It is fairly common for me to be the last person in the office in the evenings. Our floor is locked after business hours and only people with passkeys can get off on our floor so it's really not creepy being alone on the floor at night (except for as a result of certain creeper janitors, but that's a story for another day). I do have to walk outside to a deserted parking garage to get to my car when I leave work, but even that isn't usually creepy and I do remain alert to my surroundings and try to avoid potentially dangerous situations when I walk to my car.
One evening when I was leaving work I summoned the elevator in our office. The elevator arrived and as I stepped inside, I was surprised to see someone already in the elevator. Because our office is at the top of the building, it is unusual for someone to already be in the elevator. But, there is a restaurant and bar in the building and it's not uncommon to find a tipsy restaurant patron riding up and down the elevator having trouble getting out of the building after an evening "out on the town." So I didn't think too much of the situation.
As soon as I stepped on the elevator, the man craned his neck to read the company sign on the office wall before the elevator doors closed. While he was doing this, I noticed that the elevator was permeated with the smell of body odor and that he looked quite unkempt and homeless. Then he proclaimed, "Oh, so this is where the ABC, LLC offices are located!" As though he had just discovered the location of the buried treasure. I thought to myself "Oh sure, like he's ever heard of us before." Then he turned to me and said, "Do you know Matt Paul." I was dumbfounded. Matt is one of the owners of ABC, apparently this guy was somewhat legit.
We chatted for a few seconds about Matt, and then the man informed me that Kenny Rogers was his dad. The fact that he wasn't bluffing about knowing of ABC made me think he might be credible on this count as well, especially since he had white hair and a white fluffy beard, a la Kenny Rogers. I commented to him that I could see the family resemblance.
Then he said, "What's your favorite Kenny Rogers song." I froze with a deer-in-the-headlights expression on my face, and said to myself, "think, think, think, can't you come up with at least one Kenny Rogers song?" Apparently, the answer was "no." The only reason I even know who Kenny Rogers is (he's a little before my time) is because I remember my grandmother watching the Kenny Rogers/Dolly Parton specials on TV (borrrrring!). So I responded to him, "Oh boy, that's a tough one," trying to imply that I like all the Kenny Rogers songs so well it's hard to pick just one. At this point, the elevator doors opened. There was no way I was going to let those elevator doors shut with me and this guy still on the elevator (despite the fact the he appeared to know Matt, I still got a creeper vibe from him). So I hopped off the elevator and he followed me.
I wasn't sure what to do next, but was certain that I wasn't going to head over to the deserted parking garage with this guy following me. So I decided to stop in the middle of the elevator banks to complete my conversation with Son-of-Kenny in a well-lit, fairly populated area.
Him: Okay then, just name one Kenny Rogers song.
Me: Oh boy, let's see. (awkward pause)
Him: How about "Buy Me a Rose?"
Me: Ohhhh, yes. That's a very good song. (I lie. If I've ever heard that song, I certainly don't remember it).
And then, standing in the elevator lobby, he begins belting out at the top of his lungs (even though I'm only standing three fee away) "He works hard to give her all he thinks she wants, three car garage, her own credit cards" as people heading to the restaurant pour in and out of the elevators. He's not phased, eyes fixated on me, singing, singing, singing. And, I stand there, awkwardly suffling my feet, trying not to make too much eye contact, as my gets hotter and hotter and redder and redder. When is this going to end?? Why is this the longest song in all of earth's history.
When he got to the end of the chorus after the first verse, he paused for a breath, so I took the opportunity to try to short circuit the performance. I clap as loud and as fast as I could and exclaimed "Wow, that was really great. You are a wonder--" but that's as far as I got as he began again with " He pulls in late to wake her up with a kiss good night, if he could only read her mind, she'd say..." and he continues on and on. After what seems like 30 minutes and 100 awkward stares from passersby, he finishes with "'Cause, I'm gonna make things right, for the rest of your life, and I'm gonna hold you tonight, do all those little things, for the rest of your life." I repeat my proclamations of praise and thanks and awe of his singing talents (he really was quite good), and quickly head away, making sure he wasn't following me. I arrived home without incident. The next morning I was excited to tell my coworkers about the experience because I knew I had just firmly and irrevocably established myself as the winner of the "weird elevator story contest." (For more about this contest, see here.)
The next morning, I called Matt to get the scoop on my elevator singer.
Me: Hi Matt. I met a guy on the elevator last night who said he knows you. I can't recall his name, but he told me that he is a Capricorn just like you and that his dad is Kenny Rogers and he sang me a Kenny Rogers song.
Matt: (nervous laugh) Oh yeah, he lived in Las Vegas for awhile and was a Kenny Rogers impersonator.
Me: So is Kenny Rogers really his dad?
Matt: No.
Me: Oh, okay. (Pause) Sooo, how do you know him?
Matt: He was a client of mine for a little while. Be careful of him though, he was convicted of a violent crime and only recently got out of jail.
Me: Got it. Thanks.
Now, I not only one the "weird elevator story consent," I now won the "creepest elevator story contest" too.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Am I Passable?
I work in a high rise that has an upscale restaurant and bar a few floors below our office. This results in a number of directionally challenged and tipsy restaurant patrons getting lost on elevators in the building and the parking garage. A few of my work friends and I have started an unofficial ongoing contest that we call the "weird elevator story contest."
Our typical stories are people overly interested in engaging in conversation with us on the elevator; people who insist that the restaurant is on the top floor of the building; and loud drunk people practically yelling to each other in the elevator. Some of the more unusual stories are of people with poor elevator etiquette who face the wrong way in the elevator or don't move out of the way to let people on or off the elevator.
One evening, I went out to grab dinner before coming back to work for awhile longer. After I got on the elevator to go back up to the office, another person got on the elevator. I didn't pay much attention to the person. About one second after the elevator doors closed, I hear a deep man's voice ask, "Am I Passable?" I look over for the first time and see a manly look short stout woman wearing a fitted sparkly black tank top, capri khakis, and a long blond wig. My mind started racing, "Is he actually asking if he's passable as a woman or does he mean something else? He must mean something else! But, what else could it be? If I answer that he is passable, doesn't that mean I've admitted I know he is a man? But, if I answer no, that's not good either. I believe this is what you would call a catch 22." I then mustered my most cheerleaderish voice and say "Oh yeah, definitely!"
Then the elevator doors opened at the restaurant. As he stepped out of the elevator, he looked back and said "Oh good, I haven't done this in a long time." Again, in my most cheerleader voice, "Oh, don't worry, you look great!" The doors close and I continue on back to work.
I was elated the next morning to share the story with my friends and officially be granted the title of winner of the weird elevator story contest.
Our typical stories are people overly interested in engaging in conversation with us on the elevator; people who insist that the restaurant is on the top floor of the building; and loud drunk people practically yelling to each other in the elevator. Some of the more unusual stories are of people with poor elevator etiquette who face the wrong way in the elevator or don't move out of the way to let people on or off the elevator.
One evening, I went out to grab dinner before coming back to work for awhile longer. After I got on the elevator to go back up to the office, another person got on the elevator. I didn't pay much attention to the person. About one second after the elevator doors closed, I hear a deep man's voice ask, "Am I Passable?" I look over for the first time and see a manly look short stout woman wearing a fitted sparkly black tank top, capri khakis, and a long blond wig. My mind started racing, "Is he actually asking if he's passable as a woman or does he mean something else? He must mean something else! But, what else could it be? If I answer that he is passable, doesn't that mean I've admitted I know he is a man? But, if I answer no, that's not good either. I believe this is what you would call a catch 22." I then mustered my most cheerleaderish voice and say "Oh yeah, definitely!"
Then the elevator doors opened at the restaurant. As he stepped out of the elevator, he looked back and said "Oh good, I haven't done this in a long time." Again, in my most cheerleader voice, "Oh, don't worry, you look great!" The doors close and I continue on back to work.
I was elated the next morning to share the story with my friends and officially be granted the title of winner of the weird elevator story contest.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Sales Pitching
I admit it! I'm a people pleaser! Supposedly, admitting the problem is the first step to recovery, but I haven't found that to be true. No matter what, I want people to like me. I want people to think I'm nice. I want people to think I'm fun. And, I agonize, for days, if I think someone thought I was rude or unfriendly. This means that I walk around with a huge target on my back for all those aggressive sales pitchers (you know, the ones who rely on the niceness of people and try to make the pitchee feel like she is the rude one if she won't listen to the entire pitch and commitment to some further step).
Last week, I was sitting in my office getting some work done when my phone rang (see here to read more about my general dislike for unscheduled phone calls). I sighed out loud and saw that it was someone calling from Northwestern Mutual*, thinking it may be a referral prospect or a client advisor needing assistance for a mutual client, I answered the phone.
"Hello, this is Adam ******** from Northwestern Mutual. I found you on your company's website. I am new to the area and am trying to make professional contacts. Based on the information on your website, I think we might be of potential benefit to each other through client referrals and I wonder if I can buy you a cup of coffee so that we can get acquainted."
Me: "Ummmm. Sure that would be fine."
Adam: "Great! I promise this won't be sales pitch, just a chance to get to know each other and how we might be able to help each other through referrals."
So we set up the appointment to meet. I've been around the block a few times and expected the meeting would ultimately be for the purpose of him pitching me to refer clients to him or use him for my own personal needs, but I figure it'd only be a few minutes of my life and that at least I'd get a free Starbuck's drink out of the deal (I subscribe to the theory of the "latte factor," (you can read more about it here on David Bach's website finishrich.com) that you can get rich by making small daily choices to save money by cutting out something as small as a latte--I take this literally and very very rarely ever treat myself to a Starbuck's beverage). Mr. Adam was supposed to email me a confirmation, which he never did, so I was not sure whether he would actually show up or not. But because we were meeting at my office and then walking to Starbuck's, either outcome would have been okay with me. If he didn't show up, I gained an extra 30 minutes in my life. If he showed up, I got a free Starbuck's drink.
The appointed day and hour arrived and I received a call from the receptionist. "Your gentlemen are here to see you."
"My gentlemen?" I thought. "There is more than one of them?" "Ohhhhhhh, that's just great...."
I walk to the lobby and there are in fact two suited men to see me. "Hi, Looky. I'm Adam, and this is Nathan. I wasn't sure if Nathan would be in town to join us, but you're in luck he was able to join us."
"Oh boy, am I ever in luck." I think. "Get acquainted, my foot. This is going to be a full-court press." I started heading to the elevator to get the Starbuck's show on the road. As I'm at the elevator waiting for it to arrive, Adam asks very perplexed, "Uhhhhhh, where are we going?"
Me: "Oh, I thought we were going to get coffee."
Adam: "Ummmm.....oh. Or, we could just meet here instead?"
"In my office?!? You jack***!" I think to myself. What a pain. I certainly wasn't going to take these jokers to my actual office because I wasn't sure I'd ever get them to leave, so I worked with the receptionist to find an open conference room for our little impromptu meeting. After a few minutes we finally get situated in a conference room. Without a Starbuck's beverage in my hand, I might add.
Adam: "I thought I'd let Nathan run this meeting since he's done this more often than I have."
Me: "Okay."
Nathan: "So how much time do you have? Forty-five or..."
Me: "I only have 20 minutes."
Nathan: "Ohhhhh wow....20 minutes?"
Me: "Yes, I typically have a more flexible schedule, but unfortunately my schedule is packed today and I only have 20 minutes."
Nathan: "O..K...I guess we'll make this quick."
And then, he launches into to all the wonderful products Northwestern Mutual can provide and all the wonderful things it can do for me. Then, he starts asking the typical, "What is your household income? How much life insurance do you have? Do you have disability insurance? etc. etc." Because we take our finances seriously, I'm able to answer all of the questions in a way that closes doors to further pitches.
Nathan (looking at his watch): "Well, we want to be respectful of your time and we're just now at 20 minutes. I wonder if..."
Me (while pushing my chair back from the table and thinking "respectful of my time, ohhhhhh pulease"): "Great! Well, thanks for your time, I appreciate it."
Nathan: "Well, it seems like you're pretty squared away for now, but I wonder if we could keep you on our list to check in with periodically to see if things change?"
Me: "Sure. I guess that would be fine."
We say our official goodbyes and I go back to my office fuming! Everything about the interaction was calculated to make me feel awkward enough to acquiesce to these jokers' demands. I'm offered coffee, but then I feel like I've committed a social faux pas by expecting I'll actually get coffee. I've agreed to give up a portion of my life and then I feel uncomfortable or rude because I only allocated 20 minutes to the endeavor. I'm told there would not be a sales pitch, that the meeting was only for the purpose of getting to know another professional, and then I'm forced to listen to a sales pitch and disclose personal financial information, and to do otherwise would have made me feel very uncomfortable and rude. I can't stand the typical pushy salesmen, but at least I've never had one of them take me away from my work with offers of time spent in a potentially mutually beneficial way, and over a free Starbuck's beverage, only to renege on the whole deal, except, of course, the part where I have to waste my time pulled away from work for some useless purpose.
I have one thing to say to you, Adam from Northwestern Mutual. You better believe I'll be ready for your next phone call. Yes, sir, I will! I sure bet you'll be sorry when....when....when....I most likely, politely decline any further invitation to coffee or to engage in further discussions but give you permission to keep me on your list to check up on periodically. So there!
*The names of the guilty have not been changed
Last week, I was sitting in my office getting some work done when my phone rang (see here to read more about my general dislike for unscheduled phone calls). I sighed out loud and saw that it was someone calling from Northwestern Mutual*, thinking it may be a referral prospect or a client advisor needing assistance for a mutual client, I answered the phone.
"Hello, this is Adam ******** from Northwestern Mutual. I found you on your company's website. I am new to the area and am trying to make professional contacts. Based on the information on your website, I think we might be of potential benefit to each other through client referrals and I wonder if I can buy you a cup of coffee so that we can get acquainted."
Me: "Ummmm. Sure that would be fine."
Adam: "Great! I promise this won't be sales pitch, just a chance to get to know each other and how we might be able to help each other through referrals."
So we set up the appointment to meet. I've been around the block a few times and expected the meeting would ultimately be for the purpose of him pitching me to refer clients to him or use him for my own personal needs, but I figure it'd only be a few minutes of my life and that at least I'd get a free Starbuck's drink out of the deal (I subscribe to the theory of the "latte factor," (you can read more about it here on David Bach's website finishrich.com) that you can get rich by making small daily choices to save money by cutting out something as small as a latte--I take this literally and very very rarely ever treat myself to a Starbuck's beverage). Mr. Adam was supposed to email me a confirmation, which he never did, so I was not sure whether he would actually show up or not. But because we were meeting at my office and then walking to Starbuck's, either outcome would have been okay with me. If he didn't show up, I gained an extra 30 minutes in my life. If he showed up, I got a free Starbuck's drink.
The appointed day and hour arrived and I received a call from the receptionist. "Your gentlemen are here to see you."
"My gentlemen?" I thought. "There is more than one of them?" "Ohhhhhhh, that's just great...."
I walk to the lobby and there are in fact two suited men to see me. "Hi, Looky. I'm Adam, and this is Nathan. I wasn't sure if Nathan would be in town to join us, but you're in luck he was able to join us."
"Oh boy, am I ever in luck." I think. "Get acquainted, my foot. This is going to be a full-court press." I started heading to the elevator to get the Starbuck's show on the road. As I'm at the elevator waiting for it to arrive, Adam asks very perplexed, "Uhhhhhh, where are we going?"
Me: "Oh, I thought we were going to get coffee."
Adam: "Ummmm.....oh. Or, we could just meet here instead?"
"In my office?!? You jack***!" I think to myself. What a pain. I certainly wasn't going to take these jokers to my actual office because I wasn't sure I'd ever get them to leave, so I worked with the receptionist to find an open conference room for our little impromptu meeting. After a few minutes we finally get situated in a conference room. Without a Starbuck's beverage in my hand, I might add.
Adam: "I thought I'd let Nathan run this meeting since he's done this more often than I have."
Me: "Okay."
Nathan: "So how much time do you have? Forty-five or..."
Me: "I only have 20 minutes."
Nathan: "Ohhhhh wow....20 minutes?"
Me: "Yes, I typically have a more flexible schedule, but unfortunately my schedule is packed today and I only have 20 minutes."
Nathan: "O..K...I guess we'll make this quick."
And then, he launches into to all the wonderful products Northwestern Mutual can provide and all the wonderful things it can do for me. Then, he starts asking the typical, "What is your household income? How much life insurance do you have? Do you have disability insurance? etc. etc." Because we take our finances seriously, I'm able to answer all of the questions in a way that closes doors to further pitches.
Nathan (looking at his watch): "Well, we want to be respectful of your time and we're just now at 20 minutes. I wonder if..."
Me (while pushing my chair back from the table and thinking "respectful of my time, ohhhhhh pulease"): "Great! Well, thanks for your time, I appreciate it."
Nathan: "Well, it seems like you're pretty squared away for now, but I wonder if we could keep you on our list to check in with periodically to see if things change?"
Me: "Sure. I guess that would be fine."
We say our official goodbyes and I go back to my office fuming! Everything about the interaction was calculated to make me feel awkward enough to acquiesce to these jokers' demands. I'm offered coffee, but then I feel like I've committed a social faux pas by expecting I'll actually get coffee. I've agreed to give up a portion of my life and then I feel uncomfortable or rude because I only allocated 20 minutes to the endeavor. I'm told there would not be a sales pitch, that the meeting was only for the purpose of getting to know another professional, and then I'm forced to listen to a sales pitch and disclose personal financial information, and to do otherwise would have made me feel very uncomfortable and rude. I can't stand the typical pushy salesmen, but at least I've never had one of them take me away from my work with offers of time spent in a potentially mutually beneficial way, and over a free Starbuck's beverage, only to renege on the whole deal, except, of course, the part where I have to waste my time pulled away from work for some useless purpose.
I have one thing to say to you, Adam from Northwestern Mutual. You better believe I'll be ready for your next phone call. Yes, sir, I will! I sure bet you'll be sorry when....when....when....I most likely, politely decline any further invitation to coffee or to engage in further discussions but give you permission to keep me on your list to check up on periodically. So there!
*The names of the guilty have not been changed
Paradoxial View of Phones
I have a love-hate relationship with telephones. On the one hand, it is an invaluable tool to allow person-to person instantaneous communication to catch up or to really allow explanation or deep communication and understanding about an issue or a happening, especially when email is too clunky or time consuming. On the other hand, phone are a way for others to demand immediate attention, regardless of my schedule.
I start each work day with my "to-do" list and mentally map out when and how I'm going to accomplish the tasks before me. Once I get started on a task it might be an hour before I look up again to check my email and see how my day is being reshaped by client and co-worker demands. But, when I do look up to check my email, it's on my own time, at a natural break point when I'm not in the middle of a train of thought, about to make a breakthrough on an issue, or frantically working to meet a deadline. If I receive an urgent email, I can assess it and address it without interrupting my other project mid-thought, and for less-urgent emails, I can take five seconds to respond to the email with my anticipating time for tackling the issue. This allows me to be the master of my own schedule and to access, prioritize my tasks based on my understanding of everything that needs to be done and the competing deadlines, and communicate my timeline to those affected, rather than letting one person jump the line in front of tasks that have a higher priority or for which someone had the foresight to reserve time on my calendar.
There are times when a 45 minute or longer telephone conversation legitimately needs to occur "RIGHT NOW" and there is no time to schedule it or plan for it. But, if someone needs 45 minutes of my time, most of the time, it wouldn't be too difficult to schedule a time to talk about it (even if it is just later than day), rather than just call me and expect that I have time to drop everything and squeeze an extra 45 minutes into my day. People don't expect that they can just walk into their dentist or doctor's office, or even their pedicurists office without notice and be served immediately so I'm not sure why they think other professionals should be different. I also think that people often miss that the beauty of scheduling a time for a phone call is that I can be mentally prepared and in a mental state to devote the appropriate thought to the call instead of a mental frenzy worried about how the call is interfering with other demands and deadlines.
On the personal side, scheduling a chit-chat phone call isn't routinely done, and I get that. But if I'm the caller, I typically start out the call with "I'm just calling to check in and catch up, do you have a few minutes to talk, or are you in the middle of something?" I feel like this gives the other person the opportunity to gracefully decline a conversation instead of just jumping in and assuming that because the phone was answered, the answeree has all the time in the world. The nice thing about personal calls is that I feel less compelled to rearrange my schedule to chat and will often ignore calls if the timing is inconvenient. But, I have occasionally been caught answering an inconvenient non-urgent call from a family member if the call comes at an unusual time (like after 9 p.m. or during the middle of a work day) and I answered it concerned that an emergency might have occurred.
I guess until I can convince the world that a telephone is meant to be a convenient device for both the caller and the receiver, I'll be stuck sighing aloud when my phone rings and attempting to keep my phone from running my life, but, of course, not leaving home without it.
I start each work day with my "to-do" list and mentally map out when and how I'm going to accomplish the tasks before me. Once I get started on a task it might be an hour before I look up again to check my email and see how my day is being reshaped by client and co-worker demands. But, when I do look up to check my email, it's on my own time, at a natural break point when I'm not in the middle of a train of thought, about to make a breakthrough on an issue, or frantically working to meet a deadline. If I receive an urgent email, I can assess it and address it without interrupting my other project mid-thought, and for less-urgent emails, I can take five seconds to respond to the email with my anticipating time for tackling the issue. This allows me to be the master of my own schedule and to access, prioritize my tasks based on my understanding of everything that needs to be done and the competing deadlines, and communicate my timeline to those affected, rather than letting one person jump the line in front of tasks that have a higher priority or for which someone had the foresight to reserve time on my calendar.
There are times when a 45 minute or longer telephone conversation legitimately needs to occur "RIGHT NOW" and there is no time to schedule it or plan for it. But, if someone needs 45 minutes of my time, most of the time, it wouldn't be too difficult to schedule a time to talk about it (even if it is just later than day), rather than just call me and expect that I have time to drop everything and squeeze an extra 45 minutes into my day. People don't expect that they can just walk into their dentist or doctor's office, or even their pedicurists office without notice and be served immediately so I'm not sure why they think other professionals should be different. I also think that people often miss that the beauty of scheduling a time for a phone call is that I can be mentally prepared and in a mental state to devote the appropriate thought to the call instead of a mental frenzy worried about how the call is interfering with other demands and deadlines.
On the personal side, scheduling a chit-chat phone call isn't routinely done, and I get that. But if I'm the caller, I typically start out the call with "I'm just calling to check in and catch up, do you have a few minutes to talk, or are you in the middle of something?" I feel like this gives the other person the opportunity to gracefully decline a conversation instead of just jumping in and assuming that because the phone was answered, the answeree has all the time in the world. The nice thing about personal calls is that I feel less compelled to rearrange my schedule to chat and will often ignore calls if the timing is inconvenient. But, I have occasionally been caught answering an inconvenient non-urgent call from a family member if the call comes at an unusual time (like after 9 p.m. or during the middle of a work day) and I answered it concerned that an emergency might have occurred.
I guess until I can convince the world that a telephone is meant to be a convenient device for both the caller and the receiver, I'll be stuck sighing aloud when my phone rings and attempting to keep my phone from running my life, but, of course, not leaving home without it.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Crazy Toenail Phobias
In my life, I've known two beings with irrational toenail trimming phobias. The first was my mom. The second is our beagle Mr. C.
When I was about 10 years old, my mom started asking me to trim her toenails for her. Weird, right!?! Well, that wasn't the weirdest part. As I would trim her nails, she would grimace, grit her teeth, and suck in air, making a hissing noise as the air passed through her gritted teeth as I trimmed. I would freak out, "Did I hurt you? Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine. I just hate having my toenails trimmed!"
What!?! Seriously, someone who hates having their nails trimmed forces their young daughter into slave labor, trimming her nails. Oh yes, now I see the logic it that. Oh wait, no I don't.
Fast forward twenty years and I find myself with a beagle who freaks out whenever anyone touches his paws, especially his toenails. We've tried differently things. Sneaking up on him when he's sleeping and getting one or two nails trimmed before he starts flopping around, kicking, and nipping at us. We've tried one of us pinning him down while the other trims. But he's such a wiggly monster even that has only marginal success. The most successful method (other than taking to the vet and letting them handle it) is cornering him in the bathroom, closing the door and sitting in front of him so he can't move too much. But, then Mr. C won't step foot in the bathroom for about two months after that, although I guess that's not the worst thing since he does tend to be fairly nosey about people's activities in the bathroom.
Currently, his nails haven't been trimmed since early May and are really long. His nails are so long, that he sits and chews on them, clearly wishing they were shorter, but even that discomfort won't cause him to tolerate a little nail trim.
I think the next time my mom visits, I'll ask her to trim Mr. C's nails. It will be sort of like payback for making me trim her nails as a kid. I'm also thinking that two beings so freaked out about toenail trims might collectively be able to overcome their fears. Sort of like toenail therapy.
When I was about 10 years old, my mom started asking me to trim her toenails for her. Weird, right!?! Well, that wasn't the weirdest part. As I would trim her nails, she would grimace, grit her teeth, and suck in air, making a hissing noise as the air passed through her gritted teeth as I trimmed. I would freak out, "Did I hurt you? Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine. I just hate having my toenails trimmed!"
What!?! Seriously, someone who hates having their nails trimmed forces their young daughter into slave labor, trimming her nails. Oh yes, now I see the logic it that. Oh wait, no I don't.
Fast forward twenty years and I find myself with a beagle who freaks out whenever anyone touches his paws, especially his toenails. We've tried differently things. Sneaking up on him when he's sleeping and getting one or two nails trimmed before he starts flopping around, kicking, and nipping at us. We've tried one of us pinning him down while the other trims. But he's such a wiggly monster even that has only marginal success. The most successful method (other than taking to the vet and letting them handle it) is cornering him in the bathroom, closing the door and sitting in front of him so he can't move too much. But, then Mr. C won't step foot in the bathroom for about two months after that, although I guess that's not the worst thing since he does tend to be fairly nosey about people's activities in the bathroom.
Currently, his nails haven't been trimmed since early May and are really long. His nails are so long, that he sits and chews on them, clearly wishing they were shorter, but even that discomfort won't cause him to tolerate a little nail trim.
I think the next time my mom visits, I'll ask her to trim Mr. C's nails. It will be sort of like payback for making me trim her nails as a kid. I'm also thinking that two beings so freaked out about toenail trims might collectively be able to overcome their fears. Sort of like toenail therapy.
Quashed Squash
Occasionally, I'll hear of a court "quashing" something or other. I'm not really sure what this means or how it happens, but it makes me chuckle a little. It makes me think that the court would have preferred to "squash" it, but that didn't sound sophisticated enough so instead they decided to "quash". If I liked cooked squash better, I think I'd try to come up with a squashed squash recipe, I think I'd need to use some type of bitter squash, and call it "quashed squash" and then invite some lawyers over to eat it.
Tips for Avoiding Awkward Public Bathroom Behavior
I'm a person who typically uses public restrooms more often than the bathroom in my home, so I've complied a little list of tips of inappropriate or awkward public restroom behavior for those who may not frequent public restrooms as often as I.
Tip # 1. Do Not Make Noises of Pleasure (or Displeasure, for that Matter)
My mom is raging extrovert and likes to bring everyone in on the fun occurrences of life (and pretty much any occurrence can be a fun occurrence), stranger or not. On more than one occasion, I've been out and about with my mom and she has waited until the last minute to find a public bathroom and then needs to make an emergency potty stop. After wincing and doing the potty dance until she makes it to the stall, she'll plop onto the pot and immediately begin saying things like "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh my goodness, that feels so good!!!! Ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!" in a loud pornographic-type whisper and continues the whispering for the duration of the potty stop. This is not appropriate public restroom behavior, nor would whispers of displeasure or pain be appropriate public restroom noises.
Tip #2 Once the Stall Door Closes, all Conversation Must Cease
This isn't so much of a problem at public restrooms outside of the work place (unless you're a raging extrovert) but people don't go to the bathroom to catch up on the latest happenings. They go for one reason, and its selfish and personal. The basic rule is that once the stall door closes, all communications should stop, with the exception of a request for toilet paper if one finds herself in a stall that is not adequately stalked. Most people understand this rule, but there are a few outliers in my office. Although I'm not a huge fan of the conversation between stalls when both people are on the potty, the most awkward is when one person has finished her business and is about to exit the restroom when another person walks in and starts up a conversation while marching herself into a stall and promptly closing the door. When this happens, I find myself standing awkwardly talking to stall door and waiting impatiently for the opportunity to not-too-abruptly end the conversation and make a beeline out of the bathroom but being conflicted feeling that the chatty voice behind the stall door expects me to stay and chat (in the sometimes somewhat unpleasant smelling) bathroom while she finishes. Um, no thank you!
Tip # 3. Do Not Bring Reading Material to a Public Restroom Unless it Fits in your Pocket
In my office, the mens' and womens' bathroom are next door to each other and in the middle of a hallway at least 100 feet long. The hallway is bounded on either end by high traffic routes which means the walk to and from the bathroom can feel like the walk of shame.
Most of the time when people go to the restroom in our office, they arrive and leave (thankfully) empty handed. But this week I noticed an owner of the company taking the walk of shame and enter into the mens' room with a book in his hand. Now, it is possible, that someone could enter the bathroom, book in hand, and then plan to continue on to a meeting outside of the office or to a colleague's office and not want to backtrack after the potty stop to pick up the book. But I know a legitimate work-related book when I see one and this was not it. Now, I get it that many people read books or look at magazines when doing their business in the privacy of their own home, and that's okay. But at work when you have to take the walk of shame book in hand, please forego the book, like the rest of us. The book-in-hand-potty stop really provides too much information for those around.
Tip # 1. Do Not Make Noises of Pleasure (or Displeasure, for that Matter)
My mom is raging extrovert and likes to bring everyone in on the fun occurrences of life (and pretty much any occurrence can be a fun occurrence), stranger or not. On more than one occasion, I've been out and about with my mom and she has waited until the last minute to find a public bathroom and then needs to make an emergency potty stop. After wincing and doing the potty dance until she makes it to the stall, she'll plop onto the pot and immediately begin saying things like "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh my goodness, that feels so good!!!! Ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!" in a loud pornographic-type whisper and continues the whispering for the duration of the potty stop. This is not appropriate public restroom behavior, nor would whispers of displeasure or pain be appropriate public restroom noises.
Tip #2 Once the Stall Door Closes, all Conversation Must Cease
This isn't so much of a problem at public restrooms outside of the work place (unless you're a raging extrovert) but people don't go to the bathroom to catch up on the latest happenings. They go for one reason, and its selfish and personal. The basic rule is that once the stall door closes, all communications should stop, with the exception of a request for toilet paper if one finds herself in a stall that is not adequately stalked. Most people understand this rule, but there are a few outliers in my office. Although I'm not a huge fan of the conversation between stalls when both people are on the potty, the most awkward is when one person has finished her business and is about to exit the restroom when another person walks in and starts up a conversation while marching herself into a stall and promptly closing the door. When this happens, I find myself standing awkwardly talking to stall door and waiting impatiently for the opportunity to not-too-abruptly end the conversation and make a beeline out of the bathroom but being conflicted feeling that the chatty voice behind the stall door expects me to stay and chat (in the sometimes somewhat unpleasant smelling) bathroom while she finishes. Um, no thank you!
Tip # 3. Do Not Bring Reading Material to a Public Restroom Unless it Fits in your Pocket
In my office, the mens' and womens' bathroom are next door to each other and in the middle of a hallway at least 100 feet long. The hallway is bounded on either end by high traffic routes which means the walk to and from the bathroom can feel like the walk of shame.
Most of the time when people go to the restroom in our office, they arrive and leave (thankfully) empty handed. But this week I noticed an owner of the company taking the walk of shame and enter into the mens' room with a book in his hand. Now, it is possible, that someone could enter the bathroom, book in hand, and then plan to continue on to a meeting outside of the office or to a colleague's office and not want to backtrack after the potty stop to pick up the book. But I know a legitimate work-related book when I see one and this was not it. Now, I get it that many people read books or look at magazines when doing their business in the privacy of their own home, and that's okay. But at work when you have to take the walk of shame book in hand, please forego the book, like the rest of us. The book-in-hand-potty stop really provides too much information for those around.
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