When Blockhead came into the office and started talking about coming back to school in the Fall, I didn't even flinch. I knew that one of us had to be confused, and there was a pretty good chance it was him. So I calmly asked him how much longer he had in the program, and what classes he needed to take in the Fall.
He told me that he is graduating in Technology Management this semester, but he wants to come back and get his degree in Construction Management as well. This will take him at least another two years.
I should have been distressed, to say the least. I should have felt some twang of sorrow and remorse at this news. But I was in a bit of an emotional state on the day of this abrupt announcement, so I found it difficult - nay, impossible - to conjure any of the appropriate emotions.
If anything, I felt giddy. Like the desperate cackles of a man on the verge of insanity, as he watches the proverbial last straw fall into place and shatter what was left of his reality.
I'm not actually going insane, and my reality is (more or less) still intact, but the metaphor remains apt.
I can hear the desperate cackling in my mind, and while you might think it would disturb me, I'm in fact quite amused. I've become a spectator at a very witty play. There I am, fanning myself with a program and nudging the person next to me, "See that? Isn't that hilarious? Predictable and a bit formulaic, of course, but won't it be frightfully amusing to watch the upcoming antics of our poor protagonist?"
And so we, myself included, wait to see how I will react. As we've learned from "I Love Lucy" it's not what happens to the characters that makes us laugh, it's how those characters react. We don't know how one reaction will exponentially affect another, only that it ends with the improbable and highly ridiculous climax of me standing at a moving conveyor belt of chocolates, hysterically shoving them into my mouth as fast as I can.
Showing posts with label The Blockhead Chronicles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Blockhead Chronicles. Show all posts
04 April 2011
21 March 2011
wanted: New avoidance Techniques
Is there something inherently wrong with avoiding people?
I’m not talking about anything malicious or mean-spirited; I mean a mutual-avoidance. I’m referring to people who may have a different sense of humor from you and so you don’t prefer their company. Or perhaps your personalities don’t jive really well. Or you don’t have many common interests and so conversation runs dry pretty quick between the two of you. As long as it's mutual, it isn't wrong or hurtful, right?
For the sake of argument, let’s say that this other person is not as bothered by these things as you are, resulting in a one-way avoidance, rather than a mutual-avoidance.
(We’ve all been that other person, the one who’s just a little bit dense and doesn’t grasp the “mutual” part of the avoidance deal. I’ve done it, I’m not judging, but that doesn’t make it any less awkward.)
As time goes on, if they never catch on to the ‘hey, buddy, we’re avoiding each other’ cue, they’ll just keep talking to you, and finding excuses to get in touch with you. Where once it was minimally distressing to bump into them in the super-market, it is now aggressively bothersome. They become annoying, obnoxious and shockingly abhorrent.
If you could just discover a way to ensure your paths would never cross, then everything would be fine.
So why does the Universe keep insisting on throwing these people back into my path? Are human beings not meant to ever avoid each other? It’s as though the Universe is calling shenanigans on me, telling me that I have to try it again, but I’m not sure what I did wrong the first time. I’ll just continue to brush these people off with lies and insincere smiles, and continue to be genuinely shocked when they reappear later.
Let’s take Clinger, as an example.
I've known her for 5+ years now. Every time I try to cut her out of my life, she finds a way to sneak back in. (she clings, get it? so her name is Clinger? ho ho, I'm so clever) Deleting her number from my phone in no way affects her ability to call/text me so, to my chagrin, I've had to keep her in my phone. It's been over a year since I've seen or heard from her, but I keep her on Facebook and in my phone because you never know when she'll be back... *creepy Psycho music* As if on some imperceptible and unpredictable cue, she reappeared recently.
She saw me first, much to my dismay, and called out to me. She was looking at me with the cruel mockery of Fate written all over her face. She immediately engaged me in conversation, closing off my escape routes by tightening our proximity.
We went through the obligatory "How are you"s and "So where have you been"s, topping it off with the "We really ought to get together sometime to catch up."
I don't want to be rude here, guys, really I don't, but: Life has recently thrown me a curve ball and I'm currently dealing with the repercussions of that. I just want to go to work, come home, and sit in my apartment with my books and be left alone while I deal with Life. The details are personal and I don't much feel like spreading them around to everyone who feels like "catching up." What is so wrong with that idea? Just let me be my hermit-hobbit self.
There have been a lot of people on my personal "To Avoid if at all Possible" list who have popped back up in the last month. I think it's the Universe flaunting its own list of "Candidates to Replace Blockhead when he Graduates" because I could definitely see Clinger on that list. Until now it hadn't occurred to me that she was an eligible candidate, or even up for consideration.
I wonder what the Universe's decision-making process entails... Can people text in their votes? Will there be a random drawing? Is it like a raffle?
Or maybe the Universe is letting me have first pick?
That would be nice, 'cause truth be told, I'd much prefer to constantly brush Clinger off my shoulder than have Fungus Girl perpetually sprouting up in unexpected places.
I’m not talking about anything malicious or mean-spirited; I mean a mutual-avoidance. I’m referring to people who may have a different sense of humor from you and so you don’t prefer their company. Or perhaps your personalities don’t jive really well. Or you don’t have many common interests and so conversation runs dry pretty quick between the two of you. As long as it's mutual, it isn't wrong or hurtful, right?
For the sake of argument, let’s say that this other person is not as bothered by these things as you are, resulting in a one-way avoidance, rather than a mutual-avoidance.
(We’ve all been that other person, the one who’s just a little bit dense and doesn’t grasp the “mutual” part of the avoidance deal. I’ve done it, I’m not judging, but that doesn’t make it any less awkward.)
As time goes on, if they never catch on to the ‘hey, buddy, we’re avoiding each other’ cue, they’ll just keep talking to you, and finding excuses to get in touch with you. Where once it was minimally distressing to bump into them in the super-market, it is now aggressively bothersome. They become annoying, obnoxious and shockingly abhorrent.
If you could just discover a way to ensure your paths would never cross, then everything would be fine.
So why does the Universe keep insisting on throwing these people back into my path? Are human beings not meant to ever avoid each other? It’s as though the Universe is calling shenanigans on me, telling me that I have to try it again, but I’m not sure what I did wrong the first time. I’ll just continue to brush these people off with lies and insincere smiles, and continue to be genuinely shocked when they reappear later.
Let’s take Clinger, as an example.
I've known her for 5+ years now. Every time I try to cut her out of my life, she finds a way to sneak back in. (she clings, get it? so her name is Clinger? ho ho, I'm so clever) Deleting her number from my phone in no way affects her ability to call/text me so, to my chagrin, I've had to keep her in my phone. It's been over a year since I've seen or heard from her, but I keep her on Facebook and in my phone because you never know when she'll be back... *creepy Psycho music* As if on some imperceptible and unpredictable cue, she reappeared recently.
She saw me first, much to my dismay, and called out to me. She was looking at me with the cruel mockery of Fate written all over her face. She immediately engaged me in conversation, closing off my escape routes by tightening our proximity.
We went through the obligatory "How are you"s and "So where have you been"s, topping it off with the "We really ought to get together sometime to catch up."
I don't want to be rude here, guys, really I don't, but: Life has recently thrown me a curve ball and I'm currently dealing with the repercussions of that. I just want to go to work, come home, and sit in my apartment with my books and be left alone while I deal with Life. The details are personal and I don't much feel like spreading them around to everyone who feels like "catching up." What is so wrong with that idea? Just let me be my hermit-hobbit self.
There have been a lot of people on my personal "To Avoid if at all Possible" list who have popped back up in the last month. I think it's the Universe flaunting its own list of "Candidates to Replace Blockhead when he Graduates" because I could definitely see Clinger on that list. Until now it hadn't occurred to me that she was an eligible candidate, or even up for consideration.
I wonder what the Universe's decision-making process entails... Can people text in their votes? Will there be a random drawing? Is it like a raffle?
Or maybe the Universe is letting me have first pick?
That would be nice, 'cause truth be told, I'd much prefer to constantly brush Clinger off my shoulder than have Fungus Girl perpetually sprouting up in unexpected places.
18 March 2011
A quick Continuation
(this won't make a lot of sense unless you read the previous post; still entertaining, it just won't make much sense.)
Along the lines of improving my interpersonal communication skills, as was previously discussed, I would like to give you a glimpse into my daily dysfunction.
Picture this:
An average day in the office. Most of the faculty are gone for the day or teaching in classrooms; it's just me and Blockhead. A student comes in and sees me at the front desk, and so asks me a question (usually concerning the whereabouts of a certain teacher). As I open my mouth to respond, Blockhead quickly interrupts me to answer the question erroneously. When he's finished, I hastily correct him, thus delivering the desired information to the questioner. Blockhead then apologizes and talks ceaselessly about some tangent topic as he walks back to his desk and fades into unintelligible mumbling.
yes, this has happened more than once. several occasions, actually. we're falling into a quite a routine.
It would be so much quicker if he would refrain from answering every question asked in the office to anyone within earshot. Usually, I silently wish for him to stop talking and feel increasingly agitated while I wait for him to finish.
Until one fateful day,
I asked him to be quiet.
True story.
I held my hand up in the air, palm toward him, and said, "Stop...Blockhead, just wait a second...Blockhead, stop..." (I had to say it a few times before he stopped talking, but that's understandable, it was a rather unexpected change to our script) After I answered the student's question and said student went on his way, I explained to Blockhead that he had misheard the student's inquiry and I apologized to him for "shushing" him so abruptly.
I don't know what I thought would happen. Maybe I thought he would be offended. Maybe I thought he would start crying. Maybe I thought he'd complain about me to our supervisor. I honestly don't know what has taken me so long to be up front with him.
So, here's what happened:
He sat down at his desk and went back to watching anime. (yes, apparently we're paying him to watch anime. I'm confused about it, too.) He was not offended in the least (pretty sure it's not in his programming) and I was left wondering why I don't just react that way every time, since it obviously works so well.
So...why don't I? What, exactly, makes that so hard?
Geez, this is a hard question and I'm on Spring Break. Bag it, I'm gonna play Gamecube instead. I'll worry about this garbage on Monday.
Along the lines of improving my interpersonal communication skills, as was previously discussed, I would like to give you a glimpse into my daily dysfunction.
Picture this:
An average day in the office. Most of the faculty are gone for the day or teaching in classrooms; it's just me and Blockhead. A student comes in and sees me at the front desk, and so asks me a question (usually concerning the whereabouts of a certain teacher). As I open my mouth to respond, Blockhead quickly interrupts me to answer the question erroneously. When he's finished, I hastily correct him, thus delivering the desired information to the questioner. Blockhead then apologizes and talks ceaselessly about some tangent topic as he walks back to his desk and fades into unintelligible mumbling.
yes, this has happened more than once. several occasions, actually. we're falling into a quite a routine.
It would be so much quicker if he would refrain from answering every question asked in the office to anyone within earshot. Usually, I silently wish for him to stop talking and feel increasingly agitated while I wait for him to finish.
Until one fateful day,
I asked him to be quiet.
True story.
I held my hand up in the air, palm toward him, and said, "Stop...Blockhead, just wait a second...Blockhead, stop..." (I had to say it a few times before he stopped talking, but that's understandable, it was a rather unexpected change to our script) After I answered the student's question and said student went on his way, I explained to Blockhead that he had misheard the student's inquiry and I apologized to him for "shushing" him so abruptly.
I don't know what I thought would happen. Maybe I thought he would be offended. Maybe I thought he would start crying. Maybe I thought he'd complain about me to our supervisor. I honestly don't know what has taken me so long to be up front with him.
So, here's what happened:
He sat down at his desk and went back to watching anime. (yes, apparently we're paying him to watch anime. I'm confused about it, too.) He was not offended in the least (pretty sure it's not in his programming) and I was left wondering why I don't just react that way every time, since it obviously works so well.
So...why don't I? What, exactly, makes that so hard?
Geez, this is a hard question and I'm on Spring Break. Bag it, I'm gonna play Gamecube instead. I'll worry about this garbage on Monday.
14 March 2011
Genuinely happy For genuinely selfish Reasons
I haven't felt particularly witty, charming, or clever lately. Hence, the severe decline in blog-post regularity. Be that as it may, there have been a few happenings recently that may be of some import, or at the very least, of some small interest, to you.
On a slightly related side-note: the book(s) I read influence my speech and writing patterns at the time I'm reading them. Right now I'm reading Oscar Wilde (The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Importance of Being Earnest, and some assorted short stories). Does it show?
Item One: I'm employed again. Hoo-ha.
Item Two: I have to work with Blockhead again. Boo-hoo.
Item Three: Blockhead is graduating this semester!! *wild screams of jubilation*
Yes, yes, it's true. After a long and, what I imagine to have been, an arduous journey, Blockhead will rise to the noble rank of College Graduate.
What degree/certification he has officially earned has not yet been confirmed to me, but judging by his age, the classes he's talked about, and his general personality: I'm going to guess it's his 4-year degree.
Which is awesome.
Because.
It means I won't have to work with him anymore.
Ohmygosh I just had a terrifying thought: what if it's only his 2-year degree?? That means he'd be here for AT LEAST another TWO YEARS!
Woah, woah. Calm down. He has been at this school waaaaaay too long for that to be a possibility.
Besides that, there is an even larger significance of this event we must consider. When Blockhead graduates, moves back to wherever he came from and gets a job within his chosen field, he will leave behind a void. The Universe will sense this void and will inevitably work to fill it with some other hardy individual who will bring confusion and agonizing discomfort to my days.
I am quite sure this is how the Universe works because I have already had the privilege of screening some of the candidates. "Privilege" is perhaps an inaccurate description. Think of it more as a tantalizing torture device, employed by the Universe, to drench my would-be relief with anxious and fearful anticipation.
Fungus Girl is definitely at the top of the list. And let us not forget Trying-to-sell-me-insurance-and-I-can't-avoid-her-no-matter-how-hard-I-try Girl. (not a catchy pseudo name, I know. not even a good acronym...well I can't just pull these things out of thin air! give it time, I'll come up with something better.) There are a few others who have made appearances now and then, but these two are definitely at the top of the list.
My plan so far has been to sit and wait for these people to stop breeding so they'll stop abrading my life, but I begin to suspect that this plan will take longer than was originally assumed. I need a new plan, and I think it has to do with improving my inter-personal communication skills.
And while I'm at it, I should probably work towards being a more genuine, empathetic, and altruistic individual.
I think everyone here can just admit that that's going to take a while. An entire lifetime, at least. So let's start simple:
Congratulations on graduating, Blockhead. I think it's safe to say that no one is happier for you than I am.
On a slightly related side-note: the book(s) I read influence my speech and writing patterns at the time I'm reading them. Right now I'm reading Oscar Wilde (The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Importance of Being Earnest, and some assorted short stories). Does it show?
Item One: I'm employed again. Hoo-ha.
Item Two: I have to work with Blockhead again. Boo-hoo.
Item Three: Blockhead is graduating this semester!! *wild screams of jubilation*
Yes, yes, it's true. After a long and, what I imagine to have been, an arduous journey, Blockhead will rise to the noble rank of College Graduate.
What degree/certification he has officially earned has not yet been confirmed to me, but judging by his age, the classes he's talked about, and his general personality: I'm going to guess it's his 4-year degree.
Which is awesome.
Because.
It means I won't have to work with him anymore.
Ohmygosh I just had a terrifying thought: what if it's only his 2-year degree?? That means he'd be here for AT LEAST another TWO YEARS!
Woah, woah. Calm down. He has been at this school waaaaaay too long for that to be a possibility.
Besides that, there is an even larger significance of this event we must consider. When Blockhead graduates, moves back to wherever he came from and gets a job within his chosen field, he will leave behind a void. The Universe will sense this void and will inevitably work to fill it with some other hardy individual who will bring confusion and agonizing discomfort to my days.
I am quite sure this is how the Universe works because I have already had the privilege of screening some of the candidates. "Privilege" is perhaps an inaccurate description. Think of it more as a tantalizing torture device, employed by the Universe, to drench my would-be relief with anxious and fearful anticipation.
Fungus Girl is definitely at the top of the list. And let us not forget Trying-to-sell-me-insurance-and-I-can't-avoid-her-no-matter-how-hard-I-try Girl. (not a catchy pseudo name, I know. not even a good acronym...well I can't just pull these things out of thin air! give it time, I'll come up with something better.) There are a few others who have made appearances now and then, but these two are definitely at the top of the list.
My plan so far has been to sit and wait for these people to stop breeding so they'll stop abrading my life, but I begin to suspect that this plan will take longer than was originally assumed. I need a new plan, and I think it has to do with improving my inter-personal communication skills.
And while I'm at it, I should probably work towards being a more genuine, empathetic, and altruistic individual.
I think everyone here can just admit that that's going to take a while. An entire lifetime, at least. So let's start simple:
Congratulations on graduating, Blockhead. I think it's safe to say that no one is happier for you than I am.
11 January 2011
irritates Me To no End
Blockhead has a completely different work schedule from me, we're not even supposed to see each other this semester, and yet he's always here!!!
I'm only scheduled for the next half hour and then I was going to lock up the office and go home. But in strolls Blockhead, like he owns the place, and settles in our supervisor's desk (she just left) and is now doing homework.
What the heck?
(honestly, if you're a student and you need to do homework, then use the student computer labs all over campus - don't come into the office after hours when there are labs provided to you for that purpose)
So he's sitting in the other room, being an idiot, and I'm getting irritated, and he says to me:
"So tell me this, are you a fan of a firm bed or a soft bed?"
What the heck?
Why would you ever ask that? Ever?? To ANYONE??
I wish I could explain it away by saying, "Well, he's just a creeper. It's a creepy question, so of course he would ask that." Then roll my eyes and shrug it off.
But he's not. He's really, really not. He's just a dense blockhead with no sense of social normality, trying to make conversation. After I said, "I don't know, Blockhead. I really don't." He said:
"Oh well I was just wonderin' cuz everyone has their own sense of what's comfortable and what's not and everyone has their own opinion and whatnot and I was just wonderin'...*mumble mumble*"
See? Awkward idiot who is socially inept.
There's another socially inept individual who has latched herself to me and my group of Art Student Friends. I can ignore her. Even when she's sitting less than a foot away from me and trying to talk to me, I have the capacity to give a one-word answer, turn my head, and forget about her existence.
If only I could do the same with Blockhead. The afore-mentioned girl (known as Fungus Girl to some of us) makes me uncomfortable, but Blockhead makes me angry. Frustrated, irritated, and angry. I've actually sworn at him in my head a couple of times. He's incompetent and an idiot and I don't know how to cope with that combination.
He keeps trying to start conversations with me but I can't make out any of the words through his chronic mumbling.
Forget this, I'm going home early.
I'm only scheduled for the next half hour and then I was going to lock up the office and go home. But in strolls Blockhead, like he owns the place, and settles in our supervisor's desk (she just left) and is now doing homework.
What the heck?
(honestly, if you're a student and you need to do homework, then use the student computer labs all over campus - don't come into the office after hours when there are labs provided to you for that purpose)
So he's sitting in the other room, being an idiot, and I'm getting irritated, and he says to me:
"So tell me this, are you a fan of a firm bed or a soft bed?"
What the heck?
Why would you ever ask that? Ever?? To ANYONE??
I wish I could explain it away by saying, "Well, he's just a creeper. It's a creepy question, so of course he would ask that." Then roll my eyes and shrug it off.
But he's not. He's really, really not. He's just a dense blockhead with no sense of social normality, trying to make conversation. After I said, "I don't know, Blockhead. I really don't." He said:
"Oh well I was just wonderin' cuz everyone has their own sense of what's comfortable and what's not and everyone has their own opinion and whatnot and I was just wonderin'...*mumble mumble*"
See? Awkward idiot who is socially inept.
There's another socially inept individual who has latched herself to me and my group of Art Student Friends. I can ignore her. Even when she's sitting less than a foot away from me and trying to talk to me, I have the capacity to give a one-word answer, turn my head, and forget about her existence.
If only I could do the same with Blockhead. The afore-mentioned girl (known as Fungus Girl to some of us) makes me uncomfortable, but Blockhead makes me angry. Frustrated, irritated, and angry. I've actually sworn at him in my head a couple of times. He's incompetent and an idiot and I don't know how to cope with that combination.
He keeps trying to start conversations with me but I can't make out any of the words through his chronic mumbling.
Forget this, I'm going home early.
01 December 2010
death By aromatics
I'm not gonna lie, I don't feel great today. It started about 4:00 a.m. last night/this morning. I remember going to roll over and being struck with the overwhelming urge to vomit.
I kept it down, but I moved with a lot more caution the rest of the night.
I didn't have breakfast. I can't finish my lunch. Plus, Blockhead just microwaved something nasty and the smell of it is wafting throughout the office. It's something like epoxy glue combined with dog mess. And he's eating it. Blegh. I'm not going to ask him what it is; I don't want to know.
I'm not sure why, but he'll only microwave it for two minutes at a time. The first three times I thought it was part of the cooking directions, but eight times?? Dude, just put it in there for 16 straight minutes. The microwave can handle it. I promise.
I just want him to hurry up and eat whatever-it-is so I don't have to smell it anymore.
Oh the queasy ache... Blegh. I've got to focus my energy on not losing my lunch.
Gawsh, I hate getting sick.
I kept it down, but I moved with a lot more caution the rest of the night.
I didn't have breakfast. I can't finish my lunch. Plus, Blockhead just microwaved something nasty and the smell of it is wafting throughout the office. It's something like epoxy glue combined with dog mess. And he's eating it. Blegh. I'm not going to ask him what it is; I don't want to know.
I'm not sure why, but he'll only microwave it for two minutes at a time. The first three times I thought it was part of the cooking directions, but eight times?? Dude, just put it in there for 16 straight minutes. The microwave can handle it. I promise.
I just want him to hurry up and eat whatever-it-is so I don't have to smell it anymore.
Oh the queasy ache... Blegh. I've got to focus my energy on not losing my lunch.
Gawsh, I hate getting sick.
29 November 2010
Hindsight being What It is
I have a class in a few hours that I've sloughed (sluffed?) so many times the last two weeks that I almost forget it's part of my schedule.
For the last couple of weeks in this class we've been working on a project that I could do just as easily at home. I've known the parameters of the project for a while now; there's no reason to be in the classroom working on it, as long as I'm working on it somewhere. Besides, it's easier to leave all the supplies at home rather than carry them to and from the school 2-3 times a week.
Not to mention, I was coming very close to having an emotional breakdown pre-Thanksgiving Break. Something had to give. This class happened to be it.
In retrospect, it would have been wise to have explained all of this to my instructor. Instead, I just didn't show up for class.
D'oh.
By the way, Blockhead thinks my new haircut is "very well stylish."
English is your first language, right?
For the last couple of weeks in this class we've been working on a project that I could do just as easily at home. I've known the parameters of the project for a while now; there's no reason to be in the classroom working on it, as long as I'm working on it somewhere. Besides, it's easier to leave all the supplies at home rather than carry them to and from the school 2-3 times a week.
Not to mention, I was coming very close to having an emotional breakdown pre-Thanksgiving Break. Something had to give. This class happened to be it.
In retrospect, it would have been wise to have explained all of this to my instructor. Instead, I just didn't show up for class.
D'oh.
By the way, Blockhead thinks my new haircut is "very well stylish."
English is your first language, right?
09 November 2010
it's Not Funny unless There's A kernel Of Truth in It
There's a large calendar on the desk in the office where I work. Blockhead draws on it when he's on his shift.
His cartoons are actually not half bad. They follow a storyline you might expect from a ten year old and, in fact, look like they could've been drawn by a ten year old, but that's not to say they're bad. I've known some pretty clever ten year olds in my day. His cartoons possess some small level of genuine wit. (i know. i was surprised, too.)
I was reading his captions and I came across something interesting. He spelled "having" correctly and "Thanksgiving" correctly, but the way he spelled "cutting" gave me reason to pause: "cutin."
I kid you not. "Cutin." Remember how I said that I wouldn't be surprised if he spelled his words without the "g" in "ing" verbs? Yeah. I was kidding. Being facetious. Exaggerating. Being my usual self.
(please make a note of that if you have not already: most of my posts, and especially posts about Blockhead, are based on fact, but have been greatly exaggerated in order to make them funnier. that's the purpose of the Blockhead Chronicles - to be funny. when you stop laughing, you're dead.)
I had no idea I was so close to the truth behind Blockhead's disregard for the letter "g." I think I'm going to start over-emphasizing my "ing"s when he's around. Mostly to be obnoxious, but also out of burning curiosity as to whether or not it would make a difference in his speech patterns.
His cartoons are actually not half bad. They follow a storyline you might expect from a ten year old and, in fact, look like they could've been drawn by a ten year old, but that's not to say they're bad. I've known some pretty clever ten year olds in my day. His cartoons possess some small level of genuine wit. (i know. i was surprised, too.)
I was reading his captions and I came across something interesting. He spelled "having" correctly and "Thanksgiving" correctly, but the way he spelled "cutting" gave me reason to pause: "cutin."
I kid you not. "Cutin." Remember how I said that I wouldn't be surprised if he spelled his words without the "g" in "ing" verbs? Yeah. I was kidding. Being facetious. Exaggerating. Being my usual self.
(please make a note of that if you have not already: most of my posts, and especially posts about Blockhead, are based on fact, but have been greatly exaggerated in order to make them funnier. that's the purpose of the Blockhead Chronicles - to be funny. when you stop laughing, you're dead.)
I had no idea I was so close to the truth behind Blockhead's disregard for the letter "g." I think I'm going to start over-emphasizing my "ing"s when he's around. Mostly to be obnoxious, but also out of burning curiosity as to whether or not it would make a difference in his speech patterns.
05 November 2010
the work Is Not hard, so I Guess something has To Make my Workday difficult
Blockhead was at my desk yesterday.
Grrrr....
Our supervisor wasn't here so he insisted that I cover her desk and he would keep mine. [big fat heavy sigh] Fine. I'm sure everyone in this office would prefer it if I, instead of Blockhead, sat at the front desk anyway. So, fine. Not only was our supervisor gone, but all of the professors were out of the office as well. Just me and Blockhead. Oh boy.
Now you have the setting. Grant me a moment more to explain the telephone system, and we'll launch into our story. The phones here are pretty interesting.
Oh, how to explain this as succinctly as possible?
Okay: my supervisor's phone, the one at the desk I was sitting at, will heretofore be known as My Phone (you can imagine this phone as being red, if it helps you visualize). The phone at the other desk, which is usually my desk, the desk that Blockhead was occupying yesterday, will be known as Blockhead's Phone (or the yellow phone).
Still with me? Remember to visualize. Are you visualizing?
(the colors don't really matter, I'm just trying to waste your brain space)
When calls are placed to My Phone, they are first routed through Blockhead's Phone. A pointless procedure but that's how they do it. It will ring once on Blockhead's Phone and then forward the call to My Phone, and then I can answer the call. If calls are placed directly to Blockhead's phone, the ringtone is very different.
That's how you know whether to answer it or let it go through to the other phone. You listen for the different ringtones.
Regardless of the ring, Blockhead tries to answer the phone every time.
Ready for the story? Okay.
Yesterday, a call was placed to My Phone. In accordance with the system I've just explained to you, the first ring was on Blockhead's Phone. Blockhead apparently lacks the psychic ability to listen for the ringtone, and so apparently thought the call was for him.
He tried to answer it. He got dead air because it was already on the second ring. In his desperate confusion, he pressed a button to retrieve the call from My Phone so he could answer it. (clearly this was not thought through, because if this tactic had worked he would have answered, then the caller would have asked for our supervisor (because that's who they called in the first place!) and not knowing what to do, he then would have transferred the call back to me anyway. pointless. pointless. pointless.) Unbeknownst to Blockhead, I had already picked up the receiver to answer the call.
Somewhere between me answering the phone and Blockhead pressing buttons that he doesn't understand, the call was lost.
Good job, Blockhead.
The caller tried again. Blockhead got all kinds of flustered. "It's ringin' again! It's ringin' again!"
Dude, I know. Calm down.
"Now it's on your phone! Your phone is ringin'! Your phone is ringin' NOW!"
Oh my gosh, we are not seriously doing this. You are a grown man. Calm down.
I answered the phone. Blockhead was watching me from the other desk, wide-eyed and nervous. He had apparently worked up quite a sweat.
It was one of the professors we work with who happened to be out of the office at that moment. "What did you hang up on me for?"
Thank you, Blockhead. Thank you for, once again, ensuring that I would be the only witness to your abounding incompetence.
Grrrr....
Our supervisor wasn't here so he insisted that I cover her desk and he would keep mine. [big fat heavy sigh] Fine. I'm sure everyone in this office would prefer it if I, instead of Blockhead, sat at the front desk anyway. So, fine. Not only was our supervisor gone, but all of the professors were out of the office as well. Just me and Blockhead. Oh boy.
Now you have the setting. Grant me a moment more to explain the telephone system, and we'll launch into our story. The phones here are pretty interesting.
Oh, how to explain this as succinctly as possible?
Okay: my supervisor's phone, the one at the desk I was sitting at, will heretofore be known as My Phone (you can imagine this phone as being red, if it helps you visualize). The phone at the other desk, which is usually my desk, the desk that Blockhead was occupying yesterday, will be known as Blockhead's Phone (or the yellow phone).
Still with me? Remember to visualize. Are you visualizing?
(the colors don't really matter, I'm just trying to waste your brain space)
When calls are placed to My Phone, they are first routed through Blockhead's Phone. A pointless procedure but that's how they do it. It will ring once on Blockhead's Phone and then forward the call to My Phone, and then I can answer the call. If calls are placed directly to Blockhead's phone, the ringtone is very different.
That's how you know whether to answer it or let it go through to the other phone. You listen for the different ringtones.
Regardless of the ring, Blockhead tries to answer the phone every time.
Ready for the story? Okay.
Yesterday, a call was placed to My Phone. In accordance with the system I've just explained to you, the first ring was on Blockhead's Phone. Blockhead apparently lacks the psychic ability to listen for the ringtone, and so apparently thought the call was for him.
He tried to answer it. He got dead air because it was already on the second ring. In his desperate confusion, he pressed a button to retrieve the call from My Phone so he could answer it. (clearly this was not thought through, because if this tactic had worked he would have answered, then the caller would have asked for our supervisor (because that's who they called in the first place!) and not knowing what to do, he then would have transferred the call back to me anyway. pointless. pointless. pointless.) Unbeknownst to Blockhead, I had already picked up the receiver to answer the call.
Somewhere between me answering the phone and Blockhead pressing buttons that he doesn't understand, the call was lost.
Good job, Blockhead.
The caller tried again. Blockhead got all kinds of flustered. "It's ringin' again! It's ringin' again!"
Dude, I know. Calm down.
"Now it's on your phone! Your phone is ringin'! Your phone is ringin' NOW!"
Oh my gosh, we are not seriously doing this. You are a grown man. Calm down.
I answered the phone. Blockhead was watching me from the other desk, wide-eyed and nervous. He had apparently worked up quite a sweat.
It was one of the professors we work with who happened to be out of the office at that moment. "What did you hang up on me for?"
Thank you, Blockhead. Thank you for, once again, ensuring that I would be the only witness to your abounding incompetence.
30 September 2010
The hermit Within Me emerges Again
I've got a busy day ahead of me. At 11:30 I've got two 3-hour classes back-to-back, then I have to sprint across campus to get to a lecture and right after that I've got to sprint back to the original side of campus to get my car (second sprint is all up-hill. not really looking forward to that) and then drive to another campus to hear another lecture (which lecture I'm actually looking forward to - I'm not complaining about the lecture as much as the sprinting). I'll probably get out of that between 8 - 8:30, at which point I'll go home and break out my homework assignments.
Busy, busy day.
But right now I'm sitting at work, in a nearly-empty office, with nothing to do but twiddle my thumbs (and blog). I would work on certain assignments, like the 200 page sketchbook I need to fill up by December, but every time I bring that sketchbook out at work I get swarmed. Random people come out of the woodworks to gawk at the pages and make weird elementary-school suggestions ("you should draw him doing this..." "have you tried drawing a ____?" "can you draw a ______?") which makes me tense and irritable and kills the creative juices.
Please leave me alone so I can draw. You leave me alone when I blog. Drawing should not be any different.
The craziest part is that, even though no one is in the office right now, I just know that as soon as I open up my sketchbook everyone will swarm in at once, gather around my desk, and hover over my shoulders and point fingers at my drawings. There is literally no one in the office right now. Completely empty. Just me in here. Doing nothing. But the moment I try to do anything productive, people are going to show up out of nowhere and pester me.
I know this because it has happened. More than once. It keeps happening.
I would love to draw here. I have hours and hours on my hands, sitting at a desk with nothing to do but occasional grading or data-input, that I could use to do some much-needed catching up in my classes. But I've come to hate drawing here because it attracts too much attention.
Yesterday afternoon, for example: I was brainstorming ideas when a teacher sees what I'm doing and starts giving his input. I was patient and everything, but in my head I'm thinking, Look, no offense, but your ideas are not helping me at all because I've already brainstormed through them. These ideas are cliche and predictable and we all have them until we brainstorm through and past them. And I've already done that part. As much as you think you're helping, you're really just slowing me down. The worst part was when Blockhead overheard the conversation and decided to jump in. So of course he shoves his way right into my personal space, leans over my desk, puts his nose in my sketchbook and starts asking stupid questions, "Whatchya doin? Whatchya assignment? Have you tried this? This? I think you should do this!"
I couldn't get a word in edgewise. I just sat and stared at them while they both pummeled me with ideas that I had already had, drawn, and scrapped. It was a little overwhelming and quite frustrating.
After a while I realized that it was no longer about me at all. They were enjoying the creative challenge and throwing out ideas, building off each other's suggestions, and really working the right-brain.
And that's great.
Really.
I encourage that. I embrace that. As an artist, I believe in the importance of that.
Just do it somewhere else.
Busy, busy day.
But right now I'm sitting at work, in a nearly-empty office, with nothing to do but twiddle my thumbs (and blog). I would work on certain assignments, like the 200 page sketchbook I need to fill up by December, but every time I bring that sketchbook out at work I get swarmed. Random people come out of the woodworks to gawk at the pages and make weird elementary-school suggestions ("you should draw him doing this..." "have you tried drawing a ____?" "can you draw a ______?") which makes me tense and irritable and kills the creative juices.
Please leave me alone so I can draw. You leave me alone when I blog. Drawing should not be any different.
The craziest part is that, even though no one is in the office right now, I just know that as soon as I open up my sketchbook everyone will swarm in at once, gather around my desk, and hover over my shoulders and point fingers at my drawings. There is literally no one in the office right now. Completely empty. Just me in here. Doing nothing. But the moment I try to do anything productive, people are going to show up out of nowhere and pester me.
I know this because it has happened. More than once. It keeps happening.
I would love to draw here. I have hours and hours on my hands, sitting at a desk with nothing to do but occasional grading or data-input, that I could use to do some much-needed catching up in my classes. But I've come to hate drawing here because it attracts too much attention.
Yesterday afternoon, for example: I was brainstorming ideas when a teacher sees what I'm doing and starts giving his input. I was patient and everything, but in my head I'm thinking, Look, no offense, but your ideas are not helping me at all because I've already brainstormed through them. These ideas are cliche and predictable and we all have them until we brainstorm through and past them. And I've already done that part. As much as you think you're helping, you're really just slowing me down. The worst part was when Blockhead overheard the conversation and decided to jump in. So of course he shoves his way right into my personal space, leans over my desk, puts his nose in my sketchbook and starts asking stupid questions, "Whatchya doin? Whatchya assignment? Have you tried this? This? I think you should do this!"
I couldn't get a word in edgewise. I just sat and stared at them while they both pummeled me with ideas that I had already had, drawn, and scrapped. It was a little overwhelming and quite frustrating.
After a while I realized that it was no longer about me at all. They were enjoying the creative challenge and throwing out ideas, building off each other's suggestions, and really working the right-brain.
And that's great.
Really.
I encourage that. I embrace that. As an artist, I believe in the importance of that.
Just do it somewhere else.
27 September 2010
ah, The guilt
I've been comparing Blockhead to my brother-in-law.
Important note: I like my brother-in-law. He's odd, quirky, and hard to understand sometimes. But I understand the reason for this, so I can let abnormalities slide. He's a good guy.
Now, back to the comparisons:
I think Blockhead has Asperger's Syndrome. He clearly hasn't had the chance to learn the skills that my brother-in-law has, so I didn't catch on right away. Looking at it now, I'm sure it's Asperger's.
Not gonna lie: I feel the slightest bit guilty. I've complained about this guy on the internet, to my friends, to my husband, and it turns out it's not even (really) his fault. I can only imagine what his days are like. They probably suck. All of them.
But, if he really does have Asperger's, then that probably doesn't bother him. They're able to shrug these kinds of things off, for the same reason that they can't grasp interpersonal interactions. A gift and a curse in a lot of ways.
Still! This means that he's the "weird guy" all the time! Not just at the office, but in all his classes, even at home! No wonder he has so many problems with his roommates... I don't know why, but I really thought he was just awkward in this one sphere of life. It hadn't occurred to me that he's like this all the time.
Maybe I'll be able to respond to him in a more patient manner from now on. Now that I know the reason behind his strangeness, I'll be able to work with him.
If it goes well, I'll have to change his nickname from Blockhead to something else. My posts about him will have to change from "I'm complaining about this person!" to "So, this is what he did today, and it was weird, but life goes on."
(well, of course I'm going to keep posting about him! just because he has asperger's doesn't mean you don't want to hear all about the awkwardness I go through at work. you live to hear my tales of awkwardness, I just know it!)
Important note: I like my brother-in-law. He's odd, quirky, and hard to understand sometimes. But I understand the reason for this, so I can let abnormalities slide. He's a good guy.
Now, back to the comparisons:
- Never tells a lie. It doesn't even cross their minds to ever tell a lie. It doesn't enter into their scheme of logic to ever tell any kind of falsehood. Honest to a fault.
- No understanding of personal boundaries. My brother-in-law has worked on this over the years and rarely, if ever, butts into your personal space. No one seems to have pointed this out to Blockhead, though, and he bursts into my bubble all the time.
- Very little comprehension of humor. Blockhead asked me to explain a joke, a particularly wry joke, and he never did get it. He told me a joke once, a lame and corny joke, and when I didn't laugh he proceeded to explain it to me. Really sad, really painful situation for both of us. Well, mostly just for me.
- Clear desire to take part in conversations with equally clear misunderstanding of what appropriate conversation topics might be. As much as I would love to expound on this particular point, it'd probably be best if we just left it alone...
- Unable to quite grasp the finer points of smooth communication with other people. They invariably end up saying something related to the topic, but too off-topic to make any sense in the context of your discussion. Or they'll miss their cue to stop talking, and will chatter on and on with no way of stopping them.
I think Blockhead has Asperger's Syndrome. He clearly hasn't had the chance to learn the skills that my brother-in-law has, so I didn't catch on right away. Looking at it now, I'm sure it's Asperger's.
Not gonna lie: I feel the slightest bit guilty. I've complained about this guy on the internet, to my friends, to my husband, and it turns out it's not even (really) his fault. I can only imagine what his days are like. They probably suck. All of them.
But, if he really does have Asperger's, then that probably doesn't bother him. They're able to shrug these kinds of things off, for the same reason that they can't grasp interpersonal interactions. A gift and a curse in a lot of ways.
Still! This means that he's the "weird guy" all the time! Not just at the office, but in all his classes, even at home! No wonder he has so many problems with his roommates... I don't know why, but I really thought he was just awkward in this one sphere of life. It hadn't occurred to me that he's like this all the time.
Maybe I'll be able to respond to him in a more patient manner from now on. Now that I know the reason behind his strangeness, I'll be able to work with him.
If it goes well, I'll have to change his nickname from Blockhead to something else. My posts about him will have to change from "I'm complaining about this person!" to "So, this is what he did today, and it was weird, but life goes on."
(well, of course I'm going to keep posting about him! just because he has asperger's doesn't mean you don't want to hear all about the awkwardness I go through at work. you live to hear my tales of awkwardness, I just know it!)
29 April 2010
lurve My Dorky self
I found a summer job!
Pats on the backs all around.
I'll be working in a call center for an alarm company. It sounds pretty similar to what I did as an office manager for American Alarm (before the company went belly-up from some seriously unethical behaviors on the part of the company's founder) except back then I had to work with some pretty oily, nasty, bottom-of-the-barrel salesmen.
*ShUdDeR*
But not this time! Now it's just me and a phone and a keyboard. Good times are guaranteed to be had by all.
The job ends in September, at which point I'll return to my current workstudy job. I found out that they're not planning on hiring back two of the workstudy students (on account of their being unreliable, lazy moochers) but they WILL be hiring Blockhead back (on account of his being reliable, punctual, and productive). Sure, he's dense, incredibly and unabashedly dense, but as long as he doesn't let that get in the way of being reliable, punctual and productive, then there are no problems.
Well...there are problems, but they only seem to affect me, so I'll just shut up and get back to work.
Did anyone else notice how catchy "pats on the backs all around" is to say out loud? Feels like iambic pentameter.
<3
Pats on the backs all around.
I'll be working in a call center for an alarm company. It sounds pretty similar to what I did as an office manager for American Alarm (before the company went belly-up from some seriously unethical behaviors on the part of the company's founder) except back then I had to work with some pretty oily, nasty, bottom-of-the-barrel salesmen.
*ShUdDeR*
But not this time! Now it's just me and a phone and a keyboard. Good times are guaranteed to be had by all.
The job ends in September, at which point I'll return to my current workstudy job. I found out that they're not planning on hiring back two of the workstudy students (on account of their being unreliable, lazy moochers) but they WILL be hiring Blockhead back (on account of his being reliable, punctual, and productive). Sure, he's dense, incredibly and unabashedly dense, but as long as he doesn't let that get in the way of being reliable, punctual and productive, then there are no problems.
Well...there are problems, but they only seem to affect me, so I'll just shut up and get back to work.
Did anyone else notice how catchy "pats on the backs all around" is to say out loud? Feels like iambic pentameter.
<3
09 April 2010
just go Do homework Or Something
I'm frustrated with my incompetent co-workers.
It's just us work-study students in the office right now. Yay for Friday afternoons. I'm "covering the front desk" (except it's friday afternoon, half an hour before quittin' time, there's really no reason for me to be here) and Blockhead is watching a movie on the other computer and our other co-worker...wow, what should I call him? ...'Other Co-Worker', is sitting on a chair doing nothing.
Dude, if you're going to sit doing nothing, why are you in the office? Go out on a couch and take a nap or go to the lab and finish your project. Why are you here? And Blockhead, watching a movie on the office computer in an office he doesn't even work in anymore...what part of that makes sense?? I want them both to leave.
Other Co-Worker keeps teasing me by taking away my dinner (still not sure why that's funny) and Blockhead shouldn't even be here and I want to leave the office so I can finish my homework downstairs and then go home to my wonderful husband except I need to pick up milk first and...and...and you know what? It's just the tail end of a long semester. I'm irritable and tired and this month needs to be over already.
It's just us work-study students in the office right now. Yay for Friday afternoons. I'm "covering the front desk" (except it's friday afternoon, half an hour before quittin' time, there's really no reason for me to be here) and Blockhead is watching a movie on the other computer and our other co-worker...wow, what should I call him? ...'Other Co-Worker', is sitting on a chair doing nothing.
Dude, if you're going to sit doing nothing, why are you in the office? Go out on a couch and take a nap or go to the lab and finish your project. Why are you here? And Blockhead, watching a movie on the office computer in an office he doesn't even work in anymore...what part of that makes sense?? I want them both to leave.
Other Co-Worker keeps teasing me by taking away my dinner (still not sure why that's funny) and Blockhead shouldn't even be here and I want to leave the office so I can finish my homework downstairs and then go home to my wonderful husband except I need to pick up milk first and...and...and you know what? It's just the tail end of a long semester. I'm irritable and tired and this month needs to be over already.
08 April 2010
My titles never Match my Posts
We may be coming up on our final Blockhead entries. Sad for you (maybe), but I couldn't be happier about it. My life will be Blockhead-free as soon as the semester is over and for all of summer after that.
I might be rid of him even sooner than the start of summer. Let me tell you why:
We're both workstudy students (that's not the reason why...keep reading). That means we're awarded a certain amount of money at the beginning of the semester that we're allowed to work for (it sounds fishy to me, too, but it's a job so i don't complain). The amount you're given will determine how many hours you get to work per week and at what pay rate.
With me so far?
I figured out with my supervisor that if I work exactly 20 hours a week, every week of the semester, I earn every last cent of my award without going over.
*deep scary voice*
They don't like it when you go over your hours.
*normal voice again*
So I don't go over my hours.
Blockhead does it All. The. Time. He's notorious for it. I'm not sure what part of the process he doesn't understand. And wouldn't you know it, he's gone over his hours already this semester, so since he's out of money, he no longer works here.
Technically.
He still comes by the office every day. He checks the paper in the copier and checks the mail (even though that's my job and it's always done before he gets here). He also likes to use the computer to finish his research papers.
Blockhead, there are computer labs all over campus that are meant specifically for students to use for homework. THE OFFICE COMPUTER IS NOT ONE OF THEM.
I don't feel bad using the office computer to do homework while I'm here because I use it after all my work is done and during my shift. I have to be in front of this computer between certain hours of the day anyway, I might as well be getting something done. Outside of those hours, I use the public computers.
Not really sure why Blockhead has to do it differently.
Maybe he doesn't know there are four, separate, large computer labs on campus. Maybe he's avoiding a stalker who hangs out around the student computers. Maybe he's afraid of large public places.
Or maybe he's just a blockhead.
I might be rid of him even sooner than the start of summer. Let me tell you why:
We're both workstudy students (that's not the reason why...keep reading). That means we're awarded a certain amount of money at the beginning of the semester that we're allowed to work for (it sounds fishy to me, too, but it's a job so i don't complain). The amount you're given will determine how many hours you get to work per week and at what pay rate.
With me so far?
I figured out with my supervisor that if I work exactly 20 hours a week, every week of the semester, I earn every last cent of my award without going over.
*deep scary voice*
They don't like it when you go over your hours.
*normal voice again*
So I don't go over my hours.
Blockhead does it All. The. Time. He's notorious for it. I'm not sure what part of the process he doesn't understand. And wouldn't you know it, he's gone over his hours already this semester, so since he's out of money, he no longer works here.
Technically.
He still comes by the office every day. He checks the paper in the copier and checks the mail (even though that's my job and it's always done before he gets here). He also likes to use the computer to finish his research papers.
Blockhead, there are computer labs all over campus that are meant specifically for students to use for homework. THE OFFICE COMPUTER IS NOT ONE OF THEM.
I don't feel bad using the office computer to do homework while I'm here because I use it after all my work is done and during my shift. I have to be in front of this computer between certain hours of the day anyway, I might as well be getting something done. Outside of those hours, I use the public computers.
Not really sure why Blockhead has to do it differently.
Maybe he doesn't know there are four, separate, large computer labs on campus. Maybe he's avoiding a stalker who hangs out around the student computers. Maybe he's afraid of large public places.
Or maybe he's just a blockhead.
06 April 2010
have My Efforts come To naught?
So, I'm realizing that I write a lot about Blockhead and my personal struggles with him. I thought I'd make it easier by linking all these Blockhead posts together with that snazzy, and yet unused feature, the "Labels."
So I went through and found all the posts I could remember writing about Blockhead and tied them under the label "The Blockhead Chronicles" (maybe it's dumb, maybe it's clever, i don't really know, it's just the first thing that came into my head...don't judge)
And now when I go to edit my posts, I can see a lovely green label on all the posts that relate my woes concerning that infamous co-worker and the awkward situations that ensue from my interactions with him.
I'm not really seeing how it benefits the rest of you, though.
Maybe I'm just blind, but does it show what label is on a post anywhere on the blog, where you can see it? Did all that work ("all that work" i'm such a liar, it took me less than ten minutes) serve any purpose to anyone reading this?
So look out for labels, supposedly they're helpful. And I'll keep working on how to make the Blockhead Chronicles more accessible, cuz I know you love reading them almost as much as I love writing them.
So I went through and found all the posts I could remember writing about Blockhead and tied them under the label "The Blockhead Chronicles" (maybe it's dumb, maybe it's clever, i don't really know, it's just the first thing that came into my head...don't judge)
And now when I go to edit my posts, I can see a lovely green label on all the posts that relate my woes concerning that infamous co-worker and the awkward situations that ensue from my interactions with him.
I'm not really seeing how it benefits the rest of you, though.
Maybe I'm just blind, but does it show what label is on a post anywhere on the blog, where you can see it? Did all that work ("all that work" i'm such a liar, it took me less than ten minutes) serve any purpose to anyone reading this?
So look out for labels, supposedly they're helpful. And I'll keep working on how to make the Blockhead Chronicles more accessible, cuz I know you love reading them almost as much as I love writing them.
02 April 2010
head-To-Desk *Thud*
Blockhead tried to strike up a conversation with me today. I was busy working on the computer and getting materials out of my backpack so I could study. (not really sure why he thought that would be a good opening for a conversation. then again, a lot of things are lost on blockhead, so i really shouldn't wonder at it) He was leaning against the counter, eating his lunch. Not working, not even on the clock, just "hanging out" in the office (which we will talk about in another post).
He said to me, "So tell me," (that is his favorite phrase and he uses it to open any and all conversations) "you ever goin' to get a pet for your place?"
I didn't answer right away because the familiarity of the question and its wording startled me.
To my recollection, I've never talked to Blockhead about pets or my desire to/not to get one or the details of how management would charge me an extra $50 a month to keep a pet in the apartment. Where did this question come from?
Not only that, but "your place"?? Blockhead, you've never seen my place, we've never talked about my place, you can't really use that phrase: "your place." I think something more formal would have been called for, like "your apartment" or "your current residence" or "that undisclosed location that you return to at night and leave from every morning" or better yet, we could just not even bring up anything remotely personal about either of us. Obviously, I'm trying to adhere to a tacit social rule here, applicable only to my culture, and it's unfair of me to expect Blockhead to catch on to its subtlety. So then I answered,
"Uhm...no. No, probably not."
"Oh...well, if you did, what kind would you get?"
This conversation has already gone on longer than it should have. Not only that, but it's leading in a direction that I'm all kinds of uncomfortable with.
"I don't know, Blockhead." Shrug. Look down at textbook on desk. Pointedly start reading. It worked. He left.
Okay, so maybe that was rude. Maybe I'm a jerk. Maybe.
Probably.
Then later in the day, I was in the middle of a conversation with one of the teachers, when Blockhead walks in, stands between us (there was quite a distance, the teacher was in his office and i was at my desk, i don't think blockhead realized what he was doing), holds a newspaper up to block my view of Mr.Teacher and starts talking about the picture on the front page.
Jaws dropped. Several of us stared at each other, bewildered, not knowing what to do or say. Someone said lightly and jokingly, "I know, did you see that? He just stood in front of you and held up a paper in front of your face," hoping he would hear and get the hint. He didn't. Instead he stood there, pointing at this dumb picture, smiling at me and saying, "Look at this, isn't this cool?"
"Uh..."
"It looks like the crest in the background is part of his hat. See that?"
"...pretty sure that was the point of the picture."
"Oh. It's still pretty cool, though."
"..."
So then I look away from him and talk over the wall, "Sorry Mr. Teacher, what was that? Something about 20 years down the road, or something?"
"Nevermind. Forget it."
Disappointment.
I was actually enjoying that conversation and instead I had Blockhead pointing at a poor quality photo, thinking it was the greatest visual trick in the world.
I should have said, point-blank, "Blockhead, you interrupted Mr. Teacher. Let him finish first. Sorry Mr. Teacher, what were you saying?" Why didn't I? In the moment it seemed like it would be an awkward thing to do. Why?? That's what I would have done if it had been a small child, to teach the child how to be aware and considerate of other people. A grown man doing the same thing totally threw me off and kind of freaked me out. It shouldn't have. And now I feel dumb.
Well, next time it happens (and it will happen) I'll react better.
He said to me, "So tell me," (that is his favorite phrase and he uses it to open any and all conversations) "you ever goin' to get a pet for your place?"
I didn't answer right away because the familiarity of the question and its wording startled me.
To my recollection, I've never talked to Blockhead about pets or my desire to/not to get one or the details of how management would charge me an extra $50 a month to keep a pet in the apartment. Where did this question come from?
Not only that, but "your place"?? Blockhead, you've never seen my place, we've never talked about my place, you can't really use that phrase: "your place." I think something more formal would have been called for, like "your apartment" or "your current residence" or "that undisclosed location that you return to at night and leave from every morning" or better yet, we could just not even bring up anything remotely personal about either of us. Obviously, I'm trying to adhere to a tacit social rule here, applicable only to my culture, and it's unfair of me to expect Blockhead to catch on to its subtlety. So then I answered,
"Uhm...no. No, probably not."
"Oh...well, if you did, what kind would you get?"
This conversation has already gone on longer than it should have. Not only that, but it's leading in a direction that I'm all kinds of uncomfortable with.
"I don't know, Blockhead." Shrug. Look down at textbook on desk. Pointedly start reading. It worked. He left.
Okay, so maybe that was rude. Maybe I'm a jerk. Maybe.
Probably.
Then later in the day, I was in the middle of a conversation with one of the teachers, when Blockhead walks in, stands between us (there was quite a distance, the teacher was in his office and i was at my desk, i don't think blockhead realized what he was doing), holds a newspaper up to block my view of Mr.Teacher and starts talking about the picture on the front page.
Jaws dropped. Several of us stared at each other, bewildered, not knowing what to do or say. Someone said lightly and jokingly, "I know, did you see that? He just stood in front of you and held up a paper in front of your face," hoping he would hear and get the hint. He didn't. Instead he stood there, pointing at this dumb picture, smiling at me and saying, "Look at this, isn't this cool?"
"Uh..."
"It looks like the crest in the background is part of his hat. See that?"
"...pretty sure that was the point of the picture."
"Oh. It's still pretty cool, though."
"..."
So then I look away from him and talk over the wall, "Sorry Mr. Teacher, what was that? Something about 20 years down the road, or something?"
"Nevermind. Forget it."
Disappointment.
I was actually enjoying that conversation and instead I had Blockhead pointing at a poor quality photo, thinking it was the greatest visual trick in the world.
I should have said, point-blank, "Blockhead, you interrupted Mr. Teacher. Let him finish first. Sorry Mr. Teacher, what were you saying?" Why didn't I? In the moment it seemed like it would be an awkward thing to do. Why?? That's what I would have done if it had been a small child, to teach the child how to be aware and considerate of other people. A grown man doing the same thing totally threw me off and kind of freaked me out. It shouldn't have. And now I feel dumb.
Well, next time it happens (and it will happen) I'll react better.
18 March 2010
has Anyone Else noticed nathaniel Hawthorn's love affair With commas?
My favorite part, by far, of the workday, is the time of day where Blockhead is on the clock, but clearly has nothing to do. He wanders from the main office to the back room (where i am) and looks at me typing away on the computer, sighs, then wanders back into the main office. And he'll pace like that for about five minutes until he stumbles upon a small idea of some meaningless task he could perform (like re-filling the paperclip jar, straightening the books on the shelf, or checking the paper drawer in the copier to make sure it's full even though no one has made copies since the last time he checked...things like that) and when he finishes he starts pacing again.
It's not long before a member of faculty will walk through the door and Blockhead can attach himself to them: "Hey, how are you doin' today? What are you up to? Where you goin'? You need me to do anythin'??" They don't even have to say anything in reply; he'll just keep talking and follow them back out into the hall and on to whatever destination they may have. And people seem okay with this because, regardless of what I may think of him personally, he's a good worker and an honest employee. I'm glad when he leaves because I really get freaked out by him silently standing behind me, watching, while I correct tests.
Kinda creepy.
Can I tell you something strange that bothers me about Blockhead? Well, besides Blockhead being his obviously blockheaded self. This characteristic that drives me so absurdly insane and grates against the very fibers of my soul seems so insignificantly small that will you probably think me arrogant and snobbish when I tell you.
Are you ready?
He never says "ing."
Maybe you've noticed whenever I type his dialogue that his present tense verbs always end as such: goin' or doin' or makin' or reverberatin'. Not that Blockhead has ever used the word "reverberating" in speech or writing ever in his life, I only used it as an example to further elucidate a point which, I hope, you get.
I've heard people slur their "ing"s; I've even dropped the "g" depending on who I'm talking to...but I've never heard it end in such a hard "n" as when Blockhead is speaking. I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to spell these words without 'g's on the end.
Once or twice is bearable, but three times in one sentence is more than my ears can take. Sometimes I want to scream in his face:"Ing, ING, ING!! Blockhead, it's spelled i-n-g. Just say ING."
I know what you're thinking. "Grammar snob." I know, I know. I admit it: I am a grammar snob. I feel pangs of regret when I have to send a text without capitalizing the first letter of a new sentence, but sometimes, in the interest of time, it must be done. I will deliberately leave an IMing conversation if the person consistently misspells words or misuses contractions with a made-up excuse about homework, or meeting friends, or my house being on fire. I recently had a handwritten in-class essay turned back to me with a perfect score BUT I had misused "they're" for "their" and I was stunned, horrified and ashamed. (the last time i misused there/their/they're was in the 3rd grade. i'm still in a state of disbelief and complete denial.) Grammar is important to me because it's one of the few things I can actively use against the spread of degeneracy in the human race.
So, if you haven't already learned the difference between it's and its, then you need to put that on your priority list before you devolve back into an ape.
And for the love of I-don't-even-know-what, PLEASE say "ing" when using present progressive tenses!
It's not long before a member of faculty will walk through the door and Blockhead can attach himself to them: "Hey, how are you doin' today? What are you up to? Where you goin'? You need me to do anythin'??" They don't even have to say anything in reply; he'll just keep talking and follow them back out into the hall and on to whatever destination they may have. And people seem okay with this because, regardless of what I may think of him personally, he's a good worker and an honest employee. I'm glad when he leaves because I really get freaked out by him silently standing behind me, watching, while I correct tests.
Kinda creepy.
Can I tell you something strange that bothers me about Blockhead? Well, besides Blockhead being his obviously blockheaded self. This characteristic that drives me so absurdly insane and grates against the very fibers of my soul seems so insignificantly small that will you probably think me arrogant and snobbish when I tell you.
Are you ready?
He never says "ing."
Maybe you've noticed whenever I type his dialogue that his present tense verbs always end as such: goin' or doin' or makin' or reverberatin'. Not that Blockhead has ever used the word "reverberating" in speech or writing ever in his life, I only used it as an example to further elucidate a point which, I hope, you get.
I've heard people slur their "ing"s; I've even dropped the "g" depending on who I'm talking to...but I've never heard it end in such a hard "n" as when Blockhead is speaking. I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to spell these words without 'g's on the end.
Once or twice is bearable, but three times in one sentence is more than my ears can take. Sometimes I want to scream in his face:"Ing, ING, ING!! Blockhead, it's spelled i-n-g. Just say ING."
I know what you're thinking. "Grammar snob." I know, I know. I admit it: I am a grammar snob. I feel pangs of regret when I have to send a text without capitalizing the first letter of a new sentence, but sometimes, in the interest of time, it must be done. I will deliberately leave an IMing conversation if the person consistently misspells words or misuses contractions with a made-up excuse about homework, or meeting friends, or my house being on fire. I recently had a handwritten in-class essay turned back to me with a perfect score BUT I had misused "they're" for "their" and I was stunned, horrified and ashamed. (the last time i misused there/their/they're was in the 3rd grade. i'm still in a state of disbelief and complete denial.) Grammar is important to me because it's one of the few things I can actively use against the spread of degeneracy in the human race.
So, if you haven't already learned the difference between it's and its, then you need to put that on your priority list before you devolve back into an ape.
And for the love of I-don't-even-know-what, PLEASE say "ing" when using present progressive tenses!
19 February 2010
cue The head-To-Desk *thud*
The copier at work keeps jamming and it's confusing our elderly staff and the not-quite-so technology savvy folks. Not surprisingly, these two groups are comprised of the exact same people.
Not my point.
The tricky thing about this new phenomenon is that the copier is not actually jamming, it only thinks it's jammed. And we discovered the reason for this: the paper (in the paper drawer) was stacked well beyond the yellow line saying, "Do Not Stack Beyond This Point." The sensors in the copier were triggered by the exceeding height and so signaled that there was a paper jam.
Blockhead is the one who re-stocks the paper in the copier, and I've seen him put in copious amounts before, but didn't say anything because he always stayed below the yellow warning line. Obviously it's gotten out of hand, so I approached him on the subject today:
"By the way, the copier keeps jamming because the paper is too full. I think it's triggering the sensors, so we need to keep it well below this yellow line. See? Okay."
His response: "Yeah, sure. And also, we need to get this looked at by Facilities or somethin' because the toner is leakin'."
I just gave him a blank stare. First of all: it's not leaking. He replaced the toner for the first time yesterday and it got all over the place, but that's what toner does. It's not "leaking." Secondly: why are you telling me about repairs that the copier may (or may not) need? I'm not in charge of that sort of thing AND YOU KNOW THAT. I can't DO anything about that. I have NO authority to call for maintenance, nor would I know who to call. The person you want to talk to about that is right there (finger point) in the other room.
I think I said something like, "Okay...well, in the future, let's not fill that drawer clear up to the top, okay? I think that'll solve our jamming problem."
Blockhead: "Right, right. How long have we had this copier anyway? You know how many departments have been usin' it, don't you? (and then he listed off all the departments, including some made-up ones) No wonder it gets so much use, huh? Yeah, this old machine, it gets used a whole lot."
I think we're having a communication problem at this point. I didn't want to have a polite conversation about our office copier. I wanted to bring to your attention a behavior of yours, which I have repeatedly witnessed, that was causing problems in hopes that you would acquiesce to stop repeating said behavior. Once we got past that point, I had imagined that our conversation would be over. The things that you're saying make no sense to me; they have nothing to do with the original reason for our brief verbal exchange.
I'm sorry I confused you. I will try to more thoroughly clarify my intentions next time.
Not my point.
The tricky thing about this new phenomenon is that the copier is not actually jamming, it only thinks it's jammed. And we discovered the reason for this: the paper (in the paper drawer) was stacked well beyond the yellow line saying, "Do Not Stack Beyond This Point." The sensors in the copier were triggered by the exceeding height and so signaled that there was a paper jam.
Blockhead is the one who re-stocks the paper in the copier, and I've seen him put in copious amounts before, but didn't say anything because he always stayed below the yellow warning line. Obviously it's gotten out of hand, so I approached him on the subject today:
"By the way, the copier keeps jamming because the paper is too full. I think it's triggering the sensors, so we need to keep it well below this yellow line. See? Okay."
His response: "Yeah, sure. And also, we need to get this looked at by Facilities or somethin' because the toner is leakin'."
I just gave him a blank stare. First of all: it's not leaking. He replaced the toner for the first time yesterday and it got all over the place, but that's what toner does. It's not "leaking." Secondly: why are you telling me about repairs that the copier may (or may not) need? I'm not in charge of that sort of thing AND YOU KNOW THAT. I can't DO anything about that. I have NO authority to call for maintenance, nor would I know who to call. The person you want to talk to about that is right there (finger point) in the other room.
I think I said something like, "Okay...well, in the future, let's not fill that drawer clear up to the top, okay? I think that'll solve our jamming problem."
Blockhead: "Right, right. How long have we had this copier anyway? You know how many departments have been usin' it, don't you? (and then he listed off all the departments, including some made-up ones) No wonder it gets so much use, huh? Yeah, this old machine, it gets used a whole lot."
I think we're having a communication problem at this point. I didn't want to have a polite conversation about our office copier. I wanted to bring to your attention a behavior of yours, which I have repeatedly witnessed, that was causing problems in hopes that you would acquiesce to stop repeating said behavior. Once we got past that point, I had imagined that our conversation would be over. The things that you're saying make no sense to me; they have nothing to do with the original reason for our brief verbal exchange.
I'm sorry I confused you. I will try to more thoroughly clarify my intentions next time.
11 February 2010
that Was A close One
I came to work this morning, plopped down at my desk, and went to turn on the computer...but first I noticed:
The speakers were still on, and the volume knob was turned ALL THE WAY UP.
What kind of a jerk turns the computer off but leaves the volume on? The next person to boot the computer is going to be blasted away by the "Windows-starting-up notes" (you know that tune; the one the computer plays to tell you its awake?) because the volume has been cranked up.
I hate being blasted away by the starting-up notes.
Who did this? Who's responsible? Who was the last person on this computer??
Can you guess?
It was blockhead.
Curses! I haven't even seen him today and I'm already mildly irritated with him.
*grumble grumble growl growl*
The speakers were still on, and the volume knob was turned ALL THE WAY UP.
What kind of a jerk turns the computer off but leaves the volume on? The next person to boot the computer is going to be blasted away by the "Windows-starting-up notes" (you know that tune; the one the computer plays to tell you its awake?) because the volume has been cranked up.
I hate being blasted away by the starting-up notes.
Who did this? Who's responsible? Who was the last person on this computer??
Can you guess?
It was blockhead.
Curses! I haven't even seen him today and I'm already mildly irritated with him.
*grumble grumble growl growl*
19 January 2010
But Not the cute charlie Brown kind...
I need to not kill my co-worker. It's not his fault he's an idiot. And irritating. And an honest-to-goodness all-around blockhead.
It doesn't justify me killing him.
It doesn't even justify me being rude to him. Rude, in this case, is congruent to being honest with him. And I can't lie. Really, I just can't do it; I'm lacking that particular genome. So, if we deduce this equation to its basic variables, we are left with only one solution: Zero Conversation Possibilities Between Me and Blockhead.
I can accept this as fact. He, on the other hand, doesn't seem to grasp the concept behind my clear-cut equation. He just keeps talking.
Not that I'm against talking altogether, but he keeps asking personal questions about things that - frankly - I don't want him to know about me. That makes him sound like a creeper, which he's not, he's just incredibly dense when it comes to social cues and appropriate acquaintance conversation topics.
One of my issues with this guy: he seems fascinated with the fact that I'm an artist, and he says he likes art, but he clearly knows nothing about it. (he's in construction, so can you really blame him?) Every time I study anything that has to do with art he's right at my shoulder asking, "Did you draw that? Is that something you made??" No, blockhead, that's a painting by Monet. I'm studying it as a reference. Now get your blockhead-self out of my bubble.
Once I had my textbook open on my desk at work. He zips over and taps a picture in my book (he touched my book! he was six inches away from my face! does anyone else think this is odd?) and asks, "Is that something you're going to draw?"
All I could do was stare at him in disbelief that such a level of ignorance was humanly possible.
No, blockhead, that's a famous cathedral in Ravenna, Italy and I'm writing a paper on it.
"Oh. Why?"
Are you serious?? Do they not study history in construction?? Well maybe they don't, but I have news for you, everyone else in this university has to study SOME aspect of History. Literature, Philosophy, Science, Health...they all have to study History in their respective spheres. And, guess what? that includes Art.
Here's my favorite:
"Hey, if you ever bring your drawings to the office, would you show them to me?"
OhmygoshNO. Of all the people in the world that I would show my work to, blockhead, you are not one of them. For starters, the idea of me showing my work off in the office seems bizarre and uncomfortable. Secondly, it would mean that blockhead would look at them and probably compliment them, which is a thought so repulsive that I cannot suppress a shudder. In fact, if I found out I had drawn something that he thought was "good" I would promptly burn it.
I go home at night and try to convince myself that he's not that bad, he has a family and he's got friends who (probably) think he's a swell guy, I just have to dig deeper to find that. But when I'm around him it feels like the skin on my arms and scalp has been peeled back so that all my nerves are exposed, leaving me raw and irritable as he continues to talk. My muscles tighten and my jaw clenches as I cave to the acute pressure from the rest of the office (all listening in on this exchange, by the way) to be civil to blockhead and endure his inane questions by avoiding eye contact and responding in simple one-word answers.
This will probably not be the last time you hear me complaining about this particular co-worker. To keep things simple, his codename will be "blockhead" from here on out. Not that he really needs a codename...anyone who knows him can read this and guess who "blockhead" is. Anyone who doesn't know him can read this and not care what his real name is, if it were menitoned. No, dear reader, sorry to say the codename has nothing to do with you or any obligation I may feel to keep his identity protected. It's about me. More specifically, it's about the fantastic satisfaction I get from calling him "blockhead" over and over in my mind while I complain about him on the interweb. Cheers!
It doesn't justify me killing him.
It doesn't even justify me being rude to him. Rude, in this case, is congruent to being honest with him. And I can't lie. Really, I just can't do it; I'm lacking that particular genome. So, if we deduce this equation to its basic variables, we are left with only one solution: Zero Conversation Possibilities Between Me and Blockhead.
I can accept this as fact. He, on the other hand, doesn't seem to grasp the concept behind my clear-cut equation. He just keeps talking.
Not that I'm against talking altogether, but he keeps asking personal questions about things that - frankly - I don't want him to know about me. That makes him sound like a creeper, which he's not, he's just incredibly dense when it comes to social cues and appropriate acquaintance conversation topics.
One of my issues with this guy: he seems fascinated with the fact that I'm an artist, and he says he likes art, but he clearly knows nothing about it. (he's in construction, so can you really blame him?) Every time I study anything that has to do with art he's right at my shoulder asking, "Did you draw that? Is that something you made??" No, blockhead, that's a painting by Monet. I'm studying it as a reference. Now get your blockhead-self out of my bubble.
Once I had my textbook open on my desk at work. He zips over and taps a picture in my book (he touched my book! he was six inches away from my face! does anyone else think this is odd?) and asks, "Is that something you're going to draw?"
All I could do was stare at him in disbelief that such a level of ignorance was humanly possible.
No, blockhead, that's a famous cathedral in Ravenna, Italy and I'm writing a paper on it.
"Oh. Why?"
Are you serious?? Do they not study history in construction?? Well maybe they don't, but I have news for you, everyone else in this university has to study SOME aspect of History. Literature, Philosophy, Science, Health...they all have to study History in their respective spheres. And, guess what? that includes Art.
Here's my favorite:
"Hey, if you ever bring your drawings to the office, would you show them to me?"
OhmygoshNO. Of all the people in the world that I would show my work to, blockhead, you are not one of them. For starters, the idea of me showing my work off in the office seems bizarre and uncomfortable. Secondly, it would mean that blockhead would look at them and probably compliment them, which is a thought so repulsive that I cannot suppress a shudder. In fact, if I found out I had drawn something that he thought was "good" I would promptly burn it.
I go home at night and try to convince myself that he's not that bad, he has a family and he's got friends who (probably) think he's a swell guy, I just have to dig deeper to find that. But when I'm around him it feels like the skin on my arms and scalp has been peeled back so that all my nerves are exposed, leaving me raw and irritable as he continues to talk. My muscles tighten and my jaw clenches as I cave to the acute pressure from the rest of the office (all listening in on this exchange, by the way) to be civil to blockhead and endure his inane questions by avoiding eye contact and responding in simple one-word answers.
This will probably not be the last time you hear me complaining about this particular co-worker. To keep things simple, his codename will be "blockhead" from here on out. Not that he really needs a codename...anyone who knows him can read this and guess who "blockhead" is. Anyone who doesn't know him can read this and not care what his real name is, if it were menitoned. No, dear reader, sorry to say the codename has nothing to do with you or any obligation I may feel to keep his identity protected. It's about me. More specifically, it's about the fantastic satisfaction I get from calling him "blockhead" over and over in my mind while I complain about him on the interweb. Cheers!
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