Sort of a Split Personality

I am not a shy person.  It does not unnerve me to talk to people I don't know.  I've always found it fascinating to find out new things about other people.  Though I am not always as gregarious and engaging as I may seem to people who have read a large quantity of my written work, I certainly have never felt I am standoffish or rude.  Unless, of course, I've been intentionally standoffish or rude.  It happens sometimes, when I'm talking to crazy people.

 

But I would, interestingly enough, classify myself as a reserved person.  This is why: I'm open, but not right away.  And I determine the extent of my openness.  My immediate co-worker is a laugh riot, a single mom, completely non-judgmental, friendly, and it was easy to open up to her.  We think similar things, and if I say them out loud, she doesn't gasp.

 

I got very excited when my company recently hired someone my age to perform a writing job, and I know she likes talking to me and wants me to open up.  But sometimes I feel like she's condescending to talk to me, so that makes me not want to open up at all.  Perhaps she is more like me than I realize and we are both holding ourselves in reserve, to a certain extent, and nothing will happen about my frustrations until one of us lets go.

 

But I have a dual nature that way: once people know me, I can be likable.  Downright hilarious, at times, even.  I've been told I am a delightful surprise once people know me.  They are surprised at my wit, my observations, and my sometimes wicked sense of humor.

 

I periodically wonder if it would be possible for me to not start out in the reserved stage, but the more I think about it, the more I think that's also an essential part of me.  My me-ness, I think, would decrease if I didn't periodically hold back, if I didn't sometimes prefer The Thirteenth Tale and leftovers to going to lunch with my co-workers . . .  I suppose it's how I bridge my own gap between truth and reality . . .

Piano lessons

I've discovered the secret--why my parents actually paid for years of piano lessons for their five children. Sure, my older brother wanted to learn to play the piano, and they figured they should help him develop his talents. But I think my parents had another idea in mind when they let us all take piano lessons. They were providing themselves with entertainers they could recruit in a snap when the time came.

Piano players are needed in a variety of situations: to accompany people who sing (choirs or individuals), background music at weddings, entertainment at a boring family gathering, as helpers at Relief Society dinners.

Yes, indeed. That's where I will be tonight--playing the piano at my mother's RS Christmas dinner. Not asked so much as told, but not such a bad daughter that I would say no.

Especially after she mentioned she'd pay me in food . . .

A Plea to Management to Move My Office

Dear Managers,

I know I greatly appreciated my office when I first started work at this company. The window provided a lovely view of one of the main drags in Bountiful, allowing me to watch cars pass by on their way and wish I were in them instead of in my office watching them. It purveyed appropriately shiny quantities of sunlight in the spring and summer, I could dreamily watch leaves fall off the trees across the street during fall.

But now, I've discovered something I'm afraid does not suit my personality or body heat: this window conducts cold into my office during the winter. The heater, antiquated as it is, does not seem to remedy this issue. Although seeing the sparkly snow is something I enjoy, I do not enjoy feeling as though I'm sitting outside.

It has recently come to my attention that two of the members of Accounting, who are even as I write this, sitting in a toasty and warm office, have begged for my office. They have pleaded, groveled, whined, and brown-nosed. And they are too warm. (I would say that of course they are warm, because they're men, but as HR I know all about not making any type of sweeping gender stereotypes) After spending a reasonable amount of time conveniently near to their office, I would like to propose a trade.

I would like their office. I promise to not complain about a lack of windows, and I can also promise to be much more productive. Windows can be distracting. Especially when the window washers are making faces. Though I know this places me farther away from my HR colleagues, I'd like to point out it makes me more available to the rest of the company's associates. In this sense, we can make them feel closer to HR.

Finally, I fear I may become a human icicle unless you move me. And knowing how high worker's comp premiums are getting, I don't think you can risk it.

Gratefully,
Confuzzled

The Life of a Dollar

Yesterday, my co-worker and I were going crazy. Everyone was driving both of us nuts. I called it a witchy queen day for the two of us. She called it something that sounded similar. Anyway, everybody was demanding. Everybody had criticisms. Everybody wanted more attention, more time, more everything. And Human Resources, they thought, should know of a way to provide everything their little hearts desired. HA!

The only way to deal with this, we mutually decided, was to run down to Cutler's cookies and get ourselves sugared up. It's one of our ways to make ourselves feel better. And it works.

Yesterday, I got a dollar bill with a website on it: www.wheresgeorge.com, that allows you to track the path of your dollar bill. I noticed it this morning and thought, "Oh, what fun! I wonder what sort of life a dollar bill leads."

I'll tell you: this dollar bill leads a very boring life. It's been in Layton, UT and Bountiful, UT. And that is all. Nowhere else. How sad. I relate all too well to this dollar bill, having lived in one place for all of my life. I'm bored. And at the moment, I lead a boring life. Work, church, music, chiropractor, sleep. The routineness of it all is not as bad as it sounds.

But still, I want to find a way of helping this dollar bill see more. Just so I know I can too.

Oh what a morning

Not beautiful.  Just a morning.  And feeling like it.

 

I thought it might not go well when I ran to Trax and barely made it aboard, when the bus almost drove right past me, when I almost missed my stop for work.  Granted, there were a few things I saw that made it feel less like a morning:

 

1. For the second time this week, I saw someone wearing spandex to . . . wait for it, rollerblade.  And I'm talking full-body suit spandex and not shorts or a suit.  This image will be emblazoned in my brain for a couple of days.  Until something more disturbing/amusing comes along.

 

2. I think of her as the burqa girl. The way she wraps her head . . . well, let's just say it would probably fly in a Middle Eastern country if she weren't wearing her Einstein bagels t-shirt and jeans. And the fact it looks like this: she has her Einstein's ball cap on, and then she usually wears a hooded thermal shirt.  Today it was super-flowery.  She always pulls the hood over her hat, and then she wraps a scarf or two around her neck and her face.  In the end, all you see are her eyes.  Today the scarves were black and pink and green.  The overall effect, as you can imagine, was one of eclecticism.

 

3. I can smell the snow.  It's coming, and it makes me happy.  Once it's here, I want to go and ice skate outside at the Gallivan and be freezing, but oh so happy.

 

Now if I can focus on these things and not on the peppermint tea I just managed to dump all over myself . . .

Can they really not be wrong?

My trains of thought always take lesser-known paths. For instance, I've started thinking about the title of Bon Jovi's collection-of-music package (what, last year? The year before? I'm too lazy to look it up... okay, I reformed. It was released in 2004.)

The musings are odd, but my arrival on the topic is also odd. I was watching Gilmore Girls, Season 7, Episode 6, and in the course of the episode, Lorelai and Christopher visit Yale for Parents' Day. There are a cappella groups everywhere, since Yale is famous for that (can we say Whiffenpoof? I can't say it three times fast, but that's neither here nor there) and at the end of the episode, Lorelai and Chris walk past an a cappella group singing Bon Jovi's "Livin' on a Prayer."

Wrong, right? So, so so so wrong to have a six (or is it seven?) person a cappella group singing a Bon Jovi song. Choral-style. *shudder* This train of thought, including the words "Bon Jovi" and "wrong" led me to think about the aforementioned title: 100,000,000 Bon Jovi Fans Can't Be Wrong.

The implication, of course, is that Bon Jovi must rock because they've sold 100,000,000 copies of their albums. (And let's be honest, I won't argue that at all, especially since I had to pop in a Bon Jovi album of my own to listen to the good version of "Livin' on a Prayer" instead of the oh-so-wrong a capella rendition.)

But the more I think about it, the more this irks. For one, I highly doubt 100,000,000 discrete people bought their CDs. Take, for example, Exhibit A. My friend, whom we shall call BJ-Luva, has bought of all their albums twice. Because she ruined them all by over-listening and then re-bought.

Second of all, it presumes all 100,000,000 people who bought CDs are fans and cannot be wrong about Bon Jovi. It's indisputable fact I'd recommend Bon Jovi, but not everyone in the world can be a Bon Jovi fan. Otherwise, other musical genres would not exist. Besides, I can think of a handful of recommendations I followed and deeply regretted later. (*cough* the Jesse McCartney CD *cough* and yes, I'm ashamed I even listened . . . not to mention a couple of other close scrapes with Celine Dion, Mariah Carey, and . . . I'm stopping there)

Finally, my brain is pondering all of the things 100,000,000 people could be wrong about, outside the world of rock 'n' roll--that mushrooms taste good? that 'magnanimous' is synonymous with 'fabulous'? that reading could not possibly be fun? that George W. Bush is one of the best presidents we've had?

It's mind-blowing!

Spewing

So there's a scripture in the Bible that says God will spit us out if we're lukewarm.

 

A couple of the managers I work with, on the other hand, will not even put anything lukewarm into their mouth for more than an interview-length period of time.  Any person who causes debate of any kind (as in, any person they mentally debate about hiring) is automatically disqualified.

 

I've yet to decide if this is a good system or not.  Many interviewees are horrible interviewees and great employees.  Some people have no experience but they learn their job quickly and do it more efficiently than the last person who held it. 

 

I wish there weren't so much spewing go on around here.  Jobs would get filled faster.