The ding of an incoming email used to give me a panic attack. Who was it? What did they want? Did I need to drop everything and answer them? Of course, I did. They expected it. I was providing good customer service by dropping all my work, interrupting my flow and telling them the thing they wanted to know, which was a thing that if they’d only given me a fricking day and a half they could have learned at the same time as everyone else when I made the announcement but now that was going to be at least two days because I kept getting interrupted.
I'm not the sort of person who really does house guests. At least not frequently or well. And when I have, at least half were memorably Bad Guests. Or Nerve Wracking Guests. Or Why-The-Hell-Did-I-Agree-To-This Guests.
There’s been a fascinating moment happening on Twitter as relates to advice on writing. Really as relates to advice on advice.
That moment when you realize all the trees in your neighborhood have ploufed into clouds of green and it really is now spring.
You know what more offices should engage in? A national Bring Your Lightsaber to Work Day.
I'm not not-advocating for casual Fridays, or dogs in the office, or kitchens where people can stand the smell long enough to eat. All those things are great. But honestly, a periodic lightsaber battle between co-workers really brightens up cubical living.
I went to the grocery store the other morning. The guy working in produce (training another guy) says hi. We do the whole normal "how are you? -- good, how are you?" exchange. Which is pretty much par for the course. Actually, it's an above average interaction as far as my usual browse-the-green-leaf-and-on-sale-broccoli-crowns interactions go. Then … Continue reading Holy Cow, I Stink At This Flirting Thing