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JWR 3.3 - What's Your Boggle?


I know people mean well, but after a short while, even though they mean well, you realize they just stop listening.  You mean well, too, but after you realize they have stopped listening and still mean well but know they have stopped listening, you stop meaning well and just plain are mean.  Or I am.  And at that point that they realize that you have stopped meaning well and are just plain mean, they stop meaning well and are still not listening and have become just mean themselves.  At this point it would behoove the both of you to stop, reset and take a break, but you donít.  Youíre warlike and, on some level, enjoy the conflict.  The war drums beat in your ears, it is not your blood pumping.  Or maybe if congress is right, rap music might be pumping in your ears.  Or heavy metal.  Now there are the two hell-bent, maddened, incoherent, feral humans snapping back and forth not caring what they sound like and not caring who overhears and not caring what is said and not caring.  Iím not surprised that hockey players sometimes snap and strike someone in the head with their sticks.  Iím surprised that it does not happen in every game, in every period.


Iím personally surprised that you never hear about someone getting their fingers chopped off as someone else accidentally skates over them.  Iím

surprised thatís not a weekly occurrence.  I asked my friends who are hockey fans if they know of anyone whose had that happen to them and they say, ďNo, but I bet it has,Ē which is no help because I want specifics.  They could even lie to me and say, ďYeah, back in Ď74 Greg Musfunkker who played for the Devils got half of his index and middle fingers sliced off during a game against the ĎHawks.  They reattached them but he held his stick differently after that.Ē  Wow.  Really?  ďYeah, man.Ē  Was there lots of blood?  ďI donít know, Iíve never seen the highlight, but did you know that blood bounces on ice?Ē  Is that right?  ďYeah, man.  It has something to do with the differences in the temperatures and the chemical makeup in the blood.Ē


They could just say that and Iíd be okay with it.  Itís not like Iíd check the stats or try to find it out on the oh-so-helpful internet.  Iíd take them at their word and, yes, I would tell others, but since I would not be able to remember specific names, I would just tell them that it had indeed happened and that blood bounces on ice.


People say that I could be a teacher.  People are wrong.  I am very aware that I could not be a teacher and days like today only fortify this nugget of personal information.  (I could actually go for some nuggets right now.  Nuggets and a little [or a lot] ranch dressing.  It only brings to attention that I need to go buy some food, but not today.  No, today I want to just be here and relax after a far too long day at work, write this, read a little, watch some rassliní on the tee-vee, make myself  a pb&j sammich and some nachos and hit the sac.  And then go to bed.)


Today at work we installed new computers for the accounting and inside sales departments.  Now, this may not seem like a big deal, but this is a jump from monitors that were (no shit here) at least fifteen years old to, Iíll guess, about as modern as you can get.  I mean, now they have internet access and use Outlook and Word and Excel and they have a fucking mouse.  The problem comes in because probably half of these people donít have computers at their house and if they do, only their kids use them.  So, they go from a little enclosed black screens with orange or green lettering (remember that shit from elementary school?) to a 17-inch flat screen monitor with better resolution than their TVís.  I was the one showing them how to use it.  I started with the chicks in accounting and, oh mama, when they got a hold of the mouse for the first time, it was like they were being introduced to the dick.  When I got tired of watching them finger-tipping it, I just said, ďGrab onto the motherfucker!  Put your finger there and hold it.Ē  The guys were the same though.  One guyís hands were actually shaking.


But I know that the real problem is that they are going from zero to forty-five instantly.  Thereís the learning curve they need to get through and I am not the guy to teach it because I donít have a game plan.


I almost never have a game plan.  I go into a lot of situations half-assed and often less.  I donít plan ahead or research.  I donít stock up or think ahead.  Iíll think to myself, just go and do it.  Youíll know when you get there.  But this ainít like that.  I focus on the tedious and gloss over the main stuff basically because I know the main stuff so well because I do it daily, and then after doing so many individual tutorials, you get to skipping stuff.  Itís like when you tell your friends a story, but you tell it to each friend separately, it gets to the point where you skip shit and gloss over other shit and became frustrated and impatient because shouldnít they know this already, I mean, Iíve only been telling the story all day long.


The other problem is because a lot of the people are middle aged (and by no means dumb, just set in their ways of doing things) and saying something like, ďJust poke around, experiment, play, test...Ē makes them get this look on your face like you just made a lewd joke about wire coat hangars and abortions.


Yeah, THAT look.


When I roll on up into work tomorrow, Iím going to have to show a minimum of three people how to just start up the computer.  And itís okay.  The really funny thing is Iím getting this reputation as the I.T. guy (which is, apparently, what I indeed am) and I have no qualifications whatsoever.  I studied English, and by ďstudyĒ I mean I read and wrote.  I never took a computer course.  Iíve always used Macintosh and only recently have been trying new things with it.  But the majority of problems are benign little things like, ďJohn, I got a pop up box thatís asking me if I want to update to a new version of Internet Explorer.  Do I?Ē  The same person asked me that question every week for two months.  I can handle that.  Now, network problems are nothing that I can deal with.  I caused some problems about two weeks ago in that area that caused some serious headaches.  I guess I broke some shit too.  We have a strip of six ethernet ports (donít ask me what they are) that are no longer functional because of what I did.


But I was just ready to pull out my hair by noon today.  You know, I donít often bitch about my job because I know that itís boring stuff, but I just left like doing it today.  And I hope thatís okay.  And if itís not, hey, son, whoís making you read this?  Is someone holding a gun to your face and saying, ďRead it!  READ!  And laugh, too!Ē  Or perhaps itís a CCM skate right on top of your hand.  Maybe theyíre going to high stick you right in your dome.  No, I highly doubt it.  Well, the old stomach is telling me that no breakfast, no break for lunch and a donut in the middle of the day is simply not enough fuel.  So, if youíll excuse me, Iíll take my leave now.  I hope this evening finds you well and I shall see you soon.




Copyright © 2002 John Lemut