Posts Tagged With: idea

There’s Something To Be Said For…

Introvert CoffeeI like quiet. It helps me recharge and re-energize. I am an Introvert, you see, and lots of input is overwhelming, thus causing me to seek refuge in some less eventful locale.  My job requires interaction.  I enjoy the interaction but will seek out my happy quiet between appointments. And here begins this tale…

While sitting in my happy place, which shall remain nameless at present, I was delighting in a good book just downloaded to my tablet and a cup of coffee.  The low background noises from the other side of the shop we distracting, but tolerable.  As I delved deeper into my book, my focus became sharper and the invisible walls of the introverted mind formed. I was zeroing in on my euphoric place.

It was at this moment that HE came bursting into the shoppe with three screeching children (triplets of less than 6 years of age), his cellphone glued to his ear while he carried on a loud conversation with his wife or girlfriend (he repeated used the phrases “Sweetheart” and “Love You”) during which he was:

  1. Trying to carry on his phone conversation
  2. Fussing at the children, finally giving up and letting them rampage at will
  3. Place an order because “Daddy needs a break.”
  4. Trying to wrangle his herd of munchkins by yelling the question “What do you want for a treat? A cookie? You want a cookie? What kind of cookie? Oh you want cake? What kind of cake?”

By the time the third child FINALLY decided what treat he wanted, many of the patrons had made their abrupt exit and several of those who had entered after this gaggle had made entrance, had decided on a different venue.

During this entire event, the cellphone never left his ear and the conversation never ceased.  When he received his order, Daddy further exacerbated the situation by making other demands on the cashier (may I have this cookie warmed and this one cut, not broken, into fourths, and may I have 4 ones, 3 quarters, 2 dimes and a nickle instead of the 5?) all the while yelling instructions to his trio and talking to “sweetheart.”

Thinking (hoping) this was merely an anomaly and this group would take their order up the road to the playground/picnic area, those of us who had been enjoying the now reminiscent quiet, dug in waiting for their exit. Such was not the case. Daddy brought his cloud of loud into the seating area, sighed heavily, flopped in a chair, and told the children to “shoosh” “quiet down” and “please let Daddy have a break.”

In was at this point when Daddy thought it would be a good idea to engage those of the remaining patrons in a loud game of 20 questions.

“Whatcha reading there Pardner?”

“Why ya’ll being so quiet? Did we scare you?”

“If you think you have enough life insurance, you are dead WRONG! (insert beginning of sales pitch here)”

By this point I, and many of the remnant, had had enough and were packing up to find solace elsewhere when Olive, a tiny grandmotherly type, snapped her book closed and turned to address the man.  She smiled warmly and said, “Young man, did you know there is a playground just a block up the road?”

Daddy’s reply astounded all of us, “Yeah, but that’s too open and loud. Can’t concentrate there.” This was followed by vain attempts to get his young charges to lower their volume below ear-piercing.

Olive tried once again to be polite, “Sir, you have very energetic and rambunctious offspring. They need a place where they can expend their energies…like the playground.”

Daddy was either completely oblivious or determined to be rude, because he informed Olive that he had every RIGHT to be in the shop and his kids had every RIGHT to do whatever they wanted whenever they wanted because this is AMERICA, after all, and we are free!”

Sweet Olive, stood up, toddled over to the man, looked his square in the eyes and said, “Young man, may I have one of your business cards?” Daddy gave her his card thinking he was going to sell this sweet older lady a load of life insurance. Olive took the card, put it in her purse, and said, “My father, my husband and my two sons fought and died so you could have the freedoms you throw around so selfishly. But you see, I also have a freedom and LOTS of friends.  So I will be exercising MY right and freedom to tell everyone I know about your behavior and complete disregard for others. I will be sharing your business card with them, and we will be contacting the company to inform them of your lack of respect, and telling them we will not be purchasing any of their products or services if you are the example of their representative.”  With that, Olive toddled back gathered her belongings and left.

I wish I could say that Daddy got the hint, but sadly when I left after another half hour of trying to concentrate, he was still loud, proud, and chasing off business from what was once an introvert’s haven.

 

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Beg Your Pardon?

I feel fabulousOur language has developed over the course of time into where we are today, as difficult as some of the verbiage is to comprehend.  If you look at the language from say Shakespearean Era, you will find the writing to be very wordy and lengthy.  It’s as if the simple question “How are you?” required a complete dissertation of the family medical history culminating in the graphic description of every creak and ache of the current body.  Skip ahead to the 19th Century and you still see lots of words, but not so many. This was the time when a letter was very newsy and quite lengthy, but with a certain economy of ink.

Think for a moment of some of the things you probably have never heard or said (out loud):

  • “Please understand my dilemma, Professor, my paper will be late because my panda lost the chess game to the squid.”
  • “The field mice have blown up the bridge, we’ll have to take the detour.”
  • “Not that anyone cares, but the octopus is stuck in the blender again.”
  • “The bendy shoes are a nice shade of clear.”
  • “Please stop staring at my scapula.”
  • “Yodeling should be an Olympic Event.”
  • “Painting the tires pink is a GREAT idea.”
  • “I don’t care if I’m the CEO, I want to save jobs by taking a pay cut.”

Now think of some of the things we actually do say:

  • “ASAP”
  • “OMG”
  • “CEO”
  • “EPA”
  • “ETA”
  • “MPG”
  • “MPH”
  • “IAI” (I’m An Idiot)

And we continually seek ways to say more with less verbiage.  Before long we will only speak in abbreviations. TTFN!

 

 

Categories: Hmmmmm........ | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

Shush! I’m Thinking Here!

As a youngster, people annoyed me.  When it came time to go to the play yard, I would find some out of the way place and read.  My parents and teachers thought I had a mental problem or had anti-social tendencies.  I, on the other hand, while not realizing at the time I was introvertish, simply didn’t like all the noise and activity. It made me tired, and gave me a headache, and, quite honestly, just prefer the exercise of my mind. 

While I don’t claim to know or understand all the physiological, mental, spiritual, emotional, or complete oddness of introversion, I do acknowledge that “I Are One”.  During social gatherings a plan is developed and put in place almost as complicated as Mission Impossible.  While there’s no secret, self destructing mission messages, there is a cooperative effort amongst a close band of friends that is triggered upon the issuance and acceptance of the obligatory social activity invitation.

A pre-arranged time is set for our departure strategy.  This will usually be no later than 90 -120 minutes into the soiree.  At the predetermined time, the chosen individual will pocket dial the rest of us, or develop some sort of distress (stress of these situations does this), or we will step out for some air and slip away.  We will make a point to thank our host, upon our arrival, for inviting us. 

Admittedly, during company dinners, this strategy is not easily employed, but we tend to arrive early to select our seats near the exit so we can make discretionary escapes to the lobby and/or lavatory as needed.  Having a bar in the lobby is quite helpful until the bartender gets tired of our escaping there.

I happened upon a wonderful book by Sophia Dembling called “The Introvert’s Way” (shameless plug that I don’t get any royalties for), and upon reading it, saw my own life habits in her words.  Needless to say, it is always good to know that Introverts are not alone, even though we like to spend time alone.  There should be a club where we each have our own soundproof cube and can all be alone together.

Anyway, where was I going with this?  Oh yeah, a few things about introverts I have learned:

  • Introverts are weird, not psychotic.
  • Introverts recharge our minds by being quiet and processing.
  • Introverts can sit together for hours without speaking more than 3 sentences.
  • Introverts ARE social, just not in the way some might think.
  • Introverts have an incredible sense of humor, albeit sometimes subtle and dry.
  • Introverts enjoy having coffee conversations (if you talk with coffee in your mouth it will burn and stain, so the silence pockets are greatly desired).

 

Please do not take offense, but I am one of those insane people who believe libraries are for reading, not chatting or eating or engaging in various amorous activities in the reference sections.  If you have the need to smack or pop your chewing gum, rattle your candy wrappers, or have a nasal ailment, please step to the restroom and deal with that, as a courtesy.

Which brings me to another question: Why are the wrappers for foodstuffs always so loud? 

Anyway, that’s what has been meandering between my ears for now.  Feel free to ponder at will.

Shoosh

 

Categories: Fortress of Solitude, Hmmmmm........, Koffee Klatch, Perspectives, Wanderer's Wonderings, Wandering Mind | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Have I Been Gone or Just My Mind?

shushAs I have stated before, I am an Misophonic Introvert who battles with Chemical Depression.  Sound rather like I am falling apart at the seams, and some days it does feel that way, but for the most part, taking each day as it comes has been a great method of dealing with time.  Let’s face it, “The reason for time is so everything doesn’t happen at once.”  True statement that.

Being an Introvert is not a “curse” or a disease or form of insanity, in spite of the Extrovert Advertising.  Extroverts are energized through interaction with people. Introverts, not so much.  People tend to wear us out. We are ponderers, thinkers, contemplators, and we enjoy (and recharge when) having time to ourselves to process.  This does not mean we don’t like people. As a matter of fact, many of my best friends are people.  We do enjoy social events and gatherings, but we are not so thrilled with the “life of the party” types drawing attention to us.  We like to observe and have quiet interactions with a small group rather than compete in the “how loud and obnoxious can I be” contest.

Misophoniacs are also people too.  Misophonia literally means “hatred of sound.” Certain sounds grate on us to the point that we are ready to punch your lights out to make it stop.  And unless you have dealt with this agony, chances are you have no understanding about it.  I find that sounds I can control (television, my own pen clicking, my own drumming on the desk, etc.) are tolerable.  It’s the sounds I cannot control that enrage me.  I don’t understand it. I don’t like it. And NO there is no cure for it.  YES, I do wear earplugs most of the time.  YES, I do want to whack you with a bat for simplistic and sarcastic “remedies” (“if you want to quit coughing, stop breathing”).  YES, I will make every attempt to remove myself from the source of the noise.  NO, I am not a leper and NO it is not contagious (except, I’ve been told, through heredity).  YES, I am trying my best to cope with it.  YES, I ask for your understanding. 

On the Depression Front, great news so far:  It’s been 3 months since the deep purple funk last visited.  Can I get a WOO HOO?  I have weaned off my meds (not the heart meds, just the voices in my head meds), and haven’t felt this clear headed in a long time.  Yes, the weaning was supervised and a close check will be kept.  I am beginning to record and chart the progress or set back to see if there is a pattern. I’m kinda geeky that way.

 That’s the update for now. I’m off to take my Minion on more adventures.

IMG_20130714_181601

Categories: Fortress of Solitude, Hmmmmm........, Koffee Klatch, Perspectives, Wanderer's Wonderings, Wandering Mind | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Thank You And Come Again! (A Slight Rant)

Please don’t get me wrong, I’m all in favor of expecting excellent customer service.  And having been on both sides of the situation, I would like to offer some insight.

Ever wonder why the people who demand that the customer receive the best possible customer service are the people who do not have to deal directly with the customers?  Ever wonder why these same people, when a customer is insistent that they cannot be satisfied with a mere “clerk” smiles smugly when the manager reprimands said “clerk” for doing their job?  I have. 

Ever call a customer service line and are greeted with someone who sounds like they are reading an “I’m sorry I am such a loser” script? They almost sound as if they have “Plastic Person Disorder.”

Plastic Personality

My question is, why would anyone WANT to go into the customer service area in the first place.  Dealing with irritable and demanding people takes far more patience than I could ever hope to have unless I was heavily sedated.

Why do we, as customers, seem to think when we enter an establishment or do business with a company that they are to lean over, pucker up, and start kissing our sacred hindquarters?  I realize not everyone is this way, but I speak from the experience of this happening more times than not when I was working on the customer service side of the transaction. Management seems to expect this from those who deal with the clientele:

anything for the customer

I was invited to lunch with a colleague a while back, who wished to discuss the possibility of my helping with a symposium he was putting together.  We were greeted by a very friendly young man who took the time to not only politely introduce himself but had glasses of water in hand when he approached us.  My colleague, who I thought of as a nice person, and to some degree still think that, was in a tense and unusually obnoxious mood.  He told our server to mind his own business, bring us menus, and leave us alone to talk.  Our server apologized, obviously flustered, and withdrew to attend to my colleague’s demands.  Our meal was ordered, and we discussed the proposal, each time our server came close enough to be within earshot, however, my colleague took the opportunity to loudly criticize him, the meal, the cleanliness of the flatware, etc.  Not only was I stunned by this behavior, but I was appalled.  When the check came, my colleague grabbed it, scrutinized it carefully, and left this pleasant young man a single dollar tip.  As we were leaving, he asked to speak to the manager and began to berate our server to his manager right in front of him.  It was at this point that I had had my fill.  I took my colleague by the elbow and told him to shut up.  I told him that I was embarrassed because of his behavior AND embarrassed that such a polite server in a difficult job was expected to not only tolerate such asses, but expected to grovel and apologize for crimes he had not committed.  I then informed him that because of such asinine behavior, I would be unable to take part in his symposium.  It was at this point that the realization punched in between the eyes: 

Nice Person

Permit me to make one thing perfectly clear: IF You Want Good Customer Service, BE A GOOD CUSTOMER!  Now, I use Instagram. It’s an interesting program. One of the reasons I use it is to begin to openly applaud good customer service.  When I interact with a business, I am going post the name of the company, the name of the person I dealt with, and publicly commend them for doing “their job.”  How about you? Do you applaud good experiences, or merely accept that the person is “doing what they’re paid to do”? Put yourself in their shoes and treat them as you would want to be treated by them.

 

Categories: Hmmmmm........, Koffee Klatch, Perspectives, Wanderer's Wonderings, Wandering Mind | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Surely You Jest!

Welcome to 2013 everyone.  Perhaps I am somewhat tardy in my felicitations, but I wanted to make absolutely certain that the Mayans had simply run out of room on their calendar before issuing that a greeting.  Among so many others, I have succumbed to the ill-conceived, and perhaps ill-fated, habit of making resolutions for this year.  Among them are to change my eating habits (somewhat), and actually exercise more than my channel surfing digits. 

Needless to say, in order to accomplish the second of these objectives, I ventured forth to an exercise facility (a.k.a.: torture center), and inquired about their programs.  I was greeted by a lively young spandexed vixen who was not only thin enough to disappear at times, and perky enough to make me want to smack her, she was quite knowledgeable regarding the various ways they could make one hurt, sweat, and regret their conception.  As this lithe creature droned on and on in her childlike whiny voice (with EXTENSIVE over use of “like”), I realized that proper grammar and pronunciation were tortured here as well.  According to her name tag, “Kandyce” is a registered fitness instructor.  I stated that I had a couple of concerns, being that I have had, one: very little exercise in several years, and two: quadruple bypass surgery, and would there be a program that would help me ease back into some sort of shape.  “Kandyce” informed me that she could recommend the “like absolute like PERFECT program that’s like so amazing that it’s like awesome!”  Imagine, if you will, my reaction to this tidbit of enthusiasm:

Jest

Yet “Kandyce” wasn’t phased in the least by my derisive snort or sarcastic look.  She blathered on and showed me the various devices which stretch, pull, pummel, rend, and inflict pain and torment upon one’s body.  Yes, I do realize that some enjoy this mode of life, but I do not happen to be among them.  Finally, towards the end of our tour, I was shown……THE ROOM!

Permit me to describe THE ROOM.  It was pleasant in its decor, very peaceful, with a fountain at one end and lots of padded mats lined up in several rows.  The air was cool and flowing freely, with the scent of the sea wafting about, and the sound of the gentle surf.  If I were to close my eyes, I would picture this:

Holiday

And then I met the keeper of THE ROOM, known as “The Yoga Instructor” whose name badge stated boldly that her name was “Helga”.  Remember, my body has not been subjected to much strenuous activity for some time and would likely rebel against me, even threatening a violent overthrow of my ownership of said body, should this coexistence be disrupted.  Yet, here I found myself left in the hands of “Helga” for a flexibility evaluation.  Hmmmm…..oddly, not once did I notice a staff physician on hand, just as a sidenote observation. “Helga” hunkered down on one of the mats and immediately began a series of contortions that made me wonder if she, in fact, had bones at all, and asked me if I could do something like this:

Yoga

“Surely you jest!” thought I. She didn’t seem to notice, by looking at me, that touching my toes would be more than a lost cause, and touching my toes to the back of my head would only happen if my legs were forcibly removed from my person.  Nevertheless, I gave it a go, and after much grunting, groaning, straining, sweating, and rolling from mat to mat as if I were a wrestler trying to pin myself, I surrendered to the idea that toe touching would not be happening this day.  “Helga” actually laughed and told me I needed to get in shape before coming back to that particular facility.  Always a good way to get members, methinks. So I toddled off to a different facility which offered much the same torture devices, but the staff seemed much more at ease.

Imagine my surprise when I walked in and saw several people who were in the same shape, or out-of-shape, as I, yet they were working hard to change that aspect of themselves.  Intrigued, I was, and more than a bit surprised:

Marty Feldman

Thus, after the tour, I began a regimen, which I am daily wanting to continue.  So far, according to the scales, I am 13 pounds down, and feel a bit better.

 

Categories: Hmmmmm........, Koffee Klatch, Perspectives, Wanderer's Wonderings, Wandering Mind | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 18 Comments

Milestone or Millstone or Just A Stone or Papa Wuz A Rolling Stone

This is a milestone

This is a milestone

We tend to gauge our lives, for the most part, according to milestones.  We mark some milestones with trophies, certificates, plaques, ribbons, medals, pens, pins, acrylic or glass paraphernalia, and various other plates, cups, mugs, saucers, and photographs.  Several of these are even presented with a dinner, drinks (lots and lots of drinks on someone else’s tab), dessert, formalwear, and lots of polite, yet insincere, banter.

 There are a few milestones that truly deserve to me noted.  One’s birth, for example, is quite the milestone event, as is one’s demise, which should also be noted with some sort of decorum.  Between those two events, most milestones become more like millstones and are just something to be endured. 

I can’t say that I remember being born, although the photos of me were rather adorable, and the fact that I am here is proof that the milestone did, in fact, take place.  Most birthdays that have come and gone, with all the cake and singing, and I can’t say that there’s any single one that stands out above the others; as a matter of fact, I can’t say that any other day (holiday-wise) stands out above the rest. 

 However, there have been events in my life that I shall always remember.  My graduations (high school, college, and graduate school), for example, are milestones I’ll remember.  Why? Certainly not for the slip of paper I got for the enormous funding invested therein; not for the pageantry either (I couldn’t even begin to tell you who the speakers were nor what they droned on about.  I actually think I napped during those parts.), rather it was the indelible imprint upon my life that I felt.  That stamp of accomplishment, if you will. 

Now what if we could stop looking at our lives as a series of milestones creeping ever closer (with our imminent demise at the end) and, instead, enjoyed our jaunt down the road of life.  Skip, run, jump, leapfrog, toddle, waddle, tiptoe, whatever you like down that road.  My point is simple, it’s YOUR life…make it worth remembering. 

Free To Choose

I have no desire for my epitaph to be one so somber as, “Here lies some dorky goober who was born, existed, and now is fertilizing the grass you’re standing on.”  I want no weeping or sorrow.  I truly hope my epitaph is something along the lines of: “A life lived to the last drop.” And I want that to be my epitaph because the statement is true, not just because I asked for it. So THERE!

“Life is not a matter of milestones, but of moments between the milestones” – Robert Frost.  We are but a blip on the line of time.  Make your blip a light!

By the by, if you haven’t made it to Lauren Rains’ website, you really ought to prowl about there.  It’s VERY inspiring and she’s quite the contemplation enthusiast.  Don’t just sit there like a butt pimple,  CLICK HERE!!!

Keep Calm And Live

Categories: Hmmmmm........, Koffee Klatch, Perspectives, Wanderer's Wonderings, Wandering Mind | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 14 Comments

Curiously Curious!

Curious Kitteh

Curiosity has always been part of my personality. Spending time wandering about while my mind wandered off on its own, seemed to raise ever more questions.

  • Why is there no such thing as quiet cheese wrappers? If I even touch a cheese wrapper, I am greeted with an eager face of Abby, the greyhound, thinking “This One’s For ME?”
  • Why has no one invented “church candy” that tastes good, is quiet, and lasts for at least an hour?
  • Why do sticks not grow in straight lines?
  • Why can a bumble bee fly, even though, according to the laws of physics, it’s not supposed to be able to fly, yet a brick, even thought the same laws of physics apply, cannot fly?
  • Why does pie taste good and asparagus not so much?
  • Why does it feel good to have your back scratched but not the soles of your feet?
  • Why is it okay to scratch certain itches in public, but not okay to scratch others?
  • Why does food that is good for you a LOT more expensive than the stuff that will kill you?
  • Why does one of the medications that help slow Alzheimer’s have side effects I’d rather not remember?
  • Why do some think they’re more important than the rest of us? (“Don’t you know who I am?”)
  • Why are so many people wrapped up in the doings of “celebrities”?
  • Why does “Some settling may occur during shipping” usually mean you just paid full price for a third of the product?
  • Why are 10 ounces of coffee being labeled as a pound?
  • Why did Captain Kirk not use Cling Free to be rid of the Klingons?
  • What were the requirements for the very first Ph.D. awarded (if it was the FIRST to be awarded, who awarded it? Someone with a Masters?)
  • Why does it cost more to buy recycled products?
  • How did someone come up with all the steps to make the first cup of coffee?
  • How did someone figure out where to poke all the holes in a clarinet?
  • What’s the purpose of buying a super fast (and expensive) sports car to drive to and from work in rush hour traffic?
  • Why are most of the things that taste good to me also bad for me?
  • If “curiosity killed the cat” does that mean all nine lives were snuffed out at once?

This is how my mind tends to wander throughout my sojourn through the day and usually continues well into the night. However, throw some sort of alcohol into the mix and there are still lots of questions, just of a vastly different sort.

Categories: Hmmmmm........, Koffee Klatch, Perspectives, Wanderer's Wonderings, Wandering Mind | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Rocket Science?

Is it REALLY so difficult to grasp?

· If you would have a friend, BE a friend.

· If you want to be respected, RESPECT.

· If you wish to be loved, LOVE others.

· If you want forgiveness, FORGIVE.

· If you want encouragement, ENCOURAGE.

It’s not rocket science. Or is it?

“Life is simple. It is we who complicate it.” – Confucius.

Btw, if you want coffee…..make your own! There are some things I don’t share.

Categories: Hmmmmm........, Koffee Klatch, Perspectives, Wanderer's Wonderings, Wandering Mind | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

What Are We Here For?

“Why am I here?”
“What was I put here for?”
“What is my purpose?”

These are questions that have plagued minds for centuries! The philosophers pondered them seeking answers; the cynics pondered why pondering such ponderances so ponderously was so immensely satisfying when no answer was ever agreed upon (which is not unusual for philosophers, for they tend to be a disagreeable lot opting to disagree about disagreeing).

There truly was a train of thought, for which I purchased a ticket and apparently a distraction caused the train to derail.  Please feel free to hum quietly to yourself whilst the difficulty is noted, addressed, and sorted out once more.

Ah yes.  Lovely harmonious humming by the by.

Some would reason that our purpose for existing is merely a freak accident, and we have no redeeming value whatsoever.  To these people, I would ask that you do the rest of us a HUGE favor and cling to the exterior of the next spacecraft lifting off.  After all since we have no purpose, you wont be missing out on anything important.

Then there are those who believe, while we may not be an accident, our existence is limited to our timespan in this orb, after which we simply become a pile of chemical refuse, stinking up the place and feeding various pests, rodents, and scavengers.  Thus our existence serves only as food for naught.  To these, I simply say, please go ahead and lie down to await the inevitable feast you shall become for the critters.  Oh, and please, for the sake of the rest of us, use some sort of air freshener.  Odor control is the only polite course of action here.

We do, in fact, have purpose and a reason for being.  Just look around you.  Someone within your field of vision, unless you are blind or alone (which means you’re not reading this anyway, so CARRYON), needs what you have to offer.  Perhaps it’s a word of encouragement they seek.  Maybe it’s a hug, or a smile, or a word of counsel, an ear to listen, or that muffin you were saving for later. You have purpose because ONLY you can provide what you have to offer.

As for me? I’m here for the coffee and observation.

Categories: Hmmmmm........, Koffee Klatch, Perspectives, Wanderer's Wonderings, Wandering Mind | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

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