Monday...why do you hate me?

I woke up this morning feeling a little jolly. So jolly in fact, that I decided to wear my Santa hat once I couldn't locate my OU baseball cap. I tucked the dog in tight & kissed her on her little nose & tucked T in & kissed her on her little nose as well & off to work I went.



This was my first mistake. As I drove to work I passed my boss' house & noticed her car was still there. Hmmm. I zipped into the parking lot, found a nice little spot and went in, unaware of the bomb of crazy awaiting me. There was an eerie silence to the building. A calm before the storm.



I unlocked the office, turned everything on, & went to get the coffee started. Friday's coffee was still sitting in the pot. EW. I cleaned the pot, filled it with water & headed back. As the coffee was brewing, it began.

A Professor came in to notify me that there was water pouring from underneath the Janitor's closet door on the 3rd floor. Now, why the Professor came to get me rather than the Janitor is a bit puzzling, but I guess I'm probably easier to find. I lept up out of my seat & immediately went to find her. She had her coat in her arms & appeared to be on her way out. When I told her of the "Great Flood", she dropped everything & headed up. I immediately had 3 more people come into my office to notify me of the "Great Flood". I told them she was aware of it & taking care of it. One of them was so irate, that she didn't hear a word I said & started going off on me.






Oh.Hell.No.

I explained to her the situation again & told her that if she needed to, she could go talk to Hazel herself. Hazel is the custodian. She wanted me to call her supervisor & let them know that she was letting water get everywhere & that what has happened is just the end of the world, and maybe she could get written up or reprimanded. Sigh. Seriously? It was just a little water. Okay, a moderate amount of water. Still, it was an honest accident. Hazel has only been with us for about a month. She's still getting the hang of things. I'm sure bitching her out will really make her want to do her best in the future. Our old custodian did this at least once a year & no one said anything.

I looked at this woman & just gave her a look that said, "Really? Seriously? You want to over-react to this THAT much?" What I did say to her though, was, "Look, it was an accident. She is on it & cleaning it up as fast as she can. If you think your room is a priority over the part she is working on now, then go upstairs & tell her. I don't think her supervisor needs to be bothered with something that is being taken care of. If she had just left it sitting there, I would most certainly call, but as it is, I think she's got it."

She looked at me & made some more noise that sounded like a chicken clucking & made it very clear to me that she felt that she was above having to go & tell the janitor such things & that it was my job to do so without directly saying that. I pretended not to get the hint & stared at her with a look of, "And?" until she felt uncomfortable & left.




With that being taken care of I finally checked my phone message that had been blinking since I walked in. It was my Boss. She wasn't coming in. Ah, okay, no back-up. It's alright. I handled it. I deleted the message & hung up. The phone rang. I answered & it was my Boss' Boss. He was running late. Okay. That's cool. I got it.

A nice fellow then pops into the office & informs me that the water in the walls messed up one of the network cables & so some of the internet in the building will be down. Craptastic. When internet goes down, Professor's are like small hungry babies that have been torn away from a teet. The whining & crying is unending & all comprehension of the way things work as well as logic disappear from their heads. Panic sets in & suddenly I realize what it must be like to run a pre-school. Kudos to you pre-school workers that do a great job. Sure enough, I get a call from the oldest living fossil in the building. Now, the guy is nice & usually very polite, but he is technologically retarded. He tells me the University page is down. I try to explain to him that he is on the network that is down & that they are working on it. He doesn't understand. He tells me his e-mail works & I explain to him that it doesn't. He had it opened & it is cached so it looks like it is, but it isn't. I suddenly realize I am doing my old IT job in my new Admin. Assist position. Dangitsomuch! This guy just refuses to talk to the IT guy. He likes me, but it AIN'T my job anymore. Anyhoo, once he understands, he tries to get me to go onto the internet for him & go into his account & download the final test for his students. Wha!? Um, no. I am not a teacher. I do NOT teach. I have never taught. I do NOT have access to teacher things. I am a receptionist. I get paid a little more than min. wage. I have not & will never be familiar with ozone or that file sharing program that teachers use. I have my own programs & things to access that are staff related. I'm sure none of the teachers know how to file anything related to travel or which forms go where. If they would like to learn that, then I will learn their things. Then perhaps when my boss calls in, they can cover me so I can go home as well.

As I am on the phone, a large number of students begin filling up the space in my office. I ask if I can help & they tell me that their Prof. has asked them to put their finals in their 6" x 6" mailbox. Seriously? Of course with 5 papers it is completely full. Now, none of them can fit their papers in & they are standing there like lost sheep. Nice. Yet another Professor who decides that rules don't apply to them. All Professor's & GA's have been told time & again NOT to do this for THIS very reason. They WILL NOT fit! I cannot be held responsible for taking these papers. If I take them & one gets lost in all my paperwork or filed somewhere on accident or the student says they handed it to me but didn't, we are all going to have to deal with that mess, and frankly, I'm not having it. I'm not going to remember at the end of the day who handed me what. That makes it real easy for a student to say they handed me their paper & that I must have lost it. See how that makes me responsible for something that I really shouldn't be? See how that is what you, as a Professor are paid to do & me & my meager wage are not? See how you as a Professor should have set up a specific time & place for them to hand you their papers & not just try to slack it off on some poor receptionist that is already dealing with floods, down internet, flying solo on a Monday frakkin' morning. See how this makes you an ASS?

Now, once that was all dealt with I grabbed the copy requests & start those. The copier jams up, makes a bunch of weird noises & gives me an error screen I've never seen before. Ahahaha. Crap.In.A.Hat.

Once I fixed that, I have a Professor come in & politely ask me if I could copy something for her. That's my job & what I get paid for, so sure. She smiles sheepishly & asks if I can copy an entire 300 page book. Yes. Yes I can. That IS something I'm paid for. Not looking forward to it, but yes. She is very thankful.

So yeah, I came to work at 8am. This all happened before 10:30am. Let's hope the day gets better. My friend did send me an EPIC picture to cheer me up. I added it below.



Oh, one more thing. No lunch. Hungry. Send help!

Illustrations

So yeah, I added illustrations to the helmet post. I wasn't able to exactly meet the request of one beloved commenter, but I did use one of her pics from that certain social networking site as inspiration.

Cartoon me

So, I think I might start doing illustrations for the blog. Here is the first attempt. It's an illustration of me. So, would you, the beloved readers, be interested in illustrations that accompany my posts? Give me some feedback & let me know.

Thanks!

Helmet laws

Let me start off by saying, in my opinion, helmet laws are unnecessary.

First of all, helmets don't save as many lives as they want you to think. Sure, maybe the person lives, but rarely are they the same person. Brain damage happens even with a helmet. Just ask a football player. So, would you consider being completely paralyzed & eating out of a tube a triumph of helmets? I wouldn't. So don't fall for all the buzz about helmets.

Secondly, if I'm an adult, shouldn't it be my decision? Why should you get to decide whether or not I have to wear a helmet? Do I get to decide that you should wear a jacket outside when it's 32 degrees outside? I mean, you could catch a cold & die without a jacket, so maybe I should get to tell you that, right? Jackets do save lives. I bet jackets save more lives than helmets.

Now, if you ever get to see the news or read the paper, you will notice that they always mention whether or not the person was wearing a helmet when there is an accident involving a motorcycle. This is to sway people into pushing the helmet law agenda.

I've got an idea. How about everyone operating any motor vehicle has to wear a helmet. Yep, even you people in cars. Imagine the lives we would save! Race car drivers wear helmets, so why not average drivers. That's right, lets make sure that you are seatbelted in & have your safety helmet on. Millions of people die from head injuries every year. Let's go a little further & make anyone who has to go out when it's slick wear a helmet! That way if you slip & fall you won't conk you head & die! Look at the number of people we would save.



According to the CDC, approximately 1.7 million people sustain a traumatic brain injury annually. So obviously people are too dumb to be let out without a helmet on. Also according to the CDC website: "Direct medical costs and indirect costs such as lost productivity of TBI totaled an estimated $60 billion in the United States in 2000.3" Guess where tons of those come from? Guess!? Football. Yep, football is statistically more dangerous than riding a motorcycle & they ALL wear helmets. Maybe we should just outlaw football. 61% of all Traumatic Brain Injuries are among adults aged 65 years and older. Alright seniors, you have to wear a helmet 24/7. If you are getting off the couch, you gotta put your helmet on.

Okay, so , I know, a little overdramatic. Seriously though, when do we stop. Motorcycles are dangerous. Duh. So are cars, sports & lots of other things. Adults do NOT need protective laws for their person. Seatbelt laws, helmet laws are an intrusion. It's a nanny law. I wear my helmet. I know the risks. Every once & a while I ride without it. Look, if I'm going 40 MPH & some idiot pulls out in front of me, there are no guarantees. I know this. Honestly though, there are NO guarantees in life. You never know how you're going to go. If someone wants to ride across the highways on a steel horse & feel the wind in their hair, why should it be any of YOUR business. Leave it alone. Go volunteer somewhere & help someone who really needs it.

The clique that thinks it's not

I have noticed an interesting little clique that I never had before thanks to those social network sites. By clique, I mean a group of people that all think alike & respond predictably to certain things. Many cliques even dress alike. Internet cliques might, but it's hard to tell. The one I've noticed is the group that hates everything more than 5 people like. In school you probably knew the kid. He or she hated everything that was popular. It didn't matter if it was good or fun or not serious, they HATED it. Now, they would say they didn't, but rest assured, if they went to the effort to point it out, it was because at some point it pissed them off on some level. They were the kid that listened to obscure music & watched obscure films & would make smart-ass remarks about anything you liked. They call things stupid & routinely comment on the stupidity of anything popular. Nothing popular can be good or smart or intelligent.

Now, that one kid you knew has access to the one kid I knew & the one kid from here & the one kid from there & now, it becomes very clear, that these people are indeed their own clique. You post something & know exactly what they will say & you know they will feel the need, an aching deep seeded need to speak out about how absurd or idiotic it is. They usually call groups names & stroke their ego about how unique they are. How they are an individual & don't follow trends. How the "sheeple" or masses are so beneath them.

From what I have been able to determine, these people make up about 4% of the population. That 4% are very loyal to each other on networking sites. If you ever try to just light-heartedly blow them off, be assured, the whole 4% will post something passive aggressive indirectly or directly at you & try to make you feel as ignorant & stupid as they can. It's a given. It WILL happen 100% of the time. In fact, I would go so far as to say it is a sure as death & taxes.

Sadly, many of them don't understand that they are as transparent as a high school cheerleader. I know, I am totally stereotyping & it's wrong, but just play along. Most of these people have depression problems, mental health problems, esteem issues & live alone or they swing to the other extreme & are party whores. Still, they are very lonely people. It makes me sad for them. They can't let go & lighten up. Everything is so grim & depressing & mankind is a horrid blemish on the universe. Doom & gloom & the whole world is stupid.

I hesitate to reveal this, but everyone likes an obscure band. At least one. Everyone has a favorite obscure movie. Everyone thinks something is stupid. Most people just let it go. Going around with an attitude of superiority does not make you superior. Looking down on everything does not make you cool. Well, maybe to the 4% clique it does, but that isn't any different than any other clique. Deliberately, whether consciously or subconsciously, berating everything popular doesn't make you look smart. I'm not saying you shouldn't feel that your opinion doesn't count or that you're wrong, if you are a 4% person, but I am saying it won't help you feel better about yourself or make friends or create lasting relationships.

I understand not playing the game & not wanting to go with the crowd. I get it. It's the aggressive attacks on those who think differently than you I don't get. How is that any different than the high school bully? Honestly, I don't think it is. In fact, I know it isn't.

I had 3 main bullies in school. One was a girl two grades ahead of me that used to push me into lockers & call me a dyke or queer. She was one of the popular girls. Queen bee. Made other girls do her bidding. One was the girl whose grandma lived across the street. She was a cheerleader that used to tell me I dressed like a boy & was weird for getting grass stains on my jeans all the time & called me tomboy like it was something bad. The last & possibly worst one of all was one of these 4% kids. This guy never let up. I liked hair bands. They were stupid. I was stupid for listening to them. They didn't write real music & he hated everything about hair bands & made a point to tell me every opportunity he could. It was 1986 for gods sake. He listened to the Dead Milkmen & the Dead Kennedys. Bands that wrote their own music. I'm fairly certain if they had ever played them on the radio in the top 40, he would have instantly stopped listening & called them sell-outs.

I liked Van Gogh. Van Gogh was stupid. Everyone likes Van Gogh. It didn't matter to him why I liked Van Gogh. If I liked Van Gogh it had to be because everyone else did.

I liked stickers. Stickers were stupid. Why do people put stickers on things? It's stupid. Everything I did or said or liked was stupid. I couldn't have a decent conversation with this dude no matter how hard I tried. It was always a passive aggressive barrage aimed at me & society. Jesus, man. Really? Stickers piss you off?

I always imagined he got up & the sun would piss him off first thing off the bat. Then the stupid flavor names on the toothpaste would piss him off. Then the ridiculous brand name Eggo would piss him off. I could hear him, "Why don't they just call them waffles. It's what they are. The name Eggo is stupid." You get the point. Luckily high school ends. I went on to have a wonderful time in college & make many friends & had a whole lot of fun.

It's funny...if popular culture didn't exist, I wonder, what would he like? Popular culture is what made it possible for his kind & his clique to exist.

I guess I just wanted to share my opinion & vent a little. I do feel sad for these people. It seems they can never just enjoy things for what they are. Everything in their worlds is always so serious & has to make a point or statement. There is no room for fun & silliness. Fun & silliness is for fools. Well, I hate to say it, but we are each fools at one point or another. Try not to take life so seriously. Love each other & spread some positivity. We have enough pessimism & hate & negativity in the world without 4% of the population always trying to be sticks in the mud.

Another peek into Aspergers

So, I have a perfect example of something that a typical individual can experience that totally tweaked me a moment ago.

My boss sent me over to Ellison Hall, across campus, to deliver a box of Dossiers. No big deal there. I loaded up the box on a dolly/hand cart & headed out.

My first thought on the way there was how weird I would look walking back with an empty dolly. I managed to tell myself that was silly, when suddenly I began to hear the excruciating sound of a Salvation Army bell ringer. Let me tell you straight up, I have never had more violent thoughts enter my mind than when I hear those damn bell-ringers. The bell just instantly infuriates me. I have no idea why. That particular tone/pitch/noise has always had that affect on me. So, I continue to walk on, trying to justify why the hell the campus is allowing bell-ringers to solicit all over campus. Finally, I get far enough away that the sound disappears, but the anxiety is now a little high. I realize that once I get to my destination, I am going to have to take the elevator rather than the stairs because I have a box on a dolly & I have to deliver it to the 3rd flr. Crap.

I have a stupid fear of elevators. I blame the one in my building. It scraps & shudders & shimmies all over the place. I calm myself by telling myself that the one in Ellison isn't that bad. It beeps once when it passes the 2nd fl. & only shudders once on the way up.

I push the handicap button on the door to get in & round the corner to halls & rooms full to the brim with people eating & talking loudly. PANIC! What!? Why are these people here?! There is obviously some shin-dig going on. Elevator? Elevator!? I have to make it to the elevator!!! Where is it?! I don't remember....oh, yeah....over there!

I get to the elevator as I squeeze myself & the box on the dolly through the crowd only to find that the elevator has an "Out of Order" sign on it. Oh no! What do I do!? I can't take them back. My boss said she never wanted to see them again! Panic! Anxiety level 8! A woman in the crowd sees my confusion & walks over.

"Are you trying to decide whether or not you can use the elevator?" I think to myself, "No! It says "Out of Order"! Are you CRAZY!?"
She puts her hand on my shoulder, (AH! Stranger touching me!) and says, "Go ahead. We've called someone out to fix it, but it still works. We just didn't want all these people using it."

WHAT!? I don't want to use it if it needs fixed. Side note: Death by elevator IS one of the ways I believe I COULD possibly die.

I reluctantly get in, mostly to escape the loud crowd still surrounding me. I push the 3 button & grip the rail as if my life depends on it. The elevator shutters & moans & up it starts. It shakes violently & makes a thousand noises that are most certainly not typical elevator noises & I just know I am going to die in THIS elevator.

Finally, it gets to the 3rd flr. As the door opens the elevator drops slightly & I rush out. I get to the office that is my destination & of course, everyone is downstairs enjoying the shin-dig. Crap, crap, crap. What do I do? What do I do? I have to deliver this box! A lady sees me & helps me get the box to where it needs to be. Phew.

"Go get you some food before you leave.", she smiles.

"Thanks.", I say, ready to run for my life. Screw the food. I just want out of here. Instantly I realize I have to get back into the elevator. Crap! Crap, crap,crap,crap!

The trip back down wasn't any better. I seriously considered carrying the dolly down the stairs & would have if my shoulder hadn't been bothering me so badly today.
The doors open & once again I am assaulted with the crowd noise & faces of strangers. I weave my way through as quickly as possible & out into the open air.

Ah...thank the gods. I made it.

I took the long way back because I'm fairly certain if I hadn't you would all see me on the news tonight accused, and rightly so, of the death of that damned bell-ringer.

The end.