See Also: Lewis Black Horse Story

Ask me about my Slinky


I will do no such thing.  This sounds horrifying.  


It's really not.  It's just a whimsical story that I was reminded of recently.  Also, it's your job to set up these stories for me.


Fine, fine.  What's the deal with your Slinky?  Also, when do I get a raise?  


Well, strictly speaking, there's nothing all that noteworthy about my Slinky.  It's your standard issue metal Slinky...not like those crappy plastic ones that don't work...real old-fashioned Slinky.  But before I can tell you that story, I need to tell you this story:

I got ice cream. 

I originally asked for a strawberry sundae with chocolate chip ice cream.  Sounds delicious, right?  Of course it does.  The server goes to create my sundae and comes back a few moments later.  She says that they don't have any chocolate chip ice cream, but she can give me vanilla ice cream and put chocolate chips on it, asking if that would be okay. 

My brain completely shut down.

It's certainly a perfectly acceptable compromise (and one that I ultimately approved, by the way) but at the time it was proposed to me, I just couldn't deal with it.  It just made no sense that I would have to be asked this question since that's all that chocolate chip ice cream is...ice cream with chocolate chips in it.  It makes no difference if the chocolate chips are added at the factory, or at the ice cream stand.  At the same time, I understand that this is not strictly speaking what I had asked for, so the server wanted to clarify with me that I would be amenable.  Both of these thoughts were going through my head at the same moment, and I completely short-circuited...standing with a vacant look on my face for a second or two before mumbling something possibly resembling English with a head nod of affirmation.  My ice cream was ultimately delightful, and I even left my change in the tip jar. 

I had to then explain this story to the other folks I was with that day, and it reminded me of the Slinky story which is in the same vein, but far more amusing.

A while back, I decided that my office needed a Slinky.  I have no idea why I decided this, but that's what needed to happen.  As one is wont to do when in need of a Slinky, I went to the toy store in the local mall.  After wandering the store aimlessly in search of Slinkies, I finally notice a small box of them directly next to the cash register.  As in, the display was touching the cash register...could not fit a slinky in between the box of Slinkies and the physical box that is the cash register.  This point is important.  I walk up to the counter with arms 100% empty...I take a single Slinky from the display, move it no more than 9 inches to the side to place it on the counter for the cashier to ring it up.  The cashier picked up the Slinky, scanned it using the bar code reader on the cash register, looked me square in the eye and said the most amazing thing I've ever heard come out of a human being.  The cashier asked me, "Do you need any batteries?" 

My brain completely shut down. 

I spent time clarifying the location of the Slinky display to illustrate the point that my entire interaction with the cashier took place in the span of less than 12 inches, and involved a single motion of picking up a Slinky and placing it on the counter.  I had nothing else in my hands, was making no other purchases in the store, and had shown no interest whatsoever in any item other than the Slinky.  Why the cashier could have POSSIBLY thought I needed batteries to power a Slinky was a puzzle that my brain stumbled to piece together for, I am not making this up, a full five seconds. 

I'm normally at least fairly quick-witted, and have fun and sarcastic things to say when I'm presented an opportunity, but not in this case.  I completely forgot how to human right then as I contemplated the events that led to this question.  I stood there, with my mouth agape and probably drooling a little as I tried to formulate the correct answer to a question this mind-boggling.  Should I ask the cashier to check to the box to see what size battery the Slinky needed?  Should I explain wave physics and how it applies to Slinkies?  Should I ask why in the name of all things good and plenty I would need batteries for a Slinky?  Should I simply ask if the cashier even knew what the Slinky was, and why the question they had just asked was so unfathomable?  Or should I stand there for a full 5 seconds looking stupid, then mumble, "uhh....n...n...no?" before paying and walking out of the store, brain matter oozing from my ears? 

I'll let you decide which ending actually happened. 


On that note, Jeremy Is Is The Office will be Out Of The Office next week, returning on monday, August 8th with all new Instant Messenger goodness.  See you all then! 

This Post May Save Your Life

On the table: Box of donuts = OK!  Plate with a single cookie = NOT OK!  

Good advice, Jeremy.  How was the cookie?

I did not eat the cookie.  Truth be told, I don't even know what happened to it, as it was gone later in the day.  Here's the story:

So, I may have mentioned recently that I moved to a new office at work, and that my new location sucks right out loud.  It does have at least a couple perks, though.  It's right around the corner from the office basketball room.  I'll explain.  In my company's desperate efforts to behave as a younger, hipper, edgier company to work for, they have adopted some minor changes to add youth and whimsy to the workplace.  We have "lounges" with bean bag chairs around whiteboard-coated tables.  We have scrabble and chess boards mounted to walls in the hallways, so you can make a move as you walk by and pass the play on to the next random person who decides to have a go.  We have a former conference room which has a handful of Legos inside to play with (you're supposed to build things to stimulate your creativity).  And we have a former conference room which has a Nerf basketball hoop mounted to two of the walls, with a couple baskets with about 4 dozen Nerf basketballs inside.  You're supposed to...well...play Nerf basketball during work hours or something I guess.  Whatever...I just write stupid crap in a Blag during my break.  

Key words there being "stupid" and "crap."  

One of the advantages of the little lounges (even though I have yet to see anyone sitting in the bean bags) is that they provide a convenient location to distribute excess goodies.  Occasionally, a manager or supplier will bring in a box of donuts or a plate of cookies or something to entertain people during a meeting, and to prove that they are the best manager or supplier to work with.  It's somewhat shameless, but I'm not about to let a perfectly good meeting donut go to waste over some supplier technical issue.  (It's also very much not against company policy, so no problems there)  If there are donuts left over at the end of the meeting, the box can be placed on the table near the offices, so anyone who wants a donut can pick one up as they walk by.  It's a system that works quite well, since everyone knows that the donuts won't last long, so they're reasonably fresh and tasty.  Plus, if the donuts had been there the previous day, we would have seen them.  Box of donuts on the table are fair game and not a gamble.  

On the other hand, when you walk in first thing in the morning and you see a paper plate with a single cookie on the table, suspicions should arise.  Was this part of a larger number of cookies at some point?  Who brought them in, and why?  Is this just somebody's lunch from the previous day and they forgot they set down their dessert?  Would that make it stealing to take the cookie?  Is the cookie even fresh, or has is been sitting out all night?  This cookie is terrifying, and nobody will ever take it.  Until, you know...the cleaning crew takes the cookie and throws it right the heck out.  I'm assuming and probably hoping that's what happened to it.  

No, It Didn't Have A Flame Thrower

No longer a Dragon Boat paddling rookie  

We're all proud of you, Jeremy.  But...is that actually a thing?

If you're like me...

Please please tell me I'm not...

...then you have lain awake at night thinking to yourself, "I've never paddled a Dragon Boat.  However will I change this status?"  Well, I have solved this ages-old dilemma for myself by being on the crew of a Dragon Boat at a paddling festival recently.  Yes, these are all things. 

So, the deal is, you sit in a long, thin boat which holds around 20 people, there's a person in the back to steer, and a person in the front pounding on a drum to make sure everybody paddles at the same rate.  That's about it, unless you get into the specifics, which I don't think I'm going to do here.  Up until recently, I had never done any of these things, although I have spent considerable time on various bodies of water in a canoe, but that's beside the point.  

What's important to note here is that I am no longer a complete and total n00b at Dragon Boat paddling.  I am a barely proficient novice.  Go Jeremy!  

I Also Don't Want To Pay More

‘Ace’ Rothstein may have had a point about the blueberries…

I've seen that movie.  Things didn't go so well for Ace after that.  

Ehh...could have been worse.  Anyway, today's Sametime Status invokes the movie "Casino" starring everybody who's ever starred in an 90s mobster movie.  And Dickie Smothers.  The reference is a scene in which Robert De Niro is micromanaging the muffin production in the casino he's not technically allowed to run, but is running anyway.  He gets remarkably offended that his blueberry muffin has considerably fewer blueberries that somebody else's.  He issues a decree to the kitchen staff that each muffin from that point on is to have an equal number of blueberries.  

So, why is this important today?  Simple.  I forgot my banana.  

More often than not, my workday breakfast consists of a banana.  They're nutritious, I enjoy them, and they're pretty convenient.  I grab one on my way out the door, eat it while I'm opening my morning's email, and cleanup is quite simple...drop the peel in the garbage.  On days when I forget to bring a banana to work, or I've Tragically Miscalculated My Banana Supply, I resort to heading down to the Adorably Tiny Cafeteria Thing In My Building to locate breakfast.  Today, that meant Blueberry Muffin.  

Or should I say "Blueberry" Muffin.  

I'm not making this up...there was precisely one blueberry in my entire muffin.  It was in the top, too, which makes it worse.  That's canonically the Best Part Of The Muffin, and it had the only blueberry.  The entire bottom was a bland wasteland of muffin flavored muffin.  I exaggerate, since the muffins in the ATCTIMB are actually pretty decent, but you get the idea.  One blueberry is entirely insufficient for a blueberry muffin.  'Ace' was right...they need to put an equal number in each muffin, no matter how much longer it takes.  Quality control is worth it!