Wolf and Winter Cold

I ended up cleaning part of the database today and came across an email address of leonidas@[company withheld].com
It was not long after that I imagined this exchange:

Subject: Earth and Water
From: messenger@persia.com
To: leonidas@[company withheld].com

Leonidas,

All King Xerxes asks is earth and water. Your position and the men that are below you may end up in a very bad position if you do not act quickly on this. We have a deadline here! Xerxes needs you to get everything together and respond in a timely manner. When you have your response ready be sure to attach the earthandwater document and CC your response to xerxes@persia.com. Be careful in how you word your response and how quickly you act on it. It could be your last email in your position!
-Persian Messenger

Subject: Re:Earth and Water
From: leonidas@[company withheld].com
To: messenger@persia.com

Persian,
THIS IS SPARTA!!!
-Leonidas

File Attached: kickedintoawell.exe


Yeah, I paraphrased the dialog. This idea was a weak one to begin with. I laughed anyway.

Secondhand smoke does not lead to secondhand coolness

I do not smoke. Never have. Don't ever want to. Why? Because I like not having heart disease, lung cancer, obesity, green skin, raspy voice, high blood pressure, etc, etc, etc.

That being said, I feel like my health has gone down considerably after three years of working at the Tard Center. Everyday I am forced to walk into the building past numerous (probably at least half of the people that actually work in the entire office building) people who are smoking on the sidewalk instead of over in the enclosed smoking shack. Now I have to admit that I sympathize somewhat with their not wanting to smoke in the shack seeing as how there is a giant enclose nuclear generator something-or-other literally inches away from the smoking shack, which has multiple signs and warning labels on it stating "Extremely Flammable!" That aside , I can't count the number of times I've wanted to pull the signs that read "No Smoking on the Sidewalk" out of the ground and use it to decapitate every moron on that sidewalk blowing smoke into my face as I try to hold my breath the entire way to the front door.

I really don't have anything against people who want to smoke. But really the fact that it has been clinically proven that second-hand smoke leads to just as much illness as first hand smoke does is not really good news to me and I prefer that if you do choose to smoke you at least have the decency not to kill everyone else around you. And seeing as how the fat security wenches just sit inside at their useless desk flirting with their useless white trash boyfriends all day aren't going to ever do anything about it the only alternative is either spree killing or gas mask. Unfortunately I don't have the balls for a spree killing nor the resources for the gas mask so I am pretty much screwed. Damn you inconsiderate smokers! Damn you all to hellfire!

WoW, just WoW.

One of the first people that I met when I began this job was a person we'll dub as "WoW Lady".
In this case, "WoW" stands for *flinch* World of Warcraft.
No offense to gamers (I'm not one myself) but I simply cannot stand hearing talk about WoW.
It bores and pains me.
Back on track. WoW Lady is first and foremost obsessed with WoW. Every third sentence out of her mouth is, "The other night my daughter and I were on Mal-Ganis..."
It's mind numbing.
To make matters worse WoW Lady suffered a stroke some time ago. This causes her speech to be slow, run together, slurred, and loud. That means that the above sentence sounds more like "THEOTHSER NIGHT MY DAUGHTERRN I WERE ON MAL-GANS..." This also makes her laugh sound more forced and deafening... like a 5 year old pretending to REALLY enjoy something. There's the short pause, followed by a boisterous "AHA HA HA HA HA HA HA"
It's a headache wrapped in an aneurysm.
The final nail in the coffin is that WoW Lady isn't the most "informed" person and tends to like to argue points that she has no real knowledge of.
Thinking about it, that's most of the employees...
Anyway. I do my very best to stay out of conversations about religion or politics here at work. With my mindset it would only lead to my incarceration.
WoW Lady has been the only person to successfully draw me into arguments about both topics.

WoW Lady used to sit behind me. I would listen to her slow trainwreck of a speech as she spoke to customers, "THANK YOUFER CALL ING [COMPANY NAME WITHHELD] RE SELLERS AAAAANNNNNNNDDDDDDD DLERS. HOWCN I HE LP YOU?"
The AND is what killed me. Rage would fill me each time.
A time came about when the people around me began to discuss Christian doctrine and theology.
This could obviously only lead to fun times. I faced forward and attempted to shut them out (no small task). The the ball dropped. The big one.
"THE WORST PART ISHAT THE JEWS CRUCIF IED 'IM."
......
Wait. Wait. Did WoW Lady just say that the Jews were the ones to crucify Jesus?
What the hell?!

I took a deep breath and steadied my nerves. This was going to hurt. "Wait wait wait. The Jews did not crucify Jesus. Jesus was crucified by the Romans as ordered by Pontius Pilate. There are those that argue that the Jews betrayed him but even then the argument tends to be viewed as antisemitic rhetoric."
WoW Lady didn't wait a heartbeat, she jumped down my throat, "THEJEWS WEhhRE THE ONES SS TH HAT KILLED JESUS!"
Luckily, we had a few theologically versed people nearby that certainly didn't want to see this go any farther. Even with other people of her faith telling her that it was not anyone of Judaic faith that nailed her messiah to the cross she still pushed back. I made it a point to go back to reading webcomics and ignoring the conversation for worry of becoming very angry.
If you're curious as to my religious beliefs, let me put it this way: I have none.

The political argument went something akin to "WE WOUhhLDN'T BEIN IRAQ IF CLINTN HAD GO-ONE IN AND FINISHhhED THE JOB."
The argument that she had presented for her standpoint lacked any human sense of logic. I may be misquoting it here. Suffice it to say that it made as much sense as, "If it weren't for Twinkies no one would be overweight." Ok, MAYBE I see what you're trying to say... but not really.
I pulled up my bootstraps and jumped right on in, attempting to point out what was questionable with the statement. Oddly, she went defensive, "I DO ON'T EVEN WANT TO AhhRGUE ABOUIT! I DID"T EVEN BRING IT UP!"
I ended up angry not just because she was poorly informed, but also because she dodged an argument that she provoked. My thirst for pointing out the flaws in someone's logic would not be slaked.

The complaints against her don't just end with her thoughts and speech. No, no. There is a distinct issue at hand here. She has been with the company for a few years. For those years she was focused on wireless technologies. Without getting too technical I will attempt to recount some of the simple but obvious mistakes she's made:
A) Not knowing what WPA is. Not the acronym. No, she didn't know what it was.
B) Not knowing that WPA is standard on SEVERAL products that she deals with
C) Not knowing that different countries have different channels on which a wireless access point can operate. Better put, she thought the FCC regulated the WHOLE WORLD.

On occasions when she was corrected on something that was a mistake (like when I informed her that, yes, the firewall that her customer was looking at CAN indeed act as a simple router) she would still go on to make the same mistake again (less than 48 hours later she informed another customer that the firewall I mentioned earlier couldn't do any routing).
Customers would complain about her nature and attitude. Everyday would have at least three calls in which she would interrupt and hassle the customer. "TOM! TOM! HEY! BEQUIET FER A SEC OND! IIIII'M TRYING TO EX PLAIhhN IT TO YOU!"
Inevitably these calls would end with her commenting that the caller was a jerk. She would then attempt to tell everyone around her why she felt he was "a jerk". It didn't take long before everyone learned that after WoW Lady says, "I HATE CUSTOMERS LIKE THAT," you don't ask why... unless of course you really enjoy hearing the same story several times a day at volumes that cause hemorrhaging.

Eventually WoW Lady was moved to a different technology focus and consequently a different part of the floor. This means that I no longer get drawn into arguments or seethe with anger at her handling of her job due to mere proximity.

Unfortunately she's loud enough that I can still hear here all the way over here.

Not [Now], Not [Here]

There are times when I get tapped to assign user IDs to the company they belong to in our database. Often this is simple. We grab the email address of the user and a quick glance results in, "Oh, I know this domain! It belongs to company XXXXXXXX. I can put him right here!"
Others are not as easy. There is an over abundance of people here that simply CANNOT SPELL.
My major gripe, however, is formatting.
When a user profile is added, the employee is supposed to make notes as to how they relate to us.
It's generally very simple. If the user works for a company partnered with us, they simply need to indicate the company name or the partner type. No big deal.
If the user provides an email address that isn't tied to a company or a private domain (these can be addresses like xxxx@gmail.com, @yahoo.com, @aol.com, etc.) then the note is simple:
"Not a partner."
It doesn't matter if the user tells you he's the Captain of Outer Space. Any of the open registration email addresses are not acknowledged as partners, period.
If the customer IS part of a partner company but we have yet to add their company to the database, then the note should read:
"Add Partner Organization" followed by basic information.
Simple enough, right?
Even with the simple if/then set up we have going, my "peers" continually fail to handle the basics.
Combing through the new user IDs I stumble across xxx@aol.com and xxx@yahoo.com with notes saying "Add Partner Organization: Idiot Steve's Super Computing Mega Warehouse".
NO! WRONG! BAD!
Not only have they failed to do the most basic of research, they didn't even follow the most simple of instructions.
Even with the notes a little bit jumbled, I can generally breeze through.
The real problem comes with people that have their own note formating:
"Customer says he's a partner and that his company is in the database but I couldn't find it so maybe he's not a partner. He did say that he had just gotten partner status so maybe he just needs to wait a bit longer to actually show up in the database. Or maybe I spelled it wrong but he says he KNOWS that he's a partner. One time I had someone else call in who said they were a partner..."
It goes on and on.
Generally the real kicker comes when I check the email address after reading their Dickensian notation:
xxxxxxx@yahoo.com

Mouth Shut, Eyes Front!

There are two circumstances in this world where you will find lines of men staring silently forward, the first is the military when drill is called you shut your face, stair straight forward and draw as little attention to yourself as possible. The second is the men's public restroom.

Implemented in the latter years of the 19^th century the men's lavatory is designed to facilitate the expulsion of bodily waste and as a forum for posting your bitchy ex-girlfriend's cell phone number for as many psychopathic stalkers to see as possible. This development in human excrement management was not intended in anyway for talking or making noises of any kind.

I have extremely unfortunate timing when it comes to restroom breaks at work. It seems that nearly every time I proceed that direction someone else in my immediate vicinity has the same idea. Thus it appears that I stalk my fellow employees to the rest room. Not being a silver lining kind of guy but nevertheless able to detect when a fortuitous circumstance presents itself, should I ever decide to begin a career as a creepy stalker of public restroom visitors I wont have to do much.

Today on a trip to the facilities I was preceded by White Trash. He entered the lavatory moments before I tossing me the same unsettled look my other fellow employees do when I nonchalantly, whistling all the while, trail them into the head. He entered the first stall and I approached the urinal. This is where I usually slip into a semi-controlled catatonic state intended to protect me from those people that are unfamiliar with men's restroom etiquette. This time before I could the strangest sound began to emanate from my urinating cohabitant of this public john. The noise increased in volume and strangeness until White Trash began sounding like a wounded wilder beast being humped by a rhythmically challenged sea lion. With an alacrity born of Thalassophobia I made a hasty retreat to my relatively sea-animal proof cubical.

White Trash seems to no longer be content in breaking the rules of polite society and professionalism now he assaults one of the most sacred rule sets of mankind, as was seen on the original Ten Commandments before they were revised to accommodate the unrelenting laziness of man; “Thou Shalt not talk or make animal nosies in the public restroom!”

Charlton Heston is spinning in his grave...

This is neither the time nor the place.

As many people who work for a living are aware, there is a time and a place for many things. But not, as the old saying goes, for everything.

Examples of things that could be appropriate are telling a person that you have pictures to send them. The wrong time to do this is just before you are arrested for child porn.
Asking someone to help you learn your new job is fine, but not when they were also a candidate for it.
I can not think of a single time that shouting "Bob's favorite sin is sodomy!" could ever be appropriate.
Complaining that you are over worked is a common activity, but choose your audience wisely. The person you whine to may be the person cleaning up your mess from the work you are avoiding.
Mentioning that it looks like you beat your wife in that picture may seem like a funny thing to say, but this may be a touchy subject even in the best of times.
The lunch room was not intended for flashing people you just met.
When someone has just admitted to finding out they have cancer, do not ask them if that is even a real disease.

There are many personal topics that should not be brought up in the work place. The number of abortions you have payed for is one. They fact that you would have euthanized your co-workers child is another. Anything that involves a turkey baster is borderline.

The restroom at work is generally considered to be no-mans land for any discussion. I understand that you enjoy your video games. My genitals do not. They don't even care. Your informing me of the new game you are buying, in fact, frightens them greatly. So please Pigpen, when you talk to someone, look around you. If it smells of excrement, this is not a good area to keep someone occupied.

In Case of Emergency

Thanks to my neighbor FC, you are now semi-familiar with Professor Pointless. I will refer to him for the sake of this post as “the Professor”. I sit very close to the Professor, closer than anyone regarding this Blog. I find that this is a rather unfortunate situation, as I am daily disgusted and horrified, confused and dazed as to the behaviors of the Professor.

The Professor is not one to follow many rules, but then again, I am not one either. However, I try my best to conceal the fact that I am not following rules. The Professor does not. He very much wants to make his presence known to the floor, however, quite frankly, none of us really care for him.

Let me start with one thing you will need to know to truly understand this post. We on the call floor have what I would like to refer to as an emergency phone and it is for, you may have already guessed, emergencies only. For example: I have the number for the emergency phone, but have never given it to anyone I know, since I highly doubt there will be such a dire emergency that my cell phone will not suffice. The Professor has a cell phone. I’ve heard the old man’s ring tone many times.

Today, was a regular work day. Until a co-worker comes barreling down the row with the emergency phone in his hand. I immediately turn to the Professor. He is on a call. It happens sometime when you work in a call center. He then promptly puts his customer on hold and answers the phone. The conversation went something like this:

The Professor: Hello son… I was going to call you when I got off work. I’m picking you up at 5:15… HAHA (I guess assumed son said something amusing)… Tell Samantha hello for me… Okay bye.

I realized that this was not an emergency at all, but a mere son trying to get a hold of his father. Sweet and nice, but this is not the true use of the emergency phone. Approximately 5 minutes pass when a different co-worker comes barreling down the row with the same phone and I think to myself “not again…” but sure enough there was another emergency that the Professor was needed. This time, however, the co-worker noticed he was still on the call and quickly took a message. Much to the dismay of the caller and to the Professor, I’m sure.

I am unsure why today, this act of complete disregard for the emergency phone really bugged the core of me. I will probably never know. All I hope for is that one day, there really will be an emergency that require the Professor, and since the Professor has called “emergency wolf” more times than I can count, someone will just merely take a message. I hope that someone can be me.

Where there's smoke there's fire!

Recently I experienced a lateral move in my company. This move requires me to know and do more and get paid the same, corporate America's finest paradigm of professional growth. This was not really a sacrifice as I would gladly trade phone time for all of the wage related apathy that my company cares to provide. The sacrifice: I'm now unionized. I have joined the local 323: Sleep Deprived Zombies United. My shift changed only 3 hours but now resides in the block of morning hours where I usually get the only three solid hours of sleep I manage to eek out of each day. As a result of the shift change, I'm tired and unfocused, couple this with my angry hate-filled personality and you have a dangerous cocktail resulting in conflict and woe.

I don't drink coffee in the morning or other wise, at least not for it's fatigue combating properties. Thusly walking the few feet between my car and the entrance to the building I'm usually subdued enough to let the other people pass without commenting on the ridicules thing they say or do. I spend the rest of my day envying this trance-like state and the idiot shield it is, I one day hope to master this condition to be able to call it on command, one day I'll say, "shields up" resulting in glassy eyes and a walking coma.

Several mornings ago however, as I marched toward the building entrance, barely able to control my drool reflex. I noticed something that even my befuddled brain could recognize as idiotic behavior; a woman, standing next to her car, smoking. Now you may say that smoking is not a crime nor is it even unusual, but there's more; this woman enjoying her morning fix was at least 30 months pregnant either that or she had a regulation size basketball with life like navel style air valve tucked under her tank top.

I missed a step and nearly stumbled when I saw this, I wasn't quite sure if I should say something or just pretend it was just a hallucination generated by my oxygen and sleep starved brain. But being in the cantankerous state I was with little, and by little I mean no, reservations for the feelings of others I offered a polite suggestion to the pregnant smoking woman; I yelled, "what's wrong with you? Don't you know you shouldn't be smoking?" I figured that I would be met with a simple dignified "fuck off" but to my surprise I was offered a multi-syllabic response, the pregnant smoking woman returned, "I have to smoke here, I can't smoke in the car my daughter's in there!" I looked and sure enough there was a toddler in the back seat chewing on the upholstery. I was floored, I couldn't believe what was happening, the world had truly gone mad. Probably for the first time in my life I was too stunned to offer witty remarks or psyche slashing advise, I simply picked my jaw up off the pavement and stumbled into the building. I have yet to see this woman out side waiting for whom ever she had been waiting for that morning, perhaps she was smoking in bed and though judicious use of justice-filled fire deepened the gene pool.

Can you hear me now?

We have three middle management types that cover our project. McFly (Goodall's manager), Outside Voice (Dudette's and my manager), and the newest manager that we don't have a witty name for yet (Dozen's manager).
While McFly and the newest manager are both rather skilled, Outside Voice merits discussion.
Outside Voice is called that due to the nature in which she speaks. That is to say, loudly. Lets say she is approached about an issue by upper management. Now, she has a few choices on how to get the word out. Email makes sense but many of the phone agents don't check it often enough. A memo would work but there's quite a bit of clerical work there. What solution does she use?
She stands up and proceeds to yell down the aisles to inform everyone.
"IF YOU HAVEN'T COMPLETED YOUR MANDATORY PASSWORD RESET BY 3PM TODAY YOU'RE GOING TO BE LOCKED OUT OF YOUR COMPUTER TOMORROW!"

Ears bleed, eyes water, stomachs churn. This is nothing new. It happens everyday. Sometimes it's across the floor, sometimes it's RIGHT NEXT TO YOUR HEAD. This doesn't make her a bad manager, no. There are other things that make her a bad manager. This just makes her a bit obnoxious. Overall, OV is a pleasant if somewhat dim individual. She cares about her team but doesn't always understand how to help them. Case in point. When the network went down and crippled our call floor she wanted us to continue to log the calls.
"JUST USE THE TOOL AND CHECK THEM AGAINST THE DATABASE."
"I can't. The network is down. I can't SEE the database," I informed her.
"THE DATABASE IS LOCAL, IT'S NOT OUT ON THE INTERNET."
I remember feeling a headache coming on at this point, "I know that. We're cut off from even the local network. We can't see the database, the access server, or any part of our network for that matter. Not even the gateway. Nothing can be pinged, seen or reached!"
"THE DATABASE IS CONNECTED TO THESE SYSTEMS. IT'S PART OF OUR NETWORK."

This goes on for a bit of time. Let me remind you that we're a consulting group for IT solutions. I talk to people on a daily basis about firewalls, routers, switches, servers, VoIP solutions, etc. Outside Voice has been a manager for this call floor for YEARS. She knows what a router is/does, she knows what a firewall is/does, she knows what a server is. Somehow this still doesn't seem to register with her.
Sadly, I was warned of this at the beginning of my time with the company. An old agent of hers told me, "Outside Voice is like a loud, angry bull. She's confused and thinks she may have an answer. The easiest thing to do is get out of her way and she'll forget about the issue."
Truer words were never spoken. It has been best practice that when she says to you, "I NEED YOU TO DO THIS IN THIS MANNER THAT NO LOGICAL PERSON WOULD DO IT," that you simply say, "Ok, Outside Voice," and go back to what you were doing.
As she is a bit dim, you would assume that she's a decent manager. How else could she maintain her position for so long? Yeah... she's not so hot at that either. Planning, teaching, and organizing are not her strong points.
"FIELDTRIP, I NEED YOU TO GO TO THE MEETING ABOUT NEW SECURITY TECHNOLOGY TODAY AT 5."
"Um... I can't. There's a meeting about the new quality forms that I'm supposed to go to at 4."
"THE QUALITY MEETING IS AT 2"
"And at noon and at 4. I'm already slated for 4. YOU were the one that put me there because Dudette and 2 others are set to go to the other one. I assume you don't want to empty out the phones while the meetings happen."
"WE'LL HAVE SOME PEOPLE AT THE QUALITY MEETING AT 4 AND SOME PEOPLE AT THE SECURITY MEETING AT 5."
"With how long these meetings take, that still means that you'll have almost EVERYONE at a meeting at the same time, doesn't it?"
"NOT EVERYONE WILL BE AT THE QUALITY MEETING. SOME WILL BE AT THE SECURITY MEETING."
"Ok, Outside Voice, I'll go to the security meeting at 5."
"GOOD."
A period of about 30 minutes pass.
"I JUST LOOKED AT THE EMAIL ABOUT THE MEETINGS, IF YOU GO TO THE SECURITY MEETING AT 5 WE WON'T HAVE ENOUGH PEOPLE ON THE PHONES AFTER THE 4 O'CLOCK QUALITY MEETING. I NEED YOU TO ONLY GO TO THE 4 O'CLOCK MEETING."
"Ok"
I spent the rest of the afternoon sobbing in frustration. Even in the meeting.

A lesson in social graces.

Towards the end of the row of cubicles that I work in sits a man we have dubbed "Professor Pointless."
The Prof. means well, but misses social cues. He's not mentally inferior, rather he's rather sharp. He simply fails to notice that the topics he cares to discuss hold no interest for those around him. When the parties being spoken towards grow weary of conversing with the Prof. the usual indications of wanting to end the conversation come into play. Monosyllabic responses, looking away, pretending to work, commenting that they have places to be, etc. These actions signal to any socially acclimated person that the time for talk has reached it's end. For Professor Pointless it merely means that he must rally and truly delve into the meat of the topic he's sharing with everyone.
While the Professor will often strike up a conversation and dive in with gusto, more often than not he takes it upon himself to muscle into a conversation happening around him and divert it elsewhere. Like the shake of a rattlesnake's tail, or the low growl of an angry dog, dreaded is the phrase, "Now wait a minute..." As soon as these words are past his lips, all involved are doomed to a ride of senseless prattle. While conversing on the delicious (VERY DELICIOUS) nature of bourbon with a coworker that had formerly been a bartender, Professor Pointless (a man who does not drink and never has) decided to interject. "Now wait a minute..." Dammit...here it comes.

"So, you don't garden or farm, but you support drinking bourbon?" asked the Prof. I replied that I did indeed support drinking and enjoying bourbon.
The Professor proceeded to stretch as far as he could to turn this conversation to something of no consequence, "But you yourself have said that not only do you not like corn, the primary ingredient, but that you DO NOT garden nor would you care to! How could you say that and still like bourbon?"
"Well," I said, "bourbon consists of a very processed form of corn. I don't care to ingest corn in kernel form and I don't garden as it holds no interest for me. I do poorly with plants and don't like to work with soil and seed."
The Professor saw a chink no one else would logically think to exploit, "If you were to garden AND grow a small batch of corn, you could, in theory, make your own batch of bourbon. You've already said single barrel bourbons maintain the most robust and even flavors. If you did this you could drink something you brewed to your specifications!"
Allow me to step away from the dialog here and explain an immediate issue. Brewing is a difficult process requiring skill, equipment, time, and patience. I have none of these things. Furthermore, in the state in which I live private brewing is VERY frowned upon. Not only would I be making a fool's attempt to develop a finely crafted spirit but I would be doing it in an unsafe and illegal manner. The likelihood of me being able to make bourbon out of a small crop of corn grown by my hands is nonexistent. Professor Pointless would have been more realistic in his predictions if he had said, "Maybe your corn stalks will grow tall enough to reach a castle in the sky where you will find a sleeping giant and you can steal his golden harp."
After staring at the Prof. for several seconds with my jaw on the floor, I attempted to explain the issues with what he had just said. In response to my argument he made an astute observation, "You have to admit, corn and large scale crops of the like are a big driving force in part of our economy."
Having been caught completely off guard I hastily agreed. There was a gleam in his eye. I had just handed him the conversation... shit.
Professor Pointless took a deep breath through his wide nostrils and began to tell us about commerce and the economic practices of western Europe. This in turn went into a rant on the faltering nature of the American dollar. Now, these are certainly interesting and important conversations to have at some point. Let us not forget that this was at work and started as a conversation with a different coworker on the merits of the finest of American spirits.
There was no hope of salvaging this conversation. I began to employ the usual escape techniques. Sigh, single word response, look away, yawn, check email, etc. Nothing had an effect. A quick check of the clock indicated an upcoming lunch break. Here stood my chance! I stood and made a comment that I had to meet someone for lunch and that I hated to cut our conversation short but I really must be going.
Professor Pointless nodded and went to say "Enjoy your lunch." Actually, I assume that's what he went to say. Instead, he said "Oh! One more thing..." and continued talking. I stared in shock as he rambled on. My numbed mental state barely caught the only hope I had, he had paused to ask me a question!
Without even knowing what had been said I responded with, "Oh, yes, indeed. To be certain. I am afraid I absolutely MUST use the restroom however. Lets continue this conversation when I return." I spun on my heel and fled as quick as my booted feet could carry me.

This would happen time and again. Each time the conversation would be swayed to Prof Pointless and his areas of skill and knowledge. He is an intelligent man... he's just not aware of his own nature.
After many hijacked conversations with coworkers I finally went mostly silent. My already alienating nature became that much more icy and distant. What at-work conversations I had took place over messengers. Unless a technical question concerning our job was presented to me I did not speak to those around me. Now instead of having my conversations pushed aside for a lesson, I could listen to other coworkers experience it.
While White Trash conversed with others about collecting retro gaming systems Professor Pointless readied his salvo of conversation killers. Both ears open and eyes glued to the screen, I waited for that test shot. It would catch White Trash off guard. He would stumble, trip, twirl and wind up pulled into a conversation about the nature of tobacco and squash as staple crops in colonial America. Professor Pointless would attempt to teach and White Trash would remain confused and uninformed.
I didn't have to speak. I wasn't being spoken to. The conversation was sure to be a circle of failure. I smiled. If I had the capacity, I would have wept with joy.