On the 23rd, we went to our favorite Chinese food restaurant, Hua Chang.
We were glad to see the restaurant wasn't empty that night, as it usually is. A group of high schoolers was having a great time laughing it up with the owner's wife when I walked in to pick up our order.
She looked up at me excitedly and hustled over. In addition to our regular hometown hero greeting, Mrs. Chang (I assume that's her name) threw in some almond cookies for free. She tossed them into the bag, handed it to me, and told me, "You wait." Then she disappeared into the kitchen.
I stood in the entryway for a bit, shuffling my feet and wondering what I'd done wrong.
Mrs. Chang returned with one hand behind her back and a huge smile on her face.
With a flourish, she produced a box of grapes. "For the happy Christmas!" she exclaimed.
I gave her a hug.
Happy Christmas, indeed.
What If?
Every day it seems I read another impossible-to-imagine headline.
"NY Governor Delays Payments to Conserve Cash"
"Real Estate Broker Swindles Investors Out of $98M, Seeks Bankruptcy Protection"
"President Signs Health Care Bill, Approving $1.2T Additional Debt"
Apparently you can just do whatever you want these days. If you can dream it, you can do it.
I've always heard of this mythical "American Dream". So I got to wondering - what if I could do this?
The New York Times might run these headlines:
"Ricky Delays Mortgage Payments to Conserve Cash"
Mortgage company applauds conservation tactic, says efforts at increasing green responsibilities are noteworthy.
"Ricky Prints His Own Money"
Declares "There really oughta be a $25 bill with Lou Gherig on it."
"Ricky Signs Health Care Bill, Approving $1.2T Additional Debt"
Says, "Whatever. I don't have to pay for it. Some other schmuck will."
What impossible headlines would you write?
"NY Governor Delays Payments to Conserve Cash"
"Real Estate Broker Swindles Investors Out of $98M, Seeks Bankruptcy Protection"
"President Signs Health Care Bill, Approving $1.2T Additional Debt"
Apparently you can just do whatever you want these days. If you can dream it, you can do it.
I've always heard of this mythical "American Dream". So I got to wondering - what if I could do this?
The New York Times might run these headlines:
"Ricky Delays Mortgage Payments to Conserve Cash"
Mortgage company applauds conservation tactic, says efforts at increasing green responsibilities are noteworthy.
"Ricky Prints His Own Money"
Declares "There really oughta be a $25 bill with Lou Gherig on it."
"Ricky Signs Health Care Bill, Approving $1.2T Additional Debt"
Says, "Whatever. I don't have to pay for it. Some other schmuck will."
What impossible headlines would you write?
The Tale of Ye Olde Faithful
This is a guest post from my mom. Why? Because she's awesome, that's why.
Oh, and I won the bet.
--
Do you remember going to Twisters and ordering soft ice cream? They used to have it, you know, but they don’t anymore. I think I know why, and I think it has to do with my husband, Charlie. Here is his story.
One day a few years ago Charlie and I were eating at Twisters with our three teenage sons, Ricky, Robby, and Joseph. We had finished eating and were having such a good time that we decided to get dessert as well. Soon we each were licking a soft ice cream cone. We were getting more and more merry, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company.
As usual, the boys were cracking jokes right and left. The butt of most of their jokes was Charlie and his lack of hair.
The banter was fast and furious around the table, and sounded somewhat like this:
“Hey, Dad took off his hat. Give me my sunglasses.”
“Yeah, Dad, it looks like you ate one too many hard boiled eggs.”
Charlie tried to defend himself.
“There are only so many beautiful heads in this world. The rest have to be covered with hair.”
“I’m not bald. I just have a very wide part.”
“Well, Dad, at least you don’t have the problem of finding hair in the sink.”
“You boys make fun, but you just wait. You know what they say, “Hair today, gone tomorrow.’”
By this time everyone had gotten so silly, that we were laughing at anything anyone said. While this was going on, Charlie choked on his ice cream. He tried to talk, but no sound came out. He signaled with his hands, but the boys just thought this was all the more hilarious and provoked him to laugh further.
Charlie again tried to speak, but he was simply laughing too hard.
Then amid our laughing, we noticed something odd begin to happen. The ice cream started coming out of Charlie’s nose. This of course made us practically roll on the floor. The boys continued making their wise cracks, but I was a little worried. The ice cream kept coming and coming. It was like the soft ice cream machine.
We looked up and saw several of the Twisters’ employees standing to the side and observing. They weren’t talking, just watching. Soon the ice cream coming from Charlie’s nose was like a volcano! It just kept coming.
I said, “Guys! Dad’s in trouble here.”
They stopped laughing, and it seemed the entire restaurant got quiet and went in slow motion. With the calm, Charlie was able to quit laughing and gain some control. How could he keep his dignity after this? We got up and left the restaurant, all somewhat embarrassed.
When we got home that night, Charlie didn’t feel well. He had a tingling sensation throughout his legs and arms. He and I both thought it was perhaps because he had been without oxygen for so long.
It was many months before Charlie felt comfortable enough to darken the door of Twisters again. We pointed out to him that fast food restaurants have a high turnover rate in employees and that probably no one would be there who would remember him. The day finally came when he was willing to go.
As we studied the menu, we noticed that there was no longer any soft serve ice cream. We asked the waitress about it. She said she didn’t know anything about it, just that the Twisters Corporation had discontinued offering it at all their restaurants a short time before.
We thought with lawsuits so prevalent nowadays that Charlie’s ordeal must have had something to do with it. But all turned out fine in the long run. As Charlie says, “A good man always comes out a-head on top.”
Oh, and I won the bet.
--
Do you remember going to Twisters and ordering soft ice cream? They used to have it, you know, but they don’t anymore. I think I know why, and I think it has to do with my husband, Charlie. Here is his story.
One day a few years ago Charlie and I were eating at Twisters with our three teenage sons, Ricky, Robby, and Joseph. We had finished eating and were having such a good time that we decided to get dessert as well. Soon we each were licking a soft ice cream cone. We were getting more and more merry, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company.
As usual, the boys were cracking jokes right and left. The butt of most of their jokes was Charlie and his lack of hair.
The banter was fast and furious around the table, and sounded somewhat like this:
“Hey, Dad took off his hat. Give me my sunglasses.”
“Yeah, Dad, it looks like you ate one too many hard boiled eggs.”
Charlie tried to defend himself.
“There are only so many beautiful heads in this world. The rest have to be covered with hair.”
“I’m not bald. I just have a very wide part.”
“Well, Dad, at least you don’t have the problem of finding hair in the sink.”
“You boys make fun, but you just wait. You know what they say, “Hair today, gone tomorrow.’”
By this time everyone had gotten so silly, that we were laughing at anything anyone said. While this was going on, Charlie choked on his ice cream. He tried to talk, but no sound came out. He signaled with his hands, but the boys just thought this was all the more hilarious and provoked him to laugh further.
Charlie again tried to speak, but he was simply laughing too hard.
Then amid our laughing, we noticed something odd begin to happen. The ice cream started coming out of Charlie’s nose. This of course made us practically roll on the floor. The boys continued making their wise cracks, but I was a little worried. The ice cream kept coming and coming. It was like the soft ice cream machine.
We looked up and saw several of the Twisters’ employees standing to the side and observing. They weren’t talking, just watching. Soon the ice cream coming from Charlie’s nose was like a volcano! It just kept coming.
I said, “Guys! Dad’s in trouble here.”
They stopped laughing, and it seemed the entire restaurant got quiet and went in slow motion. With the calm, Charlie was able to quit laughing and gain some control. How could he keep his dignity after this? We got up and left the restaurant, all somewhat embarrassed.
When we got home that night, Charlie didn’t feel well. He had a tingling sensation throughout his legs and arms. He and I both thought it was perhaps because he had been without oxygen for so long.
It was many months before Charlie felt comfortable enough to darken the door of Twisters again. We pointed out to him that fast food restaurants have a high turnover rate in employees and that probably no one would be there who would remember him. The day finally came when he was willing to go.
As we studied the menu, we noticed that there was no longer any soft serve ice cream. We asked the waitress about it. She said she didn’t know anything about it, just that the Twisters Corporation had discontinued offering it at all their restaurants a short time before.
We thought with lawsuits so prevalent nowadays that Charlie’s ordeal must have had something to do with it. But all turned out fine in the long run. As Charlie says, “A good man always comes out a-head on top.”
Missing Me, Part 2
If you're the IT guy, you know how hard it is to take a vacation. Your users need you, and they have the hardest time coping with your absence.
I asked Kay, our receptionist, to attend to the blog while I was gone.
--
IT has been gone for way too long.
Partner B to Partner A: Is Ricky back today?
Partner A: No, not until next Monday.
Partner B: What? He was out all last week.
Partner A: No, he wasn't.
They continue on with their conversation as they head out the door to Starbucks.
An accountant, on his way through with his coffee, asks, "When is Ricky back?"
"Next Monday", I reply.
Accountant: "J.C. @!!*&!!!"
Me: "Are you having computer problems?"
Accountant: "No, I just miss him"
I asked Kay, our receptionist, to attend to the blog while I was gone.
--
IT has been gone for way too long.
Partner B to Partner A: Is Ricky back today?
Partner A: No, not until next Monday.
Partner B: What? He was out all last week.
Partner A: No, he wasn't.
They continue on with their conversation as they head out the door to Starbucks.
An accountant, on his way through with his coffee, asks, "When is Ricky back?"
"Next Monday", I reply.
Accountant: "J.C. @!!*&!!!"
Me: "Are you having computer problems?"
Accountant: "No, I just miss him"
Missing Me, Part 1
If you're the IT guy, you know how hard it is to take a vacation. Your users need you, and they have the hardest time coping with your absence.
I asked Kay, our receptionist, to attend to the blog while I was gone.
--
AAGGHHHH!!
Ricky, our IT guy, has gone to Hawaii. Can you believe he would actually leave us for more than a day?
Let me tell you, it is not a pretty scene when IT is missing. I heard his backup has volunteered for a dreaded traveling assignment – effective immediately.
One of our esteemed accountants was just standing at Ricky's desk, looking sad.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"My computer isn't working," he replies.
"Can I help?"
His face went from sad to 'you've got to be kidding' as he walked away shaking his head.
But the worst one, another accountant who wears glasses, is standing by Ricky's desk muttering to himself, "It's gone. He took it with him."
"Took what?" I ask.
"His cloth for cleaning his glasses, he always has it laying here" (he desperately points to a particular spot on Ricky's desk).
"You could use a Kleen and Dri. Works for the computer screens," I offer as a solution.
He looks at me with that 'you've got to be kidding' look and walks away shaking his head.
People come in the door, turn and look at Ricky's empty desk, make a funny noise and leave. What is with that?
He's only been gone for 6 hours!
11 days to go.
AAGGHHHH!!!
I asked Kay, our receptionist, to attend to the blog while I was gone.
--
AAGGHHHH!!
Ricky, our IT guy, has gone to Hawaii. Can you believe he would actually leave us for more than a day?
Let me tell you, it is not a pretty scene when IT is missing. I heard his backup has volunteered for a dreaded traveling assignment – effective immediately.
One of our esteemed accountants was just standing at Ricky's desk, looking sad.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"My computer isn't working," he replies.
"Can I help?"
His face went from sad to 'you've got to be kidding' as he walked away shaking his head.
But the worst one, another accountant who wears glasses, is standing by Ricky's desk muttering to himself, "It's gone. He took it with him."
"Took what?" I ask.
"His cloth for cleaning his glasses, he always has it laying here" (he desperately points to a particular spot on Ricky's desk).
"You could use a Kleen and Dri. Works for the computer screens," I offer as a solution.
He looks at me with that 'you've got to be kidding' look and walks away shaking his head.
People come in the door, turn and look at Ricky's empty desk, make a funny noise and leave. What is with that?
He's only been gone for 6 hours!
11 days to go.
AAGGHHHH!!!
I'm Sorry
I got this idea from the very funny blog of Bryan Allain. The inspiring (or guilty) blog post is entitled "It's (Not) Too Late to Apologize". Read Bryan's stuff for two weeks, and you'll be hooked.
--
I owe you an apology.
You may not remember what I did, or even remember me at all, but if anything below rings a bell, then you know who you are...and probably how mad you were! Some of these apologies are more heartfelt than others. If you've ever seen the movie Simon Birch, you'll know how sincere an "I'm sorry" can be. Run the end of that clip through your head as you read these confessions.
Age 14 - Dear Old Lady With the Funny Hat Who Was Driving Near Public School Bus #108,
I'm sorry I gave you that heart attack. You see, I had to throw that Red Devil firecracker somewhere. The bus driver was on to me, and I had to get rid of the last one. Especially since it was lit. I'm sure you understand.
In my defense, you did overreact. There was no reason to go swerving all over the road and onto the curb simply because the Devil flew in your open window, landed on your dash, and exploded next to your face. Completely uncalled for.
Age 10 - Dear Younger Brother Robby,
I'm sorry I stole your prized Joe Carter baseball cards. I needed cash, and since you were more responsible with your money than I was, I knew you had some. But we all know stealing cash is wrong, so I stole your Joe Carter cards instead.
You might have forgiven me for that, right up until when I sold them back to you.
I'm even more sorry now that I've grown up, matured...and realized you're six inches taller than me.
Age 7 - Dear Mrs. Thompson and the Rest of My Entire Second Grade Class,
I'm sorry I got so angry with you. I was livid when you stole my cash, my hard-earned dough! I was seven years old, and I had scrimped and saved seven whole dollars.
Yes, I shouldn't have left my wallet in my coat pocket. Yes, I shouldn't have left my coat hanging on the peg by the classroom door. But do these mistakes give you the right to steal my cash out of it?
That's why I told Mrs. Thompson what you did. That's why she kept the entire class in from recess. That's why she called the school counselor and had him come in and lecture everyone about honesty. That's why he had everyone line up outside the classroom and then enter one at a time. He was giving you a chance to come clean without facing the consequences, and you didn't take it. You kept my money for yourself, and I don't know why.
I'm forgiving you because Jesus told me to. And I'm sorry I didn't do it sooner.
Oh, and I'm also sorry I didn't tell anyone when I remembered I had spent the cash that morning on baseball cards. It didn't seem to be the right time to bring it up.
So, what are you sorry for? Come clean!
--
I owe you an apology.
You may not remember what I did, or even remember me at all, but if anything below rings a bell, then you know who you are...and probably how mad you were! Some of these apologies are more heartfelt than others. If you've ever seen the movie Simon Birch, you'll know how sincere an "I'm sorry" can be. Run the end of that clip through your head as you read these confessions.
Age 14 - Dear Old Lady With the Funny Hat Who Was Driving Near Public School Bus #108,
I'm sorry I gave you that heart attack. You see, I had to throw that Red Devil firecracker somewhere. The bus driver was on to me, and I had to get rid of the last one. Especially since it was lit. I'm sure you understand.
In my defense, you did overreact. There was no reason to go swerving all over the road and onto the curb simply because the Devil flew in your open window, landed on your dash, and exploded next to your face. Completely uncalled for.
Age 10 - Dear Younger Brother Robby,
I'm sorry I stole your prized Joe Carter baseball cards. I needed cash, and since you were more responsible with your money than I was, I knew you had some. But we all know stealing cash is wrong, so I stole your Joe Carter cards instead.
You might have forgiven me for that, right up until when I sold them back to you.
I'm even more sorry now that I've grown up, matured...and realized you're six inches taller than me.
Age 7 - Dear Mrs. Thompson and the Rest of My Entire Second Grade Class,
I'm sorry I got so angry with you. I was livid when you stole my cash, my hard-earned dough! I was seven years old, and I had scrimped and saved seven whole dollars.
Yes, I shouldn't have left my wallet in my coat pocket. Yes, I shouldn't have left my coat hanging on the peg by the classroom door. But do these mistakes give you the right to steal my cash out of it?
That's why I told Mrs. Thompson what you did. That's why she kept the entire class in from recess. That's why she called the school counselor and had him come in and lecture everyone about honesty. That's why he had everyone line up outside the classroom and then enter one at a time. He was giving you a chance to come clean without facing the consequences, and you didn't take it. You kept my money for yourself, and I don't know why.
I'm forgiving you because Jesus told me to. And I'm sorry I didn't do it sooner.
Oh, and I'm also sorry I didn't tell anyone when I remembered I had spent the cash that morning on baseball cards. It didn't seem to be the right time to bring it up.
So, what are you sorry for? Come clean!
User Wrangling
I'm not an IT Nazi, although I did replace one.
The previous admin would demand sacrifices before descending from on high to assist the lowly users. She demanded Starbucks from me one time in exchange for walking down a flight of stairs to make my computer work so I could do my job.
Since I'm not a Nazi, I don't mind when my users occasionally take the initiative.
Take yesterday, for instance. One of the users was moving desks and decided to move her computer by herself. Not a problem...usually.
The fun started when she came upstairs to my desk, madder than a wet hen. Her Internet connection no longer worked. She insisted it had been working, and she had taken care to connect everything back up in the same manner she had dismantled it.
We went down to her desk to survey the situation. I took one glance at her laptop and stopped the snort and chuckle from escaping my poker face.
Me: Out of curiosity, why did you come up to my desk to get me, instead of just calling?
User: My phone doesn't work, either! Nothing is working - all your stupid equipment is broken!
Me: Yes, I noticed.
User: How? You haven't looked at my phone yet. I was going to let you fix the laptop before asking you about my phone.
Me: Oh, they're related.
*I unplug the phone cord from the laptop and put it back in the phone. I grab the unplugged network cable and plug it into the laptop with a satisfying *Click*.
User: Oh. Well, I could have done that!
The previous admin would demand sacrifices before descending from on high to assist the lowly users. She demanded Starbucks from me one time in exchange for walking down a flight of stairs to make my computer work so I could do my job.
Since I'm not a Nazi, I don't mind when my users occasionally take the initiative.
Take yesterday, for instance. One of the users was moving desks and decided to move her computer by herself. Not a problem...usually.
The fun started when she came upstairs to my desk, madder than a wet hen. Her Internet connection no longer worked. She insisted it had been working, and she had taken care to connect everything back up in the same manner she had dismantled it.
We went down to her desk to survey the situation. I took one glance at her laptop and stopped the snort and chuckle from escaping my poker face.
Me: Out of curiosity, why did you come up to my desk to get me, instead of just calling?
User: My phone doesn't work, either! Nothing is working - all your stupid equipment is broken!
Me: Yes, I noticed.
User: How? You haven't looked at my phone yet. I was going to let you fix the laptop before asking you about my phone.
Me: Oh, they're related.
*I unplug the phone cord from the laptop and put it back in the phone. I grab the unplugged network cable and plug it into the laptop with a satisfying *Click*.
User: Oh. Well, I could have done that!
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