take the night off.
To say it was a big deal is a bit of an understatement. It was a huge deal, ginourmous. It was Megatron to Godzilla, Rocky to Apollo; it was the proverbial 800 pound gorilla in the living room of a deal. Someone had changed the roll on the paper towel dispenser in the kitchen and forgotten to screw the top cap back in place! And now it was missing.
The three of us stood there, bewildered, upset, and confused by the situation. Yes, the dispenser still worked. Yes, paper towels still rolled freely off the dispensing post. Hands were still going to be dry and counters safe from Campbell’s soup splatter. It was a little less pleasing to the eye to be sure; a spiral stub of cold metal sitting where the warm knob of shaped wood should be. And if we would have thought for a second, not really a big deal. Yet it was the biggest of deals.
So we searched. We searched the counters, the floor, under the stove, in the utility room (where the refills were kept), behind the refrigerator, in the living room, the bathroom, on top of the cupboards, in the dishwasher, nothing.
So we thought, where could it be? And we searched again, the counters, the floor, under the stove, behind the refrigerator, in the dishwasher… again nothing. Like pushing an elevator button that is already aglow, pointless.
Voices tightened, tension mounted, the silence became unbearable. Blame, like a thick fog, hung in the air surrounding us. Where the hell could it be? Who did this! So I left, uncomfortable with the scene. I went outside to walk about in the cool night air and like the 800 pound gorilla there it was. Tomorrow was trash day and the master can was sitting on the sidewalk. No way. No way was I going to dig through the trash for a seven cent piece of wood. But I did.
First bag in the can no luck. Second bag no luck. Third bag, what’s this… an empty paper towel roll. Promising I told myself, keep digging. So I did. Tuna cans, snot rags, empty chicken packages (really foul or fowl,) some type of cream sauce covered everything, more tuna cans, a burrito wrapper that look like a dirty diaper. So horrible I gagged on more than half a dozen occasions.
Hello, what’s this? In the deepest corner of the bag, covered in absolute you don’t want to know, it’s black, it’s wood looking, and it’s round. Bingo, everything would be all right in the World again.
I, however, am not all right. No man should ever endure what I did for what I did. Yes, the paper towels will still be dispensed by an aesthetically pleasing apparatus. No, it wasn’t even close to being worth it. For future reference, you will be butt hurt if it ever happens again.
Shopko, $9.95 yo.
On a rare visit into the cubesicle I noticed my phone was blinking at me. Before I could hear my new message, I had to sort through the older messages in the archive. Here are some transcribed nuggets of calls I either recieved at one time or was forwarded by somebody. The names have been removed to protect the innocent (or the idiots). There are no typos in any of the below; people really talk like that.
Call #1:
Hi there this is [name sensored]. I am um a manager for an employee by the name of [name sensored]. My understanding that you are managing the local deskside support. I am calling in reference to ticket #6030258479. Uh this has now gone on for several days uh uh well at least thru the weekend. And uh we are now uh approching the end of the 3rd day. We have some critical work that needs to be done uh using that computer we have perhaps a back up computer. But we would at least some help getting the back up computer into operating condition um and getting access to the files. Um uh I need to see some some faster reaction on this. Um if you are unable to help me can you please point me into the direction that I need to speak to for getting some kind of uh faster resolution? Uh once again we are going to be to in critical position here where we’re going to start impacting product releases. [Her] computer is used for um mechanical drawings that are uh forwarded to suppliers and they would then quote on a particular part and we are going to be behind if we don’t get something done in the next 24hrs. So please once again let me know what it is that we can do to escalate this to a higher level. This is [name sensored]. I am at [phone number]. Please call at your ee earliest convenience. Thanks, bye.
Call #2
Adele, it’s dad ur dad duh [chuckles]. I am calling to tell you I love you. Thank you for the strawbery rubarb pie. We are up at the cabin. If you get a chance give us a call. ehhh [phone number]. I love you. Bye.
Call #3
This is [name sensored] in Houston. I got a special request I am going to send you an email to congfirm err to also let you know what I need. Uh I’ve just been laid off again and I do not want my name to continue to uh appear as a [system] user you know when you sign on. Someone already has used my name while I was on vacation and I and they want others to uh submit the docs instead of me. So you know how people take short cuts they just might continue to use my name and upload and when people con try to contact me about the problem, hey I won’t be here. So anyway uh I told them to re request a user name but sometimes you know. You know how things go. So anyway it’s been good working with ya and good luck. Bye.
Call #4
Oh hi this is Blue. Congraturation and how proud of uguh you I am sonny [pause] for getting a job. And good luck. I will talk to you later.
Call #5
Hi um I’m not sure if I reached the right number. Uh my name is Mohammad Ali (sp?). Um I’m calling from [company name]. Umm I was speaking with an employee of yours he has your uhh phone number on his voice mail. I believe his the name is [name sensored]. Um and he is handling my IT issue. Yesterday um he seh he gave me a call he was at a different location yesterday and he said he would give me a call uh back yesterday. I have a blue screen of death uhh sort of um I have a blue screen of death problem on my laptop. And had giv and he had given me a call yesterday I guess to ma to to meet his turn around time of 4hrs and he left me a message that he would be in the office later today urr later yesterday. Um and he wasn’t and I had to wait around for him and I never heard back him anything umm and then this morning I never got a call. I never got any messages so I had to look up IT had to call IT again and through IT I found out his phone number. I gave him a call and he said that um uuh you know I asked him how come you never got back to me or anything and he says “well whatever I just bring it upstairs.” So I am like ok I thought it very rude but anyway I brought it upstairs and then he tells me I don’t remember telling you I was gonna come in yesterday. And I was like um yeah actually you did tell me and I waited around for you and you said you would be in later this afternoon. He was like, later that afternoon. And he was like oh well yeah I didn’t make it. And I was like well I would appreciate it if you could call next time because I waited and then even if you didn’t happen to make it yesterday that’s fine. But you could have called me and left me a message first thing this morning attending to the issue. And he says “listen don’t continue it bud just just be quiet.” So I found this behaviour incompletely and then he started mumbling some swear words under his breath. I have no idea what’s going on with him but I found it very unprofessional. I asked him excuse me all I was asking for was to be notified and he’s like “just leave it alone and get out.” So I have no idea what’s going on but I would like to file an official complaint with that with you about that employee [name sensored]. Can you give me a call back at [phone number]? Once again my name is Mohammad Ali and my number is [phone number]. Thanks and have a great day and goodbye.
I came across a list the other day. I like reading lists. I was on a long flight from back east, consumed by a magazine with some good material when I came across such a list. I have seen and read similar pieces before and they obviously come from one person’s opinion, but I thought it would be fun to present a few of the items to my pals and see if: one, they have done it, and/or two, they would pursue it. Maybe there is a third, they just have an opinion about it; agree or disagree. What kind of answers I could get from them? The title of the list is “75 Things Everyman Needs to Do.” I chose five and for a sixth they could choose their own and/or come up with one themselves. (Commenters can certainly chime in as well.)
1. Learn three to four chords on the guitar until you can play one song.
“I have a guitar that my grandpa gave me. I was supposed to take beginning guitar in college but it never fit in with my afternoon napping schedule. Seems like something I should do during my lifetime. Would make my grandpa proud” - TOP
“I actually play the guitar so I am good on this one. I know a lot of songs. Of course, singing is a whole other monster. “ – HOF
“Not gonna happen. I tried it when I was a teen. I learned enough to play Tom Dooley then chucked it all.” Maybe that counts…?” – K-Phil
“I, too, play the guitar. After a short experimentation phase with Guns N Roses and Whitesnake, I threw some nylon strings on the axe and some flowers in my hair and learned a lot of music that would make Paul throw up. It’s been a while, but I’m sure I could still throw a little Joan Baez or Buffalo Springfield his way.” -Wolverinehead
I do not play the guitar. I dream about being the next acoustic George Michael but alas… -AC
2. Get very good at a sport that isn’t a sport. (Examples Horseshoes, Poker, Darts, etc. Frisbee counts.)
“Ever since a ping pong table was purchased at the office I work at, my skills have gone through the roof. Being one of the top players in the freshman dorm 14 years ago has definitely helped as well. It’s like riding a bike….only with a paddle, a ball and inferior competition” - TOP
“Not enough patience for Poker, but I can throw a mean horseshoe when focused… ahem, sauced.” – HOF
“In college I lost in the finals of Intramural Badminton. Doubles. Suck on that Trebek.” – K-Phil
“One, of the roster of the recent silver medal nationals masters ultimate team ‘Big Sky,’ I trained 3 of the players. Two, I have won the Man Day poker tournament. Twice. Back to back years. Three, I was an NCAA fencer.” –Wolverinehead
I’m a better hold’em player than any of the aforementioned. -AC
3. Peg the Speedometer. (I think every guy has floored it. Right? You have to test the limits of your vehicle.)
“Never done it. Tickets scare me more than I crave an adrenaline rush.” - TOP
“The fastest I got my truck up to was 95mph. But the fastest I have ever been in a car was 200km/h (roughly 125mph) on the Autobahn… in a German made family wagon… in the slow lane.” – HOF
“Daddy scared. I once dropped a friend because he drove too fast between LA and San Diego.” – K-Phil
“While my car was once dubbed ‘the Silver Bullet’ by a highway patrolman after a short stint on a SE Oregon highway at 95 mph, the speedometer stopped working shortly thereafter, so your guess is as good as mine.” - Wolverinehead
I have been accused of driving Miss Daisy. -AC
4. Ride a Horse or Milk a Cow and Drink it. (Pretty much anything with a farm involved will work.)
“Ridden a horse a few times on various family vacations. That’s about all I’ve got in the farm category.” - TOP
“A little known fact… I used to ride horses when I was kid… a lot. I was so good I actually competed; won ribbons.” - HOF
“I milked smelly goats all through high school. Their milk tasted terrible. Especially on cereal. There is some controversy in the family about what happened to the baby goats. I say Summer Sausage. Others say no. I say denial.” – K-Phil
“Probably my weakest category. Although I did some horsey riding as a child, it was mostly of the riding-around-in-a-circle-crying variety while a bored carnie led a broken-down nag around a sawdust ring.” –Wolverinehead
Hummmm, I was shipped off to a farm in Burley (room and board above the cows in the barn) to buck hay for a Summer. Does this count? I hope so as I have been scarred for life. -AC
5. Choose a word or phrase and actively work to never use it again. (Examples Like, Really, Bro, Yo, What’s up, etc.)
“I’m sure I say “you know” or “and then” or “like” too much, but oh well. Deal with it I guess. I’ve got other concerns that I’m working on currently. These will have to wait.” - TOP
“I can’t stand the word “like” out of context. I can never listen to anything else that is being said. All I focus on is how many “likes” this person can kick out in one phrase… Like, you know what I mean.” – HOF
“Fetch. Nuff said.” – K-Phil
“Anyways. Also, in writing, i-t-apostrophe-s means ‘it is,’ not possessive.” -Wolverinehead
Hey you all gave fetch answers. I really don’t have such a word. -AC
6. Others on the list that you can answer… Have a Threesome, Sing in Public, Live in a Hotel Suite for a Week, Build a Fence, Make the Perfect Omelet, Repair an Appliance, Quit Something you Love, Listen to War Stories, Tell War Stories, Put a Hundred Bucks on a Long Shot to Win… or choose your own.
Have the ability to walk into a bar and yell, “It’s on me!” - HOF
Quad Americano is on the counter before I cross the 54 feet to get there. -AC
Have a Threesome.
If by “threesome” you mean “3 bowel movements before noon,” I have a threesome every day. – K-Phil
Very close on this one. Very close. –AC
Do an accent.
A pastime of mine, I enjoy the sounds of people who speak-a the English wrongly. – Wolverinehead
Dude, have you heard my, “Valley Guy?” -AC
I was happily sitting with some chaps at an indiscreet bar in an indiscreet location when a non-discreet topic of conversation was brought about, motivated by the restroom this particular bar utilized. The reason for such an in-depth convo about restrooms in general was because in this particular loo, the occupier had the ability to play his/her own music on a vintage record player located directly in front of the porcelain. Coffee table high, easily accessible, casually yet tastefully done, like a play-list on an ipod, it’s a personal jukebox at your disposal. What a novel idea. When getting your bathroom business done why not enjoy some sweet “sounds of the seventies,” smooth cool jazz, or classic rock n roll? What would you listen to?
For every taste in music there’s also got to be every variety of bathroom behavior. Everyone has his or her own thing right? Let’s not talk about it, but do you fold or crumple? Do you scrub or wipe? Stand or sit? Handicap stall or not? Front to back or back to front? Wait a minute. Back to front? I have a hard time believing there is such a thing. I get uncomfortable even thinking about a back to front dry run. I’ve heard it referred to as “frontloading” but even Urban Dictionary is mum on it. Is it like an energy efficient washer/dryer can be frontloaded? Or is it more like the heavy machinery?
What about using baby wipes? Are you a reader or super pooper? Do you meditate or punch and run? Do you need some literature to occupy your mind for the 30 minutes you spend “athroned?” Do you enjoy taking your time or is it common to be in and out like Jeff Gordon through a pit stop? Seriously let’s not talk about it.
What about deuces at work? There truly is nothing like getting duty done while on duty. Case in point: there is a lady at work (now retired) who sings loudly as she does her business. While she is a legend among the other ladies who frequent the same lavatory as her, she can also be heard through the walls in the men’s room. My theory is that she uses the singing much like a camo-cough. More power to her I say. Just realize American Idol doesn’t do tryouts in water closet stalls.
Decorum dictates that these questions are not commonly asked, but curiosity does kill the proverbial cat eventually. Locker room talk brings about all sorts of nasties like this. I once took part in a locker room poll about who stayed sitting and who did a half stand when cleaning up. To my surprise, the results were split right down the middle…
