Mar
27
Knowledge is fear
Filed Under my life | 7 Comments
People who are blissfully unaware of the constant danger they’re in
People who have been educated into fear
So I’m going to let you all in on a little secret today. I’m a huge dork. Big nerd. Yes, me.
Last night, I went to see a great show (Cut Copy) at a Masquerade, a venue here in Atlanta that is far less gay than it sounds. It’s actually an old factory/warehouse where many people undoubtedly lost their limbs in the very threatening looking mess of gears and rope that apparently used to do something. The building is old, very cool looking, but old.
So when a group like Cut Copy gets a crowd of a few hundred people jumping up and down in unison, the building – which is old, by the way – feels the stress, which was communicated back to me last night by the floor in front of the stage flexing no less than 4-5 inches underfoot.
The average person may say, “Wow, that’s really weird.” To someone like me who took engineering classes in college, it says, “We are about to die.”
Here’s a look into my head, in the middle of a very good show:
Because my mouse drawing isn’t too good, that is me, mentally back in engineering class trying to solve for how much weight you can put on a beam before it breaks and we all die.
I found that a couple of beers could wash the engineering classes away, so I pursued that avenue. Seemed to me that if someone nearby had known that I was having my own private Statics class in my head in the middle of this concert, they would have slapped me, and rightfully so.
I can imagine that lots of people go through this all the time: airplane engineers know all the things that can bring a plane down, train engineers know that we’re riding on 2 inches of faith, drug scientists know that if one molecule goes wrong in the batch of Advil, 100,000 people will probably die, trampoline engineers know that they’re probably going to kill a few children with their miscalculations – but consider it all worth it for those times when a cheerleader hops on for a try.
So where in your life do you know enough to be scared shitless?
Mar
19
Dress for the job you hate
Filed Under at work | 3 Comments
People who dress for the job they want
People who dress to express disdain for the job they have
Ever heard the one about how you should dress for the job you want, not the one you have? I don’t believe it happens this way. I think there are those people who dress for the jobs they want, and the rest of the people dress to express total apathy. If there is a range of footware that goes from leather lace-ups to flip-flops in your office, you know what I’m talking about.
There’s a reason that people ask you if you’re a glass half-full or a glass half-empty kind of person. Nobody says, “I’m a glass at 50%.” You either look up or you look down, and the way that people dress at work is a key expression of this.
If I work really hard, I can become Vice President some day!
If I work really hard, maybe they’ll let me plug in the yellow cables! F, I hate this job. If that bitch who’s sleeping her way to VP calls me about her Blackberry not working in the subway one more time, I’ll kill her.
Mar
18
People who send huge print jobs to the only printer in the office (or near your desk) during the middle of the workday
People who have a shred of consideration for their fellow worker
So this is one of those things I’ve been meaning to bring up for a while and it just refreshed its relevance the other day when I was trying to print out a quick 1-pager. I walked over to the printer, and here was this girl printing out 5 copies of a presentation that itself was probably 50 slides long.
“It might be a while,” she says. “Big print job.”
“What is that for?” I ask, pulling up my calendar on my phone, ready to change my status to Tentative for whatever meeting is going to subject me to a 50-slide presentation where I’m told that one thing went up and another thing went down.
“It’s a budget meeting. Tomorrow, with Bill. I think you’re in it, right?”
Tentative set. “I’m not sure. I might have a conflict.”
Sorry dude, I’m printing War & Peace real quick. It’ll be a minute.
I’ve come up with a few names for this behavior, just now:
- Hewlett-Packing – “Dave is Hewlett-Packing again today. You might want to use the Bizhub if you need your print this year.”
- Canon Blasting – “Is that you Canon blasting the multifunction? I’m just trying to make a copy, bro, and you’ve got that thing busier than the free condom bowl at the Tri-Delt house.”
- Mi-nolta gonna get your print today
- Being an asshole
I do realize it says a lot about how nerdy I am that I can come up with such pun-tastic explosions of hilarity on the spot…about office printers. I’m okay with that.
Mar
12
On applause
Filed Under at work, in general | 5 Comments
People who are “safe” clappers
People who are bold clappers
I just got out of a conference today that was about as fun as when the school bully would stab your soccer ball. The conference was held at the Georgia Aquarium, so here you are thinking you’re going to be able to watch whales swim around while you eat free food and learn about something new, when you walk in the room and see the truth of the situation. By, “at the aquarium,” they meant, “in a conference room in the parking garage of the aquarium.” Soccer ball stabbed.
So, here we are in a typical meeting room with those vinyl chairs that make you sound like you’re farting every time you move, no whales, no fish, nothing. Fortunately, the topic was somewhat interesting, but the speaker went on talking past that point where it doesn’t matter how interesting things are, you have no attention left to give. If a neon orange monkey flew in the room and killed the lecturer, I literally might not have noticed.
Finally, the speaker wraps things up and then comes that magical moment when people ask themselves, “Was that good enough to clap for? I’ll wait and see what everyone else does.” Then, the pioneer (bold) clapper, whoever they are, gets the round of applause going. The middle (safe) clappers join in, sensing the time where the clap is running out of gas, and then quit. Then, the wrap-up (bold) clappers finish it off like those last few kernels of popcorn in the microwave.
I bet the girl in red is a first-clapper. Most people hate first-clappers.
Now, that’s a standard case, and more or less the way it went today. But my favorites are when the bold clappers get slapped down. You know, those times when one person gives about 2 and a half claps and then realizes they are alone. That’s priceless, as it’s humiliating for both the clapper and the speaker. Sadly, that did not happen today.
Bold clappers come in a critical third variety (beyond beginning clappers and popcorn clappers): the loud/distinct clapper. These are the people who cup their hands like they’re trying to crush an ostrich egg or the ones who are capable of making small nuclear explosions in their palms. The loud clap is not a talent, it is just an ability encoded in the DNA of assholes. I petition you now: please stop clapping like an idiot. The beginning/ending clappers have their place in this world: they fill a necessary role. You bring nothing to the table, just like your father told you when you were 7.