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Weekly Wacko (23)

Corporate Brad

I’m a software engineer and working for a company. I haven’t been working for very long, I’ve only graduated college about three years ago.

But, I can see that it’s happening.

I’m turning into Corporate Brad.

(I got into a program with my company which is quite nice for my “career” – you see, I’m still not SO corporate that I sincerely say career, I’m cool-non-corporate-guy enough to say “career.” What’s the over/under for the number of years til I say career?)

My sister has been working longer than I have, but in an environment that is quite different from your average corporate setting. She is a good reality check for when I bring home corporate humor. Though it can be harsh.

I’ll call her and tell her a funny little thing that happened, and she’ll say, without humor, but still trying to be nice, “that’s funny.” Or maybe I’ll disguise the story by saying ‘this is funny in a dorky corporate way’ and then I’ll say it – but she knows, she knows that I find it genuinely funny. For those stories she’ll usually listen attentively, and then say, “boooooooo!”

I don’t want to have corporate guy humor. I don’t want to crack the obvious joke, and then crack up the loudest at my own joke, while looking around the room. I complain about my jokes failing and being sometimes too bizarre, (everyone has those certain things that, for whatever reason, they find hysterical even though no one else does … I feel like I have a LOT of those things) but I still like my humor the way it is.

Lately I’ve noticed a recurring trend in corporate humor temptations.

People will email a group that I am on and say one or two things, and then close with, “thoughts?” Or, they’ll just send an attachment and the only word in the email is “thoughts?” When I got those the temptation is even stronger.

“No,” I want to write back, and include a picture of me chewing hay (the internal symbol for I’m not a fan of thinking).

I can see the change coming, going from Brad to Corporate Brad, I just hope I get a fat pay raise and Bob’s old office (Bob’s old office is bigger than MY office!).

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Weekly Wacko (22)

One Part Blind, One Part Awkward

I just went to check my mail, where I had a lovely letter from Whitney. On the way to the mailbox I saw a woman waving frantically at me. I found it odd and was about to respond when I looked closer and saw she was waving at a baby. That made a lot more sense.

My favorite time of mistaking someone waving at me was in college.

The weather was beautiful out, so I went to the student union center and got my favorite thing there – the chicken ceaser wrap from Chick-Fil-A. Man those things are good.  I also bought a milk and a Twix bar. Combine that with sitting outside, my headphones and spacing out and you’ve got a little slice of Heaven.

I’m about done with my delicious meal when I notice a girl calling at me in a very chipper tone. I had taken off my glasses and put them in a case in my pocket, so I don’t take them out first.

I’m wondering who this girl is – usually I can recognize friends by their voices, and why on earth would someone be so chipper and happy while calling out at me? Sure, I can be nice to talk to, but not that nice to talk to.

I don’t think much of it and start walking toward while squinting.

(A good friend of mine, Brittany, loved making fun of me for this. She would see me without glasses and yell “HI BRAD!” so then I’d squint like crazy while walking toward her to make sure it was Brittany. She’d walk toward me and mockingly squint at me while cracking up. Brittany’s a funny gal.)

At some point I realize the girl was looking not at me, but in my general direction. I am about five feet from her when I notice this – and it wasn’t like I could’ve been walking to her, or some other place. There was nothing around her, I was bee-lining to her.

Uh oh.

I turn around and good God I’m a moron she was trying to get a stray cat’s attention. That’s why the chipper tone.

It was a cat call, literally.

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Weekly Wacko (21)

Bracket? I Hardly Know It!

It’s almost March Madness time, BABY! (That’s my Dick Vitale – who annoys the hell out of me, BABY!) I enjoy college basketball now, sort of. For example, last year I watched the final game between whoever and their opponent (go underdog!), BUT, I did arts and crafts while watching the game. Seriously.

I took construction paper and cut out giant numbers for a clock. Then I taped these numbers on my bathroom wall, and I gutted your simple, average school clock (the big white one with the black lettering) so that just the motor was left, and I taped that on the wall. Wha-la! Arts and crafts!

The most interested I ever was in a college basketball game I wasn’t attending (if I’m there all bets are off – I’m INTO it) was when I put 20 bucks on Boston College to beat somebody. I was in Vegas with the fam and let’s GOOOOOOO twenty bucks! BC lost. Stupid BC.

Anyhow, as a kid, I had even less interest (which is a very tiny amount of interest) in basketball. So what did I do when I was forced to fill out a bracket?

*

I lived in Leavenworth, Kansas from the 3rd to 6th grades. Most of my friends there, and it seemed like a majority of the town, were crazy for Kansas. That is, the University of Kansas Jayhawks. There was the occasional fan for Kansas State, but mostly we were in Jayhawk territory.

That’s how it goes in a state with two big schools, you’ll find something similar in Arizona where you’ve got Arizona vs Arizona State.

Because people were crazy for Kansas, and Kansas was (and is) consistently a big contender in college basketball, people talked about college basketball.

I liked playing basketball with my family, and I did the very stereotypical boy thing of practicing buzzer beater shots in our driveyway.

“5 seconds Stanley’s coming down the court! 4 seconds! Stanley passes to … Stanley … 3 seconds! … he puts UP THE SHOT! … um … HE WAS FOULED! HE WAS FOULED! I CAN’T BELIEVE HE WAS FOULED!”

I have a great imagination, which really came in handy because I was (and am) a lousy shot. You wouldn’t think someone would be fouled while doing free throw shots at the very end of the game, but in my daydreams I was. Fouled over and over and over – until I made the shot.

Anyhow, the extent of my basketball knowledge was just how bad I was at basketball.

In gym, when brackets were passed out and EVERY (seemingly) boy around me got excited, I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t confident enough to clearly show my ignorance, and it really did feel like everyone knew what this bracket meant and who these teams were. I thought the best and most logical option was to pretend I knew exactly what I was doing.

“You put Gonzaga as advancing? Brad, I don’t know … do you know something?”

Um. Gonzaga sounds like a nickname for a part on a woman’s body? So I picked that? How do I explain my reasoning, when I have no reasoning?

I put Arizona as going all the way, because that was my dad’s favorite team. I had watched basketball, and it could be enjoying (the last few minutes at least), but for the most part it didn’t hold my interests. I’d rather be DOING something.

I looked at the bracket like it was a math problem, and people weren’t actually involved.

“The sixteenth ranked team against the first ranked team … well, obviously the first ranked team … unless it’s a trick …”

I turned in my bracket having confidence I would be out soon – and hope that the gym coach (or anyone) would throw it away without studying it.

“That Brad kid is amazing! He picked every losing team in the first round!”

This year my arts and crafts project while watching the game will be to do some collages of a sort. I’m a man’s man, and don’t you forget it.

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