Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts

A Chat

"How are you Janice?"

I had become friendly with the new receptionist over the last few weeks.

"Good. I used to say 'I'm Blessed', but I was told I can't say that here."

"Yeah, some people find it offensive."

I wanted to tell her that I don't find it offensive, that I find it meaningless. But then most of our greetings don't carry much meaning.

"I have a question for you."

"Sure."

She handed me her flip phone and asked how she could put the bible on it.

"I'm not sure you can, you may just need to carry a tiny bible in your pocket. You really don't need the Old Testament."

She'd been the receptionist for a few weeks and it was only yesterday that I realized the hoveround parked behind the desk belonged to her. She was always behind the desk when I arrived and behind the desk when I left. I never pictured her arriving on wheels.

I was sitting at the front desk with Janice because my 2PM patient hadn't arrived and Janice seems to like me. I like people who like me.

"I'm going to bible study tonight. Do you go to church?"

"No"

"Are you an atheist?"

She scooted away from me while asking this as if I'd be dangerous if I were an atheist. I didn't answer the question. I don't really know if I am one or not. I guess that makes me an agnostic.

"I was raised in church. Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday night." Maybe this would repair the new rupture in our work friendship.

"Did they tire you out on it"

"I guess that's it"

"Oh, well as long as it's inside you, that's what matters. I like your spirit. I really do. I sense it in you."

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Found on my Desk, Vol. II

To make up for reigniting years of childhood trauma about the way I walk, Carol decided to tell me that I remind her of an actor in the new show, Justified. Old-school U.S. Marshal Raylen Givens is reassigned from Miami to his childhood home in the poor, rural coal-mining towns in Eastern Kentucky.  I'll take it. You can even start calling me Raylen if you like.  No really, call me Raylen.


  

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A Southern Stroll

"Hey Kevin, Carol was just doing a great impression of you".  My coworker, John, said this as I walked into the office while Carol stood in the doorway looking guilty.

"What, Carol?  You can do an impression of me? I need to see it."

"No, no. I was just saying you have a slow southern stroll when I saw you walking to the office".  She went to find backups.

"Yes, you have a distinct walk, Kevin, but I wouldn't say it is particularly Southern.", agreed another coworker.

My family has always mocked the way I walk, saying that I tend to bounce on my toes.  It is difficult to watch oneself walk, but I have always been conscious that perhaps I have a funny one.  But you know, isn't that what family is for?  To mock you for things that may make you a social outcast in order to keep you from doing them?  

No, I think that's what middle school is for.  Family is for loving you unconditionally and telling you that your walk is perfect and that you should probably consider going pro with it.

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Digital Conversion

I found this on my desk after leaving for a while yesterday.  For a couple of months I have been helping one of our volunteers figure out how to work her digital converter box with her VCR and TV so that she can "watch her tapes".  A couple of weeks ago, I resorted to drawing diagrams.  It still didn't work, so she brought me a detailed description of everything she had hooked up. I love it.  It's beautiful. I love that she copied every detail from the connectors.  I love the elderly cursive writing that no one uses anymore.  I love her faith that because I am 26 years old, I can make it work.  I just redrew it for her, and hopefully she is watching her tapes right now. 

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Careful with Your Words

"Happy Friday, Ellen", I said while pouring my coffee.
"No, it's Good Friday"
"Eh, happy, good, it's all the same"
 "No, it's not, actually", chimed in an offended third party.

Happy Good Friday, everyone.

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Dirty Jokes From a Very Old Man, Vol. I


The very old man in question is a volunteer at my work.  He's such a nice, gentle, man.  Every week when I go visit him at the booth, he tells me a dirty joke.  Enjoy.

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Clippings


Our office administrator is a lovely lady who expresses her feelings through newspaper clippings. I have to be careful of which pop culture events I express interest in because I will be inundated with related newspaper and magazine articles. Over the course of my time here I have received no less than 15 articles about Harry Potter. This week, I received around 10 articles about Lost. For a while she would cut out any article related to texting. I'm really not sure how this one happened, except that she had seen me texting. She didn't even own a cell phone, but started trying to work texting into office policy.

"Oh, we should let Dave know that he doesn't need to come in tonight. Kevin, can you text him?"

"I think it's probably better if you just call him, Linda".

I did finally convince her to get a cell phone. She has digital camera and she wants an ipod. As her technology guru, I keep trying to explain to her that these things are pretty useless without a computer, but she just isn't ready for that yet.

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Janet Wisniewski


Janet (name changed) is a volunteer at work. I wish I were more adept at describing personalities, but I'm not. This story will suffice.

Janet brought in what we thought was a donation. Some travel magazines and sunglasses. I don't know why she would bring us those particular items, but volunteers often bring in weird things from home that they think we can donate to refugees. (Fisher Price record players, retro suitcases, over-sized western shirts...) After Janet went out into the Terminal for her shift, we sorted through her things. I tried on the large plastic framed sunglasses and then threw them into the trash.

Hours pass and Janet returned to the office to collect her things. "Hey, where is that bag of stuff I gave you?"

"I'm not sure Janet, what was in it?"

"2 pairs of sunglasses and some magazines"

shit shit shit I think to myself. I threw away her sunglasses. I've misunderstood. This was not a donation at all. I picture my coworkers and I laughing about the ridiculous glasses before throwing them in the trash. We are bad people. "Well, we are moving offices so a lot of stuff has been misplaced. I'm sure we will find them by next week."

Janet was determined. "I need my sunglasses. I have very sensitive eyes, and I can't go out without my sunglasses".

Just in time my coworker distracted Janet by leading her into the back room. I quickly retrieved the sunglasses from the trash and stashed them in a desk drawer.

"Oh look, Janet, someone put them in this drawer."

"Oh good, I don't know why someone would have done that".

I don't think she suspected anything unusual.

The next week Janet called in due to an eye infection. I felt nothing.

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Instafood

There is an older man from Bangladesh resting on the couch in my office. As the man watched me prepare my microwave dinner, I became very self conscious of the fact that I was preparing a microwave dinner.

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Officer Bobby

My favorite Dutch volunteer likes to donate things to our office that she is getting rid of. Sometimes we can give things to refugees, or kids hanging out in the office can play with the toys. Today she brought us a real gem. This police officer action figure looks a lot like the Department of Aviation Police that roam the airport. I'm wondering if maybe this is just one in a collection of Village People dolls. We're calling him Bobby.

This is Bobby sitting atop my computer.

This is Bobby watching over my inbox with a nice split.

Bobby, wielding only a pen-sword, tamed the wild pencil sharpener.

Whoa, Bobby. No need for that. You're making me uncomfortable.

Bobby carries a really big beeper. Only really important police officers carry beepers. I was forced to hide him behind this letter tray because my supervisor thought Bobby might intimidate passengers that walk by the window.

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Connecting

Say hello to my new best friends from China. This was maybe the shortest meet I have ever done (about 10 minutes), but was the only one that ever ended in a picture. They emailed me the picture a few days later. Don't we look like a nice family?

I just came back from meeting some arriving refugees. They were such a happy family. Meeting refugees who are just coming to America always cheers me up and makes my petty problems feel smaller. Good luck with your new life in America.

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Beepers


I can't seem to get away from jobs that require me to use a beeper. In my first social work job, I was on call 24/7 and required to carry a beeper at all times. I don't even think doctors carry beepers anymore.

In my new job at O'Leary International Airport, we have an office beeper to keep us updated on airport emergencies. The following beeper story unfolded dramatically during my 10 hour shift today. It was even more compelling because I could smell the offensive odor all while watching the fire department wander around with their axes trying to figure out where it was coming from. Enjoy:

LFD and LPD responding to level one hazmat by E/F checkpoint – some type of fumes in area burning people’s throats and eyes. No further at this time. – 15:14

Per LPD Officers arriving on scene they do not smell anything so far in E or F terminal. Nothing out of the ordinary. Will update when anything is found. 15:24

LFD Reports doorway in area has recently been epoxied and someone burned popcorn in the area. These are possibly the causes of the irritation. Investigation continues. 15:30

LFD and LPD are checking on a few passengers whose throats were irritated by the burned popcorn. Will update when situation changes. 15:41

Level one hazmat at checkpoint 5 secured on orders of CF2 15:45

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