Danger at work

My company is a lonely place. Often I'll go a whole day without talking to someone. When I pass another engineer in the hall, most of the time, they won't look at me; they look at the floor. (They also all seem to wear their pleated pants hitched too high up.) I used to try and say hello, but now sometimes I end up looking at the floor, too. Unless it's the cleaning lady -- she's really friendly.

Anyway, one of the engineers at my company works by himself with a cryogenic tank. The story is that one day, he licked it and his tongue froze to the tank. Security had to rescue him.

I often wonder who that man was. Perhaps his tongue-freezing gave him a speech impediment. But, since no one ever talks, I'll never know.

What my coworkers said about Steve Irwin

This morning, I overheard a couple of my male coworkers talking about the death of Steve Irwin. One is about 23; the other is in his early thirties. As I came into my office, the 23 year old was saying, "I mean, I'm sorry, but that's why you don't go near wild animals."

The other guy sounded a bit hesitant, as if he were a soft-hearted bouncer at the gates of heaven. (These two coworkers seem to have a good cop/bad cop routine worked out in routing dead celebrities.) "Well, I'm no expert on stingrays..."

"My aunt's neighbor got stung by one. On the foot."

"Really?"

"Yeah. He had to go to the hospital."

"Wow. Was it painful?"

"Hell, yeah. And you know what he said? He said it was his own damn fault."

My 23 year old coworker would forgive any sin, it seems, except for a lapse in judgement. He clings to his good judgement like a devout Catholic clings to her beads. "I can tell you, you won't see me going anywhere near a stingray. Or anything else that wants to kill me."

I couldn't help but wonder why he goes to the vending machine so often; he's gained at least forty pounds in the last year. Except for his Mustang (which he has yet to buy -- he's going to trade in his Acura), he's a man who prides himself on taking no risks. Once when the other guy said he was going to Vegas and suggested he come along, he said, "I don't gamble."

"Why not? It's fun. Vegas is a trip."

"Huh. I really can't understand what people see in it. You're just giving away your money."

"But dude, it's Vegas! You have to try it at least once. You know, a weekend away from the old lady." (The 30-something coworker emphasized 'old lady', as if he were quoting someone else...probably his father, who when he died left his son a slew of old idioms, such as 'it never rains but it pours.')

"No way, man. I'm buying an HD TV. I want something for my money."

Remember the medlar

Another tidbit from my 2003 diary:

On the flight home, I sat next to a couple of drunken businessmen. I tried to ignore them, but eventually my neighbor lost interest in the flight attendant and leaned over into my space.

"Are you in school?"

I shook my head.

"But you're reading Adam Smith."

"Yes, but I'm not in school."

"Why are you reading it, then?"

"It's a great book."

“Oh, but he oversimplified a lot of things. I mean, that whole organic viewpoint of economics. He was just copying Darwin.” His professorial air only slightly reeked of alcohol.

"But Adam Smith published this around 1776." He didn’t seem to understand the implication, so I continued: “Darwin lived in the 1800s.”

“Oh...you had me there.” It didn't look like he cared much, though. He ordered another drink. Then, referring to the ink on my hand, he asked, "Did you go out last night?" He smiled at what he must've guessed was our common bond. “I stayed out until 4 AM myself."

"No, that's the word, medlar. I wrote it on my hand to remember it, because supposedly, the oil from the medlar nut is so tasty, goats in Morocco climb trees to eat them." It did look more like a smudge than a word, I suppose. (Note: I don't know where I got this word from. I just did a text search on 'Wealth of Nations,' and it didn't turn up.)

Silence. Then I noticed his complexion. On a healthier day, I'm sure he would have taken the medlar on (for it definitely has an organic point of view).

Now I felt like being inquisitive. "Did you make it to work today?"

"Nah, I woke up at 1 PM." He gave a sour laugh. "I slept through my own talk."

"Will that hurt you at work?"

He shrugged with the remnants of bravado left over from last night -- 1/2 hangover, 1/2 resignation.

I read my book in peace the rest of the way home.