Humor, Office, Secretary, Work

Paper. Work.

“Oh, my giddy aunt!”
– C.

Good.  Bleeding.  Grief.

We are in that inverted paradox that exists on university campuses, the storm before the quiet.  The term just ended and people are scattering like insects, and I am kept busy because lots of them need paperwork done for bar exams, licensing boards, visas, internships, and jobs.  Soon they will all be gone and silence will descend until Fall term – disturbed only by the occasional conference and the heathen invaders those entail.

The great trouble with this need for paperwork, is the propensity people have to leave it all to the last minute.  For example, we have designated times for fingerprinting.  And yet, invariably at this time of year, at 2 o’clock when the sign says we should be done, four or five people fall through the door panting and beg us to make an exception and fingerprint them just this once.  And I inevitably do.  Because I am a nice person, damn it.

But there are some days that this high-minded benevolence mixes with irritation, today was one of them.

This poor girl came in and we spent nearly an hour trying to help her out.  The trouble was that it was awfully difficult to help her, because she’d made a right mess of her job application.  First of all she hadn’t filled out any of the paperwork that needed to be done before I could take her prints, then it transpired that she needed traditional ink fingerprints and not digitally taken ones so I had to beg an officer for help, and then she discovered that she still didn’t have all of the things she needed to send off with said fingerprints anyway!  It turns out she hadn’t actually read through her hiring packet – which, if my job depended on it, I think I would have taken the time to do.

Emotionally stunted, useless lump that I am, I patted her arm awkwardly and promised to do my best to help her as she sobbed all over my counter, but inwardly I shook a schoolmarm-ish finger at her.  “And what did we learn from this, my girl?”

Humor, University

Fancy. Dress.

“Thursday we commence, Friday we convoke.”
– Dad

Thank goodness my academic gown was good for something!  The racket those manufacturers must run makes me weep.  The year I graduated the university changed its policy on renting graduation gear I had to buy my whole kit instead, and I wore it for a grand total of two hours.  Luckily Sav and I are the same-ish height and when she needed a last minute gown, I was thrilled to oblige her with mine!

Academic dress loses some of its oomph on this side of the Atlantic.  In my parents’ hose there’s a great picture of Mum kneeling with her hands between those of the Vice-Chancelor, feudal style, exchanging Latin phrases with her Masters hood trailing down her back.  Much cooler than our polyester blends robes and little to no ceremony.  Although apparently one of J.’s professors taught classes in his academic robes because, in his words, “When you think of all the time and money I spent earning them, this is the most expensive suit of clothes I own.  And I’m going to get my money’s worth!”

No offense to either Mum or this entirely awesome professor…I think J. looks the best in his own get up.  We are officially done with his undergraduate degree!  Good Friday indeed!

History

History Nerd Chortle

“I have not always in my dealings with General de Gaulle found quotations from Trafalgar and Waterloo necessarily productive, and he has been very tactful about the Battle of Hastings.”
– Harold Wilson

Apparently there is a particular zoo in Germany housing a penguin by the name of Bonaparte.  He has, against all the rules of biology, genetics, and common sense, fallen in love with a black and white Wellington boot.

An event only the truly nerdiest of history nerds can appreciate.

First Battalion, King's Own Penguins advance!
Humor, Office, Work

I’m the Doctor

“We do have a zeal for laughter in most situations, give or take a dentist.”
~ Joseph Heller

Accustomed as we are to dealing with characters, you’d think we’d be a bunch of cynic old cranks unperturbed by any but the vilest of persons.  That we would have long ago reached the impossible to amuse, world weary, emotional wasteland of a DMV employee at 4:55pm on a Friday.  That we would have, literally, seen it all.

But let me tell you, pumpkins, when a wizened old man with his pants belted almost up to his ribs marches into your office, slaps his liver spotted hand down on the counter and declares roundly, “Hell, I’m John Smith, and I’m a dentist,” you crack a grin, sit back, and prepare to be entertained.

I'm not sure we can help you. Did you choose the correct police box?

And Doc Smith did not disappoint.  We all sat in rapt attention as he told nearly one dozen jokes in a row (several without a discernible punchline), used racially, sexually, and culturally insensitive language, and told us his life story.  He has been an Air Force reserve colonel and “FBI police officer,” owned his own dental practice (his teeth were more metal than organic, please note) and now owns a few apartment complexes.  Which, in the end, was what brought us to the purpose of his visitation (calling it a mere visit would simply not be adequate).  Apparently some kids who did not live in his buildings were using his parking lot and he wanted it to stop so, enterprising old cook that he was, he took himself to the nearest police station to purchase a car boot.

When we could get a word in between his jokes, we told him we were completely unable to help him, as we could not sell university owned equipment.  The best we could do was google some information for him and wish him the best of luck.  He stayed another ten minutes telling jokes and his adventures as an airline pilot before disappearing.  To parts unknown.

Best customer we’ve had in weeks!

Humor, Money, School, Weekend

Weekend Wrap-up and Coming Week Countdown

“A host is like a general: calamities often reveal his genius.”
– Horace

There is very little that can crush the spirit of Small Dog, minions, but taking one’s car in to be serviced and having what one has long suspected confirmed as true – it needs new tires – is a spiritual and financial blow.  I handed over the credit card with clear eyes and teeth clenched.  It’s awfully hard to keep improving one’s savings when one’s car decides to be disagreeable.

And I absolutely did not mistake cyanide for baking powder. Enjoy!

And then, because my cup was not yet full, we had a couple of people visit from the parish yesterday.  I was just finishing up dicing cheeses and fruits to broil on french bread slices (Palm Sunday pretensions, kittens, because I was in no mood to cook a full meal) when they knocked.  I figured they wouldn’t be staying too long so I’d let the oven heat up while they visited.  Ten minutes later, I smelled burning and realized that I had left my pizza stone in the oven and that the oils in it were beginning to smoke.  The fire alarm went off.  All the windows had to be open.  I joked and laughed the whole thing off, but I was secretly mortified.

That pizza stone (which has given me no end of angst) is now at the bottom of the trash bin.  Cheap pieces of….

J. has only one more final and then we are done (free!) with his undergraduate degree!  Thursday and Friday are his graduation celebrations, and then we throw ourselves full time into grad school preparation – in spite of car related financial irritations.

How was your weekend, my loves?

Humor, Stupid People, Work

Can’t We All Just Get A Better Thought Process?

“It’s bad enough that everybody coming into this courtroom has to walk underneath a banner that says: “Read Your Bible!”  Your Honor, I want that sign taken down!  Or else I want another one put up – just as big, just as big letters – saying “Read Your Darwin!”
“That’s preposterous!”
“It certainly is.”
– Inherit the Wind, 1951

One of the most irritating, fatuous sort of accusations and complaints that gets flung at the police department is religious in nature.

You've been warned.

Editor’s Note: Just so we’re clear, this is not about the merits of religion, my ideas on it, or your ideas on it.  It is, as usual, about people behaving badly and thinking sloppily.  So let’s leave the trollish commenting to the dunces who sit at home of an evening and rant on CNN stories and youtube videos, alright?  Onward.

Humans, being what they are, seldom want to accept the effects of their actions.  But I find it continuous funny that persons raised in religious traditions  often try to use religion (which presumably is supposed to teach them some idea of philosophical, cosmic cause and effect) to get out of the consequences.

“I hope you read the Bible tonight and think about what you’ve done.  God would be ashamed of you!”  one gentleman tries to dodge arrest after we collar him for taking pictures up girls’ skirts.
“You can’t keep me away from my wife, God put me in charge of her,” an abusive husband foams at the mouth after we serve him a restraining order.
“Would Jesus write me this ticket?” another woman demands fiercely after being caught parking in a handicap area.

Guys, you make me part these traffic jammed chariots one more time, I'm turning this exodus around! I am not kidding!

I’ve read the Bible (among other holy books of various traditions), and the whole first half of it is a pretty long list of rules and the assorted punishments and consequences that come from breaking them.  Honestly, I suspect that if he’d thought of it, Moses might have made taking pictures up ladies’ skirts punishable, perhaps by a light stoning?  And though I have not personally met him, I am absolutely positive that the Jesus of religious tradition would not have parked in a handicapped stall.  Ever.

Throwing religion around as an excuse for bad behavior is certainly nothing new (hi, Crusades!), but I’m constantly perplexed by the petty ways people try to use it.  Religion, boiled down to its very, very, bare bones, purely-behavioral-and-not-at-all-about-morality basics, is all about actions and consequences.  If you are jerk in this life, you’ll come back in the next one as a mongoose.  If you do not obey certain behavioral strictures, you will continue to be alienated from God and His chosen people.  If you do not seek after enlightenment, you will never achieve nirvana.  Etc.

Ergo, trying to use any values system that teaches cause and effect to dodge your earned consequences is bad logic.  Stop it.

Humor, Law Enforcement, Work

There’s (Not) An App For That

“Don’t say anything online that you wouldn’t want plastered on a billboard with your face on it.”
– Erin Bury

Dear World At Large,

Hey!  We haven’t talked in a while, but you seem well and up to your old tricks, hence this little note of clarification.

Social Media - end of society? Not exactly. Misued and annoying? Definitely.

As we’ve discussed previously, technology is not always your friend.  Your Facebook, Twitter, and other social media are actually public information and can be used to bring your deeds (criminal or just criminally silly) to light.  However, we need to have an honest conversation about another side effect of your media habits.

This is a conversation I had yesterday:
“Hello, my backpack was stolen.”
“Alright, ma’am, you’ll need to come into our department to make a report to one of our -”
“No I don’t.”
“…Pardon?”
“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?  This is making a police report.”
“No, ma’am, to make a police report you must – except in very unique circumstances – speak to a police officer in person.  I’m not an officer, I’m a secretary.  I can give you limited advice and assistance, but that’s it.”
“Fine, put a police officer on the phone.”
“I can if you’d like, ma’am, but they will tell you the same thing: you’ll have to come into our office.”
“Seriously?!  [choice language censored]”

And surprisingly, not one of these adequately allow you to report a crime.

Last week I spoke to a gentleman on the phone, the conversation went thus:
“Hello, I’m looking at your website and I don’t see where I can report a crime.”
“Well, we have the option of reporting anonymous tips or voicing concerns online -”
“No, you don’t understand.  I’m being stalked by my ex-fiancee and I want to report it.”
“You’ll have to come into our office to do that, sir.”
“What?!  I can’t just send you an email and you take care of it?”
“No, sir.  Typically an officer will need to ask you many questions to adequately understand your situation, verify your identity, and work with you specifically to assist you.”
” [Expletive], can’t you guys just have an app or something?”

The truth is, dear World at Large, there are in fact some things that you still need to do face to face.  We may be moving towards that point, but there isn’t an app for everything.  You are still required to appear in person from time to time.  Give your thumbs a break and come and talk to me in real life, I’m charming!

Yours with love,
C.

Family, Humor

Breakage

“This is why we can’t have nice things!”
– J.

It’s no secret that I’m a klutz but I exceeded myself this weekend.  I kicked over a can of soda, stubbed my toe on J.’s textbooks, dropped his laptop (luckily on a sofa!), fell down the stairs at our flat, burned my hand making a (spectacular) sweet potato and brie flatbread, and somehow our HDMI cable isn’t working.  I’m suspected, although I don’t know how this one could possibly be on me.  Although the suspicion is justified.  When visiting parents over Thanksgiving break, I picked up my mother’s laptop to check my email and the whole thing froze.  I hadn’t even opened anything!

However, even I am not the supreme wrecker in our clan!  That title belongs to Buddy.   It was forever cemented when we were living in Brussels and about to move to the UK.  Dad and Mum had gone over the Channel to look for housing and I was left in charge of the three younger kids for a few days.  It passed largely without incident until the last day we were on our own.

Ah, Stone Age. How we miss thee...

Buddy wanted to watch a film on VHS (remember?  Remember those days?) and had turned it on and inserted a tape when suddenly,
“C.!”
I was in the kitchen and ran out to find Buddy and Snickers staring opened mouth as a thick gray smoke poured from the machine’s tape flap.  But this was no ordinary smoke!  Instead of rising it sank heavily like stage fog and smelled vile.

Images of our parents returning to a burned out shell of a home catapulted me across the room.  I yanked the plug from the wall, stumbled outside carrying the whole machine, and put in on our stone patio where all four of us hovered at a safe distance and watched smoke trickle from it.  After the panic subsided and the trance ended, we rounded on the hapless Buddy.
“What did you do?”
“We could have died!”
“Mum’s going to murder you!”

Poor Buddy.
“I didn’t do anything!  I just put a tape in!  I’m sorry!”

Luckily an hour later the whole thing was extremely funny and when the parents returned we reenacted the whole thing with a great deal of flair.  Nobody could explain the physics, electronics, or mechanics of the affair, so we just chalked it up to good old genetics.

We of clan Small Dog are wreckers.

Humor, Work

A Connoisseur of Human Folly

“Health, good humor and cheerfulness began to reappear…”
– Jane Austen

Work has been hard this week – I got good and angry and it took two days and an hour and a half conversation with my mother, another half hour with Venice, and yet another half hour with Margot to talk me off the ledge.  Amazing what good friends and three days will do to make you see the humor in something that at the beginning of the week seemed soul destroying!  Life’s deliciously funny, piglets, even the aggravations sometimes!

LIES.

Do you ever get into a rut of thinking?  I have lately.  I used to find everything funny, or at least amusingly ironic, but I’ve gotten a bit bogged down by the job again.  It’s hard to deal with criminals  across the counter and shockingly unpleasant people on the phone all day long and not get a bit irritated with humanity, but I’ve decided to try to not be as bothered by it.  Nothing will change by me banging my abnormally hard head against anything.

The government will likely shut down – which will be nastily inconvenient, but the ones who will look like real idiots are the politicians.  Grad School will be expensive, but J. and I are a pair of smart cookies who are perfectly capable of eating Ramen for a year.  It’s raining, but I’ve got a pretty cute pair of wellies.

All things considered, I’m chipper again, kittens!  Besides, being a misanthrope is exhausting!

Family, Humor

Why Can’t I Press the Button?

“If it keeps up, man will atrophy all his limbs but the push-button finger.”
~ Frank Lloyd Wright

One of my brothers-in-law works for Motorolla, thus the family often benefits from new phones – sometimes for testing, sometimes just because he’s nice like that.

Saturday evening (the night of the Self Imposed Inquisition) I was having a girl’s night at Fairy’s house with GS, Sadie, and Elle and we were discussing Pieter’s homecoming later this month.  He’s been abroad for a long while and the moment he gets back, they are turning him right about and all going on a trip to France, Belgium, and Switzerland – lucky devils!

Anyway, the subject turned to things he will need, quand il retourne aux Etats-Unis, after his extended jaunt and naturally enough the subject turned to phones.  He’s resuming his business studies and my godmother wanted to know whether he would need a smart phone for his program.  Which discussion segued naturally into a debate about whether smart phones are necessary in today’s society.

Pictured: my techno nightmare.

I said that although I think someday they will be, we’re not there yet.  At least I’m not.  I use my phone for talking to people and occasional text messaging (I’m old school and prefer to have actual conversations with people, and not just sound bytes) but not too much else.  That and I lose it constantly.  If it were up to me, we might never have moved on from stone tablets.

In fact, the analogy I used went like this: “Smart phones are like laser hair removal.  I’d love it, but it’s way too pricey.  A few years from now I’ll probably leap on the bandwagon late, but it will be cheaper.  They’ll have come up with something newer and shinier to do the same job.”  Verbatim.  These are the sorts of deep discussions we have.

C. Canis Minor – classical philosopher.

And wouldn’t you know it, Sunday we had a family dinner with J.’s clan. Present was a sister-in-law visiting from Chicago, the one who happens to be married to the same brother mentioned above.  And guess what presents she arrived with?

The irony of it.

So now I’m trying to figure out this fancy new interface and touch screen, terrified that any second now I’m going to push a button that will cause our phone bill to soar to several thousand dollars a month.  Or that I’ll drop it.  In a fit of paranoia I had to entire rearrange my purse so that my new phone has its own compartment and can’t get scratched by keys, lipstick, or any other paraphernalia.