blog anxiety

I’ve been having blog anxiety lately.  I feel the need to update this frequently, but I don't want it to  be lame or boring, and um, well, let's not explore that too much. Even though the average person spends about 90 seconds on a blog, and it seems like it shouldn't be too hard to not be boring for 90 seconds a day, well, I dunno. I've been trying to stop worrying about it all when this happened: I put up a link to Humorbloggers.com, and the other day got a note from them that they only want to connect with funny blogs.  Fair enough, but ouch. I like to think it’s just not a very funny time of year, which it is definitely not.

In the midst of this, I was in a coffee shop over the weekend with C., and overheard a conversation that at first was interesting, but after a bit, I was struck by how boring it is, reminding me of just how annoyed I get by that, and adding to the blog anxiety.  I do not want to be that person.  I have these people who come in to a cubicle at work, mine or someone else’s, and just talk in the most boring way ever, and stay forever and ever.  Do you have that?  We’ve devised a strategy, Operation Jessica.  Remember Jessica Lynch?  She got captured in Iraq and was a prisoner, and they sent special forces to get her out?  Well, maybe that’s not what happened, but it was the story for a while.

 Here’s how it translates to the workplace.  Someone comes in, stays for a long time, saying the same thing again and again and again.  Not repeating an interesting story, but just tedium.  Example: 

“Um, Betsy, someone came into the permit center and had a question about clearing in a stream buffer, and I told them to talk to you."

“Okay, great,” I respond.  That’s where it should end.  But it doesn’t. 

“Yes, I told them your e-mail address and phone number, so they might contact you.” 

"Okay, thanks.”

“See, they want to clear some vegetation in the buffer, I think it’s 14,000 square feet, and they’re going to call you about that.  I told them to.”

“Okay.”

“Her name is Lisa.  She may contact you.”

“Okay.”

“About the clearing.”

“Got it.”

“They may also want to put a picnic table down there, but she wasn’t sure.  I told her she should call you.  See, sometimes they like to have a picnic in the summer, but I told her to call you about all of this.”

“Okay.”

"I gave her your inforomation so she may call you."

And on and on it goes, we keep circling the same block, like lap swimming without the cardio benefits.

After the fifth or sixth time around, each time, with an increase in the tedious level of detail, I ramp up my “time for you to leave” body language, beginning with not responding, then turning to face the computer and beginning to type.  Even putting my iPod back on.  I know, this is rude.  But it usually goes unnoticed; I can pop out of my iPod many minutes later and still hear the same stuff going on.  This is when Operation Jessica gets going. A co-worker who sees what’s going on acts as the special forces, and calls on the phone.  The only fun part of the game is doing a one-sided conversation that you need to feign long enough for the person to actually leave.  If the phone call is too short, the person will just sit and wait for you to be done, or start walking away, but return the second they hear you hang up.  I know.  The thing that so completely doesn't help with the anxiety about being boring is this: the other day I was in a nearby cubicle, participating in what I thought was an interesting conversation, when the phone rang. I know! What does it mean?

I’m just saying, this is the material I have to work with, and the blog suffers.  I might get to the part about the boring guy in the coffee shop soon.  Oh, how I wish I hadn't said that.