I started working in small offices when I was 17. As in, not in this century.
I was an expert in fixing photocopiers, although those newfangled ones that could do a second colour were more trouble than they were worth. When I left one job, I was asked to demonstrate to one of the other office people how to insert the full length of one's arm into the machine to retrieve the tiny little scrap of paper that had gummed the whole thing up, and then flick, shake and rearrange the innards of the machine to make it work again. I could do it blindfolded.
That's a true story.
I also knew how to pour loose toner from a container into the machine without it spilling all over the room and my clothes. I knew how to wipe down wires that needed cleaning. I knew the order to open doors, flip levers and pull toggles, and then close them all up again with expert speed. And on a more recent machine, I had a tiny little screwdriver, with which I could dismantle and reassemble certain crucial parts that had an ongoing disagreement with me.
That's also true. All of this is true.
I also was on a friendly first-name basis with the service people. One of them referred to me as "Father Patti". I had their phone number memorized.
But when we moved to this place, we got a new machine. A big, multi-use, full-colour one. It copies, prints, faxes, scans, emails and folds laundry. I was fairly suspicious of the whole concept. What happens when it breaks down? We're all toast, that's what happens. They assured me that everyone said that. But it doesn't break down, they said.
I scoffed.
They patiently allowed it. Everyone scoffed. Never had a machine been built that didn't require jiggling and shaking and dismantling and unjamming and desperate praying.
They assured me there would still be a service contract, but really - nothing would go wrong.
And it hasn't. True story. The machine is a living wonder, expertly copying, printing, scanning, faxing, emailing. I find I have to refold the towels when it's done, but that's probably just because I have a personal preference of how towels should be folded.
But here's the dark side of this true story. When a machine of such wonder is in one's office, one completely loses the ability to fix it if something DOES go wrong. One stares at it uncomprehendingly, wondering why it is behaving in such a way. There is nowhere to insert one's arm. No visible screws to take out.
And I have no idea where the phone number is for the service contract that I know I must have ... somewhere ... surely we have a service contract for this thing??!!!
It took me 20 minutes to find it.
I called, terrified they'd ask me for a password or something, because I swear to you, I have no idea what it is. But they didn't. Someone is coming, apparently.
I bet they're not going to call me Father Patti though.
Friday, March 09, 2012
Wednesday, March 07, 2012
ambiguity
I'm really not a fan of ambiguity.
Last week, I got a mid-term exam back. I wasn't really sure what to expect, as it was a different exam format than usual. And the prof, while not at all bad lecturer, continually tosses out comments such as, "This is the kind of question that might be on the exam. So ... you know, if you don't know this ..." and then he shakes his head and raises his hands in a gesture of futility.
I know that sounds helpful. But it leaves me wondering why he seems to have already readied his "I told you so" remarks. I can only assume they are based on the performance of past students. Which means that I may THINK I am ready for the exam, when in reality I am NOT.
So we got the exams back. It was a lower mark than I normally get. And yet ... the class average was lower than usual. And I was still on the acceptably high end of it. I stuck around to hear his detailed remarks about each question because it seemed like the smart thing to do. So he read each question, and then said, "Now what we were LOOKING for was ..." frankly, a lot more detail than the question implied. Of course, the required head-shaking and hand-raising were part of the explanation.
I listened, jotted down a few notes, but was surprised to discover no sign of inner outrage. After all, he's been doing his job for a long time. His exams are obviously considered acceptable. And me? I decided a long time ago that if someone wasn't going to tell me what they REALLY wanted, I wasn't going to be too hard on myself for not reading their minds.
On the final exam, I'll write more. Now I know.
I walked out of the exam to discover a parking ticket on my car. Got out of the car and stared at the three conflicting parking signs above my car, all on one pole. Stood there, an intelligent, job-holding, university-attending adult, for several minutes, trying to figure out where I had gone wrong. Finally deciphered the various dates and times when parking was permitted, saw where I had gone wrong, shrugged my shoulders and got into the car. Again - if the City of Hamilton isn't going to communicate clearly - well, there it is.
I have a life. I don't want to spend it fighting profs or the City, unless it's really important. Which I think shows tremendous growth on my part.
But I'm still not a fan of ambiguity.
Last week, I got a mid-term exam back. I wasn't really sure what to expect, as it was a different exam format than usual. And the prof, while not at all bad lecturer, continually tosses out comments such as, "This is the kind of question that might be on the exam. So ... you know, if you don't know this ..." and then he shakes his head and raises his hands in a gesture of futility.
I know that sounds helpful. But it leaves me wondering why he seems to have already readied his "I told you so" remarks. I can only assume they are based on the performance of past students. Which means that I may THINK I am ready for the exam, when in reality I am NOT.
So we got the exams back. It was a lower mark than I normally get. And yet ... the class average was lower than usual. And I was still on the acceptably high end of it. I stuck around to hear his detailed remarks about each question because it seemed like the smart thing to do. So he read each question, and then said, "Now what we were LOOKING for was ..." frankly, a lot more detail than the question implied. Of course, the required head-shaking and hand-raising were part of the explanation.
I listened, jotted down a few notes, but was surprised to discover no sign of inner outrage. After all, he's been doing his job for a long time. His exams are obviously considered acceptable. And me? I decided a long time ago that if someone wasn't going to tell me what they REALLY wanted, I wasn't going to be too hard on myself for not reading their minds.
On the final exam, I'll write more. Now I know.
I walked out of the exam to discover a parking ticket on my car. Got out of the car and stared at the three conflicting parking signs above my car, all on one pole. Stood there, an intelligent, job-holding, university-attending adult, for several minutes, trying to figure out where I had gone wrong. Finally deciphered the various dates and times when parking was permitted, saw where I had gone wrong, shrugged my shoulders and got into the car. Again - if the City of Hamilton isn't going to communicate clearly - well, there it is.
I have a life. I don't want to spend it fighting profs or the City, unless it's really important. Which I think shows tremendous growth on my part.
But I'm still not a fan of ambiguity.
Monday, March 05, 2012
just kindness
I wrote this on Facebook this morning ...
Here's what I was thinking.
Let's be kind ... even if the other person is wrong. Or if they're right, and I'm wrong. That moment of realizing I'm the doofus doesn't always bring out my best side.
Let's try simply pure kindness. Not the kindness dragging baggage behind it of, "but here's where you're wrong" or "and now I need this from you". I suspect that if I have to point out the tiny kindness hidden in the mound of baggage ... it's not really kind at all.
Maybe we could be kind to those without power. Or even more ... those with tons of power. That's an interesting thought.
I got to pass on anonymous kindness this weekend from somebody to somebody. One of the rare times I like being in the middle of other people's stuff. That was cool.
Silent kindness might be an idea. Somebody jokingly commented on my FB status, asking if this meant they had to talk to people. But I bet I could be kind without talking at all. Hmmm.
We could just try it for a day. Maybe even one day a week. And then the rest of the time (for the pragmatists who are rolling their eyes right now at my naivete) we can live in the real world, OK?
"Idea of the day: let's be kind to each other. Even if."
Let's be kind ... even if the other person is wrong. Or if they're right, and I'm wrong. That moment of realizing I'm the doofus doesn't always bring out my best side.
Let's try simply pure kindness. Not the kindness dragging baggage behind it of, "but here's where you're wrong" or "and now I need this from you". I suspect that if I have to point out the tiny kindness hidden in the mound of baggage ... it's not really kind at all.
Maybe we could be kind to those without power. Or even more ... those with tons of power. That's an interesting thought.
I got to pass on anonymous kindness this weekend from somebody to somebody. One of the rare times I like being in the middle of other people's stuff. That was cool.
Silent kindness might be an idea. Somebody jokingly commented on my FB status, asking if this meant they had to talk to people. But I bet I could be kind without talking at all. Hmmm.
We could just try it for a day. Maybe even one day a week. And then the rest of the time (for the pragmatists who are rolling their eyes right now at my naivete) we can live in the real world, OK?
Monday, February 27, 2012
coffee
So here is something I learned this morning.
A couple of weeks ago, in a routine appointment, my doc asked me how much coffee I drink. I didn't lie - honest, I didn't - but she probably thinks I did. She suggested I should just watch the caffeine intake, maybe throw in some decaf ("good decaf") now and then, or water.
Water. Bleah.
So, since the brand of coffee I am most likely to buy is this one, I thought I'd throw a little scoop of this one into the morning mix. That way I have reduced the caffeine, doc is happy, and I carry on as before. And it tasted just as good, really.
Let's acknowledge that a whole bunch of other life took place, as it always does, thus preventing me from tying that previous part to this next part.
For example, there's the weather - my spring allergies keep kicking into overdrive with this ridiculously warm weather. And then when an almost-storm rolls by, my head activates its tightening-vice-grip protocol.
And as another example - people float randomly through my life with illnesses of varying degrees, often contagious.
Plus a few weeks ago I had a lot on my plate, so I was legitimately tired.
See? Life.
So I just kept feeling unwell, but on and off, couldn't put my finger on it. Except for the stomach aches. What is that about? Must have been something I ate ... maybe I'm hungry ... oh my gosh, please not Norwalk ... maybe this is Norwalk when one takes ColdFX regularly, I could live with that ...
And then I thought, hmmmm.
Can decaf coffee upset your stomach if regular coffee doesn't? And what I mean when I say regular coffee doesn't upset my stomach is ... my stomach gets upset if I DON'T have my regular coffee in the morning. I saw your eyebrows go up just now. Just shush. Your lectures are not welcome here.
So I went online this morning. Because the internet ALWAYS has reliable medical information. (I jest.) But according to SOME parts of the knowledgeable interweb, decaf coffee has higher acid levels and may cause indigestion when regular coffee does not.
Today - full caf - no stomach ache. I told Spike, "I'm currently conducting further lab tests. Report to follow."
To which he responded, "wow...too much caffeine".
(but no stomach ache)
A couple of weeks ago, in a routine appointment, my doc asked me how much coffee I drink. I didn't lie - honest, I didn't - but she probably thinks I did. She suggested I should just watch the caffeine intake, maybe throw in some decaf ("good decaf") now and then, or water.
Water. Bleah.
So, since the brand of coffee I am most likely to buy is this one, I thought I'd throw a little scoop of this one into the morning mix. That way I have reduced the caffeine, doc is happy, and I carry on as before. And it tasted just as good, really.
Let's acknowledge that a whole bunch of other life took place, as it always does, thus preventing me from tying that previous part to this next part.
For example, there's the weather - my spring allergies keep kicking into overdrive with this ridiculously warm weather. And then when an almost-storm rolls by, my head activates its tightening-vice-grip protocol.
And as another example - people float randomly through my life with illnesses of varying degrees, often contagious.
Plus a few weeks ago I had a lot on my plate, so I was legitimately tired.
See? Life.
So I just kept feeling unwell, but on and off, couldn't put my finger on it. Except for the stomach aches. What is that about? Must have been something I ate ... maybe I'm hungry ... oh my gosh, please not Norwalk ... maybe this is Norwalk when one takes ColdFX regularly, I could live with that ...
And then I thought, hmmmm.
Can decaf coffee upset your stomach if regular coffee doesn't? And what I mean when I say regular coffee doesn't upset my stomach is ... my stomach gets upset if I DON'T have my regular coffee in the morning. I saw your eyebrows go up just now. Just shush. Your lectures are not welcome here.
So I went online this morning. Because the internet ALWAYS has reliable medical information. (I jest.) But according to SOME parts of the knowledgeable interweb, decaf coffee has higher acid levels and may cause indigestion when regular coffee does not.
Today - full caf - no stomach ache. I told Spike, "I'm currently conducting further lab tests. Report to follow."
To which he responded, "wow...too much caffeine".
(but no stomach ache)
Monday, February 20, 2012
dr. joy
We're a one-car family. People suggest sometimes we need a second car, but we've done that. Payments are irritating. Plus we'd miss the uninterrupted 40-minute chat at the beginning and end of the week when I take Spike to work and bring him home again. Forty minutes each way, that is.
There's one small catch. It's a sleep-in day if I take him to work at 4 AM. It's more likely 2 or 3 AM. So I'm a little bleary-eyed on the way home. And in case you didn't know ... it's difficult to find good radio at 3:30 AM. My usual station only has comedy clips, with high-end laugh tracks that drown out the punch line and literally hurt my ears after awhile. Other stations are talking about aliens. I can't tolerate that. So the other non-day, I found a station which had ... Dr. Joy Brown.
I like her in the middle of the night. She's calm. Reasonable. Sometimes a bit surface-y; she doesn't go deep. But still ... reasonable. She refuses to give in to a crisis, unless it's absolutely necessary.
So a lady called in ... let's call her ... Sharon. Here's the story, with my interpretations thrown in for your entertainment. Sharon is a lovely lady, super-polite. Sharon is just a teeny bit (a lot) wondering (offended) about a family situation which is no big deal (she's a martyr, really), and she just wonders what Dr. Joy thinks about it (Dr. Joy will gasp and agree with her, конечно).
Although they have had a family tradition whereby Sharon hosts and prepares all family dinners, there has been a shift (unacceptable change). Father-in-law wants to host but can't cook. So sisters-in-law are cooking and preparing, and hosting at their dad's place. But they live hours away, whereas Sharon lives in the same town as father-in-law. And she doesn't want to make a big deal (even though it is), it's just that she can't understand why they would do it this way (not her way) when it would be no trouble for her to do it (she does it better) and it clearly stresses them (they do it wrong). She wonders if (is certain that) there is an undercurrent of ... something ... (evil scheming) going on.
*grin* (that's me, in the car, in the dark)
Dr. Joy suggested that maybe they just want to give her a break, maybe daughters want to help their father, maybe they enjoy taking their turn, maybe it's not about offending her at all. Sharon says thoughtfully, "That's what my husband said ..." (a little surprised Dr. Joy would side with him)
Sharon suggests that maybe she should offer her kitchen for use (because it would be the right kitchen), by the two sisters-in-law. Dr. Joy says sure, great idea, but if they decline, you have to be OK with that.
"Ooooh...." (she's not OK with that)
The conversation carries on, until finally Sharon makes one more suggestion (politely desperate plea) of how she can help (push) her family to see the light (her way). And Dr. Joy mildly says, "Now, Sharon ... let's not be a little control freak."
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!! (that's me again)
And Sharon responds sheepishly, "That's what my husband said...." (he is sitting to the side, reading a newspaper, politely pretending not to listen.)
---
I giggled, pulled in my driveway, and went back to bed. Good to know someone is taking care of the world while the rest of us are sleeping.
There's one small catch. It's a sleep-in day if I take him to work at 4 AM. It's more likely 2 or 3 AM. So I'm a little bleary-eyed on the way home. And in case you didn't know ... it's difficult to find good radio at 3:30 AM. My usual station only has comedy clips, with high-end laugh tracks that drown out the punch line and literally hurt my ears after awhile. Other stations are talking about aliens. I can't tolerate that. So the other non-day, I found a station which had ... Dr. Joy Brown.
I like her in the middle of the night. She's calm. Reasonable. Sometimes a bit surface-y; she doesn't go deep. But still ... reasonable. She refuses to give in to a crisis, unless it's absolutely necessary.
So a lady called in ... let's call her ... Sharon. Here's the story, with my interpretations thrown in for your entertainment. Sharon is a lovely lady, super-polite. Sharon is just a teeny bit (a lot) wondering (offended) about a family situation which is no big deal (she's a martyr, really), and she just wonders what Dr. Joy thinks about it (Dr. Joy will gasp and agree with her, конечно).
Although they have had a family tradition whereby Sharon hosts and prepares all family dinners, there has been a shift (unacceptable change). Father-in-law wants to host but can't cook. So sisters-in-law are cooking and preparing, and hosting at their dad's place. But they live hours away, whereas Sharon lives in the same town as father-in-law. And she doesn't want to make a big deal (even though it is), it's just that she can't understand why they would do it this way (not her way) when it would be no trouble for her to do it (she does it better) and it clearly stresses them (they do it wrong). She wonders if (is certain that) there is an undercurrent of ... something ... (evil scheming) going on.
*grin* (that's me, in the car, in the dark)
Dr. Joy suggested that maybe they just want to give her a break, maybe daughters want to help their father, maybe they enjoy taking their turn, maybe it's not about offending her at all. Sharon says thoughtfully, "That's what my husband said ..." (a little surprised Dr. Joy would side with him)
Sharon suggests that maybe she should offer her kitchen for use (because it would be the right kitchen), by the two sisters-in-law. Dr. Joy says sure, great idea, but if they decline, you have to be OK with that.
"Ooooh...." (she's not OK with that)
The conversation carries on, until finally Sharon makes one more suggestion (politely desperate plea) of how she can help (push) her family to see the light (her way). And Dr. Joy mildly says, "Now, Sharon ... let's not be a little control freak."
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!! (that's me again)
And Sharon responds sheepishly, "That's what my husband said...." (he is sitting to the side, reading a newspaper, politely pretending not to listen.)
---
I giggled, pulled in my driveway, and went back to bed. Good to know someone is taking care of the world while the rest of us are sleeping.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
birthday
Happy Birthday to my Dad.
He's still the same guy as last year. Except he took up golf and moved to Florida.
No he didn't. I'm kidding.
I'm realizing at this moment that I did not publicly say Happy Birthday to my mom. I was in Ukraine at the time. Likely will be again this year. That's awkward.
*happy super-late / super-early birthday Mom!*
But for today -
--
And now back to our regular program. Which for me, is studying. I have an exam tonight.
He's still the same guy as last year. Except he took up golf and moved to Florida.
No he didn't. I'm kidding.
I'm realizing at this moment that I did not publicly say Happy Birthday to my mom. I was in Ukraine at the time. Likely will be again this year. That's awkward.
*happy super-late / super-early birthday Mom!*
But for today -
Happy Birthday to my Very Awesome Dad!!!
--
And now back to our regular program. Which for me, is studying. I have an exam tonight.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
stories
My mama sent me some pictures. I have no idea where they came from. No idea who took them. No idea if they're photoshopped.
That being said ... they're still enjoyable. I thought I'd share a few with you. And maybe add a story or two. For instance ...
This is Louie's homeland. He misses all his sheep-friends sometimes. He loves his adopted home, but unnamed inhabitants (not me) keep pushing his nose in, just to see what it looks like.
Hey!!!! I have TOES!!!!
Lately we've had flies in our house. Every now and then one of the dumber ones flies right into my head, causing me to shudder in horror. There are no words for the level of THIS horror.
Remember Block Parents? When you just needed a safe place to go, and someone else's mama would look after you temporarily?
I know this is supposed to be a precious shot of a drop of rain in a flower petal. It looks to me like an eerie alien claw holding a planet - maybe OUR planet.
City Hall. The mayor has been caught messing with the finances, and now he's being swarmed by news reporters.
Different cultures have different values. When we renovated our church building, we had to "blend" with the world around us. These people do not value "blending". They'd rather POP. And more power to 'em, I say.
Kitty play pen.
Global warming. Oh come on, it was begging to be said. You know you thought it.
You know, I get this. I really do. Passing out with fatigue while eating dinner.
Oh for crying out loud ... WHAT'S THE SECRET KNOCK??!!!!
That being said ... they're still enjoyable. I thought I'd share a few with you. And maybe add a story or two. For instance ...
This is Louie's homeland. He misses all his sheep-friends sometimes. He loves his adopted home, but unnamed inhabitants (not me) keep pushing his nose in, just to see what it looks like.
Hey!!!! I have TOES!!!!
Lately we've had flies in our house. Every now and then one of the dumber ones flies right into my head, causing me to shudder in horror. There are no words for the level of THIS horror.
Remember Block Parents? When you just needed a safe place to go, and someone else's mama would look after you temporarily?
I know this is supposed to be a precious shot of a drop of rain in a flower petal. It looks to me like an eerie alien claw holding a planet - maybe OUR planet.
City Hall. The mayor has been caught messing with the finances, and now he's being swarmed by news reporters.
Different cultures have different values. When we renovated our church building, we had to "blend" with the world around us. These people do not value "blending". They'd rather POP. And more power to 'em, I say.
Kitty play pen.
Global warming. Oh come on, it was begging to be said. You know you thought it.
You know, I get this. I really do. Passing out with fatigue while eating dinner.
Oh for crying out loud ... WHAT'S THE SECRET KNOCK??!!!!
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