Raging, Ranting, Raving, and Rhapsodizing

My company has hired a woman to take my position next week when I quit, and they have her working the front desk with me to get the hang of things. Given her complete lack of communication skills, it is my opinion that this woman might be a better fit at a fast food restaurant or the shady billing department for Royal Prestige. This woman's name is Chong Mi. She is an interrupter, and an over-talker. She is a conversation usurper (she will take over any conversation and turn herself into the new subject). She talks about herself all day, and she talks TO herself all day. And not like mumbling-under-her-breath talking to herself, either. She just talks out loud in a normal voice, seemingly to no one in particular, and occasionally glances at me to see if I'm listening (I'm not). She also does this thing where if she thinks she's said something kind of funny, she'll pause for a few moments and then say in a slightly higher-pitched voice "I was like...(insert previous comment)!! AHAHAHA!" Chong Mi is driving me CRAZY.

You know when there's a random fly in your house and is just nonchalantly buzzing around, landing on things and playing dumb while you sneak up on it then flying away at the last second? And then buzzing around your head, taunting you? Always BUZZING?!? Chong Mi is like that fly.

I'm just going to walk you through a few of our typical "conversations".

EXHIBIT A
Chong Mi: So, is your husband going to do most of the packing?
Rachel: Well, Stephen is actually working right up to-
Chong Mi: Yeah, My husband isn't a packer. I did most of our packing myself! Ahahahaha! Yeah, he just sat around! Hahaha!

EXHIBIT B
The phone rings. I page Sherry and tell her she has a call on 803. Sherry tries to pick up 801, and the caller hangs up. The phone rings again and Sherry picks up the right line.

Rachel: I think Sherry picked up the wrong line. I guess the caller got tired of waiting and hung up.
Chong Mi: Yeah, maybe.

60 Seconds Later

Chong Mi (in revelatory tone): OH! I know what must have happened. I bet Sherry picked up the wrong line. Ha! Well, there we go.
Rachel: Stunned silence

EXHIBIT C:
Chong Mi overheard me talking to someone about Moses- I was worried because he was sick (he's fine now).

Chong Mi: So, is your dog ok? What did the vet say?
Rachel: He's not sure. They want to run some bloodwork and take some X-Rays. They think-
Chong Mi: Oh, yeah I had this cat once that was just so FUNNY- haha- but she was sick and she was really old, and they wanted me to pay 800 dollars for surgery for her, and they weren't sure if she would even live, so we had to put her down, and it was really hard. So I know EXACTLY how you feel. ***nods assuringly***
Rachel: Stunned silence

EXHIBIT D
Stephen stops by the office in the morning, and I feel obligated to introduce him to the bane of my sanity.

Rachel (grudginly): Chong Mi, this is my husband, Stephen.
Stephen (shaking Chong Mi's hand): Hi, it's nice to meet you.
Chong Mi (shaking Stephen's hand): Hi! Good luck with South Carolina!
Stephen: Oh, um. Thanks.
Rachel: Increasingly irritated silence

EXHIBIT E
Dawn walks past the desk and initiates a conversation with Rachel regarding the upcoming move.

Dawn: Well, it sounds like it's going to be a big change for you! I lived down south for a while, and it's very different there.
Rachel: Oh really? Where down South, exactly?
Chong Mi: Yeah, I lived in Tennessee for 6 months and I went crazy! You know, it's so bible belt. And the bugs! Oh my gosh, but I lived in a small town, and I had my little girl with me. But you know (assumes intellectual tone and lectures about the cultural atmosphere in whatever podunk town she lived in for a solid 5 minutes).

I think you get the idea. Chong Mi breaks all my conversation rules which are reasonable and should not have to be explained as they are really only common courtesy.

CONDUCTING A SUCCESFUL CONVERSATION WITH RACHEL
1. Don't interrupt me.
2. Stop thinking about what you're going to say when you stop hearing the sound of my voice.
3. Respond with something relevant. A few ways to do this are
a) make a comment which reflects the feelings I just described (That must have been hard for you.)
b) share a story or situation which ties in to the one I just described (You know, my brother once did something similar...)
c) A genuine facial expression, laughter, or other non-verbal communication tool
4. Under no circumstances shall you overtalk me by speaking louder and louder until I finally give up.
5. Don't do that asking-a-question-because-you-want-me-to-ask-you-the-same-question thing (example: What are you doing this weekend? Oh cool... uh-huh... Well I'M going to this awesome concert...). If you want to tell me what YOU are doing this weekend, please come right to the point and stop wasting my time with ingenuine conversation.
6. Don't fish for compliments.

There. Rules that are applicable to me, but really, to everyone. This stuff is universal, people.

Right now I'm working at a computer learning center. Part of what we do is send our instructors to company sites to train their employees, and typically the people who took the class fill out a little paper evaluation. Part of what I do is enter those evaluations into our system so we have them digitally. (This, ladies and gentleman, is what we call busy work).

We just sent 5 or 6 of our instructors to run some classes for Weld County School District (Weld County teachers were strongly recommended but not required to attend classes like Word, Outlook, and PowerPoint). As I've been entering the evaluations from this particular session, I've chiefly noticed two things:

1. Teachers make giant smiley faces in all the comment sections, as compared to everyone else who... well, don't.
2. Teachers make excellent and consistent smileys.

But there was one evaluation which stood out to me this morning. Iris (who identified herself as an English teacher, big surprise) felt led to pen a lengthy paragraph about the demise of education and the rise of technology in the little section marked "Comments/Suggestions to improve your experience?" I was baffled and moved by her (somewhat misdirected) eloquence, and sad that this little Microsoft Vista evaluation form, that probably only I will ever read, would be her only forum. So I have decided to share Iris' comments/suggestions with you all. Perhaps it will inspire you. Perhaps it will challenge you. And perhaps... it will make you laugh.

"I am sad that great literature and the newest technology are truly moving in opposite directions. We are now forever handcuffed to technology while the great foundations of our historical, literary, and artistic past continue to die protesting but quiet deaths. We have inherited fragmented education (thank you, technology!) where students no longer read complete novels but instead, they jump on spark notes... and text messaging continues to erode essay writing. There is a price tag..."

I just don't know what else I can add to this. I was so surprised to find such lofty language and such passionate expression in so simple (and, it could be argued, inappropriate) a setting that much of its seriousness was diluted by the sheer random humor of it.

Wildly emotive comments? Spontaneous, dramatic suggestions? Do share.

I started a new pack of birth control today. Maybe you didn't want to know that, but let me explain. 1 pack is 4 weeks long, exactly 28 days. It struck me as I was staring at the neat little rows of round yellow pills that I would be taking the last few pills in South Carolina.

Let me walk you through the unfolding of the event which I have been simultaneously dreading and eagerly anticipating. You follow the first row, day by day, to pills 4 and 5 (thursday and friday), when Stephen and I will be camping in Aspen to see Ben Harper and Nickel Creek in concert. We planned this months ago.

Jump down to the second row and follow the little pills all the way to the end. Second to the last pill (September 8th) is my 22nd birthday. 3 months ago I insisted that we stay here AT LEAST until I had celebrated my birthday with my family. Sunday my parents are throwing a going-away party for us and my dad is frantically trying to finish a painting project he's been working on nonchalantly for a long time.

Next row. Pill number 3 is my last day at work. Pills 4-7 I'll be cleaning and packing and crying. Sunday I'm singing on the worship team for the very last time at the church I've been in since I was 10 years old.

And now, the last row. Pill number 2 is Stephen's last day. Third pill in this row is moving day. My dad and sister are going to spend pills 3-5 driving down to our new house with us and helping us get settled. By the last two pills of this pack, I'll be living in South Carolina. If we could jump to the next pack, we'd see Amy and my Dad flying back home on the second pill, and me being in transition for 26 more pills.