Thunder of Wade

Just after I got out of college, I was living with a couple of room-mates. One of them was looking to help his mother and grandmother move from New York City to Ohio – and asked me to help. I had time, a reliable car, and I was generally agreeable to adventures.

And thus began my long friendship with the Ladies from New York – lasting long after my room-mate and I went our separate ways.

I visited the Ladies occasionally and helped with their electronics, put up plastic on the windows, or took them for errands when they needed transportation. I visited them in the hospital when the younger had a heart scare and tried to provide some counsel when they had problems with my former room-mate. And I dismissed the occasional jabs as them simply not having any filters.

I got a call the other day from the Younger – they were moving back to New York. She wasn’t happy about it, but her family was behind the move. The crime, the noise, and the challenges of just getting by in New York haven’t changed – and they are a lot older now – but I guess there’s a plan.

We agreed to meet up for dinner and spend some time before the move – and then she called again to ask if I would write up a character reference.

Now, it took a very quick burst of brain-power to not blurt out “do you want me to lie?”

Which isn’t fair. They are both abrupt, quick tempered, tact-exempt, and occasionally openly hostile. And they are both well armed. And I give them a pass because, well, they are still little old ladies from New York. And have always accepted and cared about me – even if they didn’t always know how to say it.

Then I realized that the Character Reference is going to people who already live in New York City. I’m guessing there’s a sliding scale.

So, I agreed and she was going to work on getting me an email address to send this to. I haven’t written it yet, but I’ve been working on it in the back of my head since then.

I’m going to miss them both and I worry about them. They are both tough old broads by Ohio standards, but I’m hoping they haven’t lost the edge they need for New York.

So, I’ll take them out for dinner and talk about old times. And worry when they move in November. I’ll do my best to keep in touch, but it won’t be a case where I can stop by after work and set up their phone or DVD player – or help keep that truly ancient VHS player going.

I’ll miss the orange soda. I’ll miss sharing pics of my nieces and marveling over their grand-kids. I’ll miss the stories and wry humor. I’ll even miss the blunt comments and sarcasm – but not the overly loud TV.

And I’ll miss them.

Left work a little early to go donate blood yesterday. I did the RapidPass beforehand – which was their term for the medical history portion, not some device that I could strap to myself that would drain out my blood as I walked through an arch in the library.

Though… no, that’s a terrible idea.

So, I was ahead of the game when I got there and breezed right on through the health screening with no delay. Then – no waiting – right on over to the table for the donation.

Needle stick, squeeze every 5-7 seconds, and I was on my way.

And then I was done. I mean, it seemed to go really fast – much more so than usual. I commented to the technician and she said I finished up the donation in 6 minutes and 30 seconds.

The average time, I found out later, is around 8-10 minutes.

So, wow.

I felt fine, got my cookie and juice, and was on the road. I think that might have been the most efficient blood donation I’ve ever done.

Given that the human body has about 1.5 gallons of blood and this is around 12 pints, at that rate I could have auto-exsanguinated myself in 78 minutes. Provided, of course, that I didn’t die first.

Cool, and also creepy.

Today, I:

Tied my tie without looking – perfectly – on the first try. (+1 to Armor class)

Led a meeting with the president of the University of Akron and a committee of 18 of my peers.  (+2 to Charisma)

Helped a graduate student set up a survey for “Perceived Spiritual Competence” (+2 to Wisdom)

Harvested and canned some grapes from my backyard (+2 Dexterity, +4 to Crafting)

Read a Stephen King book. (-1 to Constitution)

My nieces – ages four and six – will occasionally call me Grandpa and my dad Uncle.

It’s not a big deal and sometimes we correct them – though we usually just let it go.

It seemed odd to me that they would make the mistake, until I got my haircut today.

Since my bald spot became a thing and the rest of my hair started to thin out, I usually have what’s left of my hair cut almost to the scalp. Throw in randomly changing white facial hair and an odd sense of humor – and, well, I guess I can see how that would be confusing.

Dad is stronger than I am and more of any outdoorsy person. He’s into history and I’m into Sci-fi. I’m weirder than he is – but not by much. I’m computers, and barefoot, and crafts. He’s sports and yardwork. He’s a runner and I’m a swimmer.  We both really appreciate a good hat.

But, to a little kid those distinctions are pretty subtle. My dad is a pretty good guy and while I might have bristled at the suggestion that we’re a lot alike a few years ago, I think I have a better appreciation for him. There’s still a lot we don’t agree on – but I’m okay with my nieces occasionally mixing us up.

I’m on a committee at work – in charge of it, in fact. Didn’t intend to be – I was perfectly fine with being the vice-chair. Which, roughly translated, means a nice title and no actual work. Other than running the yearly election and I was doing most of that anyway.  Anything to avoid taking minutes.  Ugh.

But then the chair suddenly resigned and I took over as Acting Chair – or so I tried to convince people.

And when the elections came back around for officers, I couldn’t manage to step all the way down and ended up as co-chair.

Ended up being kind of okay with that, somehow. I think I’m doing an okay job with running the meetings and keeping things on track – but still looking forward to gracefully setting the role aside.

And even more so now.

One of the sub-committees has gone off the rails on a project and is trying to push it forward – without getting the rest of the committee to agree to it. There were some ugly emails and an even uglier meeting – over what should have been a really positive project.

Heavy hangs the head, as they say, that wears the crown.

Most annoyingly is that we could just… stop, and very little would change. We’ve got little authority and even less influence. We do some good work, but it’s pretty small in the grand scheme of things.

On Thursday, we’ve got a meeting with the new president and somehow, we’ve got to have a united voice.

I think I have my work cut out for me.

I haven’t had a library card for a little while and when I mentioned this to Jim he was kind of astonished. I countered that I had a library in my house and he said that only emphasized it.

This conversation came about because I decided to get a card at the local library – which in turn came about from killing time at a library recently and reading a book that I might have liked to take with me and continue.

I think that was a run-on sentence, but you get the idea – I hope.

So, after work and a haircut, I headed to the local library to get a card and some books.

I went up to the front desk and got started with the process. There was a little form to fill out while they entered my information from my driver’s license. The form said (over) at the bottom and I turned it over and read it and signed.  I always look for “your immortal soul” – just in case.

I turned the form to the front and passed it back.  The clerk looked it over – then flipped it over and raised an eyebrow.

“You signed the back. No one ever knows to do that,”

I shrugged and made some comment about reading directions. This is also why I never have problems at the BMV.

I have my shit together.

Anyway, they gave me the provisional card good for 2 weeks and only letting me check out 5 items at a time. If everything is good at the end of the two weeks, then I can upgrade to a regular card.  I guess I looked shifty.

Card in hand, I got directions to Fiction and headed over.

And while I perused the books, I realized how – in some ways – I’m really old fashioned.

For me, a library (or even a bookstore), should be a place of quiet respect. In those pages on the shelves are countless stories and worlds without end. Adventures and epic sagas. The ancient past and the far distant future.

How could anyone be in a place with all that wonder – and be noisy?

And it was noisy. Loud conversations, music, and kids running around through the whole building. You expect that in the kids section – even appreciate that – but in Fiction?

I got my books and returned to the front desk to check out. Then home for some dinner and reading. I’ll be back – likely many times – but it doesn’t quite feel like a library to me.

Maybe I am old fashioned. Or maybe a book snob. But those books – all those wonderful books… Well, I’m quieted by them, even if that’s just me.

When I am asked to give my name at a restaurant – either to get a table or to later claim my food – I usually give my middle name:

Wade

It’s not exactly a common name – more so as a last name – but it’s also not that uncommon. Short, easy to type and say – and since I used to go by Wade when I was younger, hearing someone say it gets my attention.

And it maybe throws off some data points if someone is tracking me. Just saying.

Unfortunately, as simple as the name is, people still somehow mess it up. This usually shows on the receipt – sometimes, I’m:

WAYDE

What? Is that really a name? Looks like it should be pronounced
Waaaaaade.

Even when they ask me to spell it, that can go awry too. Today, at Wendy’s, I was W-A-D-E:

WADD

Yeah, not one of my finer moments.

I guess it’s not really a big deal – not like they got this wrong on my diploma or birth certificate – but… still…

We are not our names. We are something else that wears a name like a jacket or a pair of shoes.

And for a little while today, I was wearing WADD.

The burger tasted the same no matter how my name was spelled and I guess that’s what counts. The fries were good too.

And then it was back to work and back to Anthony.  Can’t imagine how badly that one could get mangled.  All those letters…

Last November, I decided that our office needed some decoration.  We’ve got an outer lobby area near the elevator before entering our suite and it seemed like a good spot for a little color.  I’d made origami wreaths in the past of various sizes, but this time I was going for quantity.

I made a simple one for December and then started on a project of a new themed wreath for each month.

January (snow), February (hearts), and March (clover) were easy as far as a theme goes and I got a little more creative with ducks and bunnies for April. May was flowers, June was sunshine.

July (star spangled) was easy and for August I went with a beach. Then changing leaves in September and a pumpkin with leaves for October.

I managed a turkey for November and then back around to strangely plain December (pine). I had gotten more sophisticated as the year went on so as I loop back around, December will be simple.

I also did a Christmas wreath that I’m going to donate and a Blue and Gold for the VP’s office.

Figured that it was time to post them since I was done with the project – even though the year isn’t up.

Next up, maybe a spiral…

The full set is here:

http://thunderofwade.tumblr.com/

Last week, I sat through a webinar on some changes to our e-commerce system.  I had a chat window open with my boss and shared my comments and observations.  Here is the transcript of that session:

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[‎9/‎1/‎2016 1:21 PM] Serpette,Anthony W:

watching a ******* recorded webinar.  I’m hoping they really have some good news about the emarket, but I think it’s at the end of the video.  Currently, I’m losing the will to live.

Everything is darkness.

[‎9/‎1/‎2016 1:23 PM] Serpette,Anthony W:

Sorrow hangs over me like a cloud, weeping tears of abject despair.

If bleakness was a tree, my heart would be covered by a forest.

[‎9/‎1/‎2016 1:25 PM] Serpette,Anthony W:

I may never wake from this endless nightmare.

[‎9/‎1/‎2016 1:29 PM] Serpette,Anthony W:

Has time stopped?  Do the sands no longer flow?

[‎9/‎1/‎2016 1:30 PM] Serpette,Anthony W:

Even my blood slows in my veins. My heart strains to beat against the sluggish bracken.

[‎9/‎1/‎2016 1:33 PM] Serpette,Anthony W:

But, wait, is there hope?  Is there actual relevant information? Could this be what I have waited for all these years?  Is this.. is this the light?

[‎9/‎1/‎2016 1:38 PM] Serpette,Anthony W:

But they tease!  They tease me with cosmetic changes!  Strumpets!  Where is the substance?

[‎9/‎1/‎2016 1:42 PM] Serpette,Anthony W:

Names. Names.  A legion of new names.  Still, they stink of the pit.

[‎9/‎1/‎2016 1:50 PM] Serpette,Anthony W:

Ah, mighty AJAX.  He strides onto the field like a warrior.  Oh, but wait, it’s but a mask.  His face revealed – a tired and cowardly pretender.

[‎9/‎1/‎2016 1:52 PM] Serpette,Anthony W:

A plague upon thy house.  Tis smoke and mirrors!  Where are the templates?  Where is the CSS?  Dost thou care nothing for internet standards?  Vile wenches…

[‎9/‎1/‎2016 1:57 PM] Kreider,Eric W:

I see you holding one of the brains from your jar out and speaking to it a la Hamlet

[‎9/‎1/‎2016 2:00 PM] Serpette,Anthony W:

Hamlet got off easy. This, this is madness.  Ophelia was a light-hearted nymph compared to this travesty.

[‎9/‎1/‎2016 2:01 PM] Kreider,Eric W:

lol Strumpets! In the court!

[‎9/‎1/‎2016 2:01 PM] Serpette,Anthony W:

I Fall!  I fall upon my stake!  Tis my only escape.

[‎9/‎1/‎2016 2:02 PM] Kreider,Eric W:

Another unrecoverable hour goes by…

[‎9/‎1/‎2016 2:04 PM] Serpette,Anthony W:

Would that lightning strike my screen and end this now.  The seconds of misery creep… ah, but soft!  Tis ended!  My heart leaps at freedom!

[‎9/‎1/‎2016 2:05 PM] Kreider,Eric W:

*shaking head smiling but still, sad*

[‎9/‎1/‎2016 2:06 PM] Serpette,Anthony W:

I shall share this with noble Kevin, he who is Rushing.  Mayhap his wisdom will enlighten.

---

Clearly, I need to read more Shakespeare and incorporate that style into my everyday conversations.  It’ll make the meetings more interesting, anyway.

I’m a big fan of snacks.

I think they are great and they play a large part in regulating my mood. If we’re meeting friends for dinner and there’s a chance it will be later than is good for me – and by extension anyone else – Jim will make sure I have a pop-tart or two handy. When I get hangry, well, scorned women stay out of my way and my “hell-hath-no” brand of fury.

So, vending machines are a pretty good thing in my book.

Yes, I know that everything in there is over-priced.And yes, I know that everything in there is terrible for me.

I know that – and guess what? I don’t care. There’s a lot of instant gratification in a vending machine. Money in – salty/sweet satisfaction out.

And if it keeps me from a tri-state killing spree – well, then we should all be grateful.  Sometimes its not even the biochemical make of the drink or treat – sometimes it’s just about getting something small accomplished.  “I would like a beverage and so I go and acquire one”

I noticed something, though, that has made me sad about my friend Mr. Soda Vending.

Back in the day, you could walk past a vending machine and at a glance see if they had the soda you wanted. If you wanted Orange and the Sold Out light was on for the Orange, you had the option of getting Grape instead or to just keep on walking.

Now, though, those soda machines hide their status. You put your money in and hit a button – and only then do you discover your fate. Do you get your beverage of choice – or do you get a Sold Out message? Your money is already in the machine so you can either pick something else or hit the return button and wait while the machine angrily counts out what you hope is the correct change.

It sounds angry, at least.

Then you’ve got to try and fish the quarters back out of the little slot and take your business elsewhere. And if there’s someone waiting, you can also die of embarrassment while you inappropriately grope a robot.

When I first realized this, it pissed me off. Not the robot groping – I figure that’s inevitable when the Robot Uprising (tm) comes along.

No, I was angry about being socially engineered.

There’s a feeling of commitment. The money has already gone in and you expect something in return. And the coin return route feels like failure.

So, you pick something else until you finally get something that you didn’t even really want because now it feels like obligation. You have to succeed at some level – and so they get a sale even if they are out of the product.

I’ve had this happen at stores – I’m looking at you, Radio Shack. Windows full of products and shelves mysteriously empty. We settle for the thing we didn’t really want just to have some measure of success. So it doesn’t feel like a complete waste of time.

I’m ranging farther afield now with my pocket full of quarters. Searching for that toxic diet soda that will somehow keep me distracted enough to get through the day. And not settling for grape when I really want orange.

It takes a lot of paying attention to see where that social engineering lives. And effort to fight back against the faceless invokers of that engineering.

But, there’s some satisfaction in that as well.  Little goals, little successes.