Don't worry about the sidearm

Yesterday one of the people at my office who is on the “lifeboat”, which is what they call it when you’ll probably be laid off in 2 weeks, but maybe not and nobody’s giving you any information, came into my cubicle. 

“Have you heard of ________,” he asks.  He’s in typical form:  talking in a low mutter, leaning in close, using a rapid mumble so that words tumble out of his mouth as if they’re anxious to get out and need to hurry before he catches on.  It wouldn’t require too much acting for him to be in a mafia movie.

“Nope,” I reply.

“Well, you’ll be getting that project.  When you see the comments about needing a sheriff accompaniment to visit the site, ignore it.  He’s threatened County employees with a sidearm, but you’ll be fine.”

“Um, okay.”  In addition to the people who have already lost their jobs, which is especially sad because these jobs are not coming back anytime soon, and people have spent their career developing a freaky little specialty that doesn’t apply anywhere else, there are those who remain, with their own set of problems.  Missing people they’ve worked with for years, taking on more work, and, more complicatedly (is that a word?), trying to unravel the back-stories of each project in an efficient yet heartful way.

We spend a lot of time looking in file drawers in empty cubicles, trying not to get too irritated.  Picture that someone started knitting a complicated sweater from a pattern they made up from their head, taking few notes, and then left it for you to finish up.   It’s exactly like that, without the sweater. 

This guy continues, “I really don’t think he’ll bring out the sidearm with you.  The thing you gotta help him with, though, is that thing, what’s it called when you can’t throw stuff out?  See, his wife died a year ago, and the house is full of clutter.  He’s got that thing where you’re really messy but worried about cleanliness.  You’re gonna have to help him with that.”

On the one hand, I’m thinking, um, really?  Is there a wetland involved?  But I’m actually sad, because that’s what’s going out the door.  Freaky people, granted, who may never work again because, well, you can imagine.  And yet, this guy knows that the man in question is grieving a wife, and has OCD, and he stops by to visit and try to talk him into getting rid of the sewing machine and the hundreds of dress patterns that clutter up the house.

“When you go over there, go in through the garage and take your shoes off.  I understand what he’s going through.  We want immortality through our things.  He needs a daughter to take that sewing machine.”

“Does he have a daughter?”

“Nope, two sons.  I was over there having a coke the other day… Hey, he’s looking for super soft cloths to dust with that won’t cause scratching.  Do you know where to buy those?"

I was having opposing thoughts:  on the one hand, shit, now I have do deal with the OCD whack-job who makes threats with guns, and on the other hand, I was reminded once again that sometimes the stuff we measure in the workplace isn’t the right stuff.  Sometimes a weird side effect of land use regulation is that it takes random lonely people and requires that they engage with the giant bureaucracy, which gives them an outlet for their anger about the way their lives are going down, and also, if they’re lucky, a chance to connect with someone who bothers to figure them out just a little bit.

“See, I’ve got sons, right?   And I have 27 screwdrivers.  When I go, if they only choose three to keep, and get rid of the rest, well, there goes my immortality.  Each of those screwdrivers meant something to me, and I need them to want all 27 or my life has been a bit of a waste, you see?”

I didn’t really see, but I was glad it all made sense to him.

This story is continued here

Confused

Hi Kohrtnee,

(Somehow your name reminds of the word chortle. It's late and I'm rummy, maybe that's why...)

I have two questions:

1. There is a certain relative of mine who needs to find a new place to live. Do ya think suggesting he/she plop one of these nearby would be the right encouragement? Heck, I wouldn't mind living in one of these if the location was right. It kinda says funk/eco more than trailer park. (Oops, was that a gaffe?) This relative isn't living with me, by the way, but is making those who have to live with him/her rather miserable. So just how kosher is it to say 'um, hey, relative, it's time you moved out and left your relations alone!'? (Gender disguised to protect the not-so-innocent.)

2. Why is there an Ask N'3lvra blog with the most recent post being a stale February, 2005?

Sign me,

Confused Chortler


Dear Confused,

I watched the video and almost got seasick.  So I watched it again and again and pretended I was on an oceanic cruise to a warm locale.  Then I remembered, wait, what was the question, requiring that I watch it yet again, with that in mind.  I think, yes, it is the right encouragement.  For what, I'm unsure.

Do you know those people who were in the war, and they keep bringing up the old stories?  Yes, I thought you did.  'Nuf said about the old blog.

Faithfully yours,
N'3lvra (three is silent)

Hey Frankie, you're not my bro

 I get an e-mail about once a week from someone named Frank Fenimore.  He seems to think he's my brother.  He says stuff like, "did you get that puzzle I sent you? When can I come over and work on it with you? Love from your brother."

I don't have any brothers (that I know of), and it seems more than a little odd. It's been going on for a while.  Maybe  years. There are local references, like, "shall we meet at Coho's in Monroe for a drink?" What has tipped me over the edge is this weeks' note:
 Greetings

 Happy New Year
 How is that new cat?

 Your Cat free brother

Yes, he uses that enormous blue font.  Why does everyone think I have a cat? 

R. thinks I'm a douchebag (his word) for not replying and saying, Hey Frankie, we aren't bros. (R. claims he's a pro at using the word douchebag, a word that I find rather vulgar, because one time he was required by a teacher to write a little essay on what the word meant.  I'll let you imagine why he had to write that essay.  As a result of his research, he feels particularly qualified to use it.)  But I think Frankie should  already know we aren't related, don't you?  Does anyone else have an imaginary cyber-brother?

Enviler

Dear Kalamazoo-
What do you have to say to a person whose job is to be part of a tech team and she can't figure out how to answer your alter-ego's (are we talking Three faces Of Eve?) hilarious blog?

And what would you have to say about a person who threw away the handmade soap her college roommate sent them for Christmas because the smell of it immediately transported her to a restroom of a Phillips 66 gas station, like in Redding or Bakersfield, CA. I'm suddenly filled with self loathing and here it is the 1st day of a brand new year.
                                                                     signed,
                                                                       Vila Enviler

My Dear Vila,
Khortnee doesn't get many christmas cards or gifts, but when she does, she immediately pitches them in the trash or recycling (I guess you'd need to put them in the haz mat receptacle?) Or, more awkwardly, she donates them to the garage sales of the people who originally gave them. 

Don't be full of self-loathing (though if you hadn't pitched the soap, you coulda' been full of self lather, but I digress.)  The rest of us love you very much, so get on with yer new year and fill in your lungs with something other than the smell of the gas station.

PS The internet where I live also smells a little like Redding, and a lot like Boring, OR.

The 'scopes

Aries (3/21 – 4/19): You should watch that movie about the guy who digs up a stump, varnishes it, presents it to his wife as a baby, and the wife nurses it until it comes alive and eats the postman. Oh, you’ve seen that one? Of course! Maybe you’ll like this? (That’s what Netflix says, anyway.) This will seem like a long week, but make the best of it. Turn up the music and dance.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  Expect a proposition of some sort this week. Hopefully better than the one I got last week, “hey, you should take a few pieces of firewood on your way out.” Um, hello, you think my price for not calling it a stream is a tenth of a BTU?

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21): If you’re honest, you’ll admit that you too are afraid of air travel, and a drink or two does take the edge off. But keep your wits about you and your id handy. Watch Harold and Maude again, fer chrissakes!  Once is not enough.

Cancer 6/22 – 7/21: Do you think people use the word, “paradigm” in order to seem smart? I read this today: “Today we look at media technologies that are enabling not only greater freedom, but a new communicative paradigm which will, in part, help steer us to the great discoveries of this moment in history.” Then when you read the article, it’s about how social networking sites allow for grassroots conversations to emerge. AND, shouldn't it be "that" in the sentence, rather than "which"?  Yes, I believe so.  Did they really need to call that a communicative paradigm? I don’t think so. You’ll encounter similar pretension this week, but don't put up with it, even for a minute.

Leo (7/23 – 8/22): Get one of those mood dresses, will ya? Let me know how it works out. Oh, wait, I’ll already know, duh, that’s the whole point. It looks like it goes pretty well with everything.

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22): Does it seem like you’re easily bored? Me too! Check out the new blogs on the right, I think you might enjoy them. You might also like Cowboy Mouth.  Try "Jenny Says."  But meanwhile, your week will be full of back to the grind; you might wish to take up a vice or two.


Libra (9/23 – 10/22): Wow, you have awesome kids, completely worth every penny that you spend on them, which is no small sum. You should focus on the ordinary resolutions and try to stay a little bit closer to the bell curve this week. There’s plenty of room in here for you.

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21): What a difficult resolution you’ve selected, to be more thorough in every single thing you do. I’m not sure if anyone else cares much about the format of a bibliography entry, but I do think it’s excellent that you’re going to try to do them, and everything else, correctly this year.

Sagitarius (11/22 – 12/21): What do you think of the Kombucha Botanic #13? Hoax, health risk, or miracle cure? I can’t decide. Try it this week and let me know how it goes. That will give you a chance to use the word “scobie” in a sentence.

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19): It looks like you’ll get an interesting proposition this week too. Yours should be more like the one my co-worker got. We were standing around on someone’s waterfront fancy-pants property, admiring it; when the woman who lived there came out, co-worker said, “wow, wish I could live here”, or something like that, to which woman said, “you should hook up with my husband. He’s flexible that way.” (I know, and meanwhile I get offered the two crummy pieces of firewood.) So be sure to follow up on this interesting offer, and let us all know how it goes.

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18): Do you think Dr. Drew’s reality show about celebrity rehab is taking advantage of addicts, or helping them? I’ve never seen it, myself. Watch that and let me know what you think.

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20): It’s a tradition in Mexico to ring in the new year wearing new underwear, yellow if your resolution involves money, and red if it involves love. Alas, this year, Mexican markets sold more yellow than red, but you should enter the year in red. Oh, wait, what’s that, you don’t wear underwear? Um, this is a good time to start.

Spineless

Dear N‘3lvra

Ok, it took me a while to write you, but there is no way around it. I seem to have been severely traumatized by losses in my life and now I seem to find myself increasingly putting up with nonsense because I don’t want to lose people as a consequence of my possible not-putting-up-with-sh…tuff.

For example, I have been thinking about breaking up with my counselor. I felt that we have lived apart and may not have too much in common; also the fire has cooled down in the bedroom … oh wait – wrong relationship. Anyway – you know, when you feel like they don’t really see you but only their reflection in you and then the part about not really listening (or taking notes for what it’s worth). So I talked to my friends and all agreed that it’s time to break up and I was determined to do so.

I didn’t want to do it in email, or a text message because I know what it feels like to be dumped that way. I thought about calling at a time when I could be sure to reach the answering machine, but kept putting it off. So the next thing I know, my counseling apptoinment was coming up and I decided to do the deed in person.

I get there, bring all the things that have not been working on my radar, while I wait for her. She comes and asks me how I am and I say – tersely – FINE! She stops whatever she is doing and asks again: Really? And there … I already feel bad for being so overtly terse. I soften my tone: Yes, really. And she asks me: Have you ever considered hypnotherapy? OMG – how did she know? It was the magic word – all that was needed to turn my almost backbone to pudding. It’s true – I feel that I have sliced and diced my problems in any possible way and analyzed them to their atomic level. And after all the slicing and dicing, I have a gazillion of new ways to look at my life – obsessing over what the hell went wrong, never sure if I truly think, believe, or feel something or only think that I am thinking, believing, or feeling something.

In short: I need a way to just shut down all the chatter in my brain, so I can have a chance at hearing the tiny whisper of my gut. Since trying to tell my brain to shut up is as successful as trying to not read a sign that says: “Do not read this sign!” I have taken a meditation class and tried meditating… almost religiously (which may be the problem, because I am not religious). Couldn’t do it. So – hypnosis sounded like the silver bullet for my mental demons. I came back and tried it … and all the time I can tell that it’s just not working. I did not feel the warm sand under my feet and did not see the pool of enlightenment. I also did not see the figure that was supposed to be my guide. Mainly I was wondering if it would be ok to scratch that itch I felt on my nose. (I decided not to). When I “came back” (from not ever having been “gone”), I was disappointed. She said it takes time and getting-used-to, I think it might take something else which I may simply not have: faith.

What do you think? Should I keep working on it or should I throw the towel? Or – should my therapist and I go to couple’s counseling before simply giving up? What if it’s me, not her? I just hate break-ups … argh!

Spineless near Seattle

Dear Spineless,

Okay, sorry it took me so long to write to you, but remember: in the event of a real emergency, please hang up and call 9-1-1. (whenever I get to typing 9-1-1 I wonder if the pentagon was actually hit by a missile launched by the American government?) Oh, and speaking of emergencies, the weirdest thing happened yesterday, my blackout buddy, which sounds way more fun than it is, started beeping. I know! What was that about?

Oh, I'm sorry, our session is just about over. Don't you hate it when the people who are supposed to help you are all about themselves, which is what I think is what's going on with both the blackout buddy and the therapist. Breakup already. Texting is fine for that.

Pants Mission

Yesterday I took R. shopping for pants, which is both rather a huge deal and makes it seem like this blog is all about the pants area, which it’s not.

Since 2007 he has only worn shorts, and I suggested that he might be more successful in his job hunt with pants on. I didn’t go into the part about how when it’s 40 degrees and raining, wearing shorts could potentially, and I’m not saying I do this, but could lead one to assume you have poor decision making skills or something. Would someone wearing shorts in the cold rainy winter know that the lettuce doesn’t go at the bottom of the bag?

We went to a bunch of stores and he tried on, oh, maybe 83 pairs of pants, and none really worked, so we finally went to the Gap, which undoubtedly takes advantage of children in far-away lands to make fashionable pants for first world hipsters, as is probably the case for every store we went in.

But I’m kind of proud of The Gap because the American Family Association is boycotting them. The AFA is pissed that The Gap hasn’t mentioned Christmas in any of their ads, and the Gap responded by saying something like, hey, people celebrate lots of things but they all wear pants and we’re good with that. Which royally pissed off the Christian right, causing me to go, "huh?"

Lemme get this straight. The AFA believes that Christmas should be focused on Jesus’ birth, and it shouldn’t be commercialized, but if you’re selling stuff, you damn well better mention that you’re targeting people who are celebrating the birth of Jesus? I’m sitting here trying to wrap my brain around that logic and come up with an analogy to explain it, but I’m just not that strong.

My effort did lead me to search for analogies on the internet, one of which was, “John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.” I think that’s as good of an analogy as I’m going to come up with for this boycott.

At any rate, the hip male employee helped R. out, thus ending his 3-year no-pants streak. The thing about looking for a job these days is that you can do a lot of it on the internets. You don’t even really need the pants.

R. was working on an application to a major grocery chain when he came to the question of gender. There was a drop-down list of choices: 1) do not wish to disclose; 2) male 3) female; 4) unknown. Really, unknown? I am familiar with the fact that there are gender ambiguous people, but seriously, we’re talking about bagging groceries here. Does it seem like someone's chromosomal make-up shouldn't be so relevant?

After our hard-won success at the pants, we went to celebrate with M. Well, actually we ate at the restaurant where she works, so she didn't celebrate much, except for stealing a few bites from my plate. While there, we learned a bit more about the gang that some of the employees belong to.

Here’s how it goes: it was started Long Ago, like 15 years back. The name of this gang, which I wouldn’t want to reveal for obvious reasons (they like to “crush” people) is similar to “Animosity Village,” only bigger and meaner. To be in it, you need the signatures of all of the current members on a petition. To entice them to sign, one must buy drinks for current members until they decide that you should be in. One of the percs is that they have a shoulder patch. I know! So you can see why someone would want to join. It does crack me up to imagine these angry gang members developing the patch and the membership paperwork.

One of M’s co-workers is trying to get in, and has garnered 2.5 signatures over the past month. (Yes, someone decided to only put their first name down for the moment.) Only 97.5 sigs to go… Again, I’m all, huh? Who would want to do that, and who would want to be in a club with a bunch of insecure suck-ups? Oh wait, did I say that out loud? If there aren't posts soon, you'll know what happened...

As always, thanks for reading...