The other day we were busily working away in the newsroom, when a woman wandered in and stood in the middle of the room. My boss noticed her and asked if we could help her. She announced, matter of factly, "I'm here with __ (musical group) and I see that they are set up in the performance studio."
Oh ok, he replied, thinking perhaps she was just peeking in to see a working newsroom. We all went back to our work, buried in the rush of being on deadline.
And the woman continued to just stand there. And stand there. And stand there. It was beyond awkward. But everyone tried to be polite and pretend that it was completely normal for a total stranger to silently hover in the middle of our office.
Finally after several minutes, the woman loudly said "ARE you going to help me??"
"Excuse me?" my boss asked, startled.
"I've been standing here all this time and no one is helping me!" the woman responded.
My boss apologized and said he didn't realize that she needed help since he had already offered to help her earlier. She proceeded to complain and berate him for not taking her to the proper office or showing her where her group was performing (even though she had already informed us that she saw her group setting up in the studio).
She complained the whole way down the hall as he escorted her back to the area she had wandered away from.
Bizarre.
Thursday, December 09, 2010
Tuesday, December 07, 2010
Adventures in House-Hunting, Part Deux
Looking for a new place to live has provided very little in the way of solid leads, but great riches in the way of blog material. Let the storytelling commence...
I saw a cute apartment listed online, so contacted the owner to schedule a showing. It was a garage apartment behind his house, so he told me to drop by on the weekend and he would show me around. When I got there, he was outside with his little boy, doing yard work.
He introduced himself, then introduced me to his son, who appeared to be about two or three years old. I smiled at the little boy (we'll call him Theo) and introduced myself, but he merely turned away and continued digging in the dirt.
The dad started to lead me toward the apartment, when suddenly Theo ran up behind me and yelled "you smell like poop!"
Precious.
The dad, in a feeble attempt to cover for his son, said "what? You stepped in poop?"
Listen, Daddy-O, that is not what your darling child just said.
As though to confirm my inner monologue, Theo loudly repeated his earlier proclamation..."you smell like POOP!"
Dad keeps walking and casually over his shoulder says "Theo, don't step in poop."
We go inside the apartment. It's rather nice, nothing stunning, but certainly well-kept. The previous tenant hasn't removed all of his belongings so there is still quite a lot of furniture and electronics in the unit. He points out various amenities, all while Theo systematically runs around the apartment, banging a shovel on the tenants stereo and furniture.
Charming.
Finally, the dad clues in to what his lovely child is doing and tells Theo to stop. Theo does not stop. So the dad takes the shovel away from Theo. At which point Theo proceeds to throw a temper tantrum, wailing and screaming. So what does the dad do? He picks Theo up, cradles him in his arms, gives him a kiss on the cheek and hands the shovel back to him.
After he shows me the apartment, we're walking out and locking up and he says "by the way, do you babysit?"
I tell you, I cannot make this stuff up.
I saw a cute apartment listed online, so contacted the owner to schedule a showing. It was a garage apartment behind his house, so he told me to drop by on the weekend and he would show me around. When I got there, he was outside with his little boy, doing yard work.
He introduced himself, then introduced me to his son, who appeared to be about two or three years old. I smiled at the little boy (we'll call him Theo) and introduced myself, but he merely turned away and continued digging in the dirt.
The dad started to lead me toward the apartment, when suddenly Theo ran up behind me and yelled "you smell like poop!"
Precious.
The dad, in a feeble attempt to cover for his son, said "what? You stepped in poop?"
Listen, Daddy-O, that is not what your darling child just said.
As though to confirm my inner monologue, Theo loudly repeated his earlier proclamation..."you smell like POOP!"
Dad keeps walking and casually over his shoulder says "Theo, don't step in poop."
We go inside the apartment. It's rather nice, nothing stunning, but certainly well-kept. The previous tenant hasn't removed all of his belongings so there is still quite a lot of furniture and electronics in the unit. He points out various amenities, all while Theo systematically runs around the apartment, banging a shovel on the tenants stereo and furniture.
Charming.
Finally, the dad clues in to what his lovely child is doing and tells Theo to stop. Theo does not stop. So the dad takes the shovel away from Theo. At which point Theo proceeds to throw a temper tantrum, wailing and screaming. So what does the dad do? He picks Theo up, cradles him in his arms, gives him a kiss on the cheek and hands the shovel back to him.
After he shows me the apartment, we're walking out and locking up and he says "by the way, do you babysit?"
I tell you, I cannot make this stuff up.
Thursday, December 02, 2010
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
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