Susan's Scribblings the Blog

I heard that flu season is not what they expected it to be this winter, due to the mild temperatures and lack of actual winter weather. Once that first real cold snap comes, however, it will come in like a bulldozer and mow us all down.

Even the most selfish human beings willingly share the flu. We like to pass on our misery; look what happens when you ask somebody how their day was (after you have shaken their hand and the flu has relocated to new quarters). The flu has as many mutations as we have mixtures of genetics, so the best the CDC can do is guess which vaccine might help. They do get it wrong, but on the good side you may wind up immune to a virus which won’t show up for another two years. But you will get this one.

We touch so many things in one day, it’s nearly impossible to avoid spreading germs. You could wear gloves all day, but people will look at you funny. One thing we don’t do is stay home and wait it out, though we should. If everybody kept tissues handy and kept their hands clean, we could lessen the blow of a full-out flu assault. Unfortunately not everybody shows the same degree of caution. I often go to the office cafeteria and find the tables look like the remains of a bacchanal. Our cleaning staff is way underpaid for having to clean up after other human beings’ contemptuous calling cards. It’s a germy world we should not have to perpetuate by carelessness.

So we will get our due when it comes to flu, like it or not. Bless you.

Some companies, like mine, have days when we become so busy, it’s “All Hands on Deck,” meaning everybody is put to work on one task. Everybody short of the janitorial staff gets mobilized. It helps speed up customer service at a critical period of high volume, but it also causes some interesting adventures.

It doesn’t matter if you work in retail, a volunteer public service like a fire company or a 24 hour operation like a contact center or a hospital if the call to action comes. It also doesn’t matter if you are already doing the work of two people, the chili is on the stove or your boss wanted that project done yesterday; you’re off everything else to fill in on what is often to you an “additional duties as required” part of your job description.

I was mobilized this past week to cover a phone line as the number of waiting calls had spiked. First I had to find an open cubicle to sit in. Because our offices have various types of equipment, I had to find a seat with the proper setup. This means a compatible phone with a connector cable that I could find and which did not require fine motor skills to operate. Having found one, I then had to break out some disinfecting wipes because the previous fellow employee, probably happy beyond belief that they survived their shift, zealously bolted for the door before they could be snagged to stay on for overtime and left the desktop looking like a kindergarten after milk and cookies.

Knowing that our computerized phone system had been changed, I and my fellow standby personnel awaited our turn to be trained, which usually happens at the end of the training schedule, after the trainers have also run out of headache medication. When I  finally did do a training review, conveniently the system underwent an update days after I completed the course, so the computer screen I found myself using had a less familiar resemblance to what I had learned.

As customers we all experience how scripted some phone center operators sound: that’s because an orderly system of handling each call speeds the service along and ensures efficiency. Really, it does. If the operator knows what questions to ask and in what order, you as a customer are almost guaranteed to get a good result. You would be amazed to see how a three-minute phone call can align everything a customer needs with what the operator needs to help them. However, I realized as I sat down to take my first call that I had never gotten a confirmation of what our current script was. I followed a mixture of old and new protocol from what I had picked up along the way. My mouth dried out in ten minutes, and I’d left my bottled water at my regular desk. Still I managed to warble through several phone calls, and the customers were pleasant and patient, even if the computer didn’t want to follow what I had been trained to do. I figured the worst that could happen is the firm that reviews our phone calls and grades each operator’s performance might randomly select one of my efforts and yell to their coworkers, “I got one for the gag reel!”

Finally the calls dropped to a level at which the extra staff could log off and go back to normal office life. Everybody got taken care of, and I don’t think any customers suffered because of my inexperience. Fortunately I still had some headache medication and enough bottled water to wash it down once I was back at my desk. Until next time.

I normally burn a bayberry candle on New Year’s Eve. It’s an ancient custom to bring good luck and riches for the coming year. I burned its mate on Christmas Eve with no problem, so on the appointed day I thrust the candle into the holder and lit a match; unfortunately I forgot to trim the wick first, and the pair had been joined there by about five inches of the stuff (probably hung and dipped that way, t00). Oh well, I thought; I’ll just stand by and watch in case something goes wrong.

The wick burned down to the taper and began its slow journey of melting down to the socket, but then the flame caught onto the trailing tail of wick situated next to the candle as it deformed under the fire’s might. In two minutes I had a three inch wall of wax with two fires burning at once on its side. One thing for sure, that candle was melting at a fine pace.

It took less than a half hour to end up with a puddle of greenish wax. Normally such a taper would burn for about six hours or so. But it did go down to the socket. I officially declared the candle properly burned out, and determined that 2016 would wind up with double the burning issues, and flame out before we even know what happened.

2015 sucked. Some people had nice things happen to them, of course, but there was so much lousy weather, terrorism, politics and other varieties of tripe out there, I have heard from practically everybody–and said to myself–that I’m glad the year is coming to an end.

My favorite actor, Christopher Lee, passed away over the summer after a long and well distinguished career. I first got to know him from his groundbreaking (for the 1950s) portrayal of Dracula, as did many fans, but his body of work included historical figures such as Jinnah (founder of modern Pakistan), and major roles in (to name a few) Star Wars and Lord of the Rings. He even dabbled in heavy metal music at an age when most people cozy up to Lawrence Welk.

I gave myself the present of a banged up kneecap for my birthday when I decided not to step over a crack in the sidewalk. At least it wasn’t as bad as banging my head and spending weeks with a black eye like a did a couple years ago.

Hershey has apparently decided to discontinue York Pieces (the peppermint and dark chocolate variety). Also, I’ve found lately that Lean Cuisine is recommending that you not prepare their meals in a conventional oven. You’ll microwave everything and like it. Not this chick. I’ve gone this long without a microwave, so you’re out a customer.

I had two pieces of equipment at home which failed because of burned out solenoids. I’d like to know who created solenoids and tell them that they need to go back to the drawing board and come up with a better version.

On the good side, I discovered Scrub Daddy, found a new designer for clothes, rejected about 99 percent of bra companies because they don’t use common sense when designing their products, and read off my car’s manufacturer because they can’t put a transmission mechanic on duty on the weekends.

I was happy to see so much public exposure to bullying awareness. When I was in school, nobody cared if you were bullied, and nobody looks into the aftermath when victims leave the school environment. I’m also happy to see that most people don’t automatically think of an ethnic or religious group as being all this or mostly that. Especially when it comes to current Muslim relations, it’s smart to know that about 98 percent of them are just fine, and really we’re concerned about the two percent who might be radical enough to want to kill everybody. Heck, there are radical Christians and Jews out there, too (not to mention those radical agnostics down the block), but nobody pays attention to them.

On the other hand, we had twelve hours of power outages this past summer, so I had to evacuate and restock the fridge twice. We were lucky, though; one town was without power for nine days.

We had a polar vortex last winter. I remember the days when weather forecasting was cut-out clouds on a paper map and guesswork; now the newscasts have meteorologists and can see Armageddon coming days in advance.

I discovered Game of Thrones and am now watching Breaking Bad. Got to do something while waiting to find out what happened to Jon Snow in the spring.

Halloween saw sixteen trick-or-treaters. That was better than the nine the previous year.

Yes, these are the little things that make up a year. We’ll have more–both good and bad–just like them next year. Maybe things will be a little better or not quite so depressing. We just have to go through it and make things happen.

Instead of sharing what I want for Christmas, I’m going to change it up a bit and go over things I do not want.

For example, I don’t want to see another movie trailer featuring somebody jumping into a void and landing on a convenient creature or transport just in time to avoid splatting. I know I’ve probably mentioned it before, so it was old at least a year ago, and now is likely as exciting as a 2010 fruitcake. When I went to see Star Wars Ep. VII last night, there were at least three of them, so it’s fresh in my mind.

I don’t want to hear griping about how we greet people all December. Heck, if you don’t know what somebody celebrates, what is wrong with just saying, “Enjoy the holiday.”

I don’t want to hear complaints about leftovers. They often taste better than the original serving, because they have had time to absorb flavors. Besides, I have a little pet peeve about people who waste food.

I don’t want everybody to start conducting everyday life starting at 9:00 AM on Monday, January 4. If a place with whom you do business has a 24-hour phone line, call them on Saturday or Sunday and give the contact center personnel something meaningful to do. Otherwise they’ll launch into the holiday leftovers and gain ten more pounds.

I don’t want to start a diet on January 1. I’ll start mine after I’ve cleared up all the holiday food.

I don’t want school students to go back to class with their brains only partially operational. Go over things the night before and get a decent night of sleep. Don’t forget to eat breakfast.

I don’t want to keep playing the same *#@! game on TapTiles (Foundation game 7) that I’ve been trying to win for two years. Cut me a break, guys; you’re killing me.

I don’t want Morgana in Bubble Witch 2 Saga to laugh at me. She just comes off as a bit too cocky.

I don’t want any of the current presidential candidates: I prefer a do-over.

I don’t want to go into Target on Saturday after Christmas and see Valentine’s Day displays going up.

I don’t want to spend any more than about a fifth of my blog posts griping about things. I guess that makes this my New Year’s resolution.

I go to the movies with a friend whenever a good one comes around. Often it’s opening night, but last night we went to The Peanuts Movie, which has been open for weeks, and there were about ten of us in attendance. Our record is two: yes, just us (we went to a Wednesday Fathom Events encore Met Opera screening of Carmen in a teeming rainstorm). I don’t know which is better: suffocating crowds or the spacious racket of crickets chirping.

A theater full of fans can be like an asylum full of patients on good drugs; a happy kind of chaos fills the space with anticipating humans jacked up on publicity hype and fountain soda. It’s a world in which lines at the concessions are endless and the preview trailers are deliberate torture meant to delay the main event. I’m seeing Star Wars next weekend, so I know I should find a parking space about eight hours before showtime, consume no food or beverages after noon and wear comfortable shoes.

A movie past its premiere shelf life, on the other hand, is a much more intimate event, usually filled with people who are undergoing their second or third viewing, folks who hate the chaos of a packed theater or those who finally got a sitter and a day with no appointments or must-see shows on cable.

This was a family movie (and if you want a recommendation, a must-see), but the screening was 9:00. What happened to kids being in bed by that hour? But then again, there were no kids in this theater; just a few nostalgic adults who wanted to see what was done to bring a comic strip to life in computer-generated depth.

Next week there will be such a conglomeration of seventies and eighties Star Wars buffs of a certain age with their kids in (occasionally unwilling) tow, along with cosplay factions of Dark and Good Side Jedi and Sith milling around, I’m afraid I won’t know where to sit. Perhaps on one side close to the exits in case a light saber fight breaks out. Maybe I should make it comfortable steel toe shoes.

It’s not unusual for movie franchises to try any marketing means possible to hype the upcoming feature, but if I see Star Wars: The Force Awakens toilet paper, I’m turning in my lightsaber.

Not that this revival is a bad thing. The movies have been great (with a few flaws here and there, like dialogue that sounded like it was short a few rewrites, or some bad character traits assigned to Jar Jar Binks), and in general the products associated with the series have been exciting. But the volume of stuff out there this time–everything from panini presses to gummy snacks to Darth Vader holiday inflatables to remote control droids to bottle openers–puts quite a burden on this film to be spectacular. How can it match up to the hype?

Our glorification of movie culture puts us in a realm in which our brains go into hyperdrive over a successful outcome or we lose lightspeed if the movie shortchanges us in any measurable way. Excuse the metaphors, but We are all anticipating endless lines of moviegoers with adrenaline levels amped to impossible levels on December 18. This thing had better rock.

Imagine what it would be like to be a merchandiser stuck with tons of products nobody wants to buy? Or imagine running out on the 19th with five shopping days left to go? Whoever picked the Friday before Christmas had to be lacking that first cup of Mos Eisley Cantina joy juice. We can handle big movies in May, like in past Star Wars movies; the holiday season is just like coating a lollipop in sugar.

And yet, my entire office is apparently immune to Star Wars. When it was suggested for a holiday theme party, even the crickets were stunned into silence. I guess that’s the polarity of human existence; you’re in totally or out completely when it comes to a trend. I’ve been ignoring the stuff, because I’m downsizing and can’t find room for a Yoda action figure, but it certainly does make for an interesting trip through the stores. Have you actually seen the adult Vader footie pajamas in the men’s department?

I think every professional sport ought to have an exhibition game for the two worst teams. Don’t play innings or quarters, just set up two hours and play; every score means a donation from the team to a charity of their choice. There would be no trophy or title, and it would not be a competition in which one team would be considered the worst just for not scoring a lot of points.

Unfortunately all three of the big sports teams in Philadelphia would be participating right now. None of them are winning. But in the City of Brotherly Love, the people believe in good will if nothing else, so such an idea would probably go over well.

That would also mean that the top winning teams in each sport would want to come up with something special of their own (other than the championships). Now that is something positive for everybody, even when a team really sucks.

Every year I dread the end of the fall season. All the first-run shows wrap it up until sometime in the spring, and suddenly network television is nothing but stale seasonal fare, peppered by “Makes a Great Holiday Gift” commercials and health care enrollment reminders.

I would like to see one network that would have the guts to designate itself a Holiday Free Zone, with no sitcoms trying to pull off a December-centric episode, no jingle bells in the background of every soundtrack and no deadpan readings of season’s greetings by the station staff (many of whom would probably rather stay on the non-lens side of the camera).

As it is, I’m binge-watching Game of Thrones with somebody, and we just realized that we will be caught up in three weeks and have to wait until sometime in spring for the sixth season.

Some networks, like Hallmark Channel, have produced so many holiday movies, they probably have 365 of them and could run one a night. They could call themselves the Hallmark Holiday Channel.

Sure, some holiday movies are classics we don’t want to miss and those old Rankin-Bass stop motion animated specials with Rudolph, Frosty and company are not going away anytime soon. But when do we really see the shows we want? Why don’t they bring back some of the classic cheesy specials like the Star Wars special? What about the best special ever, featuring  John Denver and the Muppets? Oh, don’t get me started on that one.  That has to be one of the most mysterious missing Christmas specials in modern history, with no plans ever having been–or to be–made to release it on DVD or broadcast it again, for reasons unknown.

That’s one of the problems with the holidays: we get a lot of stuff thrown at us, but most of it we don’t really need.

I enjoy what I do at my job. At least until somebody comes along and mucks up all my hard work. Especially when it’s for something fun which is supposed to help boost morale.

Somebody wrote a spoiler on a contest sheet posted in the department. Of course this meant closing the contest down before it even got started.

Our committee in charge of fun and food decided to devote our monthly event to football for November. I am normally in charge of some details like tracking our budget and printing things. For this event I printed up a sheet showing all the NFL team logos and produced a one-question quiz for a prize drawing. So while my cohorts were in a conference with the door closed, somebody spotted a worker engaged in an activity which involved pointing at the sheet. Fine. They were probably pointing something out to somebody. But later the crime was discovered. The answer was scrawled in neat print below the contest instructions.

For those of you who catch commercials, you might know about the current ad for Mucinex, in which the Mucus character tries to find a congested and cough ridden couple in a movie theatre and, when the usher takes him outside, he yells, “Spoiler alert: she doesn’t make it!” It’s times like this when I’d like to know some big burly guy named Guido who can take spoilsports outside.

As for the contest, we will be giving prizes out to those who got an entry in before the crime was committed. The next time, I’m putting the contest sheet under glass.