“Whoever one is, and wherever one is, one is always in the wrong if one is rude. ”
~ Maurice Baring
Dear World at Large,
Me again! You know, if you could just learn one or two of these little lessons I’m trying to get across, we wouldn’t have to speak so often. You could go along your merry way and I could kick back and return to chuckling benignly at your expense. But alas, you seem determined to thrust yourself rudely at me, and here we are.
This one will be pretty short:
We salute you, brave barista.
It is an almost laughable fallacy of yours that customer service will get better as you get nastier. Snarling (literally) at us, calling us foul names, rolling your eyes and making “under your breath” commentary about the person trying to help you (heavy on the word “incompetence”) might be a nice, passive aggressive way for you to make your feelings known, but it will not speed us up. It will not imbue us with bureaucratic powers we do not currently posses and it will not endear you to us. Screaming at us will actually make us less inclined to work with you, as we will be primarily concerned with getting you out of our hair.
And, here’s a tip, if you are determined to be a b***** or a b******, being surprised when someone responds to you in kind doesn’t become you. Because someday, some brave soul not confined to office-job-obligated politeness will let you have it. And you will find it a harrowing experience.
“Mystery is at the heart of creativity. That, and surprise.” – Julia Cameron
How’s that for a title, piglets? Doesn’t that just thrill your soul? Aren’t you just mad afire to solve this Agatha Christie sounding mystery? Are you already twirling your Poirot-ish mustache and cracking your knuckles, ready to pounce and out the murderer, find the money, unmask the fiend, and kick up your heels after with a glass of port and the knowledge of a mystery tidily wrapped up?
Well, I’m sorry to disappoint because this, my enterprising sleuths, is about the silliest, least exciting, and yet most perplexing case I’ve yet to be a part of.
It all started when a young traveler coming in from China to our campus went missing. I was called into a meeting where very many men in smart suits were sitting dourly at a table with our police officers. They represented various university and otherwise organizations and they had misplaced a young woman. Or rather, after flying into the country she had misplaced herself.
We're on it!
My duty in all of this was the fulfillment of dreams spawned from watching illogical cop dramas – I got to fill out the white board! I traced timelines, physical descriptions, suspicions, all of it. There was talk of embassies, visas, the FBI, human trafficking, slavery, kidnapping, scandal! They shipped investigators all over, avoided the media, and formulated theories like champs.
And it turns out, that after flying all the way here, going through the visa process, paying for her trip, she got here, got cold feet, and turned right around and went back to China. With narry an scorned heiress, missing fortune, or diabolical butler to be seen.
“A child is a curly dimpled lunatic.”
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
As excited as I am about our move (and as daunted by the still colossal amount of work we have to do), life goes on here at the police department.
During summer campus is divided up between sports campus, youth groups, lecturers, exhibitions, and (of course) the Mob of Idiots. Officers debate which of these events are the most stressful to work, but I find I get the best stories out of the kids running around.
Kids. If I ever run out of ideas, maybe I'll spawn a few.
However, nothing will beat the day many summers ago when I was interning at NATO. It was the one day a year the embassy was open to school groups and a small horde of five year olds were invading to be led around, fed cookies, and meet the ambassador. Halfway through their visit, alarms went off. Someone had threatened the compound with a bomb.
We had several procedures in place for this sort of thing. We dismantled our computers and locked various things away in explosion proof safes and lockers as per normal. The soldiers were supposed to come through and verify that everything was secure before exiting. I say “supposed to” because in reality they were suddenly charged with herding scores of excited children towards the nearest exit (“Is this a fire drill? A bomb threat? Cool!”). I’ve never seen so many brawny, overly muscled men look so haggard.
There exists somewhere the real quote but for the life of me, I can’t find it. Here’s a rough overview. “When God wants to punish someone, he gives them what they asked for.” – poorly paraphrased by C.
For myself, I’m sort of wishing the world had spun off into the screaming void. Mondays often have that effect on me, but today has been particularly challenging, pumpkins.
Ever since the term ended I have been literally begging for more work to do, and finally Lt. Citrus informed me that I would be assisting him to prepare for a campus showcase in which our department would participate. My delight quickly turned to dismay when it transpired that I would be in charge of making posters and handout cards in the hundreds. Why dismay, you ask? Because in order to get these made in the cheapest way possible I would have to use the campus print and copy center.
Oh. I beg to differ.
Only someone who has spent the hours I have – cutting out hundreds of laminated booklets, having packets made up (only to have an officer come to me hours later and say that he now wanted another version instead – after approving the first version multiple times), stamping, printing, reconfiguring, scanning, and weeping – can comprehend the sense of futility the print and copy center brings me. I am inevitably helped by a well meaning but still-being-trained-sorry! freshman who can’t operate the machinery. The power goes out in the middle of a massive scanning job. Against all odds and common sense my projects are cut the wrong way sending half pages (containing words and data!) into a garbage bin.
Already they have had to reprint the posters I requested because they came out with myriad ink lines streaking them – the employee didn’t notice these glaring gashes of black and blue – and they have had to re-cut 500 cards. And to cap it all off, as I was coming back to the office, the heavens opened and the rain. Came. Down.
Sigh. Cheer me up, ducklings, any fun stories of customer service?
“And after this there is void. Absolutely nothing…except, of course, for the sweet trolley and our fine selection of Aldebaran liqueurs. And now, at the risk of putting a damper on the wonderful sense of doom and futility here, well I’d like to welcome a few parties.” – Douglas Adams
Barring those who have, in fact, been living under rocks you will no doubt be aware that according to some, the End Times kick off tomorrow. Sorry about those brand new, still green bananas you bought and the fact that you just cleaned your house. I, for one, am disappointed. Where are the zombies?!
Editor’s Note: Here they are. In theory. I wish more survival classes had been taught with a dash of humor.
In any event, no I am not one of those who thinks the world will collapse into the screaming blackness of nothing tomorrow morning. But it’s a slow day at work, minions, and so Wise and I banded together and sold Susie on the idea of an End of the World/Zombie Apocalypse/It’s Friday party. Cupcakes provided.
Anyone have a good “End of the World” story to share? Here’s one. My family never freaked out about Y2K and generally found the panic rather funny. A couple neighbors tried to warn us of the perils that awaited (some religious, some not) but we politely thanked them for their concern and went along as usual. The evening of December 31st, my parents went off to their normal New Years’ Eve party and Peregrine came over to help me babysit my siblings. After they’d gone to bed we stayed up watching old monster movies (Godzilla featured heavily) and black and white films. When midnight came we annoyed all our neighbors by running into the yard and shouting, “HAPPY NEW YEAR!”
Then, quite suddenly, there was a massive, crashing roll of thunder right over our house and a crack of lightening. We glanced at each other.
“D’you think…?”
“Nope. But…”
“Back inside?”
“Yes!”
“Let’s just go walking in the rain.” – Billie Holiday
I only wish I was snoring, dumplings! Spring has really lingered this year – which I don’t mind in the least. I hate that the American West catapults from blizzards to blazing several times in the same week. If we can put off broiling heat for another month, I’ll enjoy the downpour. It’s been going for three days now with little sign of stopping.
The only thing that I don’t like about rain is that I’m an adult and can’t go play in puddles, I have to be responsible and sit at a desk that’s nowhere near a window so I can’t even get a whiff of that fabulous rain smell. Rainy days should not be spent at work, they should be spent at home in comfy pajama pants with a cup of tea or hot chocolate and a book.
“Next to excellence is the appreciation of it.”
~ William Makepeace
Being a secretary is largely thankless. It doesn’t matter that you can’t use a fax machine without my help and haven’t the faintest clue how to order your own printing paper, I will still be lower on the totem poll. It’s worrying, poodles.
But it’s Office Administrative Professionals Week and Susie bought us all cupcakes to celebrate our awesomeness. I’m munching on a chocolate cake with cream cheese frosting and Nutella stuffed little tribute to the fact that we are good at our jobs. Cheers!
“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.
“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.
“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!
Small Dog Syndrome 