Floor Show
Hello World,
Well, it doesn't seem remotely possible that it could be more than halfway past the middle of September already, and by golly, that means that there's only 117 shopping days left until Valentine's Day, not that I'm trying to be an alarmist or anything. (Hey! Put down that hand grenade, and let's deal with this situation in an adult and rational manner. A few good stiff drinks should do the trick, I'm thinking.) I always say that once school starts, you may as well kiss the year goodbye, because after that, the months just fly by in a blur, and suddenly you find yourself dancing on top of tables and smooching some homeless person on New Year's Eve, or perhaps that's just me. In any case, from here on in, you'd better not blink, or you'll miss what's right in front of you, because before you know it, it will be right behind you, and you'll be on the outside looking in and wondering where it all went wrong. Consider this your September wake-up call, and don't say I didn't warn you.
Speaking of September wake-up calls, our good friend Miss Rachel Alexandra did it again, by running away with the prestigious Woodward Stakes, out from under the noses of her older and more experienced male counterparts, who could only watch in wonder from behind. This race is held every year at the scenic Saratoga race course in upstate New York, and because we were upstate when it happened, we noticed that up there, it was a huge media event, and a person could not get away from the coverage, no matter how hard they might have tried. It would come as a surprise to no one that her jockey was Calvin Borel, this year's darling of The Double Crown, which I guess is when you win two out of three races in The Triple Crown, and the media turns you into an overnight sensation, even if you've been riding horses for decades. She held off a hard-charging Macho Again at the finish, who is a horse that I don't know, but she also left Mine That Bird and Summer Bird in her wake, who had won the other two races in the Triple Crown when the filly wasn't entered in the field. The newspaper reported that this race was her "... ninth consecutive victory, all but clinching Horse of the Year honors." At this rate, probably the only people who will be glad to see her retire will be the bettors, because she's such an odds-on favorite every time she races that no one can make any money off betting on her. I suppose that's one problem with being a sure thing, or as they say in the horse racing business, a "shoe-in."
On the topic of shoes, it reminds me of something that happened at work recently. Everyone knows that the Purchasing department is always located in the most undesirable spot on the hospital grounds, and the salespeople will tell you at other hospitals that they call on, it's usually in the basement next to the Morgue. It happens that our Morgue is in the tunnel next to the Boiler Room, which must have been considered too much prime real estate for the likes of Purchasing, so they decided instead to remove it to a separate out-building on the campus, a centuries-old fire-trap constructed of mud and straw that predates the invention of elevators, as well as numerous other modern conveniences, like thermostats. But even though I'm nowhere near the main hospital building, I make a point to go over there every other week and pick up the piles of time cards from Administration and carry them back with me to Payroll, which is right next to us in the same hallway, and save them a trip from Administration, while also getting the cards to Payroll sooner. This makes people happy on both sides, and gives me a chance to suck up to a couple of our high-powered departments, where I can revel in their appreciative cries of: "Thanks so much ..... uh-h-h-h-h-h ..... whoever you are!" For the sake of the punch-line of this story, I reiterate the two salient points: I go to Administration every two weeks, and I work in the Purchasing department.
So you can imagine my surprise last week, when I dashed into Administration to pick up time cards as usual, and discovered that the carpeting had been ripped out and replaced with new wood laminate floors, starting immediately inside the door from the hallway. Luckily for me, I noticed this in time as I ran in from the hall, and I stopped short on the threshold, thereby narrowly averting disaster with only microns to spare. I realized that if I had continued as I had been going, I would have had to change into a cartoon character and turn around in mid-air, because if I had landed unexpectedly on the new wood floor at full throttle like I was going, I would have skidded all the way through the department and down the hall right into the President's office, which would have been an unpleasant surprise for both of us, believe me. In fact, while I was standing there waiting for the time cards to be ready, several people came charging into the department like they normally would, and slipped right inside the door, so they needed to grab onto the receptionist desk to steady themselves. I realize that the hospital is always looking for ways to drum up business, but frankly, I think this is taking the tactic a bit too far. And as I said, I'm not only in Administration every other week, but I work in Purchasing, so I wouldn't expect me to be the last person to find out that we had new floors installed and be none the wiser. I was thinking of filing a grievance with the Cartoon Character Board of Ethics, but I have the feeling that they were behind this project right from the beginning, if only for its comic potential.
I have to report that Bill took exception to my previous note, as far as the weather was concerned. He pointed out that for years, I have complained loud and long about Comrade Mischka and his infernal weather machine making our lives miserable, yet when we had an unprecedented three beautiful days for Labor Day weekend, I peremptorily handed off the credit to the “weather trolls” instead, and he thought that was a bum rap for the poor Comrade after all this time. He may be right about that, and I'd be just as happy to give credit where it’s due, but personally, I happen to believe that our old nemesis Comrade Mischka was away at the time, receiving some sort of award for the stupefyingly miserable weather in May and June, and had nothing to do with Labor Day in any way. My feeling is that the wretched minion who was left in his place was not equal to the task (and to be honest, who would be?) and simply fell asleep at the switch, forgetting to turn on the raining frogs and plagues of locusts ahead of time, so we were free to enjoy three glorious days without the usual weather histrionics that the Kremlin regularly tosses our way. I'd be willing to bet that by now, the unfortunate minion responsible for this catastrophic slip-up has probably been relegated to the salt mines of Siberia, for a good long time, and I'll bet he’s also not thinking much of those raining frogs and plagues of locusts besides.
While we're on the subject of the imaginary male figures in our lives, alert readers may have noticed on the AOL Welcome Screen that it’s the 13th birthday of the AOL Running Man, and long may he wave. They ran an entire feature about him, which was interesting and informative, and they also suggested that we would all be able to follow the adventures of Running Man on Twitter, believe that or don't. Not only that, but he has apparently been nominated for the 2009 Madison Avenue Walk of Fame for mascots, icons, logos or slogans, and AOL asked us all to vote for Running Man so he could be enshrined on the Walk of Fame as befits his celebrity status in honor of his 13th year of iconography. (And you can just go right ahead and visit their web site at www.advertisingweek.com and see for yourself.) Well, when it comes to climbing on board that bandwagon celebrating imaginary characters, no one has to ask me twice, so you can be sure that I'm ready to jump all over this one with all the fanfare and hoopla that a non-existent nobody would deserve. And if he doesn't win, the worst he could do is mess up my email, at least I don't have to worry about raining frogs and plagues of locusts.
Speaking of non-existent nobodies, I have the following telephone story to relate. Certain people at the hospital (and I was one of them, so it wasn't a very exclusive fraternity) were given cell phones with a two-way radio feature, so we could get in touch with each other without using the cell phone part of it, which tends to interfere with the monitoring equipment in the clinical areas like ICU and the Emergency Room. I don't use it as a cell phone, although it can be used that way, but I don't really understand how. I don't remember the phone number on it, which is a ridiculously complicated number, and I certainly never give it to anyone, not only because I don't understand how to use the phone, but also because I am convinced that the number was probably re-assigned to me from being previously assigned to some South American drug dealer, with my luck. Whenever it rings, I figure it’s a mistake, so I don't answer it, and the callers don't end up in voice mail, so I'm sure they weren't trying to reach me in the first place. But it rang yesterday and I didn't recognize the calling number, so I didn't answer it, but I was surprised later to see that I had a voice mail message. You don't have to go looking for your voice mail messages on this particular phone, because it keeps warbling at you when you have a message, and doesn't stop until you listen to it. At the time, I was in the middle of a task that I needed to concentrate on, and the repeated warbling was getting on my nerves, so I finally picked it up and put it away in my desk drawer to keep it quiet. At that point, it became so faint that I wound up forgetting all about it, and packed up and went to lunch without a care in the world. It was only much later that I remembered the voice mail message was still waiting for me, and by then, I could only hope that it was not anyone hugely important that I ignored all day, or some extreme crisis that had required my immediate attention. So it was late in the day when I finally got around to playing the message, and which they have managed to turn into a tremendously complicated process, involving multiple menu options, buttons and voice commands, like I'm trying to get into the vault at Fort Knox or something. After all that, the message turned out to be someone speaking Spanish, and although I couldn't understand a word she said, it sounded suspiciously like someone trying to sell me aluminum siding or life insurance, thank you so very much not. So I guess you could say that the joke was on me that time, and all I can do is grin and bear it, because I already know that I can't count on the Cartoon Character Board of Ethics.
Elle
Well, it doesn't seem remotely possible that it could be more than halfway past the middle of September already, and by golly, that means that there's only 117 shopping days left until Valentine's Day, not that I'm trying to be an alarmist or anything. (Hey! Put down that hand grenade, and let's deal with this situation in an adult and rational manner. A few good stiff drinks should do the trick, I'm thinking.) I always say that once school starts, you may as well kiss the year goodbye, because after that, the months just fly by in a blur, and suddenly you find yourself dancing on top of tables and smooching some homeless person on New Year's Eve, or perhaps that's just me. In any case, from here on in, you'd better not blink, or you'll miss what's right in front of you, because before you know it, it will be right behind you, and you'll be on the outside looking in and wondering where it all went wrong. Consider this your September wake-up call, and don't say I didn't warn you.
Speaking of September wake-up calls, our good friend Miss Rachel Alexandra did it again, by running away with the prestigious Woodward Stakes, out from under the noses of her older and more experienced male counterparts, who could only watch in wonder from behind. This race is held every year at the scenic Saratoga race course in upstate New York, and because we were upstate when it happened, we noticed that up there, it was a huge media event, and a person could not get away from the coverage, no matter how hard they might have tried. It would come as a surprise to no one that her jockey was Calvin Borel, this year's darling of The Double Crown, which I guess is when you win two out of three races in The Triple Crown, and the media turns you into an overnight sensation, even if you've been riding horses for decades. She held off a hard-charging Macho Again at the finish, who is a horse that I don't know, but she also left Mine That Bird and Summer Bird in her wake, who had won the other two races in the Triple Crown when the filly wasn't entered in the field. The newspaper reported that this race was her "... ninth consecutive victory, all but clinching Horse of the Year honors." At this rate, probably the only people who will be glad to see her retire will be the bettors, because she's such an odds-on favorite every time she races that no one can make any money off betting on her. I suppose that's one problem with being a sure thing, or as they say in the horse racing business, a "shoe-in."
On the topic of shoes, it reminds me of something that happened at work recently. Everyone knows that the Purchasing department is always located in the most undesirable spot on the hospital grounds, and the salespeople will tell you at other hospitals that they call on, it's usually in the basement next to the Morgue. It happens that our Morgue is in the tunnel next to the Boiler Room, which must have been considered too much prime real estate for the likes of Purchasing, so they decided instead to remove it to a separate out-building on the campus, a centuries-old fire-trap constructed of mud and straw that predates the invention of elevators, as well as numerous other modern conveniences, like thermostats. But even though I'm nowhere near the main hospital building, I make a point to go over there every other week and pick up the piles of time cards from Administration and carry them back with me to Payroll, which is right next to us in the same hallway, and save them a trip from Administration, while also getting the cards to Payroll sooner. This makes people happy on both sides, and gives me a chance to suck up to a couple of our high-powered departments, where I can revel in their appreciative cries of: "Thanks so much ..... uh-h-h-h-h-h ..... whoever you are!" For the sake of the punch-line of this story, I reiterate the two salient points: I go to Administration every two weeks, and I work in the Purchasing department.
So you can imagine my surprise last week, when I dashed into Administration to pick up time cards as usual, and discovered that the carpeting had been ripped out and replaced with new wood laminate floors, starting immediately inside the door from the hallway. Luckily for me, I noticed this in time as I ran in from the hall, and I stopped short on the threshold, thereby narrowly averting disaster with only microns to spare. I realized that if I had continued as I had been going, I would have had to change into a cartoon character and turn around in mid-air, because if I had landed unexpectedly on the new wood floor at full throttle like I was going, I would have skidded all the way through the department and down the hall right into the President's office, which would have been an unpleasant surprise for both of us, believe me. In fact, while I was standing there waiting for the time cards to be ready, several people came charging into the department like they normally would, and slipped right inside the door, so they needed to grab onto the receptionist desk to steady themselves. I realize that the hospital is always looking for ways to drum up business, but frankly, I think this is taking the tactic a bit too far. And as I said, I'm not only in Administration every other week, but I work in Purchasing, so I wouldn't expect me to be the last person to find out that we had new floors installed and be none the wiser. I was thinking of filing a grievance with the Cartoon Character Board of Ethics, but I have the feeling that they were behind this project right from the beginning, if only for its comic potential.
I have to report that Bill took exception to my previous note, as far as the weather was concerned. He pointed out that for years, I have complained loud and long about Comrade Mischka and his infernal weather machine making our lives miserable, yet when we had an unprecedented three beautiful days for Labor Day weekend, I peremptorily handed off the credit to the “weather trolls” instead, and he thought that was a bum rap for the poor Comrade after all this time. He may be right about that, and I'd be just as happy to give credit where it’s due, but personally, I happen to believe that our old nemesis Comrade Mischka was away at the time, receiving some sort of award for the stupefyingly miserable weather in May and June, and had nothing to do with Labor Day in any way. My feeling is that the wretched minion who was left in his place was not equal to the task (and to be honest, who would be?) and simply fell asleep at the switch, forgetting to turn on the raining frogs and plagues of locusts ahead of time, so we were free to enjoy three glorious days without the usual weather histrionics that the Kremlin regularly tosses our way. I'd be willing to bet that by now, the unfortunate minion responsible for this catastrophic slip-up has probably been relegated to the salt mines of Siberia, for a good long time, and I'll bet he’s also not thinking much of those raining frogs and plagues of locusts besides.
While we're on the subject of the imaginary male figures in our lives, alert readers may have noticed on the AOL Welcome Screen that it’s the 13th birthday of the AOL Running Man, and long may he wave. They ran an entire feature about him, which was interesting and informative, and they also suggested that we would all be able to follow the adventures of Running Man on Twitter, believe that or don't. Not only that, but he has apparently been nominated for the 2009 Madison Avenue Walk of Fame for mascots, icons, logos or slogans, and AOL asked us all to vote for Running Man so he could be enshrined on the Walk of Fame as befits his celebrity status in honor of his 13th year of iconography. (And you can just go right ahead and visit their web site at www.advertisingweek.com and see for yourself.) Well, when it comes to climbing on board that bandwagon celebrating imaginary characters, no one has to ask me twice, so you can be sure that I'm ready to jump all over this one with all the fanfare and hoopla that a non-existent nobody would deserve. And if he doesn't win, the worst he could do is mess up my email, at least I don't have to worry about raining frogs and plagues of locusts.
Speaking of non-existent nobodies, I have the following telephone story to relate. Certain people at the hospital (and I was one of them, so it wasn't a very exclusive fraternity) were given cell phones with a two-way radio feature, so we could get in touch with each other without using the cell phone part of it, which tends to interfere with the monitoring equipment in the clinical areas like ICU and the Emergency Room. I don't use it as a cell phone, although it can be used that way, but I don't really understand how. I don't remember the phone number on it, which is a ridiculously complicated number, and I certainly never give it to anyone, not only because I don't understand how to use the phone, but also because I am convinced that the number was probably re-assigned to me from being previously assigned to some South American drug dealer, with my luck. Whenever it rings, I figure it’s a mistake, so I don't answer it, and the callers don't end up in voice mail, so I'm sure they weren't trying to reach me in the first place. But it rang yesterday and I didn't recognize the calling number, so I didn't answer it, but I was surprised later to see that I had a voice mail message. You don't have to go looking for your voice mail messages on this particular phone, because it keeps warbling at you when you have a message, and doesn't stop until you listen to it. At the time, I was in the middle of a task that I needed to concentrate on, and the repeated warbling was getting on my nerves, so I finally picked it up and put it away in my desk drawer to keep it quiet. At that point, it became so faint that I wound up forgetting all about it, and packed up and went to lunch without a care in the world. It was only much later that I remembered the voice mail message was still waiting for me, and by then, I could only hope that it was not anyone hugely important that I ignored all day, or some extreme crisis that had required my immediate attention. So it was late in the day when I finally got around to playing the message, and which they have managed to turn into a tremendously complicated process, involving multiple menu options, buttons and voice commands, like I'm trying to get into the vault at Fort Knox or something. After all that, the message turned out to be someone speaking Spanish, and although I couldn't understand a word she said, it sounded suspiciously like someone trying to sell me aluminum siding or life insurance, thank you so very much not. So I guess you could say that the joke was on me that time, and all I can do is grin and bear it, because I already know that I can't count on the Cartoon Character Board of Ethics.
Elle
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 8:27 PM
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