Every time you decide to pull your partially catatonic somewhat zombie like ass out of bed and face your sure to be apocalyptic day you have to concede that you may have to share the rooms you occupy and air you breath with people that by law shouldn't be allowed to do either. Unless of course those rooms are small, lined floor to ceiling and wall to wall with razor sharp fixtures and filled with noxious gases sure to to cause death or at least human vegetation. Roadkill falls into this category of people.
In an office environment, even one as lax in dress and behavior standards as a call center there are still certain rules and guidelines one must follow in order to keep one's job. Roadkill can not seem to grasp these very basic concepts. He sits between me and the bank of short cubes occupied by our management staff. This positioning allows me to overhear the near constant stream of angrily shouted "counseling" coming from the managers and equally constant disregard he returns. Roadkill is efficient in a full spectrum of failures including the professional; like the inability to document his work and even extends to the personal, like the inability to wear clean clothing and not get hit by cars.
Today Roadkill found a new way to completely disregard common sense, throw caution to the wind and try to get him self fired. While conversing with fellow tards he feigned offence and informed his fellow conversationalists that he would kill them for their beliefs. Now I was doing my very best to ignore the subject of their conversation as I am severely allergic to inanity so I don't know what elicited this disagreement but had I known I'm sure I could have let a single death threat slide, after all condoning threats of wanton destruction would eliminate half of the fun I have trying to get the building a long weekend. No, Roadkill could not leave it at a single quietly muttered promise of personal violence he had to continue, slowly at first, then as no objections came they became more frequent and louder to ice this tard-flavored cake. Soon he is talking loud enough for three rows, including the managers to hear, understand and object. To my dismay no one did and this idiocy continued unabated. Soon he quieted down upon assurance if he did not the solution would involve a HR Ninja strike force, tranquilizer gun and judicious use of the phrase "tag em' and bag em'."
I must say that this solution does intrigue me, perhaps one day when society finally realizes that the tard population has grown to a dangerous size Open Season will be announced and I can begin a new life as a Big Tard Hunter.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Conflict Resolution for Dummies
I guess I will start with a stupid customer story. I got a call one day from a lady telling me that she would like to purchase a particular LAN protocol. I was somewhat confused at first and realized she was serious so I explained to her that we did not sell the protocols or features separately but that she would have to purchase a switch to meet her needs. The conversation followed somewhat like this:
LADY: I already have a switch, I need to purchase [protocol]
ME: You can't purchase that as I already explained. Now if you already have a switch then I might be able to tell you if it supports [protocol] or if there is an upgrade available for it. Can you tell me what kind of switch it is?
LADY: Its a TCP/IP switch
ME: (Scan memory for reference "TCP/IP: The Internet protocol suite is the set of communication protocols that implement the protocol stack on which the internet and most commercial networks run.") Um... ok ma'am do you know who the manufacturer is?
LADY: Oh its proprietary.
ME: Um well ma'am we only support our company's products here so if your switch is not manufactured by our company then I can't help you.
LADY: (Frustrated now) I just need to purchase [protocol] and you're saying you won't help me! Let me talk to your supervisor!
ME: (not wanting to make a huge deal out of this) Ok I apologize ma'am let me find a part number for you.
I then gave her the part number for a switch from our company that supported the protocol she wanted and she was happy.
LADY: I already have a switch, I need to purchase [protocol]
ME: You can't purchase that as I already explained. Now if you already have a switch then I might be able to tell you if it supports [protocol] or if there is an upgrade available for it. Can you tell me what kind of switch it is?
LADY: Its a TCP/IP switch
ME: (Scan memory for reference "TCP/IP: The Internet protocol suite is the set of communication protocols that implement the protocol stack on which the internet and most commercial networks run.") Um... ok ma'am do you know who the manufacturer is?
LADY: Oh its proprietary.
ME: Um well ma'am we only support our company's products here so if your switch is not manufactured by our company then I can't help you.
LADY: (Frustrated now) I just need to purchase [protocol] and you're saying you won't help me! Let me talk to your supervisor!
ME: (not wanting to make a huge deal out of this) Ok I apologize ma'am let me find a part number for you.
I then gave her the part number for a switch from our company that supported the protocol she wanted and she was happy.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
They are all out to get me.
Today's edition of "I Don't Think that Word Means What You Think it Means" is brought to you by the Noid.
As many people have learned, in this our current economic environment, it is very difficult to actually get fired. Being annoying is not enough. Being perpetually late is not enough. Not knowing your phone from a screw driver is not enough. Although the last example does make for some interesting conversations with your doctor.
I have met a man who is able to push the limits of acceptable work place behavior. I do not speak of the person who shout out "Kevin's favorite sin is sodomy" across to office. I do not speak of the woman who asks of you are in an open marriage. I speak of the Noid.
The Noid is in no way a quiet man. Nor is he small, nor is he timid. He is loud, large, and obnoxious. He has only limited social skills, mostly centered around online video games. He does however know what he is talking about while he is on a phone. This is the rare case where I will speak of someone who is only left in there job because they do there job well.
When he is off the phone. He likes to talk. Mostly he talks about how everyone is out to get him. Endlessly he speaks of the outrages against him.How every move he makes is scrutinized. That every sound he makes is recorded. The Noid will endlessly complain about how hard it is to be in his position with all of the problems being forced onto him.
He likes to joke that he must be paranoid. since he thinks that everyone is out to get him. Paranoia means you have delusions of persecution. If you cause the persecution, it isn't paranoia.
One of the larger complaints of the Noid is that he was told to tell a manager when he was going to unscheduled break. He decided that this means yelling at the manager every time he used his time card. Show up to work? Yell at the manager. Take your first break? Yell at the manager. Come back from break? Yell at the manager. Go to lunch? Yell at the manager.come back from break? Yell at the manager. go to the scheduled meeting? Yell at the manager. Etc.
When the Noid asked if there was anything he could do to work towards being a manager, he was told that he could work on his attitude. For this he responds by shouting that he isn't complaining. Not directly in response of course. No this is what he does once he has told his story. "I was told that I am not allowed to complain anymore. It brings down moral. Everyone else is allowed to complain but me. And that is just stupid. I mean, I am not complaining now. Hear that boss? I am not complaining!"
Some have even told him what is wrong with this. "You may want to lay low for a while, you are pissing off the higher ups. letting them know when you aren't complaining really doesn't help your case." "O, but it does!" responded the Noid. "I am going to do exactly what they told me to do. That way they can't do anything about it."
Little does he know, what he is doing is not exactly what they told him to do. No one told him to be a prick. No one told him to shout out his every action. And yes, they are watching you. Every time you yell, every time you complain about complaining, every time you accuse them of being out to get you, you anger them a little more. You aren't letting them ignore you.
Here is to you Noid. Going that extra mile to get your ass fired.
As many people have learned, in this our current economic environment, it is very difficult to actually get fired. Being annoying is not enough. Being perpetually late is not enough. Not knowing your phone from a screw driver is not enough. Although the last example does make for some interesting conversations with your doctor.
I have met a man who is able to push the limits of acceptable work place behavior. I do not speak of the person who shout out "Kevin's favorite sin is sodomy" across to office. I do not speak of the woman who asks of you are in an open marriage. I speak of the Noid.
The Noid is in no way a quiet man. Nor is he small, nor is he timid. He is loud, large, and obnoxious. He has only limited social skills, mostly centered around online video games. He does however know what he is talking about while he is on a phone. This is the rare case where I will speak of someone who is only left in there job because they do there job well.
When he is off the phone. He likes to talk. Mostly he talks about how everyone is out to get him. Endlessly he speaks of the outrages against him.How every move he makes is scrutinized. That every sound he makes is recorded. The Noid will endlessly complain about how hard it is to be in his position with all of the problems being forced onto him.
He likes to joke that he must be paranoid. since he thinks that everyone is out to get him. Paranoia means you have delusions of persecution. If you cause the persecution, it isn't paranoia.
One of the larger complaints of the Noid is that he was told to tell a manager when he was going to unscheduled break. He decided that this means yelling at the manager every time he used his time card. Show up to work? Yell at the manager. Take your first break? Yell at the manager. Come back from break? Yell at the manager. Go to lunch? Yell at the manager.come back from break? Yell at the manager. go to the scheduled meeting? Yell at the manager. Etc.
When the Noid asked if there was anything he could do to work towards being a manager, he was told that he could work on his attitude. For this he responds by shouting that he isn't complaining. Not directly in response of course. No this is what he does once he has told his story. "I was told that I am not allowed to complain anymore. It brings down moral. Everyone else is allowed to complain but me. And that is just stupid. I mean, I am not complaining now. Hear that boss? I am not complaining!"
Some have even told him what is wrong with this. "You may want to lay low for a while, you are pissing off the higher ups. letting them know when you aren't complaining really doesn't help your case." "O, but it does!" responded the Noid. "I am going to do exactly what they told me to do. That way they can't do anything about it."
Little does he know, what he is doing is not exactly what they told him to do. No one told him to be a prick. No one told him to shout out his every action. And yes, they are watching you. Every time you yell, every time you complain about complaining, every time you accuse them of being out to get you, you anger them a little more. You aren't letting them ignore you.
Here is to you Noid. Going that extra mile to get your ass fired.
Tard Science Part 1: The Theory of Relative Idiocy
Many times I found my self wondering if there is an all encompassing source of stupidity in the universe. Dedicating innumerable hours to this quandary I’ve come up with the following theory:
The Theory of Relative Idiocy concludes that stupidity is a physical substance and thusly has mass and mass provides stupidity gravitation influence on the matter, gas and energies surrounding it. This mass also allows large quantities of stupidity to effect the constants of space and time intersecting said stupidity though out the universe. Furthermore molecular stupidity (ID10T) exhibits characteristics of magnetism repelling normal matter and attracting more stupidity.
Eventually stupidity reaches a critical mass; the sheer gravity generated by the compressing stupidity causes it to collapse in on its self thus creating a Big Stupid Singularity. Once a Big Stupid Singularity is formed stupid-matter loses it magnetic properties and begins to suck in matter of all types, there are several classifications of Big Stupid Singularities the most common examples are: Evangelists, Politicians, Cult Leaders, people that argue on the Internet, etc.
As Big Stupid Singularities suck in more stupid-matter and other things like gullible people their mass and gravitational pull increases drawing Big Stupid Singularities together. Eventually they will be locked into each others orbit, swirling ever closer to an inevitably collision. When two or more Big Stupid Singularities of sufficient size collide a new phenomenon is created: a Super-massive Asshole.
SECTION 2: The Pinnacle of Stupidity: Super-massive Assholes.Super-massive Assholes are subject to the same classifications as Big Stupid Singularities however Super-massive Assholes also transcend classification they are the individuals within these groups that stand out in a way that resembles the complete destruction of everything and everyone you love.
Also Post Lobotomy Test Monkeys would be an awesome name for a punk band.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
My name is Goodall, Tardalogist you stole my crack pipe, prepare to die!
None of us are immune to tard behavior. We all do those things that sound like a brighter ideas in our heads, but tard behavior is more like breathing it's involuntary it just happens. This is sometimes due to below line IQ and other times the result of poor hand eye coordination. For me this is evidenced by the general caliber of my wardrobe: dark colors mostly brown and blue, these are the best for hiding food stains.
My tard behavior doesn't end there, sadly and even more to my distress it seems there is a never ending stream of low functioning events in my life. Today I discovered just how deep my caffeine addiction runs. My desk never lacks the presence of a bottle of Pepsi's finest distribution of the sweet ambrosia known as Mountain Dew. The constant presence of this drink staves off certain things: coma-like sleep, thirst and physical fitness. The unfortunate side effect of constant flow of Mountain Dew into my blood stream is that I must occasionally escape the soul-crushing weight of my tard infested work environment to visit the rest room. Today while on one of these required sojourns a coworker thinking he’s wittier then he actually is thought it would be a good idea to hide my caffeine. When I returned I realized that something was terribly wrong. It took a few moments to detect the conspicuous absence of my life sustaining fat-juice so without compunction loudly questioned, "who the fuck took my soda!"
Friday, April 18, 2008
Pigpen says, "Hey dude!"
Working in the networking industry there is an expectation of professionalism. This is more then just an expectation here it is a requirement. Many new employees are counseled on this when they fail to use proper language on the phone. Now don't get me wrong this isn't to say we are expected to adhere to the standards of a synthetic of a voice response system but there are certain things that will not be allowed to slide.
Pigpen is a fellow phone jockey, what he lacks in intelligence he makes up for in aroma so strong that he has his own set of cartoon-esque stink lines which follow him about. Pigpen embodies a biological anomaly as he has been artificially aged approximately three decades from continued exposure to pot clouds so dense it could be sold to little pot-heads as “potton candy.” Pigpen takes every opportunity he can to point out just how damaged the thought and speech centers of his brain have become and the exact marijuana and alcohol cocktail necessary recreate the degradation, in case anyone wants to join him in his self-induced walking oblivion.
This afternoon I overhear Pigpen providing his usual absolutely incorrect information to the customer, so I send him an IM to correct his mistake and he says to the caller, "hold up noz, I'm gettin' new infoz." I have no clue what "noz," if indeed I am spelling it correctly, means but I am fairly certain that it is a word only crack-jacked surfer bums can understand. His usage of "unconventional" language continues throughout the call as does the stream of incorrect information. When the call comes to its conclusion rather then ending it with the standard salutation he says, "laterz bra!" Every time Pigpen answers the phone my company's client loses business.
Shortly after Pigpen finishes his call I get and IM from Fieldtrip who consequently is on a cross country fieldtrip of his own; our conversation is as follows:
Fieldtrip: Hey what's up?
Goodall: Nada, but Pigpen isn't going to be here when you get back.
Fieldtrip: Terminus?
Goodall: Negative, on a COMPLETELY unrelated note, I need to you alibi me.
Fieldtrip: I'll testify that on the date and time in question you an I were on the other side of town rescuing the puppies of the elderly-infirmed from their once beautiful old folks home run by a multi-denomination habit of nuns, whom we also rescued from said burning building.
Now I'm not a violent person, but somewhere in some cold, snow covered, backwater town on the boarder of Minnesota and Hell there's a wood chipper hungry for Pigpen and his fellow tards.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Whisky Tango
White Trash.
You've heard the term. You know what it means.
Have you ever spoken to someone fitting this title? Conversed for longer than it takes them to say "Welcome to Wal-Mart," to you?
I tend to avoid these people. In the semi-technical role I provide, I tend not to have to deal with many of them.
On occasions someone will mistakenly contact us, "I just bought this here juke-box offa Ebay and y'all didn't send me no CDs!"
"Sir, this is a company specializing in large scale IT solutions..."
"Wut-the-hell does EYE TEA mean?"
Anyway, I'm getting off track. Miracle of miracles, we have a poor soul trapped in a world in which we discuss things beyond NASCAR and chewing tobacco.
Yes, I have a White Trash co-worker. A quick note: White Trash (or WT) will mean the co-worker. When not capitalized then the term white trash will refer to the state of being and the people that comprise it.
I have so many pseudo-stories of WT, but nothing that merits a full post.
Essentially, I have many bricks of humor that I will use to build a wall.
First and foremost, WT openly admits to being brain damaged.
In his words, he "Went through the windshield one time and they had to take out part of my brain."
I have not reviewed his medical records, nor am I a medical practitioner. I have no reason to doubt his brain is not intact. Hell, that's not even the part that I'm focused on. What bothers me here is the fact that this is his excuse for EVERYTHING.
"WT, you just gave the client incorrect info!"
"Sorry, I'm missing part of my brain. Ya'see, one time I went through the windshield..."
"WT, you CANNOT state to a customer that you have no idea what you're doing and that they should work with another company!"
"Man...yeah. I wouldn'ta were it not for one time I went through the windshield..."
"WT, you just pissed yourself while trying to read the label on that can of soda!"
"Missing part of my brain makes doing 2 things hard for me..."
I can understand when someone has a disability. Be it a learning disability, be it
a physical handicap. This is normal. Sometimes you have to work in specific ways with stroke victims or others that have been impaired.
On the other hand, you have some people that seem to think that their injury gives them the freedom to do as they please. It's never ending the things this guy attempts to get away with!
"I need to be out of work at 3PM today. I'm supposed to buy this guy's puppy."
"Um...no. WT, you know your schedule, why would you think it's ok to just decide to schedule something during your working hours?"
"Well, I was talkin' to this guy last night and he says he HAS-TA get rid-a this puppy TODAY. So I says, yeah, I can get over there and all. With that dog bein' on the line all my work info went out my mind! See, I lost part of my brain...."
*Ahem* Yeah. It's like that. And by "like that" I mean it's like a big gulp with a NASCAR driver on it filled with Natural Light beer and chewing tobacco.
This man is a string of stupid being dragged behind a short bus.
While speaking to a senior technical assistant, a man who is very well versed not only in the technical arts but also no slouch when it comes to vocabulary, WT was heard to remark, "I hear what you're saying, but I'm finding some 'CONFLICTING' information. See, conflicting is when you have one thing that says somethin' and then you have somethin' else that says somethin'. That's what you're doin' now, you're conflictin' the information I got."
I sit next to Dudette. She lost her grip here. She can generally go a whole day without laughing out loud at this guy. This had her rolling.
Truly, WT has a wide vocabulary.
Later that week, WT was again consulting the senior tech. This is normal. He consults a senior tech everytime he has a case.
After speaking with the senior tech for hours to determine that PoE (Power over Ethernet) means that electricity (e.g., POWER) is provided to a device over the network cable (e.g., ETHERNET), WT was heard to remark to a co-worker:
"In six months time, I'm going to have [the senior tech] job."
I can only assume that in six months he will have completed his remidial reading course at the adult learning annex. The concept of him being a senior tech is as baffling as the concept of a dog explaining Euclidean geometry to me... while it's flying the shuttle. Truly, were WT to ever be capable of being a senior tech, the end of days would surely be upon us.
All banter aside, WT really has done the best job in summing himself up.
A co-worker says to him, "Did you ever read Where the Red Fern Grows?"
"No, I don't read."
Yes. That's correct. He doesn't read.
Color me shocked!
He went on to state that he CAN read, but chooses not to.
I remain skeptical.
You've heard the term. You know what it means.
Have you ever spoken to someone fitting this title? Conversed for longer than it takes them to say "Welcome to Wal-Mart," to you?
I tend to avoid these people. In the semi-technical role I provide, I tend not to have to deal with many of them.
On occasions someone will mistakenly contact us, "I just bought this here juke-box offa Ebay and y'all didn't send me no CDs!"
"Sir, this is a company specializing in large scale IT solutions..."
"Wut-the-hell does EYE TEA mean?"
Anyway, I'm getting off track. Miracle of miracles, we have a poor soul trapped in a world in which we discuss things beyond NASCAR and chewing tobacco.
Yes, I have a White Trash co-worker. A quick note: White Trash (or WT) will mean the co-worker. When not capitalized then the term white trash will refer to the state of being and the people that comprise it.
I have so many pseudo-stories of WT, but nothing that merits a full post.
Essentially, I have many bricks of humor that I will use to build a wall.
First and foremost, WT openly admits to being brain damaged.
In his words, he "Went through the windshield one time and they had to take out part of my brain."
I have not reviewed his medical records, nor am I a medical practitioner. I have no reason to doubt his brain is not intact. Hell, that's not even the part that I'm focused on. What bothers me here is the fact that this is his excuse for EVERYTHING.
"WT, you just gave the client incorrect info!"
"Sorry, I'm missing part of my brain. Ya'see, one time I went through the windshield..."
"WT, you CANNOT state to a customer that you have no idea what you're doing and that they should work with another company!"
"Man...yeah. I wouldn'ta were it not for one time I went through the windshield..."
"WT, you just pissed yourself while trying to read the label on that can of soda!"
"Missing part of my brain makes doing 2 things hard for me..."
I can understand when someone has a disability. Be it a learning disability, be it
a physical handicap. This is normal. Sometimes you have to work in specific ways with stroke victims or others that have been impaired.
On the other hand, you have some people that seem to think that their injury gives them the freedom to do as they please. It's never ending the things this guy attempts to get away with!
"I need to be out of work at 3PM today. I'm supposed to buy this guy's puppy."
"Um...no. WT, you know your schedule, why would you think it's ok to just decide to schedule something during your working hours?"
"Well, I was talkin' to this guy last night and he says he HAS-TA get rid-a this puppy TODAY. So I says, yeah, I can get over there and all. With that dog bein' on the line all my work info went out my mind! See, I lost part of my brain...."
*Ahem* Yeah. It's like that. And by "like that" I mean it's like a big gulp with a NASCAR driver on it filled with Natural Light beer and chewing tobacco.
This man is a string of stupid being dragged behind a short bus.
While speaking to a senior technical assistant, a man who is very well versed not only in the technical arts but also no slouch when it comes to vocabulary, WT was heard to remark, "I hear what you're saying, but I'm finding some 'CONFLICTING' information. See, conflicting is when you have one thing that says somethin' and then you have somethin' else that says somethin'. That's what you're doin' now, you're conflictin' the information I got."
I sit next to Dudette. She lost her grip here. She can generally go a whole day without laughing out loud at this guy. This had her rolling.
Truly, WT has a wide vocabulary.
Later that week, WT was again consulting the senior tech. This is normal. He consults a senior tech everytime he has a case.
After speaking with the senior tech for hours to determine that PoE (Power over Ethernet) means that electricity (e.g., POWER) is provided to a device over the network cable (e.g., ETHERNET), WT was heard to remark to a co-worker:
"In six months time, I'm going to have [the senior tech] job."
I can only assume that in six months he will have completed his remidial reading course at the adult learning annex. The concept of him being a senior tech is as baffling as the concept of a dog explaining Euclidean geometry to me... while it's flying the shuttle. Truly, were WT to ever be capable of being a senior tech, the end of days would surely be upon us.
All banter aside, WT really has done the best job in summing himself up.
A co-worker says to him, "Did you ever read Where the Red Fern Grows?"
"No, I don't read."
Yes. That's correct. He doesn't read.
Color me shocked!
He went on to state that he CAN read, but chooses not to.
I remain skeptical.
Friday, April 11, 2008
It's a Fowl, actually!
Welcome to today's installment of "I Don't Think that Word Means What You Think it Means."
If you are near the man called Penguin, you will often hear strange stories and riddles. I remember one in particular from when I was a boy.
I was staring blankly off into space, when a man, much like you or I, found that a skeleton had been found. In his excitement, he made a fatal mistake. He made known his discovery.
"Wow! That's cool. They found a new dinosaur skeleton near by," he said.
This news drew interest from those around him, but most notably from Penguin.
"Do you know what the closest living relative to a T-Rex is?" Asked Penguin.
"No," said the man. "But I bet it is a bird of some kind."
"You are wrong!" Exclaimed Penguin. With a look of satisfaction in his eyes, he continued. "It is a chicken."
Many of us, having some remote idea as to what a chicken was, found a flaw in this statement. I forget who first pointed out this flaw, but I recall it being some kind of ape.
"A chicken is a bird." the ape stated with a great deal of confidence.
"No," retorted Penguin. "It is a fowl actually."
Stunned silence permeated the room. Once again Penguin had demonstrated his superior knowledge.
But wait! What is that you say? Fowl is another word for bird? How dare you doubt the word of Penguin? How could anyone doubt Penguin? This is how:
"But, fowl is another word for bird," responded the man. That very same man who dared speak of the bones that began this fearful conversation.
Penguin, not willing to let those less informed than he fall prey to false words, knew exactly what to say to this.
"No it's not. Because a penguin is a fowl and it's not a bird."
Sensing a pattern to the exchange, the ape felt it was safe to venture a guess. A guess founded on nothing but it's own intuition.
"Yes it is."
Once again silence. How could this be? Had someone actually found a flaw in the great Penguins expansive knowledge? At the time, it seemed that way.
"Well, if you want to get technical about it." Once again Penguin had found the one thing he could have said to defend his position.
Chastened, the ape sat in it's chair, clearly defeated.
If you are near the man called Penguin, you will often hear strange stories and riddles. I remember one in particular from when I was a boy.
I was staring blankly off into space, when a man, much like you or I, found that a skeleton had been found. In his excitement, he made a fatal mistake. He made known his discovery.
"Wow! That's cool. They found a new dinosaur skeleton near by," he said.
This news drew interest from those around him, but most notably from Penguin.
"Do you know what the closest living relative to a T-Rex is?" Asked Penguin.
"No," said the man. "But I bet it is a bird of some kind."
"You are wrong!" Exclaimed Penguin. With a look of satisfaction in his eyes, he continued. "It is a chicken."
Many of us, having some remote idea as to what a chicken was, found a flaw in this statement. I forget who first pointed out this flaw, but I recall it being some kind of ape.
"A chicken is a bird." the ape stated with a great deal of confidence.
"No," retorted Penguin. "It is a fowl actually."
Stunned silence permeated the room. Once again Penguin had demonstrated his superior knowledge.
But wait! What is that you say? Fowl is another word for bird? How dare you doubt the word of Penguin? How could anyone doubt Penguin? This is how:
"But, fowl is another word for bird," responded the man. That very same man who dared speak of the bones that began this fearful conversation.
Penguin, not willing to let those less informed than he fall prey to false words, knew exactly what to say to this.
"No it's not. Because a penguin is a fowl and it's not a bird."
Sensing a pattern to the exchange, the ape felt it was safe to venture a guess. A guess founded on nothing but it's own intuition.
"Yes it is."
Once again silence. How could this be? Had someone actually found a flaw in the great Penguins expansive knowledge? At the time, it seemed that way.
"Well, if you want to get technical about it." Once again Penguin had found the one thing he could have said to defend his position.
Chastened, the ape sat in it's chair, clearly defeated.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Snowing in the Office
One might be thinking that snowing in the office is impossible. That one is wrong. I am here to prove that snowing in the office is indeed possible. Picture, if you will, a row of cubicles. Each cubicle being only about 4 and a half feet wide. Think of how well acquainted one might get with the neighbors. I am sitting at my cubicle, most likely surfing the internet and I look to my side. Due to one of my neighbors love for winter, it is snowing all over the back of the seat.
My point here is this: if you are going to be working is close quarters (in this case VERY close quarters), please regard the simple, yet fantastic rules of hygiene. Let me elaborate on this. Wake up in the morning, shower, wash hair - during this you will shampoo and rinse, and if desired condition. Rinse and repeat if desired. Doing this simple yet effective step in the morning will surely prevent winter snow from reaching the cubicles of others who hate winter!
Do you think I could make my point by leaving some Selsen Blue on his desk?
My point here is this: if you are going to be working is close quarters (in this case VERY close quarters), please regard the simple, yet fantastic rules of hygiene. Let me elaborate on this. Wake up in the morning, shower, wash hair - during this you will shampoo and rinse, and if desired condition. Rinse and repeat if desired. Doing this simple yet effective step in the morning will surely prevent winter snow from reaching the cubicles of others who hate winter!
Do you think I could make my point by leaving some Selsen Blue on his desk?
Employee Appreciation Day
All year long we wait with enormous anticipation for one day: Employee Appreciation Day. EA Day exists for our employer to offer minor gifts in the shape of candy or small trinkets provided to them by our clients to be given out for no particular reason. Their hope is that we are some how placated for the lack of less important items, from a corporate stand point like: sufficient pay, a work environment not infested with tards, and a sense of fulfillment and success.
On EA day we are given tokens of faux gratitude in conjunction with paper placards informing us of things like our names, our tards sometimes forget, and the reason for which we are being recognized. Some of these reasons include:
· Thank you for showing up to work for a whole consecutive 5 days.
· Thank you for not drooling on your keyboard, if you refuse to work we appreciate that you at least do not cause irrespirable damage to our equipment.
· Thank you for not flinging poop at passing managers and corporate guests.
It doesn't matter if the only productive action one performs in a given day is the continued beating of their own pulse, they receive one of these placards. Placards which are reminiscent of the trophies aspiring young tards receive at events like little league or Boy Scout awards ceremonies. Everyone gets one so no one feels left out even if your trophy says, "Last place with a first place smile!" This consequently is a real award I received when my Pinewood Derby racecar flew of the guided track and burst into flames. Enough coats of lacquer evidently will cause spontaneous combustion.
I would blame the managers for this festival of mediocrity but it really isn't their fault. Corporate compliance requires that our direct management staff offer us this cheap simulacrum of gratitude. So we celebrate yet another EA Day with great gusto and as I write this I'm hanging in my cubical a paper placard proclaiming, "Thank you for coming to work with clothes on!"
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