All That Jazz
Hello World,
Well, if this had been a short week at work, it would have been one for the books. But it was even worse than a short week at work, because I was at work for all five weekdays, just like usually, but each day was crammed with so much idiocy and worse, as if it was only four days. In the hospital business, we call this "the worst of both worlds," and I ought to know. By the time Friday afternoon rolled around (much too late!) and I had been beset by every moron crawling out of the woodwork, plus running around and stamping out fires all week, it was a wonder that I even managed to get myself home in one piece, and not just wander around dazed and confused out on the streets. Here is a perfect example of the kind of week I was having. When I came in this morning, I noticed that someone had been in my office and left a purchase requisition on my chair, that had a note written in big black marker that said: "IMPORTANT. Please hand-carry to Purchasing." I moved it off my chair so I could sit down, and left it over by the credenza with the other requisitions that I had to look at later. Naturally, of all the requisitions in my office at that time, that one with the "Important" note on it was the one that succumbed to the remorseless pull of gravity, and fell behind the radiator. In a normal office, a person would reach behind the radiator and pull it back out. In my office, first you have to move the pile of empty cardboard boxes, the wire frames for hanging folders, the empty toner cartridges on their way to recycling, the easel pad, the step ladder, the mini blinds (from the broken back window that have not been put back yet) and yes, the famous wandering Christmas tree and left-over decorations. Now, none of these things are in my way on a routine basis, only if I want to reach behind the radiator, which I haven't had a need to do until today, thanks not. Suffice to say that today was already such a lost cause that I didn't even bother to dig the requisition out, figuring that the way things were going, whatever I did would only make things worse.
I know there must be a reason that the hospital administration is trying to drive us all nuts, although I'm not sure what that reason might be. Perhaps they're trying to drum up business for the Psychiatry department at our sister institution in Mount Vernon, or if they drive us to drink or take drugs, we could avail ourselves of their Detox or Methadone services that are always looking for new participants. I admit that I have no clue as to what is behind their nefarious plans, because I find it impossible to think like soul-less ogres. All I know is that last week, I was walking past the Cashiers and the Foundation Office, on my way to the lobby, and I noticed that all of the pictures had been removed from the walls. I really didn't think about it much one way or another, until a few days later, when I was in the same spot, and saw that they had put up what looked like large black felt rectangles where the pictures had been. I assumed that these would be the base of something else they were going to attach to it, like artwork or some kind of safety device. Earlier this week, I was walking around on the 7th floor, and heard music in the hallway, even though there was no one there, and in fact, it was in a part of that floor where there are no offices or patient rooms, just windows and a couple of chairs. As I wondered where the music could be coming from, I noticed this hallway had the same large black felt rectangles where pictures used to be, and as I walked past one, lo and behold, it turned out to be a speaker, of all things. Apparently the hospital administration, in their infinite wisdom, decided that we needed to listen to music 24 hours a day in the hallways, and not only installed this speaker system throughout the building without letting anyone know about it, but also decided unilaterally that we all wanted to listen to what could be described as "soft jazz" all the time. (NOT!) Now, I don't work in this building, and the black felt rectangle disease hasn't spread to my building yet, so if they were trying to drive me crazy, they'd have to do it quick, because I'm only in that building on my lunch hour. But I have reserved a bed in the Psychiatry unit just in case, I figure there's no sense in waiting until the last minute, when everybody else from the hospital will already be in there. Except, I guess, for those people who may happen to enjoy listening to soft jazz, and that's no jive.
Also right on top of things, I'd like to salute the Post Office, which just last week, returned to me a Christmas card that I had mailed on December 10th and which they determined was undeliverable as addressed. I would like to point out that this particular Christmas card was attempting to bring our seasonal greetings to one of our neighbors, whose house I can literally see from my front porch, and don't forget, I don't see all that well. I don't know where this envelope went from the time I dropped it at the Post Office on December 10th, until last week, but it would be no exaggeration to say that I could have left it on the front steps and it could have evolved legs and learned to walk and trotted itself right over to the neighbor's house on its own, in the same amount of time it took the Post Office to return it to me. So I would certainly like to extend my thanks to the Post Office, and in a timely manner, which I figure would be about two months from now, and that's also no jive.
Speaking of bad timing, it was on January 23, or three full days after the inauguration of the new President, and the AOL Welcome screen was awash with stories and pictures of the new First Family and everything they could think of to throw at us. You would think it would be impossible for anyone to be unaware of the change in administration, even if they had been living under a rock, or in a far distant solar system. And yet, here was a huge animated ad taking up a quarter of the Welcome screen with the blaring headline: "BUSH APPROVES HOUSING BILL!" These befuddled dolts wanted me to refinance my mortgage with them, and obviously thought it would be a clever ploy to cash in on the popularity of outgoing President Bush to entice me to click on their ad and sign on the dotted line. (NOT!) I may be going out on a limb here, but I wouldn't be surprised to find their offices full of black felt rectangles playing soft jazz all day long.
But the addle-pated caravan doesn't stop there. In fact, it was on the same day that our local newspaper ran a story about actress Melissa Leo, who had recently been nominated for an Academy Award, and the article went on to state: "The 28-year-old, first-time nominee didn't seem phased at all ... " What a relief! I guess they meant that Captain Kirk and the crew of the Starship Enterprise didn't show up and stun the poor dear with their phasers, because anyone with an elementary education in journalism would know that the actual word they were grappling for was "fazed" and not "phased" in that context. A day earlier, our Word-A-Day calendar was trying to explain the etymology of the Greek word "mimos" and came up with this startling comment: "And what about 'mimeograph,' the name of the duplicating machine that preceded the photocopier? We can't be absolutely certain what the folks at the A.B. Dick Company had in mind when they came up with the name Mimeograph, but influence from 'mimos' and its descendants certainly seems probable." I said to Bill, they can't be absolutely certain? Did they find sketchy evidence of the Mimeograph machine carved into cave walls from the Paleolithic Era or something? I mean, the Mimeograph was only invented in the 1940's, even if the A.B. Dick Company is not still in business, there are probably people who are still alive today and know where the name came from, for heaven's sake, if anybody just asked them.
But even that wasn't the end of the addle-pated caravan for the week, not by a long shot. This was the front page story in the Wheels Extra section of our local newspaper, although I can't blame the newspaper for this, try as I might. Apparently there is such a thing as a Lancer Ralliart, a high performance vehicle which they compare to the Mitsubishi Evo. There's just no way around the fact that Ralliart is a stupid name that looks stupid, and if anyone there had any brains, they'd storm the Engineering department and yank out all of those black felt rectangles playing soft jazz all day long and making everyone stupid. Then Bill was kind enough to send me the Top MSNBC.COM Headlines, which included this gem: "Gitmo Orders Prompt Terror Debate." That's one of those fractured fuzzy-heads where the words can be both nouns and verbs, so you don't know where to put the emphasis when you're trying to make sense of it. But if they weren't trying to order a prompt terror debate, I would send them back to the drawing board on that one, like the engineers with the Ralliart. Finally, there was a story about the worsening recession, which included this line: "Citi Investment Research analyst Deborah Weinswig forecasts falling same-store sales growth at many of the major chains in 2009." I had to agree with Bill, who wondered, can you actually have falling sales growth? Is that like a rising downturn? A deafening silence? Increased scarcity? Backward progress? Poor success?Absolutely vague? Negative improvement? It's all too much for me, I'm afraid. I'd go get my ox and moron in here, but I have the feeling that they've been in the hallways with the black felt rectangles too long, and their next stop will be in the Psychiatry unit, along with the rest of the hospital staff, the Ralliart engineers, the headline writers, the calendar researchers, the Post Office, the AOL Welcome screen team, and of course, the "important" requisition behind the radiator. And all that jazz.
Elle
Well, if this had been a short week at work, it would have been one for the books. But it was even worse than a short week at work, because I was at work for all five weekdays, just like usually, but each day was crammed with so much idiocy and worse, as if it was only four days. In the hospital business, we call this "the worst of both worlds," and I ought to know. By the time Friday afternoon rolled around (much too late!) and I had been beset by every moron crawling out of the woodwork, plus running around and stamping out fires all week, it was a wonder that I even managed to get myself home in one piece, and not just wander around dazed and confused out on the streets. Here is a perfect example of the kind of week I was having. When I came in this morning, I noticed that someone had been in my office and left a purchase requisition on my chair, that had a note written in big black marker that said: "IMPORTANT. Please hand-carry to Purchasing." I moved it off my chair so I could sit down, and left it over by the credenza with the other requisitions that I had to look at later. Naturally, of all the requisitions in my office at that time, that one with the "Important" note on it was the one that succumbed to the remorseless pull of gravity, and fell behind the radiator. In a normal office, a person would reach behind the radiator and pull it back out. In my office, first you have to move the pile of empty cardboard boxes, the wire frames for hanging folders, the empty toner cartridges on their way to recycling, the easel pad, the step ladder, the mini blinds (from the broken back window that have not been put back yet) and yes, the famous wandering Christmas tree and left-over decorations. Now, none of these things are in my way on a routine basis, only if I want to reach behind the radiator, which I haven't had a need to do until today, thanks not. Suffice to say that today was already such a lost cause that I didn't even bother to dig the requisition out, figuring that the way things were going, whatever I did would only make things worse.
I know there must be a reason that the hospital administration is trying to drive us all nuts, although I'm not sure what that reason might be. Perhaps they're trying to drum up business for the Psychiatry department at our sister institution in Mount Vernon, or if they drive us to drink or take drugs, we could avail ourselves of their Detox or Methadone services that are always looking for new participants. I admit that I have no clue as to what is behind their nefarious plans, because I find it impossible to think like soul-less ogres. All I know is that last week, I was walking past the Cashiers and the Foundation Office, on my way to the lobby, and I noticed that all of the pictures had been removed from the walls. I really didn't think about it much one way or another, until a few days later, when I was in the same spot, and saw that they had put up what looked like large black felt rectangles where the pictures had been. I assumed that these would be the base of something else they were going to attach to it, like artwork or some kind of safety device. Earlier this week, I was walking around on the 7th floor, and heard music in the hallway, even though there was no one there, and in fact, it was in a part of that floor where there are no offices or patient rooms, just windows and a couple of chairs. As I wondered where the music could be coming from, I noticed this hallway had the same large black felt rectangles where pictures used to be, and as I walked past one, lo and behold, it turned out to be a speaker, of all things. Apparently the hospital administration, in their infinite wisdom, decided that we needed to listen to music 24 hours a day in the hallways, and not only installed this speaker system throughout the building without letting anyone know about it, but also decided unilaterally that we all wanted to listen to what could be described as "soft jazz" all the time. (NOT!) Now, I don't work in this building, and the black felt rectangle disease hasn't spread to my building yet, so if they were trying to drive me crazy, they'd have to do it quick, because I'm only in that building on my lunch hour. But I have reserved a bed in the Psychiatry unit just in case, I figure there's no sense in waiting until the last minute, when everybody else from the hospital will already be in there. Except, I guess, for those people who may happen to enjoy listening to soft jazz, and that's no jive.
Also right on top of things, I'd like to salute the Post Office, which just last week, returned to me a Christmas card that I had mailed on December 10th and which they determined was undeliverable as addressed. I would like to point out that this particular Christmas card was attempting to bring our seasonal greetings to one of our neighbors, whose house I can literally see from my front porch, and don't forget, I don't see all that well. I don't know where this envelope went from the time I dropped it at the Post Office on December 10th, until last week, but it would be no exaggeration to say that I could have left it on the front steps and it could have evolved legs and learned to walk and trotted itself right over to the neighbor's house on its own, in the same amount of time it took the Post Office to return it to me. So I would certainly like to extend my thanks to the Post Office, and in a timely manner, which I figure would be about two months from now, and that's also no jive.
Speaking of bad timing, it was on January 23, or three full days after the inauguration of the new President, and the AOL Welcome screen was awash with stories and pictures of the new First Family and everything they could think of to throw at us. You would think it would be impossible for anyone to be unaware of the change in administration, even if they had been living under a rock, or in a far distant solar system. And yet, here was a huge animated ad taking up a quarter of the Welcome screen with the blaring headline: "BUSH APPROVES HOUSING BILL!" These befuddled dolts wanted me to refinance my mortgage with them, and obviously thought it would be a clever ploy to cash in on the popularity of outgoing President Bush to entice me to click on their ad and sign on the dotted line. (NOT!) I may be going out on a limb here, but I wouldn't be surprised to find their offices full of black felt rectangles playing soft jazz all day long.
But the addle-pated caravan doesn't stop there. In fact, it was on the same day that our local newspaper ran a story about actress Melissa Leo, who had recently been nominated for an Academy Award, and the article went on to state: "The 28-year-old, first-time nominee didn't seem phased at all ... " What a relief! I guess they meant that Captain Kirk and the crew of the Starship Enterprise didn't show up and stun the poor dear with their phasers, because anyone with an elementary education in journalism would know that the actual word they were grappling for was "fazed" and not "phased" in that context. A day earlier, our Word-A-Day calendar was trying to explain the etymology of the Greek word "mimos" and came up with this startling comment: "And what about 'mimeograph,' the name of the duplicating machine that preceded the photocopier? We can't be absolutely certain what the folks at the A.B. Dick Company had in mind when they came up with the name Mimeograph, but influence from 'mimos' and its descendants certainly seems probable." I said to Bill, they can't be absolutely certain? Did they find sketchy evidence of the Mimeograph machine carved into cave walls from the Paleolithic Era or something? I mean, the Mimeograph was only invented in the 1940's, even if the A.B. Dick Company is not still in business, there are probably people who are still alive today and know where the name came from, for heaven's sake, if anybody just asked them.
But even that wasn't the end of the addle-pated caravan for the week, not by a long shot. This was the front page story in the Wheels Extra section of our local newspaper, although I can't blame the newspaper for this, try as I might. Apparently there is such a thing as a Lancer Ralliart, a high performance vehicle which they compare to the Mitsubishi Evo. There's just no way around the fact that Ralliart is a stupid name that looks stupid, and if anyone there had any brains, they'd storm the Engineering department and yank out all of those black felt rectangles playing soft jazz all day long and making everyone stupid. Then Bill was kind enough to send me the Top MSNBC.COM Headlines, which included this gem: "Gitmo Orders Prompt Terror Debate." That's one of those fractured fuzzy-heads where the words can be both nouns and verbs, so you don't know where to put the emphasis when you're trying to make sense of it. But if they weren't trying to order a prompt terror debate, I would send them back to the drawing board on that one, like the engineers with the Ralliart. Finally, there was a story about the worsening recession, which included this line: "Citi Investment Research analyst Deborah Weinswig forecasts falling same-store sales growth at many of the major chains in 2009." I had to agree with Bill, who wondered, can you actually have falling sales growth? Is that like a rising downturn? A deafening silence? Increased scarcity? Backward progress? Poor success?Absolutely vague? Negative improvement? It's all too much for me, I'm afraid. I'd go get my ox and moron in here, but I have the feeling that they've been in the hallways with the black felt rectangles too long, and their next stop will be in the Psychiatry unit, along with the rest of the hospital staff, the Ralliart engineers, the headline writers, the calendar researchers, the Post Office, the AOL Welcome screen team, and of course, the "important" requisition behind the radiator. And all that jazz.
Elle
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 8:24 PM
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