Sainted In Passing

Ann: I ended up going to Dan’s funeral yesterday after all.

Pam: How was it?

Ann: Sort of bizarre. The minister went on and on about what a devout man Dan was and how he would have wanted us all to turn our lives over to the Lord.

Pam: Wasn’t Dan the guy who used to tell women he was Garth Brooks’ brother and then brag about his conquests to the guys at work the next day.

Ann: Yep, that’s him. I kept thinking I was at the wrong service. But I looked around and knew everyone there so I knew I was in the right place.

Pam: From what I knew of Dan, it’d be my guess that yesterday was his first time in church.

Ann: I know! But the minister was saying how there was all this evidence of Dan’s strong faith among his belongings…his truck radio tuned to a spiritual station, the Bible by his bedside, the magnetic cross on his refrigerator.


Pam: Well his neighbors probably heard cries out to the Lord coming from his apartment pretty frequently. But I don’t think those were exactly revivals going on in there. Why does everyone want to turn someone who’s died into a saint of some kind?

Ann: The majority of the service wasn’t even about ‘Saint Dan’. It was mostly a fire and brimstone sermon trying to convert the ‘lost’ who attended the funeral. And since, unlike the minister, I knew Dan, my guess is that most of those in attendance would fall into that category.

Pam: I know the spiel…“Dan’s passing is evidence of just how fleeting life can be. Don’t wait until it’s too late for you. Repent now!”

Ann: Wow, were you there? That’s exactly what he said.

Pam: It’s always the same at that kind of funeral. As you leave you realize very little, if anything, was said about the person who died. For me, a funeral where the person is allowed to be remembered as a human being, warts and all, is the most healing.

Ann: Me too. I went to one last year for one of my kids' favorite teachers from elementary school. The funeral was attended by a whole bunch of her past students. The husband got up and read a list of “A hundred things you never knew about Mrs. J”. It was so sweet.

Pam: What kinds of things were on the list?

Ann: Oh, like that she always sat in the last row at the movies and put her feet up on the chair in front of her. And that she always got speeding tickets for going too fast through school zones. My favorite was that, as a tribute to her profession, she had a tattoo of an apple on her derriere.

Pam: I bet that made her much more real to her former students…more of a person.

Ann: I think so. Do you ever wonder what they’ll say about you at your own funeral?

Pam: You kidding? Remember, I’m a control freak. I’ve already written exactly what you’re supposed to say. Be sure to stay on script. No ad libs allowed.

Ann: Hey, I’m older so I’ll probably go before you. The question is, what will you say at my funeral?

Pam: I don’t know. I was taught that if you can’t say something nice….

Ann: Gee thanks!

What The Heck Is Smart Casual?

Pam: I’ve really had some good laughs with the emails that were flying around at work last week. I’ve never seen anything like it.

Ann: Some of those jokes that get forwarded to everyone?

Pam: No. One of our vendors offered six of the guys in the office an all expense paid trip to the Indy 500 this past weekend. It was for transportation, hotels, meals, parties, golf, limos, and a luxury suite at the race…the whole works.

Ann: Talk about a real guy’s getaway!

Pam: Actually the week before they left I was beginning to wonder whether it was a guy’s getaway or a ‘ladies retreat’. I was the point of contact for the vendor so I forwarded all the guys the detailed agenda for the trip. There was a cocktail reception on the evening they arrived, a welcome breakfast the next day, then golf, followed by an authentic Moroccan dinner, and then on the final day, the race itself.

Ann: Wow. Sounds like fun.

Pam: Since the information came to me, I was on the email distribution list and saw everything that went back and forth between all the guys at my office. It was hysterical.

Ann: What? Let me guess…they were coordinating what to wear each day.

Pam: You’re kidding, but that’s exactly what was going on! I intentionally stayed out of the discussion simply for the entertainment the whole thing was providing. Can you imagine six grown men trying to decide what the heck they were supposed to wear when the invitation said, “Dress for Saturday night is ‘smart casual’ but we encourage you to have fun with the Moroccan theme as you select your attire”.

Ann: Heck, I’m not sure I know what that means.


Pam: They went back and forth about what exactly constitutes ‘smart casual’ and they had opinions from “casual means jeans” to “we’ll be sitting on pillows on the floor so we should wear our stretchy sweats”. One guy even said, “They mean dress like a professor.”

Ann: That’s too funny! Just like a man not to ask for directions.

Pam: They finally did email the vendor’s rep to get clarification but they were told that the attire for that evening had been changed from ‘smart casual’ to ‘business casual’. Then they went back and forth as to whether that was a step up or a step down.

Ann: Certainly they know what business casual means.

Pam: They used to. But they had confused themselves so thoroughly at this point they didn’t know their own names. One email actually said, “So if we were going smart casual and then downgraded, does that mean we're dressing ‘dumb casual’ now?”


Ann: So what’d they do? Rent hand-embroidered sheik’s robes for each of them?

Pam: I think they would have if they thought it would solve the dilemma.

Ann: Seriously, what’d they do?

Pam: The final email I saw came from the guy in our office who arranged the flights and stuff. It had the subject line of ‘Indy trip attire revisited (again—well actually—still)’. It said:

Travel Friday: Whatever! Just no flip flops or cargo pants. We’ll change at the hotel. (I know we’re getting up at three in the morning but shower anyway because I’m sitting next to you guys on the plane!)

Friday night reception: Button shirt, sport coat, slacks, dress shoes and belt. (Bob, do not wear a tie and make us all look bad. We don’t care what your wife says!)

Saturday golf: Nice golf clothes—shorts if hot and pants if cold. (Joe, DO NOT wear your brother’s shirt from our vendor’s big competitor. It’s not funny to insult our hosts.)

Saturday night Moroccan dinner: This is the final, final word! We are wearing nice, dark colored polo shirts and khaki pants with brown shoes and belts. (Jeff, you stole that Pizza Hut table cloth for nothing because we gave up the whole sheik thing while you were out sick.)

Sunday (Race Day): We all agree it’s a car race after all. But we’re being entertained in the luxury suite. So we’re thinking we should look really good but not like we’re trying. So try to look like a really rich guy on his day off.

Ann: I wonder how the heck they interpreted that one.

Pam: Hey, it was the last day of the trip. I figured they’d just wear whatever they found in the bottom of their suitcase that was relatively clean.

Ann: So what did they wear?

Pam: Every last one of them showed up wearing the promotional stuff that the host vendor gave them on their first day there.

Ann: Well at least they looked like a team!

Outsourcing God

Ann: So how was your Memorial weekend?

Pam: I’m pretty frustrated with my roadside assistance company right now.

Ann: Did you break down?

Pam: No, Kate did. She had a blow out on Interstate 35 in Dallas. Thank goodness for cell phones. She called me and I told her, “Don’t worry. Sit tight. I’ll call the motor club and they’ll be out to help you right away.”

Ann: Did she know right away meant 2 hours?

Pam: Or never! Get this…I called the toll free number and was connected to their customer service line which sounded suspiciously like one of those “outsourced” call centers.


Ann: Yeah, where some guy with a heavy accent tells you his name is “Sam”.

Pam: That’s it. Well I gave him Kate’s location and he says, “I don’t show a street called Interstate 35 in Dallas, Texas.”

Ann: You’ve got to be kidding! Did you try I35E or Stemmons Freeway? You know how all the major highways have multiple names in Texas.

Pam: I gave him those names too. I told him it was a major north/south thoroughfare through Dallas and he said, “What’s a thoroughfare?”

Ann: Lovely!

Pam: I told him to look again. I said, “Look at any map you’ve got, you can’t miss Interstate 35.” He just kept telling me he didn’t have that road in his computer.

Ann: Well, it is a pretty new highway. I think it’s only been around since the early 60s. Perhaps they hadn’t updated their maps yet.

Pam: Yeah, right. I said, “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me! Interstate 35 runs from Mexico through the entire United States all the way to Canada. And you can’t find it in your computer?”

Ann: This outsourcing thing is getting beyond frustrating and becoming downright ridiculous and insulting. I heard there’s an online news source in Pasadena, California, that’s actually outsourced their local news stories. They have people in India watch the Pasadena local TV channels and cable broadcast of the city council meetings. Then these guys who’ve never even stepped foot in Pasadena, much less the United States, write the articles about local city government and politics.

Pam: Outsourced local news coverage! That’s pretty crazy. But I can top it. My priest was telling me that one of the major television ministries here in the states has outsourced their prayer lines.

Ann: What?

Pam: Yeah, he was reading about how a woman in Des Moines named Lori Danes called for prayers for her mother’s ulcers. The prayer representative, who called himself “Darren”, prayed in a strong Indian accent that “all the gods would bless her mightily.”


Ann: ALL the gods?

Pam: Apparently the manager of India Prayer Solutions in Mumbai said that the employee had not been properly trained.

Ann: That’s unbelievable. Gives you a warm fuzzy feeling, huh? I’m starting to think they’re going to outsource every last job in America.

Pam: I’m telling you, the next thing you know they’re going to be outsourcing the job of the snow plow drivers to India too.

Ann: Well, not along I35 anyway. According to them it doesn’t exist!

Disturbing The Peace

Pam: There are volumes written about how to cope with the empty nest. Why doesn’t anyone write a book about the suddenly un-empty nest?

Ann: Having both kids home from college is a real adjustment isn’t it?

Pam: I finally began to discover and appreciate the little perks of having my beloved children hundreds and hundreds of miles away. Mainly that the house stays just as I left it. Then they’re suddenly back and I feel robbed…literally.

Ann: Robbed of what?

Pam: Headbands, razors, restaurant leftovers, short slips, umbrellas, toothpaste, cell phone chargers, you name it! I miss the kids desperately all year long but I sure did love having things remain right where I left them.

Ann: You’re right. It gets worse after they’ve been away at school. I guess it’s the culture in a dorm or in a shared apartment. It’s pretty much what’s mine is yours and visa versa. They get used to just taking what they like.

Pam: That’s true. I remember when Ross left for school. Kate was still in high school and she was just at the age where she started to ‘borrow’ a lot of my stuff without permission. Bret wasn’t very understanding about how frustrating it was for me.

Ann: He thought it was no big deal, huh?

Pam: Yep. Then when Ross came home after his first semester away, suddenly Bret’s black socks, golf balls, white undershirts, and shaving cream started to disappear. Suddenly he was ready to lay down the law.

Ann: Yeah, I remember when Troy used to come home in the summers. It would take Hannah and me weeks to readjust to having him back in the house. He’s our neat-nick. He’d constantly be cleaning up and it really annoyed us.

Pam: You’re complaining because he tidied up too much?


Ann: I’m not talking about doing a load of dishes or taking out the trash. I swear he was compulsive. I’d get up to answer the phone and when I came back the, book I was reading and the tea I was drinking would be gone…swept away in a cleaning frenzy. It really was irritating.

Pam: Yeah Ross is my cleaner and Kate is my messy one. She leaves what we refer to as ‘Kate droppings’ everywhere. If Troy is your neat one does that mean Hannah’s messy?

Ann: You have no idea! We have a new phenomenon around here with Hannah. I call it the ‘abduction scene’. I’ll come home and there in the family room is a big dent in the middle of the couch surrounded by a whirlwind of random items. It’s as if she was there one moment and in the next she was suddenly plucked up by aliens.

Pam: Oh I know it well. At first I found it pretty frustrating. I’d think, ‘Why the heck can’t this girl pick up after herself?’ But then I learned the value of the clues an abduction scene leaves behind.

Ann: What do you mean?

Pam: Okay…For instance, what was left at Hannah’s last abduction scene?

Ann: Let me think…A half eaten Taco Bell Nacho Bell Grande meal and an empty soft drink cup, the TV remote control, a cordless phone, a bunch of makeup, nail polish, the newspaper’s weekend guide spread out all over, both of her brown purses, and her keys.

Pam: Well that’s easy. It’s as good as a handwritten note…

Dear Mom,
I won’t be home for dinner. There was nothing on TV so I made a few calls and got a hot date. We’re going to the movies. By the way, I borrowed your brown purse.

Love, Hannah

P.S. You’ll know I’m home when I wake you with doorbell.

Ann: Wow! That’s amazing.

Pam: (Sigh) Years of practice.

Keeping Up Appearances

Ann: I’m going nuts. I’ve got to get my house ready for all my out of town guests coming for Hannah’s birthday and graduation.

Pam: I don’t know about you but I do all kinds of crazy stuff when I’m expecting company.

Ann: You mean clean like a fiend?

Pam: Well that, yes. But I’m talking about silly stuff I do. Like I hide my daughter’s tabloid magazines and clear the nasty-grams I’ve left the kids off of the front of the fridge. I don’t want anyone to see that I left a note for the kids saying, “For God’s sake, close your bedroom window or I’m going to charge you for the electric bill!”

Ann: I do stuff like that too. I look over the books I have lying around to be sure there’s nothing that might be too revealing. When I had people coming over last week I tucked away No More Hot Flashes and replaced it with Time Travel in Einstein's Universe.

Pam: I always start in the downstairs powder room. If the toilet paper roll is below half way through, I’ll put a new one on even if only one person is coming over.

Ann: That’s kind of weird…even for you. Why do you do that?


Pam: I don’t know. I guess it has something to do with wanting to look prosperous. I guess that’s the reason I also fill up the dog’s water and food to the top. I hate to admit it but I do other strange stuff getting ready for company. But first you have to tell me something else you do so I won’t feel so weird.

Ann: Well my shame is mainly in the kitchen. First, I hide the teetering pile of mail I haven’t sorted through yet. I usually stick it in a paper bag and put it in the closet in the office. Then I hit the pantry and the fridge. My mother is a fabulous Italian cook and so to this day, no matter who’s coming over, I’m compelled to hide jars of spaghetti sauce, packaged pasta, canned mushrooms, shredded cheese, and canned pie filling. That stuff is supposed to be made from scratch.


Pam: I don’t hide convenience foods. Everyone knows I don’t do a lot of cooking. But I do hide junk food. I check the fridge and pantry and hide the Spaghetti O’s behind the green beans and Fruit Loops behind the Bran Flakes.

Ann: Okay, I can top that. Once I offered my house for a huge party for an organization I belong to. There would be a lot of people I didn’t know well. But I ran out of time getting ready and my garage was still a huge embarrassing disaster. So I put a big sign on the door from the family room leading into the garage that said, ‘Do not open—large, MEAN dog!’

Pam: But you don’t even have a dog.

Ann: Well the people who knew me well enough to know I didn’t have a dog knew why the sign was there and the people who didn’t know I didn’t have a dog wouldn’t see the mess.

Pam: Cute trick. I wish I’d thought of it and I do have a dog. Usually after I get the powder room and the kitchen done, I check my bedroom and bathroom. But in there I usually have to go the opposite way. I’ve actually moved things off my nightstand because I thought it would look like I intentionally left it out to be seen!

Ann: Like what?

Pam: Oh, like my prayer book or Bible. I once put away a CD on my nightstand called The Healing Harp because I thought people might think I was all metaphysical and stuff.

Ann: I used to hide my hair color but I don’t care anymore.

Pam: Yeah, I used to be embarrassed by my teenager’s choice of DVD’s in the game room. Their collection seemed to lack any shred of intellectual curiosity at all. I just wish there was a Cosmos or The Elegant Universe among the Dumb & Dumber and Austin Powers.

Ann: The crazy thing is that you know every woman does the same things. No one wants to be caught living the way they actually live. So everyone scrambles for the image.

Pam: We should all just agree not to worry about keeping up appearances.

Ann: What a relief that’d be. We could quit scrambling every time we’re expecting company.

Pam: I agree. You go first.

Geek Speak

Pam: Remember back when calling someone a geek was actually an insult? Well you’re one heck of a geek, and I mean that in today’s kindest sense.

Ann: Gee, thanks. Did you know that the original meaning of geek was the side show freak at a carnival who bit the heads off of live chickens?

Pam: Only you would have that little tidbit of information. So are you willing to help me out without biting my head off? I’ve finally decided I’d better learn a thing or two about how to conduct myself in cyberspace.

Ann: Need to learn a little netiquette, Miss Manners?

Pam: Netiquette?

Ann: It’s short for Internet or network etiquette. It’s sort of the rules of the road for people navigating in cyberspace. It’s a whole new code of conduct.

Pam: I get into chat rooms and forums and stumble around. By the reaction I’m getting I can tell I’ve stepped on some toes out there. I don’t mean to. I swear I feel like I’ve entered a whole different world.

Ann: You have. You just need to know some of the basics.

Pam: For instance?

Ann: Some of the obvious ones are don’t shout, don’t start any flame wars, basically don’t be a troll.

Pam: Okay…you lost me at don’t shout. How could I shout on the Internet?

Ann: TYPING IN ALL CAPS IS CONSIDERED SHOUTING.

Pam: Oh, I see. Okay, got it. What was that you said about not burning things down?

Ann: (Laughing) I said don’t post a flame or start any flame wars. Flaming’s when someone posts a message that’s intentionally mean or insulting. If someone gets their feelings hurt and sends an equally angry response, a flame war’s begun. It’s a chat room cat fight.

Pam: That seems obvious. I know I haven’t been hostile to anyone so I haven’t done any flaming. What was that other thing you mentioned?

Ann: Don’t be a troll. A troll’s a jerk who just posts outrageous messages to bait people into arguments. Kind of like a spoiled child. He doesn’t mind negative attention; he just wants attention of any kind. Most folks just ignore them. But there are a lot of them out there.

Pam: Well, I’ve met a few of those in the real world too. I’m telling you, there’s a whole other language. I read the rules on one site and it strictly prohibited spoilers and spammers. I’d be happy to follow the rules if I had a clue what that meant!

Ann: A spoiler’s someone who leads a discussion off topic. Basically, they ‘hijack’ a post.


Pam: So I’m not a spoiler. Am I a spammer?

Ann: I don’t know, what’d you have for lunch?

Just kidding. At first it just meant sending electronic junk mail to big lists of people you don’t even know. Now the meaning’s expanded to include posting promotional stuff on discussion boards or in forums. Basically it’s the cyberspace equivalent of going to a party and then cornering people for an Amway presentation…bad form.

Pam: Okay…that makes sense. Again it’s just common manners. Now one site suggested ‘lurking’ for a while before posting. But lurking sounds like a bad thing, like eavesdropping.

Ann: At one time it was sort of looked at that way. But now lurking’s perfectly acceptable. In fact, it’s encouraged for ‘newbies’.

Pam: Okay, newbie I can figure out but I’m guessing at lurking. Does that mean to read the discussions or message boards but not actually post a comment?

Ann: Yep. Lurking’s good at first. It’s like walking up to a group of people talking at a party. You wouldn’t just chime in without listening for a while. You’d wait to get a feel for what’s being discussed and what the tone of the conversation is.

Pam: So lurkers are usually newbies?

Ann: Not always. Sometimes lurkers are actually experts on a topic who are sort of monitoring the discussion. They only add something when they feel they can be especially helpful.

Pam: Okay finally, what the heck does IMHO mean?

Ann: ‘In my humble opinion’. It’s a way of offering your point of view without being pushy.

Pam: It’s definitely like learning a new language. Now I understand what that guy online meant when he said learning this stuff is like drinking from a fire hose. Can we pick this up again when I’ve had a chance to wring out my clothes?

Ann: Sure. In the immortal words of Tigger, who was more progressive than anyone realized, TTFN – ta ta for now.