Human Biology Lessons

At some point a couple months ago Lisa informed me that she was starting to go through menopause. (See previous posting entitled TMI MTWTF.) As everyone knows your system goes a bit haywire, including hot flashes and general body temperature fluctuations. I can't say I mind too much. I bring a sweater in case she wants the A/C on despite the outside temperature of about 45 fahrenheit, so no big deal.

A few minutes ago she said to be "see what happens when you get to be my age, first you're cold one minute then you're hot". Does she think that my rather deep voice and manly (if a bit scruffy) beard are some sort of strange quirk? Because last I knew of hot flashes and whatnot were something I wouldn't have to suffer through as a man.

Under Pressure

If I haven't mentioned it so far, Lisa is a BIG lady. She's somewhere close to my weight and around a foot shorter, which sets her up for a veritable swarm of health problems. Several times she's called out because her legs or knees are too swollen to come in. It's the human equivalent of a bridge's supports buckling because of too many heavy trucks filled with frozen tv dinners rumbling overhead, followed by tankers carrying gigantic vats of McDonalds Sweet Tea.

Of course she can't be that heavy without incurring one of the biggest issues for the overweight. (pun intended) Yes folks, the ever alarming high blood pressure. This morning soon after her arrival, mere moments after her chair had stopped creaking and groaning, she informed me that tomorrow she'll be a half hour late coming in, because she'll be going to the doctors to have her blood pressure checked. It seems that they're worried, being alarmists and very concerned that her blood pressure this weekend was 194/150.

Lisa isn't worried though, because that's pretty low for her she says.

Behind In The Times

Does the modern world have more going on to it than it used to? Maybe. Or it could be we just hear more about it due to the news. Regardless, there's a lot of stories out there and it's impossible to be up on them all. Between the sports fiascos, celebrity scandals, political blunders and continual prognostication about the economy fighting for time with swine flu stories in their death throes.

Do I expect Lisa to be up on everything? Certainly not. There's been far too much going on in the world. Yet some issues I would think are so pervasive that you'd at least know the barebones details. Take for example the simple phrase 'fossil fuels'.

To almost anyone those two words evoke a whole range of news stories; global warming, melting polar ice caps, impending world doom, or the simple argument that it's all complete garbage, simply a cycle of warming and cooling the world goes through.

Or you could be like Lisa who upon seeing a headline regarding fossil fuels said "are those the ones made from dinosaurs". I of course indicated the affirmative to which she responded, "so why are those bad?"

Double Feature!

It's always a lovely morning when you get two heavy hits of brain-melting stupidity first thing.

Lisa said this morning that she hates slang, yet called one of her friends "boo" on the cellphone. Apparently if she says it, it's a real word?

Lots of people get saddled with unfortunate childhood nicknames. Shorty. Tubby. Skippy. The list goes on and on, but at some point a little part of the brain kicks in and goes "hey, it's going to be pretty ridiculous going into a job interview and saying 'yes, I'm Dave, but everyone calls me Speedy McGee'." So the holder of the moniker simply asks/insists that people cease and desist.

At some point Lisa received the nickname 'Peaches'. Whatever that part of the brain which recognizes absolute ridiculousness is, it's obviously underdeveloped in her. How do I know? Well other than every other post on this blog, she still has people calling her 'Peaches'. Not just family and close friends either.

Fast Fasting

Ahh fasting, one of the classic ways of demonstrating devotion and piety (and getting woozy and lightheaded enough to maybe hallucinate a bit). Lisa is a fan of fasting, though she's not very good at it. Today she plans to fast for a few hours in the afternoon. Of course first she went out to subway to get a sandwich so that way she won't be too hungry while she fasts....

Skinner Would Be Proud

In the early days of psychology BF Skinner constructed certain mechanical contraptions to test learning and reinforcement of behaviors. The classic birds pecking at a button a thousand times to get a piece of food and whatnot.

He'd have been fascinated to be in my office today. Lisa was calling some number and got one of those damnably annoying voice-recognizing prompts. Instead of simply navigating through, she simply spouted "operator" and "customer service" over and over for what seemed like interminable minutes.

Then a food pellet came out of the phone and she was happy.

On the nature of felines...

The day before I left for vacation, Lisa brought home a tiny, mewling little kitten. Upon returning from vacation I got to hear how poorly behaved the little scamp was. Such a terror, attacking shoelaces and whatnot. What unusual behavior for a cat. Attacking strings.

TMI MTWTF

One of the biggest differences between any workplace, moreso than the duties, is the people. Nothing can kill a good job like annoying coworkers or a facist boss and a joyous, friendly group of people can make the most tedious job a walk in the park.

I've been through both situations to some degree. My coping technique for negative workplaces is to simply keep things at a business level, not getting embroiled in the conflicts and drama seething under the surface, while doing my best to maintain a professional level of courtesy with everyone involved. I'm never adverse to making friends at a workplace, I've hung out with coworkers outside of the office a time or two, but I've never felt that I had to bond with someone simply because we had the same person signing our paychecks.

Nothing irks me more than someone assuming we're a lot closer than we are. Now we enter into where this applies to my current situations. Lisa has constantly flooded me with WAY more information than I ever wanted to know about her. Do I mind hearing some little story about her cat or her daughter's impending graduation? Not in the least. That's the exact level of personal interaction I want to have with someone in this situation. Did I want to hear that she was "planning on being naughty" this weekend?

(Insert fake vomiting noises here)

I've been updated on news regarding her ex-con husband's drug habits, pregnancies and subsequent abortions, her complaints about her sister refusing to wear underwear and about a million other minor details of her life that I've blocked out for the sake of my sanity.

I suppose that to a certain degree it's my fault for not saying something in the beginning, but am I wrong in feeling that I shouldn't have ever had to?

Everybody likes accents. Whether you've got some strange attraction to the R-free Boston accent or the more dulcet tones of an Australian, we've all got some particular combination of pronunciations and inflections that send shivers up our spines.

I've never heard someone rave over the beauty of the clipped syllables of Japanese-accented English, but to hear someone express their joy at an English, Scottish or Irish accent isn't the least bit unusual. The company I work for operates on a national level, but we mostly deal with New York callers, which means we get a lot of immigrants or children of immigrants. Today Lisa picked up the phone and was greeted by an Irishman named Patrick.

Lisa has a habit of muddling up information, so I often keep one ear open when she's on the phone just in case there's a serious discrepancy (after all, people only come to us because they need things to get/keep their job). So when she spoke to Patrick, she mentioned how she loved Irish accents. For some people this might have led to a comment on a favorite actor, musician or maybe even something about the Irish Tenors. Where did Lisa take it? That's right, the old 'Irish Spring' soap commercials.

Having lived abroad I know how frustrating it can be when someone seizes on a single aspect of a culture one is connected to and expand it to encompass their entire judgement of who you are. I imagine it's even more maddening to be connected to something as inconsequential as a brand of bar soap, one which probably had no actual connection to Ireland.

A cultural geography lesson...

Regional pride is not a terribly new concept for me. Stick enough people in the most godforsaken place on earth and eventually someone will come up with a Barren Wasteland Pride bumper sticker. That being said it's amusing to see how people think their preferred area stacks up against other places.

Last week Lisa brought up something about fashion (to be honest I don't recall the context of the conversation), but she said that Harlem, where she grew up, is the fashion capital of the world. Now did I miss a memo stating that this title had been taken away from Paris? Are the French now strolling past cafes and the Jardin Du Luxembourg in terrycloth sweatsuits? Popping down to the bakery for freshly baked baguettes in pajama pants and ratty t-shirts? This is a bit of an ironic statement from a woman whose idea of her outfit matching is every piece of it being the exact same hue.

She also insisted that people travel from all over the world to visit Harlem. My first thought was "is she serious?" The last I checked Harlem isn't filled with fields of butterflies and happy bunnies dancing on rainbows. Supposedly some areas are getting quite nice, but non New Yorkers still hear Harlem and think violence, muggings and crime. The tourists stick to Times Square, Central Park and all the other points of interest. There might be a few bizarre individuals out there who consider a good old fashion mugging part of the New York experience, but I don't think it's likely.

Cleanliness is next to ridiculousness...

I suppose I need to come up with a pseudonym for my coworker, since I can't be calling her 'my coworker' at every turn. I'll go with Lisa, since that's nowhere near close to her actual name. Several times a week Lisa pops out in the morning to get something for breakfast, most often a bagel and cream cheese, possibly some lox as well.

Now Lisa is a self-proclaimed neat freak and germophobe, though if she's out of the office I have next to no chance of finding any outstanding paperwork in the muddled, vaguely organized mess in her drawers. This morning shortly after returning from her jaunt out to get some sustenance one of the cleaning ladies stopped by to drop off a handful of rubber gloves Lisa had requested to guard her hand against the vile germs that infest the subway. She thanked the cleaning lady and slid them into a drawer. Then, instead of simply closing the drawer she took out a large white plastic garbage bag.

Was she packing up some things to bring home? Tidying up around the office? Cleaning out our refridgerator? No. I turned in my chair to discover she had created a gigantic bib. Did she nip into the back room to eat? No, she sat at her desk in full view of the people coming in and out of the office. As I sat pondering what bizarre series of synaptic firings prompted this event which I was sure must be unique, she assured me this was a FREQUENT practice and that she did this when she went out to eat.

Just when I thought it couldn't get any more ridiculous, she informed me that although people look at her like she's crazy, she insists they think she's smart for doing this.

It begins...

If you've ever worked in an office you'll understand what this blog is about. Every workplace is its own organism; growing, evolving and changing to fit the circumstances and thriving- or stagnating and dying off. We have massive brachiosaurine companies treading across the global market with thundering yet ponderous footfalls and sadly in most cases a similar brain-to-mass ratio as the extinct sauropods. Others are tiny amoeba scuttling around, living on economic detritus and hoping someday to grow into their own noble beast.

Each office eventually finds its own unique dynamic; some are the brains, thinking up the great ideas and propelling the company's success. Some function as the nervous system, organizing and coordinating the efforts of all involved. Of course no office is complete without its heart, be it the grandmotherly old lady who makes everyone smile, the young jokester who keeps people in stitches during forced overtime or any of a million joy-inspiring people. Of course what office would be complete without the stomach? The guy or girl who knows all the best places for takeout or an impromptu Friday night group-building soiree.

If you're lucky, that's where things stop. A whole list of useful, functional people all working hard at making their joint endeavor a success. Unfortunately though many of us are stuck with some 'organs' we just don't think are useful. That appendix we worry is going to swell up and burst at any moment; the gall bladder who always complains about an impending stone.

That's what this blog is about. My only physically present coworker whose antics and behaviors alternate between ridiculous, maddening and just plain confusing. Any names will of course be changed to protect those involved (by those involved of course, I mean me). I can't promise how often I'll update this as I have no control over the flow of blog-worthy events, but I'll write as often as I can.