Sunday, February 7th, 2010

Stiff muscles … aching joints … swollen ligaments … this is the hand of a man who participated in the company’s annual bowling event, the same man who hasn’t bowled a single frame since 2006. Ouch.

Every year, Bill B (the guy at the office who hired me for my first job after I retired from the military, actually) organizes the company bowling event, partly because he likes bowling so much that he has one of those cybernetic strap-on arms, but mostly because he’s just such a great guy.

I signed up for it the year after I hired on, and enjoyed it so much that I wanted to do it every year.

The second year, I was in an office of not-bowlers, which are different from non-bowlers in that they absolutely will not bowl no matter how much you cajole them or what you threaten to do with their e-mail the next time they walk away from their computer without locking up the screen. I didn’t realize then that I could still bowl even if I rounded up five random people from anywhere. I didn’t have to get them from my office. I could have signed up five of the homeless people who hang out on the park benches on cap square all day.

So this year, as soon as I saw that signups were open, I walked around the office and asked who wanted to go bowling this year. I got four people to make a team in just two minutes, as long as I agreed to be the team captain. Being team captain means delivering the money to Bill B, and that’s it, so I agreed. Easy.

bowler | 8:54 am CST
Category: coworkers, office work, play, work
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Thursday, February 4th, 2010

image of my stocking feetNotice anything missing? I didn’t, until I got to work yesterday. It was like that dream where you’re in a big crowd of people and you suddenly realize you’re wearing nothing but underwear.

My coworkers were very understanding about it. All day long as I padded around the office I expected somebody to say something to me, but they never did. Nobody so much as smirked. Maybe it’s happened to them, too.

It’s not like I walked to work in my stocking feet, I’m quick to point out. I put on a pair of snow boots before I leave the house in the morning. Then, when I get to the office, I change into a pair of brown leather shoes that I usually keep under my desk. But, the day before yesterday, I took them home with me because I thought we’d need them for our dancing lesson. I didn’t. We danced in our stocking feet. It was sort of a foreshadowing of my day at the office yesterday.

stalking | 9:36 pm CST
Category: daily drivel, office work, random idiocy, work
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