This post is part 2 of a new series where I endeavor to clarify and solve problems facing my coworkers. Having been at my current job for more years that one hand will handle I have been witness to several problems that go for years without being addressed. This series of posts hopes to rectify the situation.
Problem 2 Loud music at your desk The problem as see it, or in this case hear it, dear coworker is that the music coming from your hand held device, or worse yet stand alone radio, is so loud I can hear it over the music in my head phones. To add insult to my auditory injury the music you chose is frantic, totally devastating my calm enjoyment.
Don’t get me wrong. I know the loud music you are listening to on your cheap player. I own the album; it’s here in my desk drawer. But I have chosen to not listen to it this morning, it being a slow morning and I have not completed my desk rituals. (Afore mentioned rituals are nothing intense, check the phone, the email, the daily tasks, and the week’s calendar. It takes some time, and during that time I would like to control how things move. This does not include your multi voiced chorus backed by large brass ensemble with all the trappings of current studio wizardry).
The solution is clear, although two fold. The first step applies to both listening to the radio or hand held device; turn the player off when you leave your desk. This not only allows you to hear the entire song you have chosen, it allows me to not hear it. The second part is about your headphones. For goodness sake invest in decent head phones. The ones your niece got you from that guy she knows are not good, they are simply not good.
I realize that times are tight and the economic climate does not allow for frivolities. I also know roughly how much you earn; in this case you should go for it. Twenty dollars will go a long way to helping you here/hear. If you wait till one of those big sale days you might get an even higher quality pair for the same amount of money. But I am not suggesting that in this specific case. I would rather you stop on your way home from work and find some quality head phones, maybe even with noise cancellation.
Problem #2 : Loud Music – solved. You are welcome.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Solutions to your problems
This is the first of a series where I endeavor to clarify some problems and then offer solutions. As mentioned before, I work in a large office. One where several (specifically 5) coworkers sit close enough that I could touch them without getting up if I really tried. Due to this geography I know a lot about what irritates them, and in turn what about them irritates me. I do not hold any festering feelings that need further delving, nothing like that. Just simple irritants.
Never one to complain without enacting change, I have decided to share not only the problems I see but offer the solutions you need. “You” here is a composite coworker. No one person, but a portrait of many. I am sure you have met them, and sadly some of you embody them. But fear not, solutions are offered freely for all.
Problem #1 Foods you don’t like
The problem as I see it dear coworker is you are way too picky about the foods you eat or will not eat. I know this because you complain 3 times a week about the food you are consuming, and once a week about the food you simply cannot consume because it is below your standards. This food finds itself disposed in the trash can as a noxious reminder of your overly demanding palate.
If you did not make such a public display of not enjoying your lunch this would not be a problem. Here we find your first solution. Keep your mouth shut while chewing your food.
I have a further suggestion for getting over food textures. Textures appear to be one of the main points of contention while eating your styrofoam encased lunch. This assumes that you care to change your texture aversion, as I strongly encourage. (A quick thought would be to not buy food from a place that was a Winnebago in a past life, but that’s up for debate).
What you can do is travel to some new, faraway place, and stay for more than a week. Eat whatever is served without asking what it is. No questions like, “pollo con salsa verde. That means chicken with green sauce, right? Um, how is the chicken cooked, is it fried, and what exactly makes the sauce green? Are there hot peppers involved?”
Although these questions are reasonable, you cannot ask. You must eat and then decide if it was enjoyable or not. If it was not enjoyable I offer a new set of questions. Would I eat this again? If I have not "eaten well" for a week or more, could this become good food? Would I rather lose my big toe than eat this again?
When you return to your culinary home you will think anything could be good. Atleast you know it is clean and will not have any microbes that will tear you inside out. This method is especially potent when you are in a country that is really different and hopefully has a language barrier. So different that you see fruits that are not what you would call “fruit shaped” but taste sweet and nice. And you think to yourself, “well that was surprising, I might try that again, but how do I tell him not to put chili powder on it this time?”
Problem #1: food textures – solved. You are welcome.
Never one to complain without enacting change, I have decided to share not only the problems I see but offer the solutions you need. “You” here is a composite coworker. No one person, but a portrait of many. I am sure you have met them, and sadly some of you embody them. But fear not, solutions are offered freely for all.
Problem #1 Foods you don’t like
The problem as I see it dear coworker is you are way too picky about the foods you eat or will not eat. I know this because you complain 3 times a week about the food you are consuming, and once a week about the food you simply cannot consume because it is below your standards. This food finds itself disposed in the trash can as a noxious reminder of your overly demanding palate.
If you did not make such a public display of not enjoying your lunch this would not be a problem. Here we find your first solution. Keep your mouth shut while chewing your food.
I have a further suggestion for getting over food textures. Textures appear to be one of the main points of contention while eating your styrofoam encased lunch. This assumes that you care to change your texture aversion, as I strongly encourage. (A quick thought would be to not buy food from a place that was a Winnebago in a past life, but that’s up for debate).
What you can do is travel to some new, faraway place, and stay for more than a week. Eat whatever is served without asking what it is. No questions like, “pollo con salsa verde. That means chicken with green sauce, right? Um, how is the chicken cooked, is it fried, and what exactly makes the sauce green? Are there hot peppers involved?”
Although these questions are reasonable, you cannot ask. You must eat and then decide if it was enjoyable or not. If it was not enjoyable I offer a new set of questions. Would I eat this again? If I have not "eaten well" for a week or more, could this become good food? Would I rather lose my big toe than eat this again?
When you return to your culinary home you will think anything could be good. Atleast you know it is clean and will not have any microbes that will tear you inside out. This method is especially potent when you are in a country that is really different and hopefully has a language barrier. So different that you see fruits that are not what you would call “fruit shaped” but taste sweet and nice. And you think to yourself, “well that was surprising, I might try that again, but how do I tell him not to put chili powder on it this time?”
Problem #1: food textures – solved. You are welcome.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Naked Shortcake
Something very sad happened this morning. I went to my Uncle’s farm for some fresh strawberries and went home empty handed because there has been too much rain. The red ripe strawberries were rotting on the ground due to excessive water from the sky. Oh the sadness that will weigh down my naked shortcake this evening.
It made me reflect, as I am wont to do, about my own situation. Barring nude desserts, the weather has almost no impact on my day. I must be rich or something. There is very little the weather can do to slow me down. Sure it can cause some inconvenience or even throw the schedule off, but my work day will continue no matter what the conditions outside. And my entertainment is found in many places, outside if possible or inside if not.
My job in front of the computer could conceivably happen anywhere with one of those magic connections. The information I work with is personal and sensitive, so I do not take it with me to the local coffee shop or open air market. But for arguments sake I could. If the weather were nice I would find my way to some dappled sunlight. If the weather were treacherous I would stay in my underclothes all day and still complete my assignments. Even as it is without the freedom to roam I am able to get to my job’s building in all matter of inclement conditions.
Not that I do, I mean come on, if two feet of snow were to fall, and it has, I would stay home, and I have, and will again.
But it does make me pause and remember my family on the farm. They have a very different relationship with the weather. There is a reason the farmers have come up with their own almanac. It is more than just important, the weather is the one factor that makes the day or crushes the crop. Just look as those little red delicious fruit with the blue bruised underbelly.
I’m sure I don’t need to tell you about being out to sea on a long boat when the north wind has taken a turn for the worse. Count yourself blessed if you do not have a visceral memory of your nose hairs frozen to the interior of your nose as the mucus trails toward your cheek blown by the biting wind. It’s not pretty, and it kind of hurts.
But these are not things I deliberate over. I have arrived at a place where I look out the window in the morning and think, “oh, nice it’s raining” or “great, it’s sunny” with never more thought than if I need a hat for my bald head. From time to time I am surprised by the sudden change in the weather. But even then I can go to the grocery store and get strawberries grown in Maryland or Florida.
It made me reflect, as I am wont to do, about my own situation. Barring nude desserts, the weather has almost no impact on my day. I must be rich or something. There is very little the weather can do to slow me down. Sure it can cause some inconvenience or even throw the schedule off, but my work day will continue no matter what the conditions outside. And my entertainment is found in many places, outside if possible or inside if not.
My job in front of the computer could conceivably happen anywhere with one of those magic connections. The information I work with is personal and sensitive, so I do not take it with me to the local coffee shop or open air market. But for arguments sake I could. If the weather were nice I would find my way to some dappled sunlight. If the weather were treacherous I would stay in my underclothes all day and still complete my assignments. Even as it is without the freedom to roam I am able to get to my job’s building in all matter of inclement conditions.
Not that I do, I mean come on, if two feet of snow were to fall, and it has, I would stay home, and I have, and will again.
But it does make me pause and remember my family on the farm. They have a very different relationship with the weather. There is a reason the farmers have come up with their own almanac. It is more than just important, the weather is the one factor that makes the day or crushes the crop. Just look as those little red delicious fruit with the blue bruised underbelly.
I’m sure I don’t need to tell you about being out to sea on a long boat when the north wind has taken a turn for the worse. Count yourself blessed if you do not have a visceral memory of your nose hairs frozen to the interior of your nose as the mucus trails toward your cheek blown by the biting wind. It’s not pretty, and it kind of hurts.
But these are not things I deliberate over. I have arrived at a place where I look out the window in the morning and think, “oh, nice it’s raining” or “great, it’s sunny” with never more thought than if I need a hat for my bald head. From time to time I am surprised by the sudden change in the weather. But even then I can go to the grocery store and get strawberries grown in Maryland or Florida.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Language Instructions
When I was young my grandparents taught me to speak Pennsylvania Dutch. Before you jump to obvious conclusions, no I can’t speak it today. The things you don’t practice, you lose. I can still greet you, say thank you, and follow simple commands. I can speak like a 2 year old.
Maybe you have had this experience with a new language. You remember the first and the last things in a conversation. Somehow everyone seems to ask the same things and respond in pretty much the same way when you are first introduced. When that happens I can keep up with conversation, but when someone veers from my script I am lost and clearly a linguistic 2 year old.
The same years my grandparents taught me to speak with them they taught me a new practice, they taught me to apologize. I did not know at the time that their people have been well practiced in being like minded, and because of that understood the value in apologies. Looking back these language instructions are an obvious pairing. Speaking a new language takes conscious repetition. And learning to say, “I made a mistake, and I’m sorry” takes equal practice and repetition.
I don’t remember feeling phony or fearing that my words would come off as contrived when I was younger, but that is clearly an issue now. I would rather avoid, or otherwise massage the situation than walk into an apology that I am not committed to. I am sure that people can see right through my half hearted words spoken only to mend the social construct. It feels like I’ve reverted back to my, “fine thank you, and how are you” “yes, I will hold that hammer” “I would like milk with my wet bottom shoo fly pie.” Same when they know I am being coerced into talking with them. “Grandpa says I need to tell you I let all the horses out and that’s why the cabbage is smashed in side yard, sorry about that.”
But when I think about feeling contrived I remember my grandfather telling me about accents. He was able to tell you where each person in the community learned to speak based on how they said hello and goodbye. He could have been just showing off for me, but I think he was really able to do it. He could also tell who had learned to speak his Dutch as a second language.
Every time he spoke with a new learner he would slow down his cadence and make solid eye contact. He would wait patiently while the other person fumbled over word choice or stood silent themselves while they reformed their thoughts to use words they knew. He would gently nudge them to topic of conversation they could handle, and then smile wide when they found the right words to say. What had begun as awkward soon settled into a confident exchange.
Maybe you have had this experience with a new language. You remember the first and the last things in a conversation. Somehow everyone seems to ask the same things and respond in pretty much the same way when you are first introduced. When that happens I can keep up with conversation, but when someone veers from my script I am lost and clearly a linguistic 2 year old.
The same years my grandparents taught me to speak with them they taught me a new practice, they taught me to apologize. I did not know at the time that their people have been well practiced in being like minded, and because of that understood the value in apologies. Looking back these language instructions are an obvious pairing. Speaking a new language takes conscious repetition. And learning to say, “I made a mistake, and I’m sorry” takes equal practice and repetition.
I don’t remember feeling phony or fearing that my words would come off as contrived when I was younger, but that is clearly an issue now. I would rather avoid, or otherwise massage the situation than walk into an apology that I am not committed to. I am sure that people can see right through my half hearted words spoken only to mend the social construct. It feels like I’ve reverted back to my, “fine thank you, and how are you” “yes, I will hold that hammer” “I would like milk with my wet bottom shoo fly pie.” Same when they know I am being coerced into talking with them. “Grandpa says I need to tell you I let all the horses out and that’s why the cabbage is smashed in side yard, sorry about that.”
But when I think about feeling contrived I remember my grandfather telling me about accents. He was able to tell you where each person in the community learned to speak based on how they said hello and goodbye. He could have been just showing off for me, but I think he was really able to do it. He could also tell who had learned to speak his Dutch as a second language.
Every time he spoke with a new learner he would slow down his cadence and make solid eye contact. He would wait patiently while the other person fumbled over word choice or stood silent themselves while they reformed their thoughts to use words they knew. He would gently nudge them to topic of conversation they could handle, and then smile wide when they found the right words to say. What had begun as awkward soon settled into a confident exchange.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Letter home from Lancaster
Just the other day my mother sent me a package containing letters I had sent. These letters were written during my time visiting my family during my summers of character building. I’ve decided to share some with you as a way to gain a deeper connection and understanding. I decided to retype them for you, my penmanship hasn’t improved much over the years.
July 5, 1987
Hi Mom and Dad,
I hope your day is going well. Mine is good. This morning Uncle Ab told me we needed to milk the cows again. He let me sleep yesterday because we went to the neighbor’s house for the Fourth of July.
I don’t think Uncle Ab had ever done that before, he was glad you told him about the holiday. I don’t know how he made it this far without setting off fireworks. He really liked it, and he had some great ideas for making them bigger. Did you know that plastic doesn’t really burn, it just kind of melts and smells bad. And if you don’t mind getting your fingers burned you can make it into different shapes. And did you know that there is a plant that after you break it open you can use it to smoosh on your burnt fingers and it really makes them feel better, its like medicine.
Aunt Kathy cooks really good food. She made enough salads for 3 parties. There was potato, pasta, warm potato and cheese, macaroni, spinach, broccoli, and macaroni and cheese which is not really a salad but was on the salad table. I had some of each of them because I know you say its rude not to have what is provided, and then I had 2 hot dogs and 2 hamburgers. I had some deserts too, she made 4 different pies with fruit in it and a wet bottom shoo fly pie. It totally cracked me up every time she said that name. Did you know that there is a plant for when your stomach makes those sounds that sound like something is grumbling under your belly. It doesn’t work as well as the burn your fingers plant.
I really like our bathroom at home. I can’t wait to see you guys. Have a neat summer.
July 5, 1987
Hi Mom and Dad,
I hope your day is going well. Mine is good. This morning Uncle Ab told me we needed to milk the cows again. He let me sleep yesterday because we went to the neighbor’s house for the Fourth of July.
I don’t think Uncle Ab had ever done that before, he was glad you told him about the holiday. I don’t know how he made it this far without setting off fireworks. He really liked it, and he had some great ideas for making them bigger. Did you know that plastic doesn’t really burn, it just kind of melts and smells bad. And if you don’t mind getting your fingers burned you can make it into different shapes. And did you know that there is a plant that after you break it open you can use it to smoosh on your burnt fingers and it really makes them feel better, its like medicine.
Aunt Kathy cooks really good food. She made enough salads for 3 parties. There was potato, pasta, warm potato and cheese, macaroni, spinach, broccoli, and macaroni and cheese which is not really a salad but was on the salad table. I had some of each of them because I know you say its rude not to have what is provided, and then I had 2 hot dogs and 2 hamburgers. I had some deserts too, she made 4 different pies with fruit in it and a wet bottom shoo fly pie. It totally cracked me up every time she said that name. Did you know that there is a plant for when your stomach makes those sounds that sound like something is grumbling under your belly. It doesn’t work as well as the burn your fingers plant.
I really like our bathroom at home. I can’t wait to see you guys. Have a neat summer.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Floatation device
After my third time warming the bath last night I began to wonder about water. (Every so often I enjoy a long bath, a really long bath. This is a reaction to my time of going weeks without a good cleansing, times change. And I really enjoy my new aquatic learning tools). Floating in the tub reminded me of the time spent bring down trees with my uncles. We would chop them, drag them with the mules, and then float them to the mill.
Water is the great choice when trying to move a huge tree from the forest down to the mill in order to make some floor boards for the neighbor’s house. Have you ever noticed that mills are near a river or stream? Party this local is to harness the strength of the river to power the saw blade. But another great reason is to float your newly felled tree with the water and not break your back in the process. The current can work for you and carry the load.
You can also go with the current when transporting your long boat through the narrow straights surrounding the arctic north. The water knows where it is able to go, and the current will tell you where you’ll be able to go as well. The ship’s pilot still needs to be vigilant and watch for glacier peaks, but on the whole the current can work for you.
Beyond the bath tub and the occasional trip to the beach I am not around water that often. But I still see the influence of currents. I see currents working in my social and financial life. Books that my friends like are the ones I want to read next. Music that is held in high regard by people I trust deserves a listen. The people that know about saving and how to find a deal are the ones I want hanging around.
I do my best to keep these streams of influence small. Many friends and acquaintances have drove head first into quickly moving rapids of social fun only to find out they need a floatation device. The new computer ploy to take my money and time is not a current I want to move with. Find yourself a group of frugal fun loving folks are you are free to float. Just be sure the current is not guiding you toward a saw mill. That blade will tear you two ways to Tuesday. (For real, don’t mess with that. I knew a guy once, I won’t go into it, but he doesn’t play cards any more, or the guitar. He’s got Velcro sneakers; it’s sad). All I’m saying is you have to stay aware while you float.
Water is the great choice when trying to move a huge tree from the forest down to the mill in order to make some floor boards for the neighbor’s house. Have you ever noticed that mills are near a river or stream? Party this local is to harness the strength of the river to power the saw blade. But another great reason is to float your newly felled tree with the water and not break your back in the process. The current can work for you and carry the load.
You can also go with the current when transporting your long boat through the narrow straights surrounding the arctic north. The water knows where it is able to go, and the current will tell you where you’ll be able to go as well. The ship’s pilot still needs to be vigilant and watch for glacier peaks, but on the whole the current can work for you.
Beyond the bath tub and the occasional trip to the beach I am not around water that often. But I still see the influence of currents. I see currents working in my social and financial life. Books that my friends like are the ones I want to read next. Music that is held in high regard by people I trust deserves a listen. The people that know about saving and how to find a deal are the ones I want hanging around.
I do my best to keep these streams of influence small. Many friends and acquaintances have drove head first into quickly moving rapids of social fun only to find out they need a floatation device. The new computer ploy to take my money and time is not a current I want to move with. Find yourself a group of frugal fun loving folks are you are free to float. Just be sure the current is not guiding you toward a saw mill. That blade will tear you two ways to Tuesday. (For real, don’t mess with that. I knew a guy once, I won’t go into it, but he doesn’t play cards any more, or the guitar. He’s got Velcro sneakers; it’s sad). All I’m saying is you have to stay aware while you float.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Nesting
The nesting instinct is real. Lest you doubt, take for example the cardinals in my back yard. (As an aside, I live in an affordable row home in a large North Eastern City, and I have a back yard with trees, I love our realtor). Back to the majestic birds with the deep red plumage preparing nests in our yard. At this time of year the yard is alive with transition.
The grass is preparing to grow strong and thick, the crocuses are beginning to bloom, and the daffodils are on deck to display their deep yellows. But these grounded changes are slow in comparison to the flittering above the vegetation. The birds are preparing their spaces for the coming brood. Especially busy is the female cardinal. She flies back and forth through the yard collecting material for the nest as her bright red partner keeps a protective eye.
In her natural habitat the North American Pregnant Spouse (NAPS) is not so different. My wife is one of 10 intimates that are going to add to their brood in the next month or two. And goodness is our house flittering with activity.
Up to this hour we have; cleaned the car inside and out, built new shelves and subsequently redistributed the contents of the basement, cleared the old growth from the garden, installed new exterior doors, revamped the budget with all the necessary debates and agreements, made a list to track the lists that we will need to complete, packed a bag, assembled the crib, vacuumed with abandon, stocked the freezer, and ordered pizza. It’s been a good morning.
Like the male cardinal I mostly stood watch and added opinions when needed. I enjoyed the construction in the basement and cleaning the car. But mostly I am here to lift heavy things and give a reassuring nod.
The grass is preparing to grow strong and thick, the crocuses are beginning to bloom, and the daffodils are on deck to display their deep yellows. But these grounded changes are slow in comparison to the flittering above the vegetation. The birds are preparing their spaces for the coming brood. Especially busy is the female cardinal. She flies back and forth through the yard collecting material for the nest as her bright red partner keeps a protective eye.
In her natural habitat the North American Pregnant Spouse (NAPS) is not so different. My wife is one of 10 intimates that are going to add to their brood in the next month or two. And goodness is our house flittering with activity.
Up to this hour we have; cleaned the car inside and out, built new shelves and subsequently redistributed the contents of the basement, cleared the old growth from the garden, installed new exterior doors, revamped the budget with all the necessary debates and agreements, made a list to track the lists that we will need to complete, packed a bag, assembled the crib, vacuumed with abandon, stocked the freezer, and ordered pizza. It’s been a good morning.
Like the male cardinal I mostly stood watch and added opinions when needed. I enjoyed the construction in the basement and cleaning the car. But mostly I am here to lift heavy things and give a reassuring nod.
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