Sometimes, when I’m good, I get to go on little adventures around the office. Today I went to 21 to get a bag of popcorn and a new ID Thingy.

ID Thingy

This ID Thingy is amazing. I used to have to wear my ID around my neck on a green string that said “Starcom”. But on 21, the receptionist gave me a handy-dandy belt clip that has my ID on a retractable string. Let’s just say it’s hours of fun at my desk!

Aside from its functional purposes, the belt clip also serves a very important social purpose here at the office. Having a belt clip ID Thingy says to others, “This chick is in the KNOW. She is HOOKED UP. She rocks because someone told her to put away her lame green ID holder and get herself a TRENDY, totally FABULOUS ID Thingy.” This experience will be documented on my internal resume and future strategy/investment groups will beg to have me on their team.

Man in the Elevator

While on my adventures, my elevator stopped at the 14th floor. A man got on. He was about 40, 5’8 3/4″ and 168.6 lbs. I managed to notice this while admiring my semi-good hair day in the reflective panel over the elevator buttons. The doors closed and I became aware of some rythmic noises coming from his corner of the elevator. Tap tap tap, whap whap, scratch scratch. I looked over and the man in the elevator was doing his version of STOMP in the elevator corner with his hands. It was like he couldn’t help himself. And then, in his caffeine induced hysteria, he started slapping his foot alternately against the wall and the floor of the elevator. “What is UP, Captain Crazy??” I want to ask–but I refrain. After all, I have had days where I was running laps through the halls of Starcom, trying to burn some extra energy–it happens when the company gets us all hopped up on caffeine.

On the prowl…

So I had a salad for lunch (good Emmy). And I had a snack of popcorn (aren’t we just a good girl? yes we are!). But now my tummy is growling. And I have finished off all the sweet tarts. And work has slowed down for a minute…. and no one has free food from meetings… COOKIE TIME!!! To the elevators I go!

But no worries, all you points counters out there… I share with my cube mate.

Gotta jet. Chow!

Okay. I was riding the train this morning (I missed the 7:20… the 7:24… the 7:51… but managed to get on the 7:54) and there was a guy sitting one row up on my left. He had a halo of hair that was presumably fluffed up to hide the fact that the quantity of hair was quickly diminishing. But what caught my attention about this guy was that he was a tearer.

Not terror, but tearer. Occasionally we get these people on the train. They really should have their own special car. Or maybe they shouldn’t be allowed on the morning trains. Tearers, for those of you now anxious to know, are individuals who read the paper, find a catchy article and then make a big production out of ripping the article from the paper.

This is annoying. On any morning train, people are trying to get a few more winks of sleep or mentally ready themselves for the upcoming day. When someone loudly tears into the paper, you can see a few of the slack jawed, sleeping people on the train straighten up. “What IS this?” they all think. “Who does this guy think he is??” Suddenly the pleasant morning train ride becomes a nightmare. Nails on the chalkboard, if you will.

This practice also begs several questions. I know that our economy is a touch tight these days, but I am SURE these tearers can at least BORROW scissors from someone once they get to their desks. Is it that hard to carry ONE section of the newspaper with you to work? Is it worth sacrificing everyone else’s lives for one lousy article? I thought not.

There is something sacred about that early morning train ride. Something that transcends generations. My mother rode the train and she holds fast to the “silence in the mornings” ritual. Even cab drivers are hesitant to lay on the horn in the morning. So where do these tearers get off?

My recommendation for these fiendish individuals–wait until the 5 o’clock train. You can even drink beer and tear the crap out of whatever you want. On the 5 o’clock, no one cares. Talk, laugh, drink, play cards. Live it up.

But not on my morning train ride.

Jessie is awake and talking… not sure what happened, though. Hm.

While sitting in my class presentations today, I thought of a whitty blog update. It had to do with the weightloss webpage… which I will start next week, after I finish the other half of my chocolate frosted krispy kreme donut. I still have 4 more hideous lbs to go before I reach my goal–sigh.

Anyway, my train of thought was completely derailed during the second to last scheduled presentation. Jessie, a girl in my class, had just finished presenting and was waiting for her group to finish. She was standing behind the podium, near the wall unit which houses the computer. While we were watching her group member finish the presentation, Jessie slumped to the ground. On her way down, she crashed into the wall unit and slammed her head against several shelves.

At first, I had to bite back a giggle. I am wearing heals today and had envisioned a similar fate for myself. I have a tendency to balance on one foot, sway and do other annoying and dangerous things. Anyway, I figured that she had tripped on a cord or lost her balance. Plus, with the rush of adrenaline from presenting, she could have been shaky. Regardless, Jessie went down, but never recovered. Michelle, our PIT professor went to her immediately and established that she was breathing, but not conscious. They tried putting cold water on her neck and face, but to no avail. Someone in the room called security while the rest of us sat still, not sure whether to move or not. No one wanted to be a nuisance, but at the same time everyone wanted to make sure she was okay.

When security arrived, Jessie was still not conscious. She was breathing, but that was it. It was the strangest thing because while she was presenting, she seemed to be doing fine. I was even admiring her white blouse with a pretty flower on it. We all know that I pay attention to the important things.

Anyway, the net net is that I was going to have some sort of witty reply, but I got nothin’. I think I’m going to go get a smoke. Wait. I don’t smoke. Maybe I’ll go up to the Starbar (yes, my office has a bar) and I will inhale someone else’s second hand smoke… hmm..

By for now…