Attended a posh event at an aquarium recently, with guests wandering the exhibits beforehand, sipping wine and nibbling on cheese as they gaped at various creatures of the deep. Very cool but very odd, too, in one respect: The aquarium served not only beef for dinner, but halibut as well (leading one wag to wonder if any of the display tanks seemed, well, you know, slightly empty by comparison). The funniest part of the night, though, came during the presentations. Dinner was in a room with a floor-to-ceiling glass wall that looked directly into the aquarium's biggest tank, full of large rays, sharks, and groupers. The podium was set to the side, but one speaker — looking for dramatic effect — decided to stand in the middle of the glass wall, with various fish soaring and diving behind him. This was impressive, at least until a 15-foot basking shark — perhaps disgruntled at the choice of halibut — positioned itself about six feet above the speaker's head and proceeded to, um, well, dump his opinion, which descended slowly, in a growing cloud, to the sandy floor. Alas, the speaker never knew why that particular part of his presentation left his audience open-mouthed in dumbstruck awe.
In that moment, three things struck me in quick succession:
....that good an idea according to... wait, is that the fax again? Damn it! Where was I? Oh yeah. Hand me that coffee, will you? This article I read online says that new research proves that multitaskers — WHAT IS IT? I SAID, 'I'LL BE THERE IN A MINUTE!' — anyway, that multitaskers actually get less done than their non-multitasking peers, because — IN ONE MINUTE! — they're so easily distracted by extraneous information. Hold on, let me respond this email real quick. CrackBerrys, huh? Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em... Anyway, multitaskers are mediocre at everything, blah blah blah, you're better off focusing on the value of what you're doing instead of the volume. I couldn't agree more — let me grab this call. Hey, can I call you back in two? Great. See ya! — anyway, I couldn't agree more, but what the hell are you going to do, right? I mean, you've got to work, right? And nobody else is going to move this crap off my desk. As if I have time not to multitask, right?
Anyway, so I'll catch you later. Because if one more thing on this desk beeps, I think I'm going to scream.
Join the 21st century and use email, because you can send me several good dates and times, which I can then choose from, and we'll actually get scheduled. Because honestly, your voicemail doesn't do you justice (you're much better looking, with a voice that doesn't sound half as goofy, in person). Or me any good in trying to get scheduling this damn meeting off my To-Do list.
Better yet, try the calendar function in your Microsoft Outlook or Entourage or Lotus Notes or however you electronically remember where you're going and what you're doing. You might be surprised how much more you get done when you're not leaving and collecting 423 voicemails a day.
Oh, and when I suggest dates or times to you, don't just say, "No, that doesn't work." When you do that, I feel like you don't want to meet with me and you're just being coy or cowardly about it. If you're OK with meeting, give me an alternate time that does work. If you don't want to meet, tell me to go to hell. Believe me, you won't be the first, and you'll save us both a lot of dreary, faux-cheerful voicemails as I hunt you down like a dog to confirm a meeting you didn't want in the first place.
Thanks, and have a pleasant day.
(with thanks to Scott M.)
(with thanks to Carl M.)
OK, OK, it's not like you didn't know that already, whether at work or home. But it never hurts to be reminded.
It turns out that bacteria — tiny creatures without a brain or moral code — can still communicate with each other, according to "Deep Inside Bacteria, a Germ of Human Personality" in the Wall Street Journal. The eyeless little buggers use a chemical language — quorum sensing — by releasing a specific molecule that allows each to determine the presence of others. This allows some strains of bacteria to delay an attack on a host (i.e., you or me) until there are enough little bad guys to overwhelm your immune defenses (i.e., they stuff the infectious meeting room with smelly buddies until they have a quorum and can vote you down). Says one scientist: "Really, they're just stripped-down versions of us."
That's what I'm worried about.
...the first line of this article says it all: A Florida man born without arms says a Tampa bank would not let him cash a check because he couldn't provide a thumbprint.
It would be funny, except that it isn't.
(with thanks to Dave S.)
4. That's our policy. (To annoy/disappoint/enrage customers? To be a useless waste of space when a customer feels wronged? To face the moment of truth, when a customer decides whether he'll EVER do business with you again, by repeating the corporate version of "It's not my job?") (with thanks to Bob R).
5. I wasn't told to do that. (I didn't tell you to keep breathing, either, but you figured out that THAT was important, and you did it without instruction, right?)
