Thansk

After sending out emails since Friday, my team lead noticed something odd. Every time someone replied to her, it was in huge font. It would seem that someone went and changed her default font to 28 point and scaled up her signature to match. Then so she wouldn't notice, they changed the default zoom for all emails being composed so that it looked the right size.
She sent me an email today in an effort to see what was going on:
She may have figured her font out, but the "thansk," is still going to get many more miles.
:D


Hi Rue,
This is for testing.
Thansk,

C

I'm Fine

Freaked-out, Insecure, Neurotic, Emotional.

Sensitive Insensitive
Depressed Anxious Paranoid
Hapless Hopeless Frustrated
Undermined Kicked-about Humiliated Awkward
Disaffected Distracted Discouraged
Broken
Broken-hearted Heartless
Selfish Self-destructive
Changeable Indecisive
Uninspired Unattractive
Untalented Unworthy
Unfriendly Unforgiving
Unrealistic Uncommunicative

But I've never been unloved.
Not because of what I am, but because of what You've done. Not because of what I've done, but because of who You are.

Oops...

Allow me to take my foot out of my mouth.
Rue: Hey! How's the baby doing??
Coworker: Gone.
Rue: [blankly] Gone...?
Coworker: Yes, I had a miscarriage.
Rue: Oh no that's terrible...
Coworker: Yeah, turns out I lost two. They were twins...

What do you say? Somehow 'sorry' just doesn't cut it. I feel like such a scumbag.

Random and Silly

Have you ever thought that if your life were a novel, the readers would pee themselves giggling over the ironies of which the main character was never aware? Sometimes I suspect that my life is the greatest joke I've ever heard. But unfortunately if it is, it's also the joke that nobody got - including myself. I hope that God has a sense of humour because I'd like to think that someone at least can appreciate the comedy.

Until that day, I'll have to be satisfied laughing over the stuff that goes on at work. And anyone who has seen The Office would know that there are many ways to cause mischief at work.

Mischief has a name at my work. And that name is Rue. But its second name is Salty. Salty is the name of my coworker- rather, it's the name I gave him after I couldn't stop him from calling me Sweety. Very strange I know but it turns out that people have a penchant for pet names which led to the creation of a whole fleet of nicknames for people who felt left out. Like, Savoury, Saucey, Spicey, and Sourey. But sadly, today may have been Salty's last day, so in honour of his random ways, today I'll share some random silly stories. In fact the first scene is dedicated to him.

Salty and a Goat Scare
Practical jokes have been a long-standing tradition between Sweety and Salty. He would turn everything on my desk upside down; I would move his desk into the kitchen and vice-versa. He tie wrapped everything at my desk together; I tie wrapped him to his desk. Yesterday, he brought over a bottle of methanol and offered to give me a dollop to go with my coffee. My hand went to cover the cup in time to feel a spray on the back of my hand as he accidentally (and more frightening, unknowingly) gave the bottle a squirt. Well, jokes are all fun and games until someone's on the floor, blind and dying! If he ever comes back to work, retribution will have to be ruthless.

In any case, in light of this sort of tradition it's no surprise that I should always be a bit paranoid about what sort of trouble he would be brewing. I didn't have to wait long after the coffee incident yesterday.

As I was trying to write an email, I found myself diverted:
Rue: [typing] ...heads up that there will be some changes coming down the - goat? Why would that word pop into my mind...? Anyway- [rereading what he had typed] coming down goat pipe?
Rue inspected his keyboard and wondered how the keystroke for the word 'the' could have ended up so wrong.
Rue: Ok, whatever... [furious tapping of the backspace key] the pipe.
A few minutes later, Rue's chuckles broke through the buzz of the office.
Rue: What the block?!? Where did all these goats come from??? SALTY!!! Did you install a virus on my computer!?!?

Turns out it wasn't him, but I figured out that whoever it was set the autocorrect on Office to replace the word 'the' every time it was typed. Computer locking will have to be more strictly observed in the future it seems. Props to the one who thought of that though.

My team lead is going to be pretty confused when she notices that no matter how slowly she types, all her emails will end with,
"Thansk,"

Gossip Central
A little while back after a bunch of people got let go, my team lead disappeared for over a week. During that time, I swear the whole company came by our cube to ask what was going on. Translation: to find out if she got the boot and to speculate on why. During this time I decided that my desk was the centralized location for gossip whether I liked it or not. As a sarcastic response to this, I posted a sign on my wall denoting my area as Gossip Central.
This week, my team lead and I were plotting how to exploit the mill. We came up with a few good ideas for fictitious gossip and how we could spread those stories through the company within two days by planting the seed with a few key people. Maybe that would be a little dishonest, but it would be an interesting experiment.
Yesterday, my manager came by to have a serious discussion with me. It probably wasn't the best time for him to notice the signage which now had grown to include a few more signs along the same theme - furnished by Salty.

"I wanted to talk to... what's this...?" he said looking at the signs. "Okaay," he drawled. "You don't have one for Gossip Girl."
I glanced over at my team lead's empty desk. Did he just refer to her as gossip girl? Then I realized he was talking about a TV show.
While I was deliberating over Gossip Girl, my manager was reading in detail the signs Salty had written. "Gossip is the key to success... share thy secrets... AEGC: All-Engineers Gossip Club" There was an awkward pause.
"Uhhhh... So you wanted to talk to me about something?"

I wonder if my team lead would notice before her next email to my manager if I changed the job title in her mail signature to read, Gossip Girl...

Garbage Police
This company has traditionally been somewhat of a foe to Mother Earth. Let's forget the fact that we produce instruments that draw over 4kWatts a pop and generally run 24/7/365. What really gets me is the waste that would come out of the cafeteria. Styrofoam everything - cups, bowls, plates, cutlery, food. I thought it was a welcome change a few weeks ago when I found out that they had changed to corn-based everything. Along with that came a new composting program to accompany the recently-revamped and confused recycling program.
As a big promo for the new regime, HR set up a station in the cafeteria to educate everyone on 'what goes where.' And to give out free coffee to anyone who stopped by. But I knew the real reason they were there. They set up shop in a key location for policing the garbage bins.
For people buying food out of the cafeteria, the procedure was now quite simple. Everything goes in the compost boxes. For other people, things could be a bit complicated.
It started bright one Monday morning. I heard one story, then three, then seven, and on and on. My team and I have this special relationship where we tease each other to no end, so I'll feel free to pick on her again:

"Hey, Woo. I wen to my othuh desk an I foun my gahbash bean on my chaiwr an stiw fool of gahbash, maaan!"
Apparently the cleaning staff had been instructed not to empty any garbage cans that were incorrectly sorted out but rather to leave a friendly note from "Nicky the composting bin" mascot saying something like this:

"Oops! Looks like you incorrectly sorted your garbage. Please remember in the future..." And it would continue on to remind them how food items all go to centralized bins (always on the opposite side of the building from wherever you happen to be) and also summarized the rules that nobody understood. She asked HR what this was about and they told her she had to sort out everything in the box herself. None of the decomposing contents were her own. Apparently, people are so lazy and confused that they started throwing food into other people's garbage.

Just yesterday, the company started collecting garbage cans from all the desks. There, problem solved - I don't have to install a webcam in my garbage anymore to catch anyone thinking to toss a banana peel in my garbage! It's amazing how far people will go to avoid actually figuring out the system though. The latest trend in the words of my team lead:

"I doan know maaaan, so whatodo? I'm so confuse - I jus take my gahbash home now."

Last week, after being incredibly irritated that one of our vendors built the wrong revision of my $2500 module for the third time in a row, I felt I had to make some sort of statement. A little while later, the lady from procurement came by all upset.

S: Rue, is this yours?!?
Rue: Oh yeah, I was going to tell you about that, but you weren't there. So I left it at your desk with a message.
S: You put it on my chair? In a recycling box?!
Rue: Errrrhm...
S: With this note?!? "Oops, looks like you've placed some garbage into your recycling box. Please be more diligent in the future or disciplinary action will be taken. Signed, HR"
Rue: Hmmm, you know I reckon Nicky would be pretty disappointed with you.
S: You know I took this to HR and gave them what-for over this!?!

At the end of the day, practical jokes just wouldn't be worthwhile without people like her.

Sweet Apothecary

I am sitting here holding a package of drugs. I woke up this morning wishing I could fall straight back to sleep. However despite the fact that I should have felt tired, I did not. Instead I felt like I would be better off dead.
So for the second time in the past few months (in fact, for the second time in my life), I purchased some pain killers. My stubborn nature is crying out not to subscribe to the ways of the stressed-out Acetaminophen gobbling urban bustlers.
But the fact that I'm writing this post with only one eye open suggests that I may not have a very restful weekend otherwise. And I may be lynched if I miss yet another week in the choir.

Dreams for You

I found my election registration card somewhere in all the junk I've yet to unpack. I suppose I should vote tomorrow. It's just difficult to find any enthusiasm when I know my vote will not make a big difference. Even if my vote were the one that decided the next Premier, what difference would that make? At the end of the day, the promises I care about won't be kept anyway. A few more portables will be erected at the local school and more greenhouse gazes will be pumped out.
What difference will I make?
I find myself asking that question about more than the outcome of the election. If I didn't show up to this today or that tonight, would it make a difference to anyone other than myself? I can't say that I ever wanted to impact everyone's life. But I wished I could have mattered to a few.

Do I make a difference to You? So many of the things I want, they don't seem to be what You want. But I can't let go of them. And I can't let go of You. How can I be of any use to You or even to anyone else like that?

It's 1am... Do you know where your keys are?

I'm feeling a bit dumb right now. There are a few possible reasons for this:
1. I may in fact be quite dumb.
2. I accidentally scheduled my move out activities around Thanksgiving. If I want any holiday, I'll have to have everything out by the end of tomor- today I guess it is.
3. I dropped my house keys down the elevator shaft at about midnight. All of them. For both my homes. With three people watching curiously as my cheek was pressed to the floor in the basement, I managed to retrieve them through the judicious use of precision eight-foot-coat-hanger-fishing skills. There was great celebration by all involved (for their part mostly because they were waiting to use the elevator methinks). So as I move out, I found myself in a situation that closely rivaled the time I got trapped in my bedroom soon after moving in.

There have been some good memories and there have been some unpleasant moments. But as I sat on my balcony overlooking the nighttime skyline downtown for what will have been the last time from this location, I couldn't help but reflect upon them. My first place in the real world - done and gone. Where do three years go?

How to avoid packing more junk

I'm never moving again... for the next year.
Yesterday, I moved the heaviest items that I own into my new place. And then I wished I was dead. Especially when I realized that I'd traded one evil for another: no more poorly-serviced elevators, but one very long staircase.... At least it seemed pretty long last night carrying furniture upstairs. Five days left to complete it and there is plenty more junk to be transported - at which I am presently working hard not packing.
For the moment I have two homes (one where the bed is and one where the Internet and food is) but it seems like I have none. Hopefully I'll be settled in by November... 2008.
But today was a good day! A year after being rejected by Mary, I have shown that persistence - normally doesn't - but can pay off. Last year, I was the lanky guy who got the shaft. This year, I've made some progress - I'm the nerdy guy who has a tenuous hold upon the same person. Next year, the world! So there's another reason why stage shows are great: the most ridiculously improbable situations can occur.