The Fountain & the Plaza

When you have a first floor window on the world, you see things that you never expected to see. I’m not talking about dead pigeons, elderly people breaking their hips, creative nose-picking and the waddle-walk of the morbidly obese. No. Those are the expected things. People do strange things when they think no one is watching. And they do these things in front of my office window or around the fountain across the plaza (about 20 yards from my window).

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that my window has been mistaken for a public mirror. I’ve raised my eyebrows as people seemingly stared right at me while combing their hair, putting on lipstick, and doing other activities of varying hygienic value. The best/worst example of a window-mistaken-for-mirror incident: the lady who, upon seeing her reflection in the office window, decided that some part of her upper torso needed adjusting. My co-worker reported that it left my boss speechless for two-minutes (a new record) and caused him to turn several shades of red.

But the highlights this summer have all been about the fountain. It started when I looked out my window to see two bizarrely dressed people, a man and a woman, standing on the edge of the fountain in odd poses. Then I noticed the photographer. The two were clearly doing a fashion shoot, because no one on this side of the Atlantic tries so hard to look that indifferent while wearing clothes like that.

A few days later the “fashion fountain” became the washing machine. One of homeless regulars furtively glanced around the plaza before dropping his entire backpack into the fountain, swishing it back and forth and taking it for a few laps. I wasn’t sure that I had just seen what I thought I had just seen until later on in the day when the groundskeeper pulled out a pool cleaning pole and retrieved a few items that had fallen out of the backpack. (I don’t know what the groundskeeper did with them, but I almost want to believe he kept them; I spent the first six to nine months on the job thinking that the groundskeeper was one of the “regulars.”)



But the incident that took the cake happened a few days ago. I got a call from the second floor asking me to check out the people outside my window. I was stunned to see a frumpy, egg-shaped couple, mid-sixty-ish, in bathing suits, “swimming” in the fountain. After rubbing my eyes a few times, I remembered that my cell phone has a camera, but by then, the couple had exited the pool and were slowly walking across the plaza, hand in hand, as if this were the most normal thing in the world.

Though perhaps I should be less harsh in my judgments; a co-worker sent me this picture while I was out of the office with the caption of “former Bank employee.” At least he still has a mirror and a washing machine.

ADHD: A Modern Scourge

Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder has been diagnosed in approximately 87.6% of all boys under the age of 13. I know this because I have worked in cub scouts. I don’t know the statistics for girls, but I suspect it’s something like 0.876%. They have other diseases, like cooties for example, according to experts. I also know this from working in cub scouts. But both of these facts are irrelevant to my point: adults who suffer from ADHD are obnoxious and a scourge to many in modern society.

Take “Geoff.” He does suffer from adult ADHD, which means he paces a lot during meetings, can’t listen to more than the first sentence or two of any conversation, including his own, and frequently forgets things that everyone else seems to remember with a great deal of clarity. It also means he has a hard time looking at his latest epiphany in the context of a bigger strategy. At one time, this would also have been diagnosed as MBD, Minimal Brain Dysfunction. Either way, Geoff needs Methylphenidate, commonly known as Ritalin.

Let me illustrate the ill-effects of an unmedicated Geoff:

Geoff: I am planning to hire this guy. He is a former consultant from Deloitte & Touche and knows banking.

Me: Oh, okay. What is he going to do?

Geoff: I don’t know yet.

While I realize that there are negative side-effects to any medication, I am prepared to let Geoff suffer them for the greater good of society. Anything to stop this modern scourge that afflicts so many otherwise innocent co-workers.

Please.

On My Sister’s 26th Birthday

I once had a sister names Lisa,
And she hated for you to tease her.
Flattery was fine,
Though at this time
I must tell her she’s now an old geezer.

With that, I wish Stompy-Tuna-Lisa many happy returns. Thanks for the melodrama through the years. For your birthday gift, I would like to present a synopsis of the beloved classic, “Pride & Prejudice & Zombies.” Yes – zombies. You see the Victorian idea for suspense: can the Bennett name be salvaged after Lydia runs off with Wickham? Will Liza ever get another matrimonial proposal after rebuffing Mr. Collins? Is Mr. Darcy really as insufferable as he initially appears? – all of these need a little updating in an era of widespread running off and insufferableness, not to mention matrimonial declination. So I present a widespread plague that has overcome England and is slowly moving north from London, as is common in this genre, the plague enlivens rotting corpses (“unmentionables”), causing them to seek out their not yet departed loved ones for lunch, tea, dinner, breakfast, and even a midnight snack. The Bennett girls, of course, have had an obligatory tour of Southeast Asia where they took time to study from Shaolin masters. They now are key defenders of Hertfordshire from these unmentionables that roam the countryside and crash parties in the most unsuitable ways. Remember the classic scene where Jane Bennett meets Mr. Bingley (funny how all Victorian men have the same first name, “Mr.”) and Lizzy is snubbed by Mr. Darcy’s refusal to dance? Well now imagine that it concludes with a dramatic assault on the party by a hoard of flesh-eating zombies. Truly spectacular – particularly when the Mr. Bennett calls his girls to pull their daggers from their stockings and form the “pentagon of death,” and they single-handedly destroy the unmentionables. Extra tragedy is added with the death of Mrs. Long (was she even in the original book?) and others during zombie attacks and plague infections, but certainly a few liberties can be justified if it brings such a timeless classic to a new audience with more modern sensibilities.

So Happy Birthday Lisa! May your pride & prejudice continue without zombies.

Blogger’s Note: I found this insightful quote from Seth Grahame-Smith, author of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies on Wikipedia, “You have this fiercely independent heroine, you have this dashing heroic gentleman, you have a militia camped out for seemingly no reason whatsoever nearby, and people are always walking here and there and taking carriage rides here and there,” he said. “It was just ripe for gore and senseless violence. From my perspective anyway.”

Tips for Ensuring a Good Job Interview

As promised, this post in an attempt to elevate the cultural value of the blog (see the Wayne & Wanda sketches from the first season of the Muppet Show for the targeted cultural standard; they were introduced by Sam the Eagle after all). I have also promised to maintain the highest level of moral turpitude; no small task. So given that and the fact that in the current economy most of us never know when we might need to start looking for our next job, here goes:

Tips for Ensuring a Good Job Interview:

1) Forget the dress code used in the office for which you are applying. Giant rabbit suits, street walking attire, wife beaters with baggy pants, anything camouflage, bling in excess of 14 carats or 14 pounds, sequined jogging suits, headbands, sweat bands, and anything that reveals your belly-piercings may be considered in poor taste by some, but fashion statements are always important. Dressing like Willie Nelson and singing “On the Road Again,” while acoustically playing the guitar is always sure to impress.

2) Bring a resume and list of references. While some might hold that a resume should only be one page unless the description of your second Nobel Prize requires additional space, I personally prefer to read through two full pages or more of inflated, self-promotion to figure out why I should hire a candidate. Oh, and I love grammatical or spelling errors; the really good ones make me laugh and laugh and laugh. And do try to add famous celebrities to your references, that way when some on tries to contact them (and who wouldn’t want to call Eric Estrada), they may be so excited from the conversation that they will forget the celebrity had no idea who you were. Just don’t use the same pizza delivery number for all of your celebrity references.

3) Do discuss what was wrong with your prior boss, job, company, or girlfriend/boyfriend. The interview is about them, not you; let’s face it, every employer wants to hear about bad jobs, bosses, significant others, and other assorted troubles, particularly if he or she is a country music fan.

4) Do your homework and learn about the company before the interview. If the company is small and no information is available, or you are just too lazy to do research, make it up. That way, when the interviewer corrects you about their firms recent delisting from the DOW and government-backed bankruptcy, you can either reply that you are relieved that that was another company, or, if its not going well, you can simply declare, “What?! I have been deceived. We have nothing more to discuss.” And then storm out of the interview.

While I don’t have first-hand experience with all of these tips, I have seen most in action. And while I do admit that I do not follow my own advice, following these tips will make you at least as successful as Wayne & Wanda.

Cubically Speaking: Little Things from a Small Office

I sit in an “office” by a lovely window on the first floor, as some of you may know. (Granted it is a mammoth assumption to assume that the ‘you’ in the prior sentence is, in fact, plural, but humor me.) The view from the window looks across a lovely concrete plaza to the Sugar House bus stop. It’s wonderful for monitoring smoke breaks for everyone in the building and reflecting on the homeless they come by in between the smoke breaks, scavenging used cigarette butts. A week or so ago, one of the older, grubbier regulars had brought a newly-minted high school drop out by to show her the best cigarette-scavenging spots. It was quite touching, in a circle-of-life kind of way.

Making this so much better is the fact that the building backs onto an urban oasis; the drainage from the Sugar House park pond flows through the open air, creek-like as it meanders through cottonwoods and half-submerged shopping carts. The drainage area has several paved and unpaved trails around it with green mesh park benches. It’s called Hidden Hollow. It’s really the perfect place to catch a glimpse of the upscale homeless. ‘Upscale homeless?’ you ask. Yes, the ones who abandoned their shopping carts in the creek for beat-up ten speeds and bungee cords. They often spend warm afternoons under the shade of the cottonwoods, talking to their other selves about the best places to scavenge cigarette butts. When I am feeling particularly generous (which is rare for a banker, regardless of the economic times), I leave my half-eaten lunch at the top of the over-flowing garbage can so they don’t have to dig as far to find it. It’s those days that give my little, little heart a warm, happy feeling that lasts until I can reject some one else’s pathetic loan request.

I love my office.

Apple to Apples

The other day, we invited two other families over for dinner. Afterward, we decided to play a game of Apples to Apples. For those of you who are not familiar with this game, Apples to Apples consists of two sets of “apple” cards: green ones (adjectives) and red ones (nouns). Each round one player turns over a green adjective card and the other players chose the red noun card from their hand that, in their opinion, best matches the adjective. I like this game because with the right players, wit and humor are rewarded. With the wrong players, well, never mind. So we began the game with six adults… After the first two rounds, two eight-year-old girls and an illiterate five year-old girl entered the room and in giddy, squeaky voices said, nearly in unison, “I love Apples to Apples, can I play?” Seeing as only two of the girls belonged to me, I started to say, “of course not; you won’t understand half the words and at least one of you will cry if you don’t win.” But I quickly realized how ungracious it would be so I shortened my sentence to, “Of course.” And then there were nine.

Now you may be wondering, 'how do you play with a five year-old who can’t read?' Well, as long as she is the only illiterate player, then she selects a random card and places it in the pile. If no one else claims the winning card, then it must be hers. You would think that six college educated adults and two semi-literate elementary school kids would have no problem beating a randomly selected card by an illiterate five-year-old, but you would be wrong. More on that later.

One round after the girls joined, three eleven year-old boys entered the room, which ultimately made us an even dozen. That’s a lot of apples, nouns, and adjectives.

The game quickly devolved like this:

Eight year-old girl #1, reading through the nouns to determine which she thought best matched her adjective: “Princess D.I., there’s a D.I. princess?!”

Parent: “That’s Princess Di.”

Eight year-old girl #2: “Princess Die? Did she die or something?”

Another parent: “As a matter of fact she did…”

Eight year-old girl #2, interrupting: “Then shouldn’t it be Princess Dead, not Die?”

Another parent, continuing: “Di is short for Diana”

The adjective was irrelevant; the D.I. Princess card won.

The eleven year-olds also changed the dynamics. What adjective aptly describes a Giant Squid, a School Cafeteria, and Chickens? These were the finalists according to one 11-year-old for the word, glitzy. The next 11 year-old had to select a noun to match “honorable,” and determined Charging Rhinos to be the most honorable. Cleaning Bathrooms, Picking Your Nose, Vomit, the nouns were obvious, even if their connection to the adjective at hand was not.

So now back to our five year-old. You might be tempted to believe that it was the randomness of her selections that appealed to the younger players, but it turns out her selections appealed to the more rational thinking. For example, the adjective was “spooky,” the chosen selection? Darth Vader. Everyone was surprised to discover that the card belonged to the five year-old that couldn’t read.

When the clock struck eight, and we ended the game, the five year-old had won three times. I had only won twice. Several adults hadn’t won a single round. The wit and humor had to be reward enough.

Cheerios vs. the FDA

As a concerned citizen, I have been following the Cheerios/FDA scandal over the past week with keen interest. After all, 26.4% of our one-year supply of cold-cereal is some form of Cheerios (Honey Nut, Fruity, Multi-Grain, Regular, with Metamucil, and Super-mallow crunch). Up until the news broke, I had not realized the hazard this breakfast cereal posed. In the words of the Minneapolis/St. Paul Business Journal, “The agency said that claiming the cereal can lower cholesterol levels by 4% in six weeks amounts to marketing it as a drug and violates the federal Food, Drug and Cosmetic Act.” Clearly, I needed a prescription to purchase these Cheerios for food storage. I don’t know whether I should feel clever for getting a regulated medication without a prescription, or concerned for letting my children abuse prescription drugs. What if my children don’t finish their cereal and it gets soggy, can I dump it down the sink? Would that add to the unintentional medication of society, like the Prozac/water problem in Utah county? Can I throw it away in the trash without using a biohazard bag?

Of course, in a prepared statement, General Mills said, “The scientific body of evidence supporting the heart health claim was the basis for FDA’s approval of the heart health claim, and the clinical study supporting Cheerios’ cholesterol-lowering benefit is very strong.” This would have been more comforting had they admitted their claims were false, now I really do have to worry about possible side-effects and other drug interactions. Is there a risk of dependency? What happens to Cheerio prices when a prescription is required? $50 an ounce? How will Mormons be able to afford to medicate their children during sacrament meeting? Will junior high kids start smuggling Cheerios to school? What about cheap Mexican imports and generic brands, are they safe? I’m going to have a panic attack just thinking about it.

To make matters worse, according to the USAToday there’s more, “companies that make claims about their whole grain foods are supposed to mention that fruits and vegetables are also part of a fiber-rich diet. General Mills' labeling does not include that information. ‘Therefore, your claim does not convey that all these factors together reduce the risk of heart disease and does not enable the public to understand the significance of the claim in the context of total daily diet,’ states the FDA.” If I had only known that I needed fruits and vegetables as part of my fiber-rich diet! I thought that because regular Cheerios showed a picture of sliced strawberries on the box, that the fruit part of my diet was taken care of; that all the strawberry goodness I needed was on the box. How could I have been so foolish?!

Just as I was coming to terms with my new Cheerios reality this broke, “Last week, the [Food and Drug Administration] scolded General Mills for claiming that Cheerios lowers your cholesterol by 10 percent. Well, they're not stopping there. Today, under pressure, Captain Crunch admitted he lied about his military record.” It was on the Tonight Show. Now I have to start worrying about the rest of my cold-cereal food storage. The whole scandal has caused a spike in my blood-pressure. I probably need to eat more Cheerios.