11-11-11

Mostly I just wanted to write on 11-11-11.  So hopefully you're expectations are low.

A couple stories from work, since apparently that's all I have to talk about:

We've had a few skateboarders congregating in our parking lot recently for some reason.  Maybe because we're on a downhill slope.  They've been staying near the top and not getting too crazy, so even though it's been a major annoyance, no one has said anything.  Yesterday, however, they started doing tricks off the front railings.  And I was like, you know... this is idiotic.

So I went out there, fully appreciating the irony.  It wasn't all that long ago I was all like, skateboarding is not a crime!  Not that I skateboarded, mind you.  I just thought that rules against skateboarding were stupid.  Then I grew up and started thinking about smashed skulls all over the front railing.

The kids (who might have been early twenties, I have no idea, everyone looks like babies these days) just sort of watched me come out.  And I was like, look, I'm really sorry [total lie, I wasn't sorry at all], but we can't have you skateboarding here because of the liability.  If you smash your head open and there's blood and guts everywhere, we could cover it for the paper, obviously, but then we'd get sued.  So you'll have to go somewhere else.

They just sort of looked at me (no biggie, I get that a lot) and started walking away without saying a word.  And I was like, I cannot believe that actually worked.

And I was a rock star in the front office for chasing the baby skateboarders away.  Well, for the time being, I guess.  We'll see what today brings.

And.

We have this 18-year-old in the press (who likes to be called Pollo, but I call him Little Chicken) who is the happiest person I have ever met aside from my own little Johanna.  He's quite entertaining, so it's fun when he comes into the office to say hello or goodbye or because he's waiting for his ride.  As he left yesterday in a whirlwind of laughter, I shared that he reminds me of a puppy because he's always just wagging.  Everyone agreed.  Because I'm right.  Obviously.  But then I was all like, ah, children.  Just wait until life sucks the hope out of him.

And I thought Stacey was going to collapse on the floor.  "I cannot believe you said that!" she gasped, hardly able to breathe.  And I was all like, what?  That's not even funny.  Give it time.

Perspective and experience.  That's all I'm saying.

Then Chris the office manager shared that she saw him hop up onto one of the huge recycling bins in the back and stand there on one leg.  And she was like, I told him I wished I could do that, but as a member of the Safety Committee, he needed to not do that anymore.  And I was like, see?  Hope, sucked out.

So I felt vindicated.

P.S. Special thanks to my Grandpa G., Grandpa M., Uncle Bob and cousin Jesse, and Eric's Grandpa K.  for their service in WWII, Vietnam and Iraq.  "Thank you" doesn't even begin to cover it when you're talking about someone putting their life on the line, away from family and friends to boot, just so I can sit safely at home.  Words can be very inadequate.