I'd like to think that I was not the only one rolling my eyes in the Radium Stadium yesterday as a hoard of young women (and a few men) screamed out highly articulate phrases like, "MARRY ME, RYAN! " and "WOOOOOOOO! ".
Nothing against Seacrest, personally. He seems like a nice enough guy - maybe comes across as a tad arrogant, but certainly personable and likable enough. It's just the whole sycophantic notion of people throwing themselves at the feet of celebrities for no better reason than that they're famous. I think I must have some kind of mental block in that area, because obviously the rest of America gets it. That's the only reason why people like Paris Hilton or the Kardashians exist.
Now, I know what you're thinking, Reader. I obviously do appreciate celebrity to some degree - hence my Top Five. And it's true. Sometimes it's fun to watch or read about famous people, especially good-looking famous people. But I'm far more interested in what their next film role is, or book they've written, or song they've released, than who they're supposedly dating or what rehab they're visiting. Their private lives are not nearly as fascinating to me as the actual work that they do that is deserving of fame. And I really don't understand why people are so willing to proclaim their undying devotion for such celebrities en masse and in public.
Do they really expect that the sentiment will be returned, that George Clooney is going to see them in the fanatic crowd, fall instantly in love and sweep them away to his Lake Como villa? Or that Brad Pitt will suddenly abandon Angelina and their 247 children and let them whittle away the hours tracing the contours of his cheekbones with their fingertips? I have to wonder if the women screaming out how much they loved Ryan Seacrest yesterday ever show the same intensity of passion for their loving boyfriends or husbands.
There were even girls getting all giggly and wanting to snap photos with Justin Guarini, who was wandering around outside while we waited in line. Seriously? For the life of me I can't figure out why he'd be there, and especially why he'd still be attracting "fans". Because if they were fawning over him just to make fun, that's pretty cruel. Funny, but cruel.
So, anyway, while Maren and I were sitting in the stands for about sixteen and a half trillion hours waiting for our turn to audition, she was surprised to discover that I don't really WANT to make it on American Idol. I wasn't trying out to, you know, try out. I was just going along for the ride and figured, why not? "I tried out for American Idol" makes a much better story than "I didn't try out for American Idol."
But even if I did have the pipes for it, (and trust me, I'm not one of those people delusional enough to think I do, or that even without the voice my winning personality and neon-blue chicken suit will suffice) I wouldn't want to be on the show. In fact, in a world where it would somehow have been possible for me to make it to the next round of auditions, I doubt I would have gone. I just don't crave the spotlight, the attention, the airtime - in fact, I'm rather opposed to the idea.
Yes, Reader, I realize that the career I'm aspiring to is very much involved with fame and fortune. But that doesn't mean I have to actively participate in it. Yes, I want to win an Oscar someday - but for screenwriting, not for acting. And my acceptance speech will likely just be, "Thanks, everybody." That way no one can say I left them out and I can do my part to keep the show on schedule. And at the end of the day, no one will remember who I am, and that's fine with me. Seriously. Name me five screenwriters without using IMDB. Not famous actors-turned-screenwriters or book authors-turned-screenwriters. People that make their living writing movies. Betcha can't do it.
Now name me five people who are in the tabloids but have never made a movie, written a book, or had a song on the radio. Much easier, isn't it? And that's what I'm talking about. I'm not opposed to having my time in the spotlight because I want to hide from the world - not entirely, anyway. But what's the point of being famous anymore? The rules of the game have changed - people aren't famous for accomplishing anything. They're famous for making out with Flava Flav on national TV (who isn't even famous for a good reason himself).
So my inevitable fifteen minutes of fame are up for grabs, Reader. Go ahead, take them for yourself, and see if you can get some use out of them. I'm perfectly content to just sit back and shine the spotlight on somebody else. That is, until I'm working on a movie that stars Matt Damon, and we meet at a pre-production meeting and the sparks fly.... then you can kiss me good-bye. But I'll be sure to thank you, Reader, along with all the other little people who got me there.
I love you, Matt Damon! WOOOOOOO!
Wednesday, July 30
Monday, July 21
... About Risky Business
When I got to work this morning, I had a voicemail from Super Dell. He told me that he had a friend who was using advanced technology to run his weed-whacker on water, but that the government wouldn't tell people about it because they're Socialists.
Well, thanks a lot, Government.
I'm not going to lie to you, Reader. It scared me. This was obviously a personal attack, a direct result of me publically questioning Super Dell's right to exist a month ago. He tracked me down! Blast! The LAST thing I need right now is to be a blip on Super Dell's radar. I mean, the man is a total loon, with a history of waving guns around and threatening to shoot people.
So it's official. I've crossed over into the realm of journalists who put their lives at risk just to get that golden story. I am Daniel Pearl in Pakistan, 2002. I am Geraldo in Iraq, 2003. I am Dan Rather in Manhattan, 1986 ("What's the frequency, Kenneth?!").
When you're scared for your life, Reader, there's only one logical thing to do. Cruise eBay for body armor. Like this:
Well, thanks a lot, Government.
I'm not going to lie to you, Reader. It scared me. This was obviously a personal attack, a direct result of me publically questioning Super Dell's right to exist a month ago. He tracked me down! Blast! The LAST thing I need right now is to be a blip on Super Dell's radar. I mean, the man is a total loon, with a history of waving guns around and threatening to shoot people.
So it's official. I've crossed over into the realm of journalists who put their lives at risk just to get that golden story. I am Daniel Pearl in Pakistan, 2002. I am Geraldo in Iraq, 2003. I am Dan Rather in Manhattan, 1986 ("What's the frequency, Kenneth?!").
When you're scared for your life, Reader, there's only one logical thing to do. Cruise eBay for body armor. Like this:
Yup, that should do nicely. As long as they don't shoot me in the face.
So then I was thinking, it's a good thing I'm going to be wearing body armor full-time now, because boy, could I use it. It's too bad I didn't realize I was Super Dell's mark before this last weekend, because it could have protected me from the many dangerous pitfalls awaiting me in the Provo River.
Katie decided that for her birthday, she wanted to get a group of us together and go ride down the Provo River on tubes. I know what you're thinking, Reader, and you're right. I do have a tendency to fall off of things such as rafts, jetskis, snowmobiles, Razor scooters.... My mom says it's probably a good idea for me to avoid any high adventure activities. But I figured this would be totally different. This trip was going to be just like that time we took that peaceful float down the river at Xel~Ha, with the only difference being that on the Xel~Ha river I fell out of the tube. I mean, it was Mexico, so it doesn't really count.
Turns out, the Provo River float was nothing at all like the Xel~Ha float, with one minor exception - I fell out of the tube.
Now, wait. I don't really think it's fair to say I "fell out". More like I was "coerced" out. By a tree with a highly convincing argument. And then some rocks who were likewise persuasive.
Had I been wearing full body armor, this would have been a very different adventure. Not only would I be spared numerous bumps, scrapes, and bruises, but I would have won the fight with that tree by a landslide. I could have taught that tree a lesson it would not easily forget. I could have walked away from that river with dignity, and without exposing any of my pasty skin to harmful UV rays. How have I managed all these long years without it?
So I'm off to find me some good ol' American-made body armor to protect me from the likes of Super Dell, passive-aggressive trees, and Socialists.
I hope it comes in red.
Monday, July 14
... About Good Intentions
Turns out, Reader, I'm not what you would call a "highly motivated" individual.
Don't get me wrong - I'm not saying I'm lazy. Although I am. But that's not what I'm talking about here. What I'm talking about is... iuhno. I lost my train of thought. But I think it was something along the lines of... like... goals? Accomplishing them, or not accomplishing them, or something.
I mean, I want to do stuff. I really do. I just don't want to actually do anything about it. Basically, what I think I'm saying, is that all the things I want should just happen without me having to put forth any kind of effort.
Is that so unreasonable?
I think my real problem is time management. I always manage to convince myself that I have a lot more time to get stuff done than I actually do. I remember being at an age where I thought it was funny when adults said things like, "This year has gone by so fast," or "The years just keep passing by quicker and quicker." As a kid, I knew they were wrong. Time didn't go faster when you got older! Now, all of the sudden, I realize they were right. It wasn't very long ago when time still moved at the right speed, and yet it was forever ago. That probably has something to do with Einstein's Theory of Relativity, which basically says this: The kid version of me got in a spaceship while the adult version of me waited on Earth... and then Donald Duck showed up and did something about a pool table? Thank you, all my junior high teachers who relied on educational Disney videos!
Anywho, last January, instead of making New Year's Resolutions, I made "Things to Do Before I'm 25" Resolutions. Which is basically the exact same thing, but I thought it'd mean more to me if I personalized it. I mean, anybody can have New Year's Resolutions, but only 3,712,136 people in the U.S. are turning 25 this year. That makes me feel a bit more special. And I like being special, Reader.
But now here I am, less than six months away, and I'm discovering that even the magic birthday deadline hasn't motivated me. Which is not to say that I've done nothing toward my goals; I just haven't come as far as I should have. I have managed to complete at least one major one, so props to me on that. But the others... eh, not so much.
I know what you're thinking, Reader. I shouldn't set such rigid timelines for myself, especially on big life-goals. They'll happen when they happen, blah blah blah. That's just crazy talk, Reader. Question: If I don't set a deadline for myself, how will I know that I'm a failure? Huh? Answer me that. Answer: I won't. I won't know that I'm a failure. I won't know that I'm not accomplishing anything with my life. And then I'll just be wandering around all willy nilly thinking I'm awesome all the time.
No, Reader. That is not the way.
You can't fault me for trying, though. Sometimes I get really ambitious. I make mental charts and diagrams and lists, I plan out exactly how I'm going to get something accomplished. But then I usually fall asleep and forget all about it by morning. Or afternoon. Depends on when I fall asleep. Either way. But all that trying is just exhausting, Reader. It seems to get me nowhere. Like Homer said (in Odyssey, I believe? Or was it Iliad?), "Try is the first step to failure." Wise words to live by, Homer.
But the best thing about resolutions, Reader, is that we always get another shot! So, yeah, instead of having one year to finish my remaining goals before I hit the big dos-five, I'll instead have 131 days to finish them! And really, if you think about it, that's a lot of days. I'm feeling really motivated right now, Reader! I should work out a plan, put all these ideas down in a chart of some sort... maybe I'll make a cool little spreadsheet to track my progress! Yeah, that's the ticket! I'll even color code it.
Of course, it'll take a little time to get all these visual aides put together, and that just eats into the time spent actually working on my goals. I should really get cracking, then. Later today. Or maybe tomorrow. No need to stress about it. I still have plenty of time.
Don't get me wrong - I'm not saying I'm lazy. Although I am. But that's not what I'm talking about here. What I'm talking about is... iuhno. I lost my train of thought. But I think it was something along the lines of... like... goals? Accomplishing them, or not accomplishing them, or something.
I mean, I want to do stuff. I really do. I just don't want to actually do anything about it. Basically, what I think I'm saying, is that all the things I want should just happen without me having to put forth any kind of effort.
Is that so unreasonable?
I think my real problem is time management. I always manage to convince myself that I have a lot more time to get stuff done than I actually do. I remember being at an age where I thought it was funny when adults said things like, "This year has gone by so fast," or "The years just keep passing by quicker and quicker." As a kid, I knew they were wrong. Time didn't go faster when you got older! Now, all of the sudden, I realize they were right. It wasn't very long ago when time still moved at the right speed, and yet it was forever ago. That probably has something to do with Einstein's Theory of Relativity, which basically says this: The kid version of me got in a spaceship while the adult version of me waited on Earth... and then Donald Duck showed up and did something about a pool table? Thank you, all my junior high teachers who relied on educational Disney videos!
Anywho, last January, instead of making New Year's Resolutions, I made "Things to Do Before I'm 25" Resolutions. Which is basically the exact same thing, but I thought it'd mean more to me if I personalized it. I mean, anybody can have New Year's Resolutions, but only 3,712,136 people in the U.S. are turning 25 this year. That makes me feel a bit more special. And I like being special, Reader.
But now here I am, less than six months away, and I'm discovering that even the magic birthday deadline hasn't motivated me. Which is not to say that I've done nothing toward my goals; I just haven't come as far as I should have. I have managed to complete at least one major one, so props to me on that. But the others... eh, not so much.
I know what you're thinking, Reader. I shouldn't set such rigid timelines for myself, especially on big life-goals. They'll happen when they happen, blah blah blah. That's just crazy talk, Reader. Question: If I don't set a deadline for myself, how will I know that I'm a failure? Huh? Answer me that. Answer: I won't. I won't know that I'm a failure. I won't know that I'm not accomplishing anything with my life. And then I'll just be wandering around all willy nilly thinking I'm awesome all the time.
No, Reader. That is not the way.
You can't fault me for trying, though. Sometimes I get really ambitious. I make mental charts and diagrams and lists, I plan out exactly how I'm going to get something accomplished. But then I usually fall asleep and forget all about it by morning. Or afternoon. Depends on when I fall asleep. Either way. But all that trying is just exhausting, Reader. It seems to get me nowhere. Like Homer said (in Odyssey, I believe? Or was it Iliad?), "Try is the first step to failure." Wise words to live by, Homer.
But the best thing about resolutions, Reader, is that we always get another shot! So, yeah, instead of having one year to finish my remaining goals before I hit the big dos-five, I'll instead have 131 days to finish them! And really, if you think about it, that's a lot of days. I'm feeling really motivated right now, Reader! I should work out a plan, put all these ideas down in a chart of some sort... maybe I'll make a cool little spreadsheet to track my progress! Yeah, that's the ticket! I'll even color code it.
Of course, it'll take a little time to get all these visual aides put together, and that just eats into the time spent actually working on my goals. I should really get cracking, then. Later today. Or maybe tomorrow. No need to stress about it. I still have plenty of time.
Tuesday, July 8
... About Craig
I realize that for outsiders, yesterday's post was a bit cryptic. I wanted to post SOMETHING, but I didn't know what to say. So today I'll explain a bit. On Saturday, July 5, my friend Craig Decker jumped into Utah Lake to retrieve an oar from his boat and never came back out.
Craig has always been one of my favorite people on the planet. He's one of those people that could always make any activity more fun. Anyone that ever knew him loved him instantly.
The lyrics I included with the picture of Craig and me yesterday are from Billy Joel's "Lullaby (Goodnight My Angel)", and there's a reason I picked that song. Back in high school, Craig decided he wanted to learn the song, so he asked me to accompany him in the practice room sometimes. That's one of my favorite memories of Craig, sitting at the piano with him, playing "Lullaby" while he hummed along. He then borrowed my (Mom's) sheet music and lost it, and bought me (her) a new copy and stuck a bow on it. The sheet music is now buried in Mom's piano bench somewhere, but I'm pretty sure the bow is still there. That song has always reminded me of Craig, so I thought stealing a few of the lyrics would be appropriate.
Of all of Craig's talents, my favorite by far was his incredible backrubs. We used to trade them off - I'd give him one just so he'd owe me one, and vice versa. I put him to sleep with one once, which is how I managed to steal his brown sweater and kept it for a week.
Another of my favorite Craig memories was the time we went up to Idaho for a band competition. We stopped for lunch at a shopping center that had a few fast food options, but Craig and I decided we'd rather go to the Albertson's across the street and buy real food. Once we hit the produce section, Craig proclaimed that we would be remiss if we didn't buy a souvenir potato while in Idaho. So we did. We named it (although I can't remember what) and made it the mascot of the competition.
Once a big group of us went up to Donut Falls for a hike. A few people decided to climb up to the top, Craig and I among them. We had to cross the river over some boulders. Craig was giving me a hand up on one of them when my foot slipped a little, and for whatever reason CRAIG LET GO. Which means I went tumbling down into the river and got soaked. The water was freezing, but not quite as cold as the time we spent all day playing in the snow and tried to thaw out our toes in front of the Starr's fireplace.
I feel so blessed that I had a chance to have Craig in my life. When it seemed like the world was falling apart, I often thought of him and it made me feel better. As long as there was someone like Craig in the world, things couldn't be all that bad. His contagious smile, his unfailing optimism, his quirky sense of humor, his glowing love for his family, friends, and faith - these are the ways he impacted my life. These are the things I loved most about him, the ways he made me want to be better, be more like him.
The picture yesterday was from a trip we took last summer up to Bear Lake. Moments after I arrived he sat beside me, grabbed Jacey's camera and snapped it. I loved that, because he didn't care that we hadn't kept in close touch after high school anymore than I did. To Craig, once you're his friend you're always his friend.
And he'll always be mine.
Craig has always been one of my favorite people on the planet. He's one of those people that could always make any activity more fun. Anyone that ever knew him loved him instantly.
The lyrics I included with the picture of Craig and me yesterday are from Billy Joel's "Lullaby (Goodnight My Angel)", and there's a reason I picked that song. Back in high school, Craig decided he wanted to learn the song, so he asked me to accompany him in the practice room sometimes. That's one of my favorite memories of Craig, sitting at the piano with him, playing "Lullaby" while he hummed along. He then borrowed my (Mom's) sheet music and lost it, and bought me (her) a new copy and stuck a bow on it. The sheet music is now buried in Mom's piano bench somewhere, but I'm pretty sure the bow is still there. That song has always reminded me of Craig, so I thought stealing a few of the lyrics would be appropriate.
Of all of Craig's talents, my favorite by far was his incredible backrubs. We used to trade them off - I'd give him one just so he'd owe me one, and vice versa. I put him to sleep with one once, which is how I managed to steal his brown sweater and kept it for a week.
Another of my favorite Craig memories was the time we went up to Idaho for a band competition. We stopped for lunch at a shopping center that had a few fast food options, but Craig and I decided we'd rather go to the Albertson's across the street and buy real food. Once we hit the produce section, Craig proclaimed that we would be remiss if we didn't buy a souvenir potato while in Idaho. So we did. We named it (although I can't remember what) and made it the mascot of the competition.
Once a big group of us went up to Donut Falls for a hike. A few people decided to climb up to the top, Craig and I among them. We had to cross the river over some boulders. Craig was giving me a hand up on one of them when my foot slipped a little, and for whatever reason CRAIG LET GO. Which means I went tumbling down into the river and got soaked. The water was freezing, but not quite as cold as the time we spent all day playing in the snow and tried to thaw out our toes in front of the Starr's fireplace.
I feel so blessed that I had a chance to have Craig in my life. When it seemed like the world was falling apart, I often thought of him and it made me feel better. As long as there was someone like Craig in the world, things couldn't be all that bad. His contagious smile, his unfailing optimism, his quirky sense of humor, his glowing love for his family, friends, and faith - these are the ways he impacted my life. These are the things I loved most about him, the ways he made me want to be better, be more like him.
The picture yesterday was from a trip we took last summer up to Bear Lake. Moments after I arrived he sat beside me, grabbed Jacey's camera and snapped it. I loved that, because he didn't care that we hadn't kept in close touch after high school anymore than I did. To Craig, once you're his friend you're always his friend.
And he'll always be mine.
Monday, July 7
Tuesday, July 1
... About Courtesy
One of the fun things about my job is that I get to answer the phones. Yippee! There's nothing better than being constantly interrupted by people I don't want to talk to. Usually, it's just a matter of transferring the phone call to somebody else, or looking up some account information, or something equally mundane. Occasionally you get someone who isn't sure why they're calling, or who they want to speak to, or what they need help with, and are generally unwilling to help me help them figure it out. Or, they know exactly what they want, but don't realize that I am unable to read their minds and further explanation would be helpful. Like the conversation I had yesterday:
Me: Good morning, Hy-Ko.
Guy: Hi, do you have showering stuff?
Me: I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. Do we have what?
Guy: Showering stuff.
Me: ...(long pause)... In what context?
Guy: Showering stuff. You know, it gets rid of hard-water stains.
Me: Oh. Um, no.
Then there are the chatters. These are usually people who I imagine would talk to a wall if it gave the slightest indication it was listening - i.e., it didn't run away. Most of them are fairly benign, but occasionally I get a crazy. For example, one day a few months ago I sat and listened for a good ten minutes while a lady told me she that she was allergic to her plastic dental work, and it had melted into her skull and was now oozing out of her hair.
Right.
Now, Reader, I'll be the first to admit that sometimes the most memorable phone conversations I have with complete strangers are my own fault, and not that of the person calling in. Like this little gem from last week:
Me: Good morning, Hy-Ko.
Guy: ...(long pause)... What?
Me: This is Kristen at Hy-Ko, can I help you?
Guy: Did you just say 'good morning'?
Me: ...(long pause)... Maybe.
Guy: It's, like, four o'clock in the afternoon.
Me: Sorry, force of habit.
Guy: That's okay, it just threw me off. Good afternoon.
Me: Good afternoon.
Guy: ...(long pause)... (laughs)
You know, Reader, of all the random people that I have to talk to on the phone every day, there is one type that really gets my goat. They're the worst. Seriously. I'd like to find a way to lure all these people into the same place at the same time and drop some Napalm. Lots of Napalm.
I'm talking, of course, about people who think they're funny.
No, not people who think they're funny and are actually funny. Those people are A-OK in my book. I mean the people who think they're funny and are very, very, very incorrect in that assumption. Like the dozens of people every day who are convinced that they are the first person to ever come up with the oh-so-clever joke to call me 'Hy-Ko' as if it's my name ("Good morning, Hy-Ko, can I speak to Ron?"). Guess what? You're not the first. And that guy who WAS the first? He wasn't funny, either.
Bailey has just IM'd me a great example of one of these characters:
Bailey: HKS, this is Melissa, how can I help you?
Guy: Can I talk to Russ?
Bailey: He's in a meeting right now, would you like his voicemail?
Guy: Go tell him the most important guy he's ever going to talk to is on the line.
Bailey: ...Okay...
Guy: No, I'm just kidding.
Bailey: Ha...ha.
Guy: I'm really not that important.
Yeah, I could have told you that, buddy.
Seriously, what is wrong with these people? And it's not just people I talk to on the phone at work, either. They're everywhere! It seems like I'm constantly coming in contact with people who think they're funny.
You know what the worst part is, Reader? It puts people like me in a tight spot. I mean, I have to offer a courtesy laugh or else I'm just being rude, right? But by laughing at these not-funny people, I'm encouraging this type of asinine behavior. And doesn't that really hurt them in the long run?
Is it better for me to be discourteous now in order to save them from the humiliation of being 'that guy' for the rest of their natural existence? Or should I give them a courtesy laugh and hope that someday a close friend will sit them down and gently say, "Dude, you're not funny. Seriously. Stop trying," before it's too late? Do I have a responsibility to these people - nay, to all of mankind - to stop the cycle of lame before it gets out of control? Or am I overstepping my bounds?
You can see this is an important issue to me, Reader.
Deep down, I feel like it would be better if I didn't give people courtesy laughs. But I know that unless I could get more people on board with me about this issue, it wouldn't make much difference. As long as there are enough people out there who are just throwing out courtesy laughs like melted candy at the 4th of July parade, my efforts will make little impact on the world. It's a discouraging thought.
But still, Reader, I think I have an obligation to try. If EVERYBODY simply said, "Little ol' me won't make no difference," we'd have quite a problem on our hands. First off, there'd be a lot of people using terrible grammar. And second, nothing would ever get accomplished.
So this is a call to arms! The next time somebody makes what they think is a joke, stand your ground! Resist the urge to be kind and give them a courtesy laugh. It may seem cruel, but these are measures we have to take. Think of all the good you'll be doing for the future! Think of the children! Together, we can end the destructive forces of courtesy laughs in this country, and someday, the world! They may take our laughter, but they may never take our freedom!
Oh, come on, Reader. No laugh for that one? That was funny. That was totally funny.
Me: Good morning, Hy-Ko.
Guy: Hi, do you have showering stuff?
Me: I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. Do we have what?
Guy: Showering stuff.
Me: ...(long pause)... In what context?
Guy: Showering stuff. You know, it gets rid of hard-water stains.
Me: Oh. Um, no.
Then there are the chatters. These are usually people who I imagine would talk to a wall if it gave the slightest indication it was listening - i.e., it didn't run away. Most of them are fairly benign, but occasionally I get a crazy. For example, one day a few months ago I sat and listened for a good ten minutes while a lady told me she that she was allergic to her plastic dental work, and it had melted into her skull and was now oozing out of her hair.
Right.
Now, Reader, I'll be the first to admit that sometimes the most memorable phone conversations I have with complete strangers are my own fault, and not that of the person calling in. Like this little gem from last week:
Me: Good morning, Hy-Ko.
Guy: ...(long pause)... What?
Me: This is Kristen at Hy-Ko, can I help you?
Guy: Did you just say 'good morning'?
Me: ...(long pause)... Maybe.
Guy: It's, like, four o'clock in the afternoon.
Me: Sorry, force of habit.
Guy: That's okay, it just threw me off. Good afternoon.
Me: Good afternoon.
Guy: ...(long pause)... (laughs)
You know, Reader, of all the random people that I have to talk to on the phone every day, there is one type that really gets my goat. They're the worst. Seriously. I'd like to find a way to lure all these people into the same place at the same time and drop some Napalm. Lots of Napalm.
I'm talking, of course, about people who think they're funny.
No, not people who think they're funny and are actually funny. Those people are A-OK in my book. I mean the people who think they're funny and are very, very, very incorrect in that assumption. Like the dozens of people every day who are convinced that they are the first person to ever come up with the oh-so-clever joke to call me 'Hy-Ko' as if it's my name ("Good morning, Hy-Ko, can I speak to Ron?"). Guess what? You're not the first. And that guy who WAS the first? He wasn't funny, either.
Bailey has just IM'd me a great example of one of these characters:
Bailey: HKS, this is Melissa, how can I help you?
Guy: Can I talk to Russ?
Bailey: He's in a meeting right now, would you like his voicemail?
Guy: Go tell him the most important guy he's ever going to talk to is on the line.
Bailey: ...Okay...
Guy: No, I'm just kidding.
Bailey: Ha...ha.
Guy: I'm really not that important.
Yeah, I could have told you that, buddy.
Seriously, what is wrong with these people? And it's not just people I talk to on the phone at work, either. They're everywhere! It seems like I'm constantly coming in contact with people who think they're funny.
You know what the worst part is, Reader? It puts people like me in a tight spot. I mean, I have to offer a courtesy laugh or else I'm just being rude, right? But by laughing at these not-funny people, I'm encouraging this type of asinine behavior. And doesn't that really hurt them in the long run?
Is it better for me to be discourteous now in order to save them from the humiliation of being 'that guy' for the rest of their natural existence? Or should I give them a courtesy laugh and hope that someday a close friend will sit them down and gently say, "Dude, you're not funny. Seriously. Stop trying," before it's too late? Do I have a responsibility to these people - nay, to all of mankind - to stop the cycle of lame before it gets out of control? Or am I overstepping my bounds?
You can see this is an important issue to me, Reader.
Deep down, I feel like it would be better if I didn't give people courtesy laughs. But I know that unless I could get more people on board with me about this issue, it wouldn't make much difference. As long as there are enough people out there who are just throwing out courtesy laughs like melted candy at the 4th of July parade, my efforts will make little impact on the world. It's a discouraging thought.
But still, Reader, I think I have an obligation to try. If EVERYBODY simply said, "Little ol' me won't make no difference," we'd have quite a problem on our hands. First off, there'd be a lot of people using terrible grammar. And second, nothing would ever get accomplished.
So this is a call to arms! The next time somebody makes what they think is a joke, stand your ground! Resist the urge to be kind and give them a courtesy laugh. It may seem cruel, but these are measures we have to take. Think of all the good you'll be doing for the future! Think of the children! Together, we can end the destructive forces of courtesy laughs in this country, and someday, the world! They may take our laughter, but they may never take our freedom!
Oh, come on, Reader. No laugh for that one? That was funny. That was totally funny.
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