September 2007 Archives

Coworker: "Hey Jeremy..."
Me: "eh?"
C: "Ah, Biffy is having problems with the copier downstairs. It keeps jamming on her. Could you give her a hand? I told her you were the expert." [grin]
Me: "You told her I was the expert?" [grimace]
C: "Yeah" [even happier grin]
Me: "hmmm...People really shouldn't say things like that..." ...as I headed downstairs to be an expert at copier jams.

If I may wrap up the two paragraphs of complaining I just deleted into one simple sentence, let me simply say: "I am not the copier repair expert."

I am also not an expert in:
Using chopsticks
Carpentry
Speed-dial programming
Barfed-on carpet cleanup
Ceiling fan installation
Using Microsoft Office products
or Toilet bowl scrubbing

Please note that, yes, I have done all of these things. And I will continue to do them as duty and misery dictate. But "expert" is not a title I want applied to any of them.

Need help with some oozing tarpit of a problem? Give me a shout! I'll come help out. Just leave the "expert" title to the copier technician I just placed a service call with.

Oh rats. I just spilled a soda all over my desk.

...you never think it will happen to you...

:'(

I just got back from walking down the stairs to the lunch room (did I mention our team moved to a new building a couple months ago?)...and I was holding a coffee mug in one hand, and a cup and empty soda can in the other. And halfway down it occurred to me that if I slipped at that moment, my first instinct would be to hold on to these objects in my hands rather than dropping them and using my hands to grab for a hand rail. This doesn't just defy logic, but is also depressing. My cerebellum would rather see my glassware and aluminum can safe than try to prevent an indented cranium.

Perhaps the survival of my Mestizo ancestors didn't depend on clarity when scaling steep inclines, but rather depended on holding tight to their corn cobs and yams when face-planting into the rich Central American mudflats. Or was it the tittering Irish ancestors with their heaping handfuls of potatoes and gently sloping moores?

In any case, the stairs and escalators of the 20th & 21st centuries have so far failed to eliminate this line of genetic material.

I had a dream last night that I was Darth Vader on a commando mission inside enemy territory. I, as DV, had to duck behind corners and hang over the edge of balconies to escape notice. I got to use my Force jumping abilities here & there which was pretty fun as things in dreams go.