Simplest is Best

Trying to figure out what to say when I arrived at work:

"Sorry I'm a few minutes late. I was trying to sand the superglue off my fingers."

Too weird.

"Sometimes when I make things, I get too impatient."

This is not your fault. Superglue is superglue. 

No one has used it without getting it on one's fingers. 

It is a physical impossibility.

"One way I show people I care about them is to make them things."

No. What if everyone at work thinks I don't like them 

because I don't make them things?

"I had a little mishap that needed to be handled."

Terrible idea. My coworkers love drama. 

"Mishap" will become something like, "She burned down her house in a fit of rage."

"Sorry I was late."

Perfect.

A Reminder

I think everybody does it. I look at my life and see only the things that I perceive to be lacking. I look at my job and I see the frustration, the annoyance with coworkers' habits, the fact that I'm not able to sit on my couch, knitting and eating bonbons all day.

I forget that my job is actually pretty great. I'm helping people have a meaningful place to express their religious identity. I don't have to deal with people all day (just some). I have my own space. I work very normal hours. I work with people who care about each other, even though that sometimes feels little more like a dysfunctional family than I'd prefer.

And, for the love of all that is holy, I am lucky. There are so many jobs that suck, not just ones that I might not enjoy, but ones that are dirty and smelly and filled with assholes and dangerous. So. Many.

So, as a reminder, I made myself something and hung it in my office.

Get a grip, Bonnie. You do not work in a Chilean mine.

Amen.

True Story: Support Desk

I sent this to the Support Desk (which is not particularly supportive, so I think they should change their #&)% name):

I'm not positive you guys are in charge of exorcisms, but my phone is possessed.

Randomly, while the handset is hung up, it will start beeping a busy signal and the screen will say Unknown Number. I have to pick up the handset, hang it back up, and then it will do it again a few seconds later. Typically, it does it four times in rapid succession and then stops. It's not near a time when I make or receive a call, and I'm positive the handset is hung up properly when it does it.

This has been happening for months, but it was sporadic enough that I never bothered anyone about it. Nobody else has complained about their phone doing it. Today it's probably done it 6 times. It's possible it's trying to push me over the edge.

If someone has time, can they see if this is a known problem with the 7965 phones or if there's anything I can do? Thanks.

Well, now it's probably done it 30 times, which might as well be 30 million. It did it while I was on the phone with the support desk. My phone put the support desk on hold and started beeping at me from a new line. I may or may not have said, rather loudly, "Oh, FUCKER."

I mentioned this is my busiest time of year at work, right? I thought so. 

Send good energy and chocolate covered coffee beans.

Now I Understand

It's been a rough few weeks at work. Everything seems to be breaking, and I don't know how to fix most of it. I keep reminding myself that the "only way out is through"* and that my background is in theology instead of IT and therefore I shouldn't expect to be able to fix IT problems.

Still, there's only so far that reasonable attitude can take me. Last night I stopped at the grocery to pick up the necessities: milk, bananas, and Ben & Jerry's Phish Food frozen yogurt.

Milk. Check.

Bananas. Check.

The frozen yogurt is on the top rack in the freezer. The flavors to the left and right are there. I can see the Phish Food, but it's too far back on the rack and I can't reach it. I spent a couple of futile attempts trying to reach it with other things. I briefly consider asking a tall stranger to help, but reject that idea since my attitude is lousy enough I don't trust myself to appear cheery rather than crazy. No need to scare strangers in the freezer section.

Is it more likely that I a) have pissed off the Universe in some way, b) the Universe is saving me from myself by not allowing me to medicate through chocolate, or c) there's been a run on this particular flavor and the Universe has nothing to do with it?

Okay, I know the answer is C. I really do. But still.

*Thanks, Alanis.

State Your Intentions

I am in the thick of the Season of Stupidity at work. It comes every year around this time. This year, it's particularly early, but I'm clinging to the fact that an early beginning means an early ending.

Right at the beginning, I made someone mad at me. I knew she was going to get mad. That's another ritual of the Season of Stupidity: People act stupidly. (And often predictably. This particular person gets mad every year.)

So, although I didn't let it bother me too much that she was angry, it did give me the opportunity to review my actions and see if I could do any better. Could I have done my job in such a way that it didn't make that person mad? Probably not. But, I could perhaps have tried to be kinder. It wouldn't have made any difference in this particular case, but it was something to think about moving forward.

I gave some thought to how I wanted to behave, and I decided to focus on three things:

Competent: My job at this time of year gets complicated and mired in minutia. Of the three, I do the best in competence. I'm good at my job.

Careful: Sometimes I move too quickly, and I could avoid errors if I were a little more careful. I'm fairly good at this, but it could use more focus. In the interaction with the cranky lady, she might have been less cranky if I hadn't made a silly typo. Probably not, but maybe.

Kind: This is the one that needs the most attention. Yesterday I was rebuilding a computer--something I really don't have time to do right now--because the end user had gotten a virus that the IT company called "particularly insidious." There is little doubt that the end user got the virus by using the Internet for non-work-related things, and that makes me cranky. She felt horrible, and it wouldn't have done any good to be snarky with her. I tried really hard to focus on being kind... and I told her not to use her computer for non-work-related things.

We have a ridiculously complicated, labor-intensive process at work for this Season of Stupidity. I'm trying to remember that the public only deals with this process once a year. The majority of them aren't trying to be assholes; they just don't understand that we need things a certain way because omg there are 1500 of you. Kindness.

I have no illusions that I'm going to be able to pull this off in all of my interactions over the next six weeks. I do, however, want to dedicate myself to trying.

I hereby formally state my intentions.

Go ahead and send a little positive energy into the universe on my behalf. Thanks.

Cabled Wrap - Can I Get an Amen?

Tonight was the work event that necessitated me borrowing a dress, putting on heels, a squisher, a hairdo with more bobbypins that I can count, and....

 

Reversible Cabled-Rib Shawl (mine ravelled here),

knit in Knit Picks Alpaca Cloud, Smoke Heather colorway

 

 

the cabled wrap.

 

This wrap had a long and painful journey*, and I'm really glad to get some wear out of it before it truly turns hot. I think I'll wear it a lot--I hope I'll wear it a lot. I'd better wear it a lot.

 

I knit it narrower than the pattern called for. I used 120 stitches and also omitted the garter stitch edge. After blocking, it measures 14.5" x 72".

 

Once I was safely finished casting off, I calculated how many stitches are in this little wrap.

 

Not including the cast on or bind off, there are 47,400 stitches.

 

I'm grateful to be in my pajamas, grateful to have washed my hair twice to rid it of the stench and stiffness of hairspray, grateful that the most strenuous thing I'm doing tomorrow is meeting a friend for lunch (while wearing jeans and a t-shirt), and grateful to be going to bed.

Have a wonderful rest of the weekend!

*If you want to read more of this sad tale, you can here and here.

Nope, I Didn't Make It

One of my coworkers, seeing I was knitting something during lunch, told me he had a "giant handknit sweater from Ireland." I incredulously asked if he was speaking of an Aran fisherman's sweater. He had no idea, but he was kind enough to bring it in for me to see.

Wow.

I don't feel drawn to knit a sweater like this, but I appreciate the heck out of it. Part of me is filled with hope that someday after I'm gone, a knitter will look at something I made and recognize the time and effort that went into it.

Look around. Art is everywhere.

Grieving

Before anyone thinks something bad has happened, let me assure you it has not--at least not to me.

I work in a synagogue, which means I watch Bar and Bat Mitzvah students arrive in the afternoon to meet the Cantor to practice their Hebrew, babies carried through on their way to baby namings, dressed up couples arriving for pre-wedding photos.

And there are funerals.

There are doors closer to the sanctuary than the one that goes past my office, but people who have been members for a long time often come to the office door out of habit or to speak to the Rabbis before the service. I sit at my desk and watch the family slog past my office looking shocked, sad, stressed, and broken.

My father died when I was 21. I have no idea what the minister said during the funeral.  (A friend told me later that was a very good thing. Apparently his theology would have made me violent.) I kept looking at my father in the casket, and I was sure I could see him breathing even though I knew he was not.*

On the way to the cemetery from the funeral home, we drove a road I have driven hundreds or thousands of times.  It was late October, and one of the fields we passed was being harvested.

The farmer stopped the tractor, took off his hat, placed it over his chest, and sat immobile until the entire funeral procession passed.  I can still see him, and I bow to the ground to him.

When someone you love dies, the most gut-wrenching part is that the world keeps going. People go to work, go for coffee, help their kids with their homework, pick up their dry cleaning. They keep living their life as if the whole world hasn't shifted with the loss of the human being you loved. Your world is changed, but their world has not.

On days when there's a funeral at the synagogue, I dress up and wear black. If the family glides past my office, I stop typing and sit quietly. It's not enough, and it probably isn't noticed by anyone, but I remember the farmer who was trying to get the harvest in before it frosted, and I remember how he stopped and covered his heart to show respect for the funeral procession of someone he may or may not have known.

For that moment, at least, the world did stop. I knew that nothing was ever going to be the same, and I knew that this stranger understood it, too.

Today I am wearing black.

*I want to be cremated.  Seriously, write it down.  Give away everything you can--organs, eyes, whatever--and then burn the rest. Don't pump me full of chemicals, put me into a cushy box inside a concrete vault and put me in the ground.  Don't.  Thanks.

Fantasy Letter

Dear Work,

This letter is to inform you that I will only be working two more days this month, the days I handle payroll.

Having carefully considered this issue, I have come to the conclusion that I cannot be expected to work this month. There are Things To Do. I need to wrap presents, cook, and, most importantly, sit on my couch and knit. I'm working on a sweater, you see, and it is much more engrossing than the current data cleanup project I've been slogging through at the office.

I know, I know. I preach "garbage in, garbage out" until people want to throttle me.  I understand that data cleanup is important. But is it really so important that it can't wait until January?  That's what I thought.

In case of emergency, I may be reached at home.  By "emergency," I mean "building is burning down and there are puppies and kitties inside."  All other items can wait until January.

Speaking of January, I will not be working the two weeks surrounding my birthday.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and I know we will enter February with renewed appreciation for one another.  Have a happy holiday season.

Love,
Bonnie

When I Rule the World...

So, yesterday the difference between Ps and Js in the Myers Briggs world was strongly reinforced in my brain.  I took a short version of the Myers Briggs test to get my type.

Yes, I already knew what my type was.  It's like rewatching a good movie.  I do the same thing with the belief-o-matic.  It never fails to amuse me, so I've taken it several times.*

I waver between INFJ and INTJ depending on the day and what's going on in my life.  The feeling/thinking letter has always been quite close.

I'm always introverted, and I'm always judging.  Always.

The quiz I took yesterday was interesting in that the results showed "the strength of your preferences" for each type.  For example, I tested as a T, but only with a 1% preference.  I was N with a 38% preference.

My J-ness was much more pronounced, with a 78% preference.

And my introversion?  Everyone knows I'm strongly introverted.  I've talked about it, and anyone who has any awareness at all can see it if they spend any length of time with me.  I'm okay with it, knowing that I have my limits as to how much time I can spend around lots of people before I feel the need to crawl under the table and take a nap.  My I-ness preference was 100%.

I'll buy that.

A friend told me that she knew of a workplace that had employees put their type on their desk.  Other coworkers could see it and interact accordingly.  I recognize most people will think that's weird.  I think it's brilliant.

The INTJ type is called the Mastermind.

You've been warned.

*Today my top four were Mahayana Buddhism, Theravada Buddhism, Neo-Pagan, and UU.  This is my not surprised face.  Feel free to ignore this if it freaks you out.

Subtext

Earlier today I was talking to a colleague.  The conversation went a little something like this:

Him: Can you do X for me?  I can't get to it before I leave town, and I'm not sure I'll have time Monday.  (I don't want to do this.  It's boring and has numbers.  Plus there's an old Sting song stuck in my head.)

Me:  Yes.  (If you could give this task 10 minutes of focused attention, it would be done.) Wait, these dates don't make sense.

Him: Oh.  That doesn't make sense.


Insert significant pause in which he clearly doesn't want to do anything about this and hopes I will tell him not to worry about it.  I don't.


Him: Um, I guess that row didn't get deleted.  (Please let me go now. Lemme go. Lemme go. Lemme go.)


Me: Okay, but this date doesn't make sense either.  What dates have you had class this year?  (For the love of spreadsheets, didn't anyone look at this?  Ever?  Even a little bit? Was it typed by monkeys?)

Him: I'd have to look at a calendar.

I pointedly turn and stare at the wall calendar directly behind my head.  Another pause.


Him: Oh.  We had class on A, B, C, D, and E.  No, not D.  E and F.  Yeah.  E and F.  (I can't be expected to remember this information.  It's been six weeks--no, five weeks.  Why won't she let me leave?  LOOK!  There's something shiny!)


Me: Okay.  Then why does this paper say G?  Is the kid confused? Did he actually work six days? (I want to punch you in the nose and then make you track all these kids down and get proper timesheets. Why can't you see that this matters?)

Him:  Maybe we did have class on G.  Maybe we didn't have it on F.

Me: You just told me you had it on F.

Him: Well, I'm not sure!  I've got a hundred other things on my mind right now!

He left my office at that point, which was really the best outcome for us both. I had a dayflash of stapling his khakis to my guest chair and forcing him to focus with me for 2 minutes. After he left, I found that two kids had clearly said they'd worked 6 days, which wasn't possible if he was right about there being 5 sessions.  I actually started an e-mail to him, and then stopped.

The light bulb came on.

He's a P.  He's the most P person I've ever, ever met.  In the Myers-Briggs world, one of the four personality types differentiates between P (perceiving) and J (judging).  I am a big, fat J.  I'm the most J person you know who doesn't actively take pills for her J-ness... though I probably could.

A P wants to look at all the options, talk about them, and maybe never do anything about it.  A J wants to looks at the options, make a bulleted list of how to move forward, and go straight on that path.  Ps are big picture people.  Js are detail people.  You might want a P to brainstorm different product ideas for you, but you want the J to build the thing and figure out how it's going to get to the marketplace.

Both are necessary.

I have trouble dealing with my P colleague because I can't pin him down and get him to give me the details I need to complete my task.  He has trouble dealing with my J-ness because he doesn't see the importance of all these trifling details.

He's saying, "IT DOESN'T MATTER.  Just move on and get this done."

I'm saying, "I CAN'T do this until you give me these specific pieces of information."

Neither one of us can understand why the other person feels that way.

Well, I understand.  I feel that way because I am right and the way I see the world is the only sensible one, damn it.


When I'm really honest with myself and get my ego tamped down a bit, I can understand how my need for details that others see as unimportant can keep me from getting things done and, quite possibly, drive people crazy.  Sometimes, I suppose, the details are not necessary.  I don't really get it, but I can rationally see how it might be possible if one's brain were wired differently.

It feels better to have a name for our specific crazy.

That's a trait of Js, too.

Percolating

The work business is finally slowing, and I find myself able to breathe again.

Things are percolating in my head.  

And I'm knitting.  So much knitting.

Grateful

After graduate school, I worked at a Unitarian Universalist church for three years.  I was their all-around office person.  I did the financial stuff and the publishing stuff and the explaining-UU-to-curious-people-even-though-it-wasn't-my-tradition stuff and the whatever-else-needs-to-be-done stuff.  I came back to the synagogue at which I had worked part-time throughout graduate school when they had a full-time position, and that was that.

I am so grateful for the time at the church.  The Minister and Director of Religious Education didn't have regular office hours, so often it was just me and the maintenance person who lived in an apartment in the building.  Going from an office with a strong core of people to an office with just me meant lots of things, the most important being:

• Nobody's going to bring in muffins.  You'd better do that sort of thing yourself.
• Nobody's available to unjam the copier.

I've been away from the church for five years,* and I remain grateful for what I learned during that time.  With no one there, there wasn't anyone else to fix whatever went wrong. I learned to figure things out, to research solutions, and to improvise.  I can't overemphasize how helpful that's been to me.

Last week, someone came to me and asked how to change the toner in the duplicator.  Do I know?  No.  Can I figure it out?  Of course.  She later came to me with questions about a program that was new to everyone.  It took two minutes to figure out how to solve her problem because the answer was right on the screen.  I certainly can't fix everything--I'm convinced wireless access is powered by fairy dust--but I'm willing to give things a try.

I sound like a self-righteous jerk, and I don't mean to.  What I'm trying to articulate is that I am grateful I learned to depend on myself and not on someone else.  Even as introverted as I am, I didn't like working in near complete isolation, and I'm happy to be back at the synagogue with my lovely, dysfunctional colleagues.  But I wouldn't give up that experience for anything.

I bow to the ground to that congregation.  And yesterday I brought muffins into work.

*Huh.  How did that happen?

Today I Forgot

Today I forgot that I liked my job.

I forgot that the majority of people are doing the best they can, and it's not worth worrying about the rest.

I forgot that doing things well is not a burden.

I forgot that everything is an opportunity for spiritual practice, whether I recognize it or not.

I forgot that nasty people are secret bodhisattvas.*

I forgot that I'm helping people in their spiritual path through the mundane tasks I'm doing, and that makes them sacred.

I forgot that ultimately it doesn't matter if people know I'm right. 

I forgot that it doesn't matter if I'm right at all.

I forgot to give people grace.

I forgot to give myself grace.

I will try again tomorrow.

*Read books by Geri Larkin for more.

Some Random Stuff I'm Thinking About

I know the post should be called, "Some Random Stuff About Which I'm Thinking."  I wish that didn't sound so awkward.  Prepositions, you are funny things.

• I love to classify things, including myself.  For example, I'm a white, middle-class, liberal female Democrat.  I work with some people who also fit this description, and yet we are very different.  This is fascinating to me.
• People can be jerks.  Pretentious, arrogant, obnoxious jerks.  Turns out that walking quickly on the treadmill helps me get rid of my anger.  This is good because I would undoubtedly be fired if I treated said jerks as I wish to treat them.
• I don't know why I've never read Bram Stoker's Dracula.  I'm reading it now and enjoying it, although I admit to putting it aside to read a couple other books.  I pretend that's because I needed to read library books before they needed to be returned, but that's only partially true.  Although I'm enjoying it, the sexism in the book is making me crazy, and I am stunned by the characters' stupidity.  Of course Mina is going to get bitten.  You're living next door to Count Dracula and he knows you want to kill him, you morons.  
• Are there other classics I really should read because they're actually good?
• It's September 1, and this is the busiest month at my work.  This makes me anxious and sad.  I may not completely exhale until September 28 at 2:30.  I look forward to that moment.
• I'm halfway down the foot of the second sock for my m-i-l's bff.  I'm planning to start a pair of socks for Andrew when the current project is finished.  We have two days' worth of family stuff this weekend, and I hope to knit at both.

Quieting the Monkey

Tuesday was a rough day.  In hopes of making Wednesday better, I decided to try to not say anything negative all day, including not being snarky through IM or Facebook or e-mail.

Guess what?

It turns out that I'm kind of a negative bitch.  I didn't realize it until I consciously decided to stop.

In one instance, I was in a situation and thinking about how I'd later share that situation with others... focusing on the ridiculous behavior of someone else, naturally.  I remembered that I wasn't going to do that today, and so I just sat there with the coworker while my monkey mind kept looking for ways to be negative.

It didn't take long for the chatter in my monkey mind to die down a bit.  What was the use of getting all ramped up about this when I wasn't going to share it with anyone so they could (obviously) agree that I was horribly put upon?  My monkey mind sulked.*

And then something unexpected happened.  The monkey cocked its head and said, "Maybe this person is here because she's afraid she's going to break something and feels that sitting with you will keep her from that."**

Huh.  That's not so bad.  That's quite nice, actually.  I suspect that it's also the truth.

I wonder what else the monkey has missed?

*I looked for a picture of a monkey playing the cymbals to put here, but HOLY COW are they creepy.  Just imagine there's a not creepy image here.


**You'll have to trust me that this makes sense in context.

Trying and Not Trying All At the Same Time

Think of "trying" both in the sense of attempting and in the sense of frustrating.  That's where I am today.

I have been making a conscious effort to be less... well, let's call it what it is-- bitchy at work.  I do like my job, and I choose to work here because of the people with whom I work.  That statement should in no way be construed to mean that I don't regularly want to pop various colleagues in the schnoz.  I do.

Today, when faced with three separate incidents in which people made me frustrated, I realized that I wanted to respond in a snarky way.

I'm not sure I can make this distinction clear, but bear with me.  I actively wanted to respond to colleagues in a way that is unprofessional, unpleasant, and produces negative energy.  Often I feel that I've responded to a situation in such a way as to create negative energy because I reacted instead of stopping to consider my response, but today I found myself feeling a little glee over complaining.

This is not whom I want to be.

So, in the words of Inigo Montoya, I go back to the beginning.

1. In life, there is suffering.  Coworkers feel entitled.  People bring problems that should not be mine and dump them on my desk.  It is a fact.
2. Suffering is caused by craving and desire.  My coworkers make me crazy because I want them to act in ways other than they are.  
3. My suffering can end if I stop craving and desiring things to be other than they are. This doesn't mean that the situation changes.  It means that I choose to be in charge of how I respond.  I do not wish to be a negative person, and so I can choose not to be.  People have control only when I give it to them.  
4. The way to stop craving and desiring things to be other than the way they are is to follow the Eightfold Path: right speech, right action, right thought, right livelihood, right effort, right awareness, right concentration, right understanding.

Image from here

Each portion of the Eightfold Path is like a spoke on a wheel.  They all lead to the same center.  I just need to pick one and focus on it.  I choose right effort.  I am going to actively try to accept situations for what they are and respond in a kind manner.  It is better for me, better for my coworkers, and better for the universe.

I'm fairly sure this is going to be hard and I will fail at it.  It is a laudable goal, and perhaps by focusing some of my effort here, I will have less available effort to be snarky.

And, if I do fail, I've got the rest of this lifetime and lots more to keep working on it.

It's important to me that anyone reading this realizes that I suck at all this.  I don't want to come across as someone who knows what she's doing.  I don't.  I'm not a good Buddhist nor am I a good Christian.  In the words of Geri Larkin, my favorite Buddhist, I'm stumbling toward enlightenment.  We all are.  Maybe life is just a series of "trying again,"  trying again to be the person I want to be even though it seems that I fail nearly all of the time.  


And so I go back to the beginning.

Slow Learner

I'm going to publish this out on the Internets for all (or a good 5-6 people, anyway) to see:

When a webpage won't open on a computer, do not spend hours running various spyware scans to figure out the problem.

Change browsers and see if that helps.


Sigh.  I'm a slow learner sometimes.

Personal Items

A friend of mine has turned in her notice.  We went to lunch today, and she said she had taken stock of her office to see what she would need to take home on her last day.

• One bottle of ibuprofen

That's it.  Her work area is small and not terribly private, and she didn't want it cluttered up with other things.  We both agreed that the symbolism of that bottle was not to be dismissed.

Since we returned to work this afternoon, I've been looking around at my office and contemplating what personal items I have.

• pathos plant
• kalanchoe plant, which, sadly, is not much longer for this world
• bamboo in a glass container
• pretty placemat for the plants to sit on
• card from the flowers Andrew sent me on my first vegiversary
• pretty bowl with rocks in it carved with "peace," "love," and "wisdom"
• word-a-day tear-off calendar
• notepad with personalized pieces of paper
• little blue Buddha statue
• black and white photo of Andrew and me in a frame I painted at a paint-your-own pottery place
• framed collage of photos of a walk we took in a state park
• electric tart burner
• Buddha greeting card from a friend
• cute cell phone holder
• hand lotion
• decent tissues (the work-provided ones are sandpaper)
• Buddha calendar
• framed picture of my dog
• another framed picture of me and Andrew from back in the day
• flower magnets
• striped magnets
• magnets shaped like thumbtacks  (I love me some office supplies.  I am not ashamed.)
• bumper sticker that says, "reading is sexy"
• a copy of the Cincinnati Reds 2011 schedule
• a "B" magnet
• a goldfish notepad
• a picture of my extended family (mom, siblings and their families) in a frame that says, "Our family is weirder than yours."*
• group photo of friends at a wedding
• alma mater magnet
• Master Gardener badge
• Super Grover postcard
• volunteer badge from a Dalai Lama event
• a couple magnets given to me by coworkers
• lip balm (2--one is sparkly)
• ibuprofen
• acetaminophen
• individual tubes of instant coffee
• allergy medicine
• matches
• mirror
• tape measure
• Mr. Sketch scented markers
• microwave popcorn
• packets of Splenda
• therapy word magnets
• notebook
• Rolaids
• neosporin
• anti-itch cream for bug bites
• Q-tips
• deodorant
• more hand cream
• antibacterial gel
• protein bars that taste terrible and should be thrown away
• diet cocoa powder
• powder to flavor bottles of water
• hair elastics
• fancy-colored ink pens (more than I'm comfortable telling you about)
• a monogrammed book weight
• sparkly gray fingernail polish
• cool post-its
• fancy paperclips in various sizes, one with a giant frog on the top
• blank thank you notes
• a pencil with a Buddha pencil topper
• a cardigan

If my coworker has worked here for two and a half years and has one item, does this mean they'll have to haul my dead body away from this office?

Mayhap.

*It's funny 'cause it's true.

Conversation with a Colleague

Him:  Hey, B, I have a finance question for you.  (Stops short and stares at me)  You're wearing the Ubiquitous Sweater!

Me:  (quickly evaluates the likelihood of getting out of this conversation and realizes it is hopeless) Pardon?

Him:  The Ubiquitous Sweater!  When I was in Israel, someone was making fun of someone else for buying an argyle sweater.  They said it was horribly out of date.  Nobody wears argyle anymore.  I told them that lots of people were wearing argyle and I bet we would see it all over the place.  We all started looking for it, and it was everywhere!  Argyle sweaters, argyle hats, argyle socks.  We started calling an argyle sweater the Ubiquitous Sweater.

Me:  (blink, blink, and pause)   I have no idea where to go with this conversation.

I still maintain we should be able to say, "Insert appropriate response here" when stuck in these type of non sequitur conversations.  When I rule the world, things will be different.