Category Archives: Communications

Thin Slices

As a warm-up/breaking the ice kind of exercise, the class facilitator asked us each of us to name ONE GOOD THING that has happened in the past week to SHARE with the class.

In her case: she won resort tickets from the local radio station.

In another: a pregnant person in class said that she felt her baby kick for the first time.

In another: someone got the unexpected (but very much welcomed) gift of cash instead of the dreaded presents they were expecting.

Or was that the dreaded present?

I can’t remember. And I forgot the rest. 18 of us in the class, but I forget what else was said.

I was too busy scraping my dregs of my mind for something – anything – GOOD that happened that week to SHARE.

Recent memory is sometimes the worst memory.

“It doesn’t have to be a big thing, like winning radio tickets,” the facilitator added hastily, sensing the trepidation among those of us in the class facing the immense, the profuse difficulty of finding something – anything – GOOD to SHARE. Anything GOOD that happened that week.

It had to be GOOD and you had to SHARE it.

Big ask.

“Not anything that big. You can slice thin. Slice it really thin and share.”

She gave examples: not stubbing your toe. Not getting stuck in traffic on the way to class. Not having a swing a dead cat anywhere to make a point. Not being diseased in any serious way. Not being (as) destitute (as you could, and probably someday will, be).

(I may have made some of those up.)

“Slice it real thin, and you’ll see how having just a few good things happen can get your through the day.”

Slice it thin and you’ll see.

How thin, though?

But how thin? 

How thin must we go until we get there?

 

 

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Filed under Communications, Education, Language, People

Won’t Amount to a Hill of These

My habit isn’t to eavesdrop on people, but I do at times catch snatches of conversations that are hard to keep to myself.

 

Yesterday, it was one about beans:

“I can’t eat so many things right now.”

“You want chicken wings? My mom can make chicken – ”

“No.”

“How about tacos?”

“With the kids? Too messy.”

“Oh.”

“You know. I can have chilli. She makes good chilli.”

“Okay! Chilli it is.”

“Problem is, I hate beans in my chilli. Can’t handle them. Especially now.”

“So we’ll ask her not to put them in.”

“Oh, please.”

“What?”

“Remember the time you mentioned you didn’t want beans and she served you a bowl of bean-less chilli and then she gave me mine and it was just full of beans? And I told her, again, that I can’t stomach beans in my chilli and she was like ‘Oh, you don’t like them?’”

“That was just a misunderstanding.”

“No it wasn’t. She hates me. She did it on purpose. Because she hates me.”

“She doesn’t – ”

“She’s crazy and she hates me.”

“Because…she puts beans in your chilli?”

THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO ABOUT BEANS. You didn’t have any beans in your chilli.”

 

Shortly after, it was time for their appointment. I watched as they walked out of my life, presumably forever.

Memory and conviction are odd catalysts in conversation – where they will take you and where they don’t, and what that will do to the rest of your day.

It wasn’t about the beans.

It wasn’t ever about the beans.

 

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Filed under Communications, Family, Food, Relationships, THE FUTURE, THE PAST

Open Secrets, Vol. 13

  • What goes around comes around around around.
  • Reverse Psychology vs. Emotional Blackmail.
  • Bad relationships —> Good Drama —> Bad Kharma.
  • Where are all the candelabras?
  • Back Talk vs. Forward Thinking.
  • Kingmaker, Starkiller, Widowmaker.
  • Missing: keys, cat, you.
  • Eat the whole thing.
  • Seen it yet?
  • Work family values.
  • Puff Up vs. Simmer Down.
  • Back again there and.
  • Everlucky 13.

 

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Filed under Change, Communications, Relationships, Words, Work

Work It Real Good

So much of my work is editing other people’s work that I often find it fascinating to know where their work (and mine), begins and ends. The burden of the work is clear: it is theirs, but also, here and there, and after a fashion, mine. But not really. But also more than maybe so.

I suppose this is what you call the collaborative process. It’s certainly an interesting way to live, and not at all a bad way to mention earn a living.

It’s fascinating what people come up with as they work through things – to follow their ideas as they emerge, take shape, grow (and at times falter, at times slip and derail). It’s fascinating what can be done to help them; what they need, what they want. They only have to ask, or let me ask on their behalf.

There’s a lot of trust that goes around, only to come back again. Mistakes, too, happen, not all of them regrettable. Some of them very.

The work varies, from not-so-great to good to great. But maybe it can be a little better. Not everywhere, not always, but there will be room enough, here and there, to re-work things. Why not?

It’s up to you, and then it’s mine until it’s yours again. Between us, we’ll work it good.

Work real it good.

 

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Filed under Communications, Employment, Language, People, Relationships, Words

Coffee Time (and again)

1. Wave of the Future

Shared coffee pots are oppressive! We are an interesting and imaginative group of people who deserve to have our many facets represented in our tastes. The office has therefore eliminated the old, antiquated and, frankly, oppressive coffee pot in the upstairs kitchenette, and has replaced it with a brand new, state-of-the-art single-serve KERUG KOFFEE MAKER.

You are. Most welcome.

2. BYOKK

As a part of our “coffee initiative” (as our beloved Doris has colourfully named it) please do note that employees are now free to supply and store their own koffee kups for use while at work. The sky’s the limit, though we do ask everyone to be mindful of nut allergies.

3. Tamp It Down

The environment as we know it is in peril! Thusly, we have decided to do away with the waste and excess of the single use – non-recyclable – koffee kups and have instead supplied the office with reusable, single-load receptacles for all your coffee needs. Gently pack desired grounds into the receptacle with a small spoon or forefinger and insert into the KERUG KOFFEE MAKER machine. It could not be simpler. Wash your hands before and after use.

4. Grounds for Dismissal

Coffee grounds everywhere! Littering the counter, clogging up the kitchenette sink, crushed into the carpet into ugly, suggestive stains. A most sad and lamentable state of affairs. The single-load receptacles have therefore been removed until further notice. For the time being, please purchase your coffee and related beverages before work or during break.

5. New is Old Again

Employees take note! Some of your coffee cups are non-recyclable. Please dispose of these in the garbage where they belong.

6. Debauch

Employees! We have noted there are a few of you are sneaking into the kitchenette at odd hours in order to make coffee though the unsanctioned use of the remaining (and offensive, and offending) koffee kups. Be advised: you are warned.

7. Bylaws

To avoid confusion, all coffee cups are to be thrown into the garbage as the city has twice now refused to collect our improperly-sorted recyclables. Extra bins have been provided in the downstairs kitchenette, next to the photocopier.

8. Purge: Anarchy

As forewarned, a purge of all remaining koffee kups has been carried out by Doris.

9. BE MINDFUL

A gentle reminder to all in our employ that while your coffee habits and choices are your own, we are reaching capacity in terms of weekly garbage disposal. Bins are filling up faster than usual. Consider, therefore, finishing your coffee before or after work or during breaks and disposing the cups in outside bins (i.e. the public trash bins located down the block or across the street at the nearby primary school).

10. Don’t Ask

Stop asking Doris. She doesn’t know.

10.5. Further Notice

The KERUG KOFFEE MAKER has been removed from the office until further notice.

Thank you.

 

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Filed under Communications, Food, Health, Work

Stranger Readings

When and wherever I see a stranger reading (the subway, the park, the doctor’s office), I always try to figure out what is it they’re reading. What, then why.

How being obvious.

(Or is it? There are times the pages are obscured, and I just have to imagine they’re there and also being read. Also, there are so many assumptions in “How,” isn’t there?)

So, why? Why that book? Is it the content? The author? Is this a project, or a pastime (or both)?

Is this good?

More: good in all sense or semblance of that word, “good.”

Tell me stranger: Do you know something I don’t know? Maybe you know something I do.

Also: Maybe I could tell you a thing or two. I have books too.

Then: “Books are dead.” Did you know that?

Finally: Yes, dead. Read for work. Reading is work. Work to get paid, or don’t work at all. Getting paid is everything, or it is nothing. Anyway, no one likes their job, which is the same as work. Don’t be a sucker! A show-off! A conceit!

Never concede.

Books are dead.

***

Now, of course, I wouldn’t take things so far down that particular logic hole; the rabbits there are deranged.

This is nothing that should be done. Stranger readings ought to stay that way.

This is just an exercise.

The premise being ridiculous.

 

 

 

 

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Filed under Books, Communications, Death, Interruptions, Language, People, Routines, Words

Grave Game, Round 2

(a.k.a. “Epitaphs,” but it’s hard to resist alliteration and impossible to deny it, once indulged).

Round 2:

GIRL!

– Took It, Left It.

– Now For Patience.

– Paid Too Much.

– No More Bad Days.

– I Fail To See The Point.

NETWORK ERROR.

– Remains Open To Interpretation.

– Buyer’s Remorse.

– Overrated & Undercooked.

– Worms, Guys, Worms.

– Your Face.

I WISH YOU WOULD.

– Uh-Oh.

– I Left My Head And My Heart On The Dance Floor.

– Trust.

My, My, My.

– Fancy That.

– Did I Leave The Stove On?

BOTTOM’S UP!

– Your Shoes Are Ugly.

 

 

 

 

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Filed under Ceremony, Communications, Death, Downtime, Games, People

Grave Game, Round 1

Did you know?

My friend, Ria, plays a mighty fine Grave Game: think up the best epitaph you can, for posterity’s sake. It certainly helps to pass the inevitable time.

(I guess the game should be called “Epitaphs,” but sometimes the names pick themselves.)

Nobody will ever read your yearbook, but someone’s bound to walk pass your grave.

 

Round 1:

– I Never Read The Book.

– Must Be Nice.

– Bitch, Please.

– Meh.

– Omar Coming.

BEHIND YOU.

– Fine Enough.

– Here Lies Lisa Simpson.

– My Other Grave Is A Camaro.

– Kind Of Hard Not To Take This Personally.

– Weasel Popped.

– I Doughnut Care.

– Shredded Hearts Or Cheese, Makes No Difference.

– I Voted.

– What? These Old Bones?

– Lousy.

– “The Thing in Quotes That Defines Me.”

– Am The Dust Collecting Now.

– No More Fart Jokes.

– I Tried, I Tired.

– Don’t Blink.

– Have A Nice Summer!

– The Whole Thing Was Pretty Distracting.

– Imagine Now How I’d Look In Real Life.

– People. Do. It. Every. Day.

– Finally Got It.

– Better You Than Me.

– I Used To Be A Lot Better Than This.

– Now Comes The Hard Part.

– Yoga? Dead Anyway.

– The Movie Was Better.

 

 

 

 

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Filed under Celebrity, Communications, Death, Downtime, Friends, Games

Eponymous

Let’s skip the definition here and witness the word in action, so rarely do we get to do that with such perspicacity:

Our manager, Bristol,* ever-loving Bristol, easy-going Bristol (or so she would have you believe and, really, do I have any proof to say otherwise?), Bristol wanted to shake things up, play a little music as we worked.

Music of our choosing.

“What shall we play?” she asked cheerfully after her playlist had exhausted itself.

“Beyoncé,” answered Simone.

“O-K. Beyonce! What songs? Which album?”

Beyoncé.”

“I heard, Beyonce.”

“Beyoncé.”

“I need you to give me an album, at least to start.”

Beyoncé.”

“STOP SAYING BEYONCE!”

It took several long moments, in which nothing was said, in which nothing, (Beyoncé or otherwise) played, before Bristol, finally, blessedly caught up, got with it & realized.

“Oh. You mean – “

“Beyoncé: Beyoncé,” answered Simone.

As the music played and we four women (Bristol included) worked steadily away to Drunk in Love (feat. Jay Z), Tim, a report writer, stuck his head through the door and into our workspace.

“Wow. It’s like a sorority in here,” he said.

(Tim’s head: did I mention it was undersized?)

But Tim is another story:

Tim’s an asshole, the very definition.

 

 

 

________________________________________________

* Not real names. No real names, not here, not today.

 

 

 

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Filed under Communications, Jobs, Music, Names, People, Words

Bong Go

There is one morning in recent memory where I caught my teenage neighbour out on his stoop with a giant, truly impressive bong (not unlike a really large test tube, or small palm tree).

He choked on it when I said “Hi” and I looked away so he could shove it behind him and pretend he didn’t have it. And so I could pretend I never saw it. So we could both pretend that it wasn’t, in actuality, right there, jammed between his body and the front door, jabbing him uncomfortably in the back like it was indignant.

(Wouldn’t you be?)

Then he smiled and said “Hi” back.

Then we talked about the weather for longer than seemed necessary, or possible. He shifted, fumbled, and the bong fell unceremoniously to its side. The noise it made as it did so was one of pure resignation.

Then he really smiled and I really smiled and we forgot about the weather and wished each other a nice day.

Because it’s not always about how the day starts, is it?

And the morning had really only just begun, hadn’t it?

 

 

 

 

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Filed under Communications, Friends, Interruptions, Mind and Body, People, Routines