Stories: The Most Awkward Car Ride Ever

I spent a few days with “Woody” from the story last week; being in his company make me think of this story, which I had to capture while still fresh in my mind. Some facts, places, and people might have been changed to protect people’s identities and to make the story better. Deal with it.

[Background]

The events of this story took place on Sunday, August 10th, 2008 in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania. My friends and family rented a house for my bachelor party. Through the course of the weekend one of the guys whom we shall call “Gambo” took offense to the antics that were taking place in the house, especially one that indirectly-directly impacted him. This one specific event caused Gambo to mope around the house and not talk to anyone. On Saturday evening, a minor confrontation broke out between Gambo and a gentlemen we shall call Woody (actually a confrontation between me and Gambo also broke out). Woody was one of the principles in the act that caused Gambo to freak out and stop talking to us. Woody took responsibility for any damage and called in a specialist at a very low cost (a fraction of the deposit on the place). Gambo, who booked the house, wasn’t satisfied for some reason. Gambo came out of his funk on Saturday night, but still wasn’t talking to Woody. This leads us to Sunday Morning…

It had been decided after the specialist repaired the damage to the house (outstanding work I might add), we would all go out and get lunch. I picked a local Indian place to piss off my friend “Nuesbaum” who doesn’t like ethnic food. The pressure from the last few days had lifted since the damage was fixed and the security deposit was coming back (which nobody expected to be returned except for Gambo). Woody and I got into Republicaster’s car. As we were pulling out, Gambo got into the back seat next to me. The next 6 minutes won’t ever be forgotten.

[The Ride]

{Scene: Republicaster, Woody, and I are in the driveway of the house, getting ready to leave for lunch. Gambo is looking at the car.}

Woody: I hope he doesn’t think he is getting a ride with us.
Joey: I doubt he will get in the car, Gambo is non-confrontational, he knows better than to come in here with you.

{Gambo gets in the car. I hear Republicaster saying “Oh shit” under his breath. The car is silent for a full minute}

Joey: Man I can’t wait to get me some Indian food. I wonder if Nuesbuam is going to make it through lunch before he ruins himself.
Gambo: He isn’t coming, he is going to get Burger King with some of the other guys
Joey: What the hell…
Woody (to Republicaster): Man, that specialist did a great job today.
Republicaster: No doubt man, we got lucky finding him. Good work.
Woody: Gambo, you like what he did?
Gambo: Yeah it looks fine.

{Woody nodds}

Gambo: I just want to let you know that I am not paying you for the specialist, I don’t think I should have to.

{Woody remains silent}

{Woody turns around to face Gambo}

Woody: You don’t think everyone should pay for the damage. Everyone was down there laughing and half the people in the house were in on it. It’s a bachelor party – everyone should pay. It should just come out of the deposit money.
Gambo: I don’t think I should have to pay for that damage.
Woody: That’s because you are a rat.

{Silence from everyone. There are much nastier words in the English language, but when Woody called Gambo a rat, it sounded like the absolute worst thing in the world}

Woody: Republicaster, can you believe this guy? He can’t relax and be part of the group, he needs to create a problem… needs to act like a RAT

{Gambo is looking at me with pleading eyes, I just look back with a a sad nod. I felt bad for the guy, but he got on the crazy train, now he need to sit back and enjoy the ride}

Woody: I can’t believe I am sharing a car with a rat. This guy has a been a complete jerk all weekend. A total RAT. You ever see a rat chew a hole in a wall? Then he climbs in the wall and makes more holes. And then he gets in your kitchen and eats your food and poops all over your counter. That’s what Gambo is doing. He is crapping in my kitchen!
Gambo: You think I should…
Woody: RAT!
Gambo: Why should I be expected to…
Woody: RATS CAN TALK! When a Rat got into our house, my mother made me chop off it’s head with a shovel….

{Woody is now sweating with rage and the thought of rats. Republicaster and I are fighting the urge to laugh.}

Woody: I am done with this guy. Nobody should talk to RATS, it’s bad for your health.

{Republicaster nods in agreement as we pull into the Indian Restaurant’s parking lot, Gambo is just staring out the window like nothing happened}

[Conclusion]

Lunch was a curry flavored session of tension. The other guys didn’t know what happened, but they knew something was up. Gambo and Woody stayed away from each other and when the meal was over he did not join us in the car ride home. Actually, I think we just got in the car and left knowing that Nuesbaum’s car had room (they met us after they got back from BK). Woody and Gambo kept their distance until the car ride back to New Jersey as they were both in my car. Gambo put on his earphones and listened to his iPod the entire ride home not saying a word to either of us. Woody made a few Rat comments, if Gambo heard them, he didn’t react. I didn’t speak to Gambo for a few months (actually not until days before the wedding). That is another topic to be covered in another place.

The boys didn’t get their deposit money returned for months, but none of them said anything to me about it – not even Woody, who told me after he got the check that he wasn’t expecting to get one. Eventually Gambo stopped talking to the group and after some initial questioning from the guys, they stopped asking about him. I have no doubts that this incident had something to do with his previous self-imposed exile.

Office Etiquette: Appropriate Sneezing Responses

Office Etiquette: Appropriate Sneezing Responses

Yesterday I was in an all day meeting (which could/should/will be an article all to itself) and at some point during the session, someone sneezed and another person said “God Bless You”. The person didn’t just “GodBlessYou” in the mindless way everyone seems to; they made it a point to clearly and slowly say GOD…..BLESS….YOU. The three second act started to buzz around my head for a few minutes and I started to wonder if anyone was offended at the usage of the word God (Christian or Non-Christian)

If you are Christian, it seems kind of petty to invoke the name of the creator of all existence just because somebody had a very small biological reaction to dust in the air. I have heard that saying “Bless You” or “God Bless You” took hold during the dark ages because people thought a sneeze was your “soul attempting to escape your body”. After some research that lore seems to be confirmed:

Several possible origins are commonly given. The practice of blessing a sneeze, dating as far back as at least 77 AD, however, is far older than most specific explanations can account for.

A legend holds that it was believed that the the heart stops beating and the phrase “bless you” is meant to ensure the return of life or to encourage your heart to continue beating.

One explanation holds that the custom originally began as an actual blessing. Gregory I became Pope in 590 as an outbreak of the bubonic plague was reaching Rome. In hopes of fighting off the disease, he ordered unending prayer and parades of chanters through the streets. At the time, sneezing was thought to be an early symptom of the plague. The blessing (“God bless you!”) became a common effort to halt the disease.

A variant of the Pope Gregory I story places it with Pope Gregory VII, then tells the common story of “Ring Around the Rosey” being connected to the same plague

Another version says that people used to believe that your soul can be thrown from your body when you sneeze, that sneezing otherwise opened your body to invasion by the Devil or evil spirits, or that sneezing was your body’s effort to force out an invading evil spirit. Thus, “bless you” or “God bless you” is used as a sort of shield against evil.

Alternatively, it may be possible that the phrase began simply as a response for an event that was not well understood at the time.

Another belief is that people used to see sneezing as a sign that God would answer your prayers or an omen of good fortune or good luck.In this case, “Bless you” would be in recognition of that luck.

Tibetan Buddhists believe a sneeze (like meditation, falling asleep, preparing to die) can provide a moment of “clear consciousness,” when people are opened to greater understanding.

Credit: Wikipedia

PS: I had assume that “Gesundheit” meant the same thing in German, but the word has origins in both the German and Jewish cultures and has a minor but interesting variation. It is assumed that “Gesundheit” isn’t blessing the other person, in rough translation in means “good health to me”.

While the history of the term is certainly interesting, I wonder if phrases like that have a place at international corporations. The combination of cultural diversity and a bored HR departments could be a dangerous mix. My intent is to avoid sounding like “no more Xmas Parties in the office because it offends the non-Christians” people because that is an exhausting position (I have a Christmas party every year with Christian, Jewish, Muslim, and non-believers in attendance). On this side note: I don’t view Xmas as religious in any way; I view Christmas as tourists view “The Running of the Bulls” in Spain. It is a cultural event that everyone can enjoy from the safety of balcony and should you find yourself on the ground and the path of a bull (or large angry house wife looking for that last toy on the list)… RUN.

For the most part, when someone sneezes, I am not thinking “I wonder what I should say”, I am usually thinking, “I hope that clown covered their face”. In a related event yesterday, there was a bull of a woman sitting behind me on the train ride home who was not only loudly conducting a conversation with two other people, she was sneezing and coughing all over the back of my head, I had to move. I did not say “GodBlessYou” or “Gesundheit” but I was giving her the death stare and maybe wishing her soul would fly away, infecting St. Peter at the gates of heaven. I also hope that he kicks her ass out. A man can dream…

UPDATE: This little article has become the all time most popular on the blog. If you have a second, can you tell me how and why you came across it – I just like to know where my readers are coming from.

Productivity Boost: Doodling

In the last few years, I find myself doodling quite a bit while sitting on long and boring meetings at work. At first it was during teleconferences, but it has expanded into actual meetings. I am following everything that is happening, but I need to do more. The other day I found this article that states doodling might be a good thing: Doodling Improves Productivity.

How does it work? The scientists hypothesize the mental load it takes to absentmindedly draw is significantly smaller than the demands of a full-on fantasy, which leads your mind entirely away from the event you’re supposed to be engaged in. That trickle of attention devoted to doodling appears to keep you focused in the present time, while giving you a release valve from a frustratingly over-long group session.

The article goes on to say that the boost is for light doodles (like shading in boxes) and not full out art projects. So do you doodle at work? Does it help or hurt your focus?

(Image Credit: Luke Ross & DC Comics)