Driving can be an experience regardless of where you are. I'm sure each region has its own particular brand of drivers. Being from St. Louis, there are only three speeds you can go in a car; 20 mph over the speed limit, rush hour (about 5-10 mph), and Manchester Rd. (you have a better chance at having another birthday before you get to your destination). Driving in SoCal is a bit different. I know that each area has its own little subtle differences. For example, the rush hour on the 405 through LA runs from roughly 3:30 am - 10:45 pm every day except Sunday. Speed limits in San Diego county are more of a suggestion. If you're doing 85 in the fast lane, expect to have someone on your ass flashing their brights. I live in Santa Barbara, and these are some of my pet peeves about driving here:
1. Roundabouts: If you've never had the pleasure of experiencing a roundabout (or traffic circle), allow me to explain. It's a big circle meant to take the place of a four way stop or control traffic at an intersection where more than 4 roads intersect. The roads all pour into a circle, and traffic entering the circle yields to traffic inside the circle. All traffic moves counter-clockwise. All roads coming into the circle have yield signs. In theory, drivers approach the roundabout, briefly yield to check for traffic in the circle, then continue in a counter-clockwise direction through the circle to their destination. Cars entering the circle stop if, and ONLY if, there is traffic in the circle. Sounds easy enough right? Apparently you haven't driven in Santa Barbara. People approach roundabouts like cavemen looking at the first flame. They're not quite sure how to approach it; should they go really fast and just blow into it? Should they drive reaaaalllllly slow like it's a vortex that might swallow their car if they approach without the right amount of hesitation? It seems like approaching drivers all seem to take the same approach before entering; come to a complete fucking stop regardless of whether there's traffic to yield to or not.
Now I may not have the driver's handbook completely memorized, but I'm pretty sure a stop sign is a big, bright red octagon with the word STOP in big white letters, right? Now look at that one right in front of you; a big triangle with the word YIELD written on it. I know, very similar, but if you look closely, they are NOT the same. Stopping when there is no traffic in the round about totally and completely defeats the purpose of the roundabout, to quickly and efficiently move traffic through an intersection. But my biggest pet peeve, and this seems to be a Santa Barbara only thing, is people actually stopping IN the round about to wait for traffic to enter the roundabout. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!?!? You have the right of way! This is akin to stopping in the middle of the highway to let the guy in front of you change lanes. Put your foot on the skinny pedal to your right and FUCKING DRIVE!
2. Weather: OK, I have a leg up on driving in weather being from the midwest. I've driven in rain, sleet, snow, hail, lightning, and quite possibly a small tornado. I've also had to stop on the highway for cows. Don't laugh, you wouldn't want to hit a cow, they can seriously destroy your car, and if you bruise a steak it doesn't taste nearly as good later. In SoCal the seasons are much different. We have fire season, where it's super-dry, windy as hell, and everyone watches for puffs of smoke on the horizon. We have the rainy season, which consists of 1-2 weeks of moderate drizzle and an occasional heavy rain that lasts for about 10 minutes. And we have Oscar season, when all anybody talks about is the fucking Oscars and all you want to do is smack people who think The Rachel Zoe Project is relevant to anything that's happening in the world. I swear to god, if I hear one more person say something is "bananas" or turn the word amazing into a-ma-zing I'm gonna strangle them. These seasons make up about 1 month of the year. The rest of the year is summer, or some variation of summer. Santa Barbara stays between 45 and 85 basically all year. We have one month of occasional rain, and that's it. Every once in a while you can see a dusting of snow on the mountains, but that's at 3,000 feet and above, where there is basically one road.
When it does rain, good lord make sure you wear your seat belt. People in Santa Barbara seem to forget that cars are made to drive faster than 25 mph on the highway in a light drizzle. Or that the stalk on the right of the steering wheel turns on these things called "windshield wipers" that magically make your windshield free of water. I can't count how many times I've passed people on the highway in annoyingly light rain (you know that rain that's too light to even put your wipers on intermittent, you just keep turning them on every few minutes, but then they make that annoying screeching sound because it's not raining hard enough, so you turn them back off again, only to repeat the process a minute later) and looked over to see them gripping the wheel as if they're driving 85 mph off a cliff into the Grand Canyon. You can read the sheer terror on their faces. It's even worse when you realize that all the traffic around you has slowed to 30 mph on the highway because a semi is spraying water off the rear wheels. Do people not realize that if they just speed up they don't have to sit in the semi-wash anymore? And driving in town is even worse. People slow to a crawl. You know it's bad when old ladies are passing you on their HoverRounds.
3. Signs in general: In Santa Barbara people treat traffic signals and signs as mere suggestions of what they should do or options should they decide that would suit them the best. I've already spoken about this in the roundabout section, but it's also true for signs around town. This afternoon I was approaching an intersection where I had a green light. Obviously the person traveling perpendicular to me had a red light. It was the middle of the day, tons of pedestrians around, and on a well-traveled street. I was about 100 yards away and she simply drove through the intersection, completely running the red light. She had been stopped too; meaning that she just went completely brain dead for a second and thought she was at a stop sign, or she just decided that there was no danger and she was just going to go. I'm not sure which one's more frightening. I can't even begin to count how many times I've seen this in Santa Barbara. Maybe everyone's just caught up in all the natural beauty, maybe some people just don't give a shit about anyone else, or maybe there ARE too many legal marijuana dispensaries in town.
Either way, people need to start paying attention and showing others some respect on the road, or one day I just might snap and go A-Team/Mad Max on my Honda Civic and start taking the law into my own hands. Although in an area where Hummers are still badges of honor, the only person I might be able to take is the lady on the HoverRound. That'll teach her to pass me.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Chivalry and Romance
My fiancee and I got in a big fight last night. Granted, it probably shouldn't have been that big of a deal, but I'm an only child and I tend to get overly sensitive when criticized about certain things. One of the things that I cannot stand being criticized about is my treatment of women. Much of my early life was spent witnessing and being a part of a horrific cycle of abuse at the hands of a man I would never call my father, but unfortunately provided half of my DNA. The physical and psychological terror unleashed upon my mother and I changed our lives forever. After my mom and I escaped from this abusive relationship, my mom made it a point to teach me how to truly treat a woman the right way. My father, the man she has been married to for over 20 years now and the man who raised me, is one of the kindest and most gentle men you could ever meet. I also went to private school where I was forced to go to cotillion, which is basically a program to teach teenage boys manners; that and how to foxtrot. It's nice that I always know which fork goes with which course, but I'm still not sure when I'll ever need to break out the Charleston.
With all this background, I like to think that I am pretty well-trained at treating people well. I open doors for everyone; especially my fiancee. I'm always the last to enter a room behind my fiancee and other women we may happen to be with. If we're on a dinner date I'll stand when she goes to and returns from the restroom. Last night we were at a housewarming party that was outdoors. She was cold but neither of us had a jacket. I was wearing a long-sleeve shirt with a sleeveless shirt underneath. I offered her my thermal, which would leave me at a nice dinner party in a tank top. She laughed. I wasn't joking. But then I committed two cardinal sins in a row. I got myself food and a cocktail without offering to get her anything...I know, I know, bad move. But let me explain a few points to put it into perspective:
1) my fiancee is a social butterfly and I was starving. When we got into the party my fiancee had to exchange small-talk with everyone, and I mean everyone. We had to take a tour of the house of course, talk about the rent, etc. This would have normally been fine except for one thing; there were ribs. You see, I love ribs. I love the flavor, I love the texture, I love the act of eating a rib. And the ribs were specially made by a friend of ours who just so happens to make the best ribs on the face of the planet. I'm salivating now just thinking about them. There were 50 invitees to the party, and only 2 racks of ribs. They were going to go fast. Naturally as soon as we got outside to where the food was set up, I went to grab some ribs while my fiancee caught up with each of the 15 people outside. My fiancee is also doing the "I have to lose x amount of lbs to look smoking hot in my wedding dress" diet. I try to be supportive even though I think she already is smoking hot, so I figured no ribs for her, right? I mean, she even brought her own salad in a bag to the party! So that was my first gaffe, even though she probably would have said no, I should have offered.
2) my fiancee is a bartender, and she's very particular, especially with drinks. She watches the baristas at Starbucks like a hawk to make sure they get her tall, skinny, caramel latte with no foam exactly right. Cocktails are even worse because she is a bartender, and a very good one. Often times when we go out she will actually manage to work her way behind the bar and make her own drink (like I said she's hot, and she's also very charismatic). This being the case, I'm scared to death to make cocktails for her. I'm easy. 3 steps. Find whiskey or bourbon, add soda. Stir with finger. She's a bit more complicated. She only likes certain brands of vodka. She can only stand certain types and brands of juice. The ratio of juice to booze has to perfect. The cocktail has to be shaken with ice, then poured into a glass with the exactly perfect amount of ice. There's always a splash or twist of something at the end. It's like building a fucking rocket ship. Needless to say I didn't make her a drink right when I made mine. The problem was; I didn't even ask.
While gestures like this may seem small to us guys, they are in fact huge to our ladies. When we got home and she called into question my chivalry and romance, I lost it because I didn't think about it that way. I felt like she had forgotten all of the other small gestures that I do every day to try and make her happy. To me those things are important to, and at times it seems as if woman forget that there are A LOT of guys that don't ever do any of these things. She was feeling forgotten and I was feeling that the things I do do were being taken for granted. I think my mistake is that I spoiled her early on by going too big on the chivalry thing to quickly in the relationship. Perhaps I should have been more of an arrogant prick in the beginning. Maybe I should've let her open her own car door a few times. Maybe I should've let the door slam in her face once in a while. But that's just not me, and it never will be, so I guess it's my own fault that I've built standards that are sometimes difficult to live up to 24/7. But I'll sure as hell try to do my best to make her feel as special as she is.
And next time I'll get the girl some goddamned ribs and a cocktail.
With all this background, I like to think that I am pretty well-trained at treating people well. I open doors for everyone; especially my fiancee. I'm always the last to enter a room behind my fiancee and other women we may happen to be with. If we're on a dinner date I'll stand when she goes to and returns from the restroom. Last night we were at a housewarming party that was outdoors. She was cold but neither of us had a jacket. I was wearing a long-sleeve shirt with a sleeveless shirt underneath. I offered her my thermal, which would leave me at a nice dinner party in a tank top. She laughed. I wasn't joking. But then I committed two cardinal sins in a row. I got myself food and a cocktail without offering to get her anything...I know, I know, bad move. But let me explain a few points to put it into perspective:
1) my fiancee is a social butterfly and I was starving. When we got into the party my fiancee had to exchange small-talk with everyone, and I mean everyone. We had to take a tour of the house of course, talk about the rent, etc. This would have normally been fine except for one thing; there were ribs. You see, I love ribs. I love the flavor, I love the texture, I love the act of eating a rib. And the ribs were specially made by a friend of ours who just so happens to make the best ribs on the face of the planet. I'm salivating now just thinking about them. There were 50 invitees to the party, and only 2 racks of ribs. They were going to go fast. Naturally as soon as we got outside to where the food was set up, I went to grab some ribs while my fiancee caught up with each of the 15 people outside. My fiancee is also doing the "I have to lose x amount of lbs to look smoking hot in my wedding dress" diet. I try to be supportive even though I think she already is smoking hot, so I figured no ribs for her, right? I mean, she even brought her own salad in a bag to the party! So that was my first gaffe, even though she probably would have said no, I should have offered.
2) my fiancee is a bartender, and she's very particular, especially with drinks. She watches the baristas at Starbucks like a hawk to make sure they get her tall, skinny, caramel latte with no foam exactly right. Cocktails are even worse because she is a bartender, and a very good one. Often times when we go out she will actually manage to work her way behind the bar and make her own drink (like I said she's hot, and she's also very charismatic). This being the case, I'm scared to death to make cocktails for her. I'm easy. 3 steps. Find whiskey or bourbon, add soda. Stir with finger. She's a bit more complicated. She only likes certain brands of vodka. She can only stand certain types and brands of juice. The ratio of juice to booze has to perfect. The cocktail has to be shaken with ice, then poured into a glass with the exactly perfect amount of ice. There's always a splash or twist of something at the end. It's like building a fucking rocket ship. Needless to say I didn't make her a drink right when I made mine. The problem was; I didn't even ask.
While gestures like this may seem small to us guys, they are in fact huge to our ladies. When we got home and she called into question my chivalry and romance, I lost it because I didn't think about it that way. I felt like she had forgotten all of the other small gestures that I do every day to try and make her happy. To me those things are important to, and at times it seems as if woman forget that there are A LOT of guys that don't ever do any of these things. She was feeling forgotten and I was feeling that the things I do do were being taken for granted. I think my mistake is that I spoiled her early on by going too big on the chivalry thing to quickly in the relationship. Perhaps I should have been more of an arrogant prick in the beginning. Maybe I should've let her open her own car door a few times. Maybe I should've let the door slam in her face once in a while. But that's just not me, and it never will be, so I guess it's my own fault that I've built standards that are sometimes difficult to live up to 24/7. But I'll sure as hell try to do my best to make her feel as special as she is.
And next time I'll get the girl some goddamned ribs and a cocktail.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
(Mis)communication
I'm big on communication. I'm originally from St. Louis, MO, and if you've ever met or known anyone from St. Louis, you'll know that we're big talkers. The comedian Jeff Foxworthy once said "if you have a 20 minute phone conversation and it was a wrong number, you might be in St. Louis." It's true. We'll talk to you about anything. And in depth too. Traffic; man, we can go on for hours about the ineptitude of MODoT (every single highway in St. Louis has been under major construction since the day I was born, and I'm not even close to exaggerating). Weather; we got that covered too. Since we can basically have every single season in one day in St. Louis, we know a lot about weather. It's the only place where you can see a tornado and snow in the same weekend. And if you have a couple hours to burn, go ahead and ask us about baseball, I dare you. Baseball is ingrained in you from the day you're born in St. Louis. Cardinals fans are known as some of the most respectful, passionate, and knowledgeable fans in baseball, and I'm proud to call myself a Cards fan (no matter how embarrassing this last playoff trip was). My fiancee hates watching baseball games with me on TV because we have TiVO, which means I can pause the game and explain, with incredible detail, every single situation during the game. For me this is exciting and entertaining. I feel like I'm sharing my passion and knowledge with her, which will only make her baseball experiences more enjoyable in the future. She feels like she's watching the game with an encyclopedia of useless facts and trivia. I can't understand why she gets so annoyed. So what if it takes 9 hours to watch a game! At least she understands the importance of not throwing a strike when you have a batter 0-2. I think I've proven my point even if I've forgotten what that point was.
Being so big on communication makes planning a destination wedding in a foreign culture that much more frustrating for me. We're getting married in Mexico. We fell in love there and it will always hold a special place in our memories and our hearts, and we want to share that with our guests. But one thing is for certain; they have a much different perspective on the importance of communication there. If we were having our wedding here in the states and we made a call to a restaurant or a wedding planner, I'm sure that we would be able to talk to someone immediately, either that or our call or email would be returned within 24 hours. This is not the case in Mexico. Our wedding planner routinely takes a week to return phone calls and emails. The resort that is hosting our wedding does the same. I not so recently sent emails to 3 restaurants inquiring about the rehearsal dinner. We'll have about 30 guests and spend upwards of $3,000. The first round got no responses. I sent a second round. I finally got my first email response 22 days after I sent the first round of emails. A response from the second restaurant came in 26 days. And the third finally came yesterday, a brisk 31 days after the original email was sent. The best part, none of the responses contained even the slightest trace of an apology or any remorse or guilt whatsoever; just a simple "will you be to liking the international open bar for 3 or 4 hours senor?"
At first I was angry. This is a region that depends HEAVILY on tourism for revenue. Swine flu has decimated the tourism industry. Hotels are lowering rates left and right. The beaches are empty and so are the wallets of the locals. You would think they would be clamoring over a nice fat chunk of cash, right? But then I considered two things:
1) I live in a tourist town, and I hate tourists. Some of them are great; most of them are obnoxious. While my industry does not depend on the tourist dollar, many of the places I frequent could not survive without tourists. Yet the proprietors all hate the tourists too. When you live in a tourist town it becomes a love/hate relationship. You feel like you have a little slice or paradise that is being invaded, but then you remember that without the invaders you could never afford to live in your little slice of paradise. So, I thought, maybe I'm just being incredibly arrogant and they could care less about my large wedding party full of obnoxiously loud Americans.
2) The laid back culture is a huge part of the reason why my fiancee and I love this region. We have chosen this location partly because it is so relaxing and laid back. We have to take both the good and the bad aspects of that part of the culture. If that means waiting a couple extra days (or weeks) for a return email, then so be it, right?
The conclusion I came to is that I need to quit being so uptight and embrace the cultural differences at play in this whole destination wedding planning process. The year I spend dealing with all kinds of people from a completely foreign way of life is not only a great learning experience, but it's a great character builder. The world is getting smaller, whether we Americans like it or not. The time of insulation and isolation has ended. In order to be better members of an ever growing global society we need to embrace the differences of those around us. Hell, I might even take a Spanish class or two. Vaya con Dios.
Being so big on communication makes planning a destination wedding in a foreign culture that much more frustrating for me. We're getting married in Mexico. We fell in love there and it will always hold a special place in our memories and our hearts, and we want to share that with our guests. But one thing is for certain; they have a much different perspective on the importance of communication there. If we were having our wedding here in the states and we made a call to a restaurant or a wedding planner, I'm sure that we would be able to talk to someone immediately, either that or our call or email would be returned within 24 hours. This is not the case in Mexico. Our wedding planner routinely takes a week to return phone calls and emails. The resort that is hosting our wedding does the same. I not so recently sent emails to 3 restaurants inquiring about the rehearsal dinner. We'll have about 30 guests and spend upwards of $3,000. The first round got no responses. I sent a second round. I finally got my first email response 22 days after I sent the first round of emails. A response from the second restaurant came in 26 days. And the third finally came yesterday, a brisk 31 days after the original email was sent. The best part, none of the responses contained even the slightest trace of an apology or any remorse or guilt whatsoever; just a simple "will you be to liking the international open bar for 3 or 4 hours senor?"
At first I was angry. This is a region that depends HEAVILY on tourism for revenue. Swine flu has decimated the tourism industry. Hotels are lowering rates left and right. The beaches are empty and so are the wallets of the locals. You would think they would be clamoring over a nice fat chunk of cash, right? But then I considered two things:
1) I live in a tourist town, and I hate tourists. Some of them are great; most of them are obnoxious. While my industry does not depend on the tourist dollar, many of the places I frequent could not survive without tourists. Yet the proprietors all hate the tourists too. When you live in a tourist town it becomes a love/hate relationship. You feel like you have a little slice or paradise that is being invaded, but then you remember that without the invaders you could never afford to live in your little slice of paradise. So, I thought, maybe I'm just being incredibly arrogant and they could care less about my large wedding party full of obnoxiously loud Americans.
2) The laid back culture is a huge part of the reason why my fiancee and I love this region. We have chosen this location partly because it is so relaxing and laid back. We have to take both the good and the bad aspects of that part of the culture. If that means waiting a couple extra days (or weeks) for a return email, then so be it, right?
The conclusion I came to is that I need to quit being so uptight and embrace the cultural differences at play in this whole destination wedding planning process. The year I spend dealing with all kinds of people from a completely foreign way of life is not only a great learning experience, but it's a great character builder. The world is getting smaller, whether we Americans like it or not. The time of insulation and isolation has ended. In order to be better members of an ever growing global society we need to embrace the differences of those around us. Hell, I might even take a Spanish class or two. Vaya con Dios.
Monday, October 19, 2009
TMI in the Workplace
While this blog is here to mostly serve as an outlet for the countless decisions, speedbumps, and arguments I'll be lucky enough to be a part of during my long engagement, I'll also occasionally use it to discuss other things; such as why the hell some coworkers need to tell you every bit of mundane detail about their lives.
I am a friendly guy. I always have been, and I probably always will be. While I most definitely have a temper, and sometimes I have a tendency to say some fairly inappropriate things when I get upset, for the most part I am very cordial to people. Old ladies love me; babies adore me; I guess I have just been blessed with a face that says "take all that shit that you've been holding in for the past four or five days, and spew it all out to me because I have absolutely nothing going on in my life that is more important than listening to you ramble on about topics that are completely irrelevant and inappropriate to the relationship we have."
I work in the tech field. Which, of course, means that I work with and for several people who have spent most of their lives in front of a computer screen in a basement or other dark and solitary room surrounded by countless Snickers wrappers and empty cans of Mountain Dew. I know that it may seem like I'm stereotyping, and I'll have to admit that I am a little bit, but c'mon, we all know that in many cases, stereotypes exist because they are often true. I have worked a few jobs in my day, in many different fields, and the tech field is the only one where I have worked with and for people who are incredibly and completely socially awkward. Not being from a technical background, I don't really have this problem. Yes I was an extremely awkward teenager. I dabbled in drugs, I drank, I dressed like I stole my wardrobe out of Marilyn Manson's closet. My mom hated it, and I'm sure my dad did too (what father can be proud to see his son go out on the weekends in a fishnet shirt?) but he was, shall we say, less expressive than my mother. I can't count the number of screaming matches I got in with my mother during my teen years, I'm just thankful that we have put all that crap behind us and have a stronger relationship because of it. The only person that really stood behind me was my grandma, who has since passed. Not only did she allow me to be who I thought I wanted to be, but she embraced the sheer ridiculousness of some of the things I would do simply to push my mom's (and some of my other very religious very conservative family members) buttons. One Christmas my mom wanted me to wear something that was "Christmas-y." I went to a thrift store and bought a pair of red and grey plaid pants that were about 4 inches too short for me, a red tuxedo shirt complete with ruffles, and a holly berry bow tie. I put red and green laces in my combat boots and the ensemble was forever etched into my family history. I thought my mom was going to murder me with her eyes; my grandma almost pissed herself she thought it was so funny.
That being said, I also played sports. I ran track and played competitive soccer. I had friends, good friends, and I had a lot of acquaintances. I rarely spent a weekend night at home. I had girlfriends (pretty ones too I'd like to believe); and I had "girlfriends." The bottom line is that even though I dressed like a goth club reject and had a serious case of teen acne, I got out and interacted with people. My current colleagues seem to suffering from a severe lack of human interaction over the course of their lives. As a result, they simply don't know how to act when they're around other people. It seems to run to the extreme too. I have divided my colleagues into two types of social dysfunction:
1. the hermit-these people have a fear of any kind of human interaction. There is one employee who visibly starts to sweat profusely when you try to talk to him. These guys and gals clam up at the mere thought of sharing any personal information with another human being. We have a couple girls who, although not my type, most would consider attractive. When they are in a common area with some of these hermits you can almost hear a pin drop. The fear is simply overpowering. However, if they are in the same room as fellow hermits, all fear seems to disappear, and the discussions on MISRA and C++ vs C flow freely. Occasionally you'll be lucky enough to witness a hermit come out of his or her shell and start to interact with non-engineers and techies. Unfortunately, what usually happens as a result is that you end up with:
2. verbal diarrheans-these people have discovered that talking to people who are not on the team for their latest engineering release or robot-building project (or even engineers at all) does not, in fact, result in immediate and certain death. Once Pandoras Box has been opened, it cannot be closed. If you befriend these folks they will tell you anything and everything about their lives, no matter how embarrassing or irrelevant. It's as if 25 years of pent up socialization is all taking place at once. And once they start talking, look out. I've tried everything from getting on my cell phone and pretending to talk to actually going into and using the bathroom, but they just keep talking. And if you do manage to find something to interrupt their monologue (you'll never get a word in), they have such well controlled thought processes that they remember EXACTLY where they left off. They expect you to as well. Which is why when you see them again a week later they will continue the conversation as if you have just paused it 15 seconds ago.
I've been told by one member of our sales staff that I'm the equivalent to a "turner" in the homosexual world. These are gay men and women who, for some reason, straight men and women are drawn to. This can lead to uncomfortable and awkward mornings after I'm sure. I apparently have the gift of being able to "turn" a hermit into a verbal diarrhean. So I've gone from an office where nobody said a word to me to an office where I know WAY too much about people I barely wanted to know anything about in the first place.
At the end of the day, I really am a people person. And as annoying as a lot of these people are, I love the fact that, for some strange reason, they feel like they can talk to me. In my mind that's really what life is all about; getting to know people you normally wouldn't have in your inner circle. We can all surround ourselves with people who share our same values, beliefs, and social tendencies...that's easy. But opening yourself up to interactions with people who are nothing like you can open up whole new perspectives on the world that you would have never experienced. Or you can hear about the potential causes of your co-worker's latest bout of IBS. Either way, it ain't boring.
I am a friendly guy. I always have been, and I probably always will be. While I most definitely have a temper, and sometimes I have a tendency to say some fairly inappropriate things when I get upset, for the most part I am very cordial to people. Old ladies love me; babies adore me; I guess I have just been blessed with a face that says "take all that shit that you've been holding in for the past four or five days, and spew it all out to me because I have absolutely nothing going on in my life that is more important than listening to you ramble on about topics that are completely irrelevant and inappropriate to the relationship we have."
I work in the tech field. Which, of course, means that I work with and for several people who have spent most of their lives in front of a computer screen in a basement or other dark and solitary room surrounded by countless Snickers wrappers and empty cans of Mountain Dew. I know that it may seem like I'm stereotyping, and I'll have to admit that I am a little bit, but c'mon, we all know that in many cases, stereotypes exist because they are often true. I have worked a few jobs in my day, in many different fields, and the tech field is the only one where I have worked with and for people who are incredibly and completely socially awkward. Not being from a technical background, I don't really have this problem. Yes I was an extremely awkward teenager. I dabbled in drugs, I drank, I dressed like I stole my wardrobe out of Marilyn Manson's closet. My mom hated it, and I'm sure my dad did too (what father can be proud to see his son go out on the weekends in a fishnet shirt?) but he was, shall we say, less expressive than my mother. I can't count the number of screaming matches I got in with my mother during my teen years, I'm just thankful that we have put all that crap behind us and have a stronger relationship because of it. The only person that really stood behind me was my grandma, who has since passed. Not only did she allow me to be who I thought I wanted to be, but she embraced the sheer ridiculousness of some of the things I would do simply to push my mom's (and some of my other very religious very conservative family members) buttons. One Christmas my mom wanted me to wear something that was "Christmas-y." I went to a thrift store and bought a pair of red and grey plaid pants that were about 4 inches too short for me, a red tuxedo shirt complete with ruffles, and a holly berry bow tie. I put red and green laces in my combat boots and the ensemble was forever etched into my family history. I thought my mom was going to murder me with her eyes; my grandma almost pissed herself she thought it was so funny.
That being said, I also played sports. I ran track and played competitive soccer. I had friends, good friends, and I had a lot of acquaintances. I rarely spent a weekend night at home. I had girlfriends (pretty ones too I'd like to believe); and I had "girlfriends." The bottom line is that even though I dressed like a goth club reject and had a serious case of teen acne, I got out and interacted with people. My current colleagues seem to suffering from a severe lack of human interaction over the course of their lives. As a result, they simply don't know how to act when they're around other people. It seems to run to the extreme too. I have divided my colleagues into two types of social dysfunction:
1. the hermit-these people have a fear of any kind of human interaction. There is one employee who visibly starts to sweat profusely when you try to talk to him. These guys and gals clam up at the mere thought of sharing any personal information with another human being. We have a couple girls who, although not my type, most would consider attractive. When they are in a common area with some of these hermits you can almost hear a pin drop. The fear is simply overpowering. However, if they are in the same room as fellow hermits, all fear seems to disappear, and the discussions on MISRA and C++ vs C flow freely. Occasionally you'll be lucky enough to witness a hermit come out of his or her shell and start to interact with non-engineers and techies. Unfortunately, what usually happens as a result is that you end up with:
2. verbal diarrheans-these people have discovered that talking to people who are not on the team for their latest engineering release or robot-building project (or even engineers at all) does not, in fact, result in immediate and certain death. Once Pandoras Box has been opened, it cannot be closed. If you befriend these folks they will tell you anything and everything about their lives, no matter how embarrassing or irrelevant. It's as if 25 years of pent up socialization is all taking place at once. And once they start talking, look out. I've tried everything from getting on my cell phone and pretending to talk to actually going into and using the bathroom, but they just keep talking. And if you do manage to find something to interrupt their monologue (you'll never get a word in), they have such well controlled thought processes that they remember EXACTLY where they left off. They expect you to as well. Which is why when you see them again a week later they will continue the conversation as if you have just paused it 15 seconds ago.
I've been told by one member of our sales staff that I'm the equivalent to a "turner" in the homosexual world. These are gay men and women who, for some reason, straight men and women are drawn to. This can lead to uncomfortable and awkward mornings after I'm sure. I apparently have the gift of being able to "turn" a hermit into a verbal diarrhean. So I've gone from an office where nobody said a word to me to an office where I know WAY too much about people I barely wanted to know anything about in the first place.
At the end of the day, I really am a people person. And as annoying as a lot of these people are, I love the fact that, for some strange reason, they feel like they can talk to me. In my mind that's really what life is all about; getting to know people you normally wouldn't have in your inner circle. We can all surround ourselves with people who share our same values, beliefs, and social tendencies...that's easy. But opening yourself up to interactions with people who are nothing like you can open up whole new perspectives on the world that you would have never experienced. Or you can hear about the potential causes of your co-worker's latest bout of IBS. Either way, it ain't boring.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Introtoletyouknow
If anyone got that Outkast reference in my title, I like you already. Some background; I'm a 31 year old guy from the Midwest who moved out to California almost 6 years ago. When I came here I had dreams of a fresh start filled with palm-tree lined roads, golden-sand beaches, star-studded streets, and million-dollar careers. For the most part Cu-lee-for-nya has been exactly what I expected, aside from the blindingly high rent, stagnant job market, still over-inflated housing prices, and myriad natural disasters. Granted, had I really done my research I probably would have expected all those things as well, but c'mon, I came here with blinders firmly in place, and I'm now paying the consequences for my choices.
At 31 I don't own a home. I drive a late-90's Honda. I couldn't buy a single share of Berkshire-Hathaway stock. I just finished school. I'm constantly nervous, anxious, and slightly depressed about my job situation. I get mad, I get sad, and sometimes I get sauced.
Granted, I'm looking at a real estate market where FORECLOSED homes are selling at upwards of $200,000 and in my current city of Santa Barbara, a one bedroom condo still goes for about half a mil. I'm a young 31. I own my Honda outright, it has low miles, I drive less than 5,000 miles a year, and I don't have to entertain clients, so it's perfect for me. Bershire stock is currently trading at about $102,000 per share. I graduated with honors with an MBA. Everyone I know in this economy is nervous, anxious, and slightly depressed about their job situation. Lots of people get mad. Everyone gets sad. I can put away the sauce.
All told, I'm doing pretty well. I'm an only-child Leo with a great family. My mom's the most loving woman on the planet, almost to the point of completely smothering you with calculated, stress-filled love. She's ridiculously smart; toughest person I've ever known, and the inspiration for almost every positive thing I've done in my life. If my dad were any mellower people would think he was dead...unless you're riding a bike with him. Then he's a god damned machine. Get my dad talking about anything cycling related, and you better have a few hours of free time, because you've just opened Pandora's Box of information. That's where I get my thirst for knowledge and tendency to ramble. The other thing about my dad; biggest heart I've ever seen in my life. That is without question. My two cousins are the other part of my immediate family. They've lived with my family for more than a decade now, and they're more sisters to me than cousins, so from this point forward I'll refer to them as such. The youngest is a quiet, sweet kid (shit, young woman now) who would drop anything to help out someone she loved. The older one reminds me a lot of me at times; strong-willed, pig-headed at times, but well-intentioned and always there. Being a part of such a great family has helped make me who I am, but it can also make it very hard for a partner who might feel they have to compete. Lucky for me my fiancee loves my family, and they love her.
I guess I have it pretty good after all.
At 31 I don't own a home. I drive a late-90's Honda. I couldn't buy a single share of Berkshire-Hathaway stock. I just finished school. I'm constantly nervous, anxious, and slightly depressed about my job situation. I get mad, I get sad, and sometimes I get sauced.
Granted, I'm looking at a real estate market where FORECLOSED homes are selling at upwards of $200,000 and in my current city of Santa Barbara, a one bedroom condo still goes for about half a mil. I'm a young 31. I own my Honda outright, it has low miles, I drive less than 5,000 miles a year, and I don't have to entertain clients, so it's perfect for me. Bershire stock is currently trading at about $102,000 per share. I graduated with honors with an MBA. Everyone I know in this economy is nervous, anxious, and slightly depressed about their job situation. Lots of people get mad. Everyone gets sad. I can put away the sauce.
All told, I'm doing pretty well. I'm an only-child Leo with a great family. My mom's the most loving woman on the planet, almost to the point of completely smothering you with calculated, stress-filled love. She's ridiculously smart; toughest person I've ever known, and the inspiration for almost every positive thing I've done in my life. If my dad were any mellower people would think he was dead...unless you're riding a bike with him. Then he's a god damned machine. Get my dad talking about anything cycling related, and you better have a few hours of free time, because you've just opened Pandora's Box of information. That's where I get my thirst for knowledge and tendency to ramble. The other thing about my dad; biggest heart I've ever seen in my life. That is without question. My two cousins are the other part of my immediate family. They've lived with my family for more than a decade now, and they're more sisters to me than cousins, so from this point forward I'll refer to them as such. The youngest is a quiet, sweet kid (shit, young woman now) who would drop anything to help out someone she loved. The older one reminds me a lot of me at times; strong-willed, pig-headed at times, but well-intentioned and always there. Being a part of such a great family has helped make me who I am, but it can also make it very hard for a partner who might feel they have to compete. Lucky for me my fiancee loves my family, and they love her.
I guess I have it pretty good after all.
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