Tag Archives: TMI

Self censorship…

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Every now and then I manage to write a post here that strikes exactly the tone I was looking to hit. That makes it all the more troubling when you read it one last time before hitting the “publish” button and realize it’s chock full of things you can’t say out loud. I’m not confessing to kidnapping the Lindbergh baby or anything, but it was just one of those moments of clarity that screamed out that things weren’t quite ready for prime time. That wasn’t the first time I’ve had to self censor and I’m sure it won’t be the last. I share so much on here that sometimes it’s hard to remember that not everything needs said as soon as it pops into my head. Blogging is a real double edged sword like that. Things that seem like a good idea while I’m writing them, seem slightly less enchanting after they’ve gone live. I guess that’s the price we pay for instant communication.

As usual, I’ve filed my original post away in the archives and hope that it might someday see the light of day again. Unfortunately, that means for tonight you’re left with this post explaining why you’re not reading anything terribly interesting tonight. Sorry about that. Better luck tomorrow.

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

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1. Office politics. Henry Kissinger once said, “University politics are vicious precisely because the stakes are so small.” Dr. Kissinger is a smart guy, but his thinking was too small in this case. His principle ultimately includes office politics of any stripe. Fighting over who gets credit, who’s in charge, and for the seat next to the high lord at supper are exactly the factors that prevent anything from actually getting accomplished. Useless bloody infighting over scraps is apt to make me say something stupid.

2.Colo-rectal examination. I don’t care how good a professional relationship you have with someone, the people you work with never need to hear the explicit details of your upcoming and/or previous colo-rectal examination. Some things are best left within the confines of doctor-patient confidentiality.

3. The 5-day work week. Whoever decided that the work week should be five days and the weekend only two needs punched in the face. Repeatedly. With a Buick.

A look over my shoulder…

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Despite the impressions that I might give here, I usually go out of my way to be at least civil to random people I meet during the course of the day. For the most part, they’re the ones just trying to get through whatever’s on their plate and they want to be left alone just as much as I do. Of course on the other hand you sometimes encounter someone who couldn’t get a clue if they were being handed out for free. That was the kind I ran into this morning while I was waiting to get my oil changed.

I like to use the kind of enforced down time you only get in a waiting room to catch up reading, writing, or some other activity I can do quietly. Occasionally I’ve had people stop to ask questions about the iPad. I do my best to answer their questions without getting sucked into anything resembling an actual conversation. I dispense the requested information and stick my nose immediately back into whatever it was I was working on before they came by. Sometimes, like this morning, it’s just not that simple.

The old battle axe sitting next to me this morning apparently has a tough time taking hints or reading body language. Just because I’m typing away on the screen doesn’t mean that I don’t see you trying to read what I’m writing. It gets a little more obvious when you start leaning further and further in my direction as I move my iPad further and further away from you. I didn’t particularly want to cause a scene and yelling at old ladies isn’t really my style. That left me with only one option: a Google search for BDSM images. Since she was so intrigued with what I was up to, I even offered to let her check out the first page of results with me. As it turns out, she apparently wasn’t as interested in what I was up to as she thought she was. Hopefully next time she’s tempted to mind someone else’s business, she’ll give some thought to how much she really wants to know about the stranger sitting next to her.

Firewall…

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I’m very careful to keep a mighty firewall between my professional self and every other aspect of my life. Having either one bleeding over into the other is just not something I even want to contemplate dealing with. Today I’m reminded why. It seems one of my colleagues is having a baby… and that has led to an unending round of sonogram showing and appreciative cooing from the female members of the staff. It’s also let to merciless ribbing that it wasn’t the sought after son he had predicted. When I say unending, I mean that. It’s been going on now for three hours more or less non-stop. Fortunately, this poor soul apparently has a longer fuse than I do. Maybe it’s just me, but the squealing, shrieking girl thing just doesn’t play when it’s coming from a room of 30 and 40-somethings. Once is endearing. Doing it each time anyone who hasn’t yet been informed comes into the office makes you seem slightly insane.

It’s possible that I’m the oddball here, but most of my coworkers really know next to nothing about me other than that I come in on time, leave on time, get my work done, and generally keep a neat and tidy desk. That’s really all they need to know. They don’t really know if I’m married. Don’t know if I have kids. I don’t give away weekend or holiday plans other than letting one or two people know that I’ll be out of town or otherwise unreachable. For the most part the reverse is also true. I make every effort not to drag work issues home with me. No one at home needs to know the details of what’s going on at the office any more than the guy at the desk next to me needs to know if I enjoy collecting wedding cake toppers and visiting small New England bed and breakfasts.

Call me crazy, but there are aspects (i.e. most parts) of my life I just don’t feel compelled to share… and yes, the irony of saying that on a blog is not completely lost on me.

Editorial Note: This part of a continuing series of posts previously available on a now defunct website. They are appearing on http://www.jeffreytharp.com for the first time. This post has been time stamped to correspond to its original publication date.

Snapped…

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I’ve had my fill of waging war against overbearing bosses and know-it-all colleagues. I do my best these days to keep my head down and avoid notice whenever possible. I don’t want to stand out or fall behind. I want to hide right in the middle of the curve. I’ve said it before, but I really just wan to do the job and get home as quickly as possible at the end of the day.

I’ve always had a temper, but was blessed with an incredibly long fuse. Because of that, most people have never seen me detonate. At most, they find me at a simmer or more rarely moving on towards a rolling boil. For the sake of professional decorum and not wanting to give away that someone’s actually gotten under my skin, I try very hard to keep it from boiling over. Once I’ve reached the point of no return, one of two things are going to happen. I’m going to slam something down on the desk and storm out of the room or more likely I’m going to get very quiet, set my jaw, and hiss something at you through clenched teeth.

It seems that I’ve finally reached that snapping point with someone, who yesterday cornered me at my desk to tell me their family stories of long, lingering deaths. I have no earthly idea why anyone would consider this appropriate office conversation, or really appropriate for anyone other than family and the closest of friends. After 30 minutes of aural abuse, I finally snapped; not so much because today was particularly troubling, but because it’s been the same thing for months now.

Hey, we all have our own personal cross to bear. Yours don’t make you any more special, troubled, or saintly than anyone else around here. Apparently telling someone that to their face is considered impolite. The up side is they haven’t said anything to me in two days. On balance, being thought impolite is a small price to pay for that kind of peace and quiet.

Editorial Note: This part of a continuing series of posts previously available on a now defunct website. They are appearing on http://www.jeffreytharp.com for the first time. This post has been time stamped to correspond to its original publication date

Apparently they’re everywhere…

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Do you ever wonder if people really spend any time thinking about what they say before words come tumbling out of their mouths? I’ve known the woman sitting next to me for a grand total of 20-odd days and have already been treated to the complete and unabridged version of her medical history… and her father’s… and her mother’s… and at least one sister. Not only do I not want to hear about your colonoscopy, or your sister’s varicose veins, or your father’s chronic halitosis, but I want you to not want to tell me those things. As much as I appreciate you wanting me to feel like part of the group, there’s a level of sharing with coworkers that I’m just not going to go beyond – and you shouldn’t either. Being realistic, you’ve told me details about your family that I wouldn’t be comfortable telling people I’ve known for 20 years, let alone 20 days.

If someone could stop by and install a cone of silence on my cubicle, that would be perfect. I think it would save us all from a lot of trouble in the long run, because all that’s really going to happen is you’re going to keep telling me things that I don’t want to hear and then I’m going to be forced to post those things on the internet. And that doesn’t seem fair to either of us, really.

Editorial Note: This part of a continuing series of posts previously available on a now defunct website. They are appearing on http://www.jeffreytharp.com for the first time. This post has been time stamped to correspond to its original publication date.