Extract: (First 50 pages or so...)

The Curmudgeon Chronicles

The following is a true story. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent, although no one is truly innocent. It's a nice, sunny day but we wouldn't know it because we are basement-dwellers of the Information Technology (IT) support realm, operating under the artificial illumination of overhead fluorescence. Shelves filled with computer equipment line every wall, with the exception of those where computer equipment in cardboard boxes are stacked. No one dares venture down here unless it is to abuse our restrooms.

Today Karl is slightly perturbed. He has misplaced his coffee mug somewhere in the building and he has already helped four users, so it could be on any one of four floors. It is not a good time to confront him about his role on the Workstation Image Team and their decision to install an older service pack on the operating system prior to the deployment of new computers, but I do so anyway at risk of my own peril.

His voice becomes stern and the wild hairs from his mustache begin to twitch as he explains the technical ramifications of the implementation without the service pack. I argue the lack of support involved in troubleshooting the problems it has already caused in user acceptance testing (UAT) and he takes it personally. His blood pressure elevates as indicated by the veins bulging in his neck and the one making a solo appearance in the center of his forehead. Tempers flare and gestures ensue, but fortune smiles upon me as he retreats into his office with his famous last words, "Yeah, and what do you want me to do about it?"

The Curmudgeon Chronicles

Today Karl is slightly perturbed. Someone has been raiding his coffee pot, which percolates in a common area. He vows that if and when he locates the offender, he will exact financial retribution. But more pressing issues emerge as a server goes down at a remote office and Karl flies into action by going to the restroom. Why they are called "restrooms" is a conversation that has never taken place in our work area. Maybe it's because one goes inside to rest their bladder or to give their colon some respite. Our men's restroom has a shower so, technically, it may be referred to as a bathroom. The shower's primary purpose is for defrosting our small form factor refrigerator.

When Karl returns from the field, all are assured that the server is back up and running after a brief power outage. He pours himself a cup of coffee and checks his e-mail to discover an important memo from Kitten, the no-nonsense Chief Information Officer (CIO), regarding the misuse of precious network resources. This gets him to thinking about wasteful bureaucratic spending and he begins listing off what he considers to be the department's most recent squanderings of taxpayer dollars, which elevates his blood pressure, as evident from the bulging veins in and around his reddening neck and forehead.

There were the dozen or so IBM xSeries servers that were purchased but not deployed until after the warranties expired, dozens of 17" LCD monitors that were damaged from being shipped in one giant box from HQ without any packing material, replacing brand new phones with brand new phones due to a change in service provider, additional staff hires because some support groups can't get their shit together, the overnight statewide IT conference that no one wanted to attend, and having to move offices just for the sake of change. Yes, someone in authority (Mary-Beth) read the book Who Moved My Cheese? and got the bright idea to have everyone swap offices as an exercise in change.

Every six months, we are required to swap offices in order to be prepared for change at all levels and at any given time. Without reason, anyone in a position of authority is exempt. The process generally takes a day and furniture is supposed to remain, although much of it was acquired by individual means. We all have our own quirks and, therefore, belongings that must be packed, moved, and unpacked. Karl is the exception with one box of total belongings which is ready to go at a moment’s notice. He usually just works in the multipurpose room on moving day and waits until the dust settles to move his one box.

"You ought to be used to it by now," I say and then I rib him about being a cantankerous old man, reminding him that his job security is due to the agency's inefficiencies. I also remind him that we spend much of our time waiting — waiting for approval, waiting for parts, waiting on users to respond with feedback, and waiting on others to do their jobs before we can finish ours. Either one could look upon this process as an integral part of teamwork and remain free from an aneurism, or else obsess over it as being ineffectual. Karl snarls that the office furniture he acquired through proper channels now belongs to someone else (Lyle). "It could be worse," I reply, "We could be residing in cubicles."

"Close the door on your way out," he says. As I slowly close the door I tell him, "So-and-so dropped off a dead laptop this morning for you." I turn and walk away as Karl utters his famous last words, "Yeah, and what do you want me to do about it?"

The Curmudgeon Chronicles

The following is a true story. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent, although no one is truly innocent. Today Karl is slightly perturbed. His sick dog kept him awake all night, but he's on his second cup of black coffee and seems to be settling down. It is quiet in the basement; a little too quiet. However, not all is at it may seem, as a user has accused Karl of losing their VPN key fob when he replaced their laptop. He storms into Karen’s office, who is forced to put down her knitting needles and attend to the grievance at hand.

I am in my office remotely assisting another user to find her missing personal e-mail folder which, she informs me, Karl lost when he was working on her computer yesterday. It is a simple matter easily remedied by a configuration setting and the call is closed. One down and dozens more to go. I tell Karl he lost a user's data when he is finished complaining about the missing key fob, to which he utters, "Yeah, and what do you want me to do about it?"

He then pours another cup of coffee and disappears behind the closed door of his office. Not long after, I am lured by the harmonic resonance of Bachman-Turner Overdrive and find myself standing outside Karl's office looking in through the window which provides him with a view of the other offices inside the basement. He is sitting at his workbench with his back to me, hunched over an open computer chassis of a Dell Dimension 8200 desktop with 533MHz frontside bus, the case of which is comprised mostly of empty space. It appears that he may be testing the PC800 ECC RDRAM RIMM memory modules but I notice that he is not properly grounded, so I retrieve a disposable anti-static wrist strap from my ample supply stock and slide it under his door.

Standing again at the observation window of this skilled primate, Karl looks down at the foreign object, then slowly swivels in his chair to meet my gaze. He stands, walks to a mark-and-wipe board, picks up a red dry erase marker, then approaches the window and writes on it: DO NOT DISTURB. Impressed that he has written it backwards so that it is legible to me, I respect his wishes and withdraw, backing away slowly as he closes the venetian blind. No one else is at home, or I would visit their zoo cages to observe more rudimentary behavior. I am not interested in disturbing Karen, although we do share a common affinity for Star Trek. Then again, what computer nerd doesn’t?

The Curmudgeon Chronicles

The following is a true story. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent, although no one is truly innocent. Today Karl is slightly perturbed. He had configured several file servers at remote offices to automatically reboot early in the morning but, instead, they all shut down completely and he is forced to drive around town powering them back up. Later, he seems rather chipper as he walks into my office with his coffee mug while I am slouching over my keyboard punching away relentlessly at the keys.

"Good morning," he says, but I know better. He suspects something. Maybe he's on to me about chronicling his daily activities, which are potentially limitless. But he acts as if he doesn't care. I think that deep down inside his gruff exterior is a soft bunny – and I'm allergic to bunnies. "Ahem," he says as he clears his throat. I am startled that he is still standing at the door of my office. He announces that this year he will be prestigiously honored as the grand marshal of the Valleyfest Parade, bestowed upon him for volunteering all these past years as the parade's lead coordinator. Big deal. I've never been to the parade and I won't be going just to see him waving at people.

"I'm proud of you, my little darling," I tell him. "Will you be wearing a sash and throwing candy to the children?" He takes a slurp of coffee and answers, "Not this year. No more candy throwing. Too dangerous. Wasn't my decision."

He also mentions that he will be retiring from the stressful position of parade coordinator since he doesn't need any unnecessary stress in his life. I keep typing. Eventually, I glance towards the door and see no one, but I sense a presence. Yes, he's peering through the venetian blinds from the other side of my office window, which overlooks the hallway. He takes a slurp of coffee and departs, or so it seems. I have a webcam pointed down the hall and I take a moment to check the feed. Yup, he's standing in the middle of the hall, facing the camera. He waves and disappears. He's definitely suspicious. He should be. I finish my curmudgeon chronicles from the day prior because I was too busy placing Post-It® Notes all over my kanban board all day in an attempt to become more efficient by the lean standards of the Agile methodology — something Mary-Beth learned about from a recent management seminar.

In a nutshell, Agile is a project management framework that breaks projects down into smaller, manageable phases, commonly known as sprints. The kanban approach assists with visually tracking work in process. It’s all the rage in software development, but Karl resists the change and remains what is called a Waterfall – the old, linear, sequential method of development and management. He claims that a waterfall is steady, reliable, dependable. Kanban was invented to sell more Post-It® Notes and we now live in a paperless society.

Besides, we are not software developers; we are low-level worker bees assigned simple tasks which do not require complex methods of process management – with exception to Lyle, who needs all the help he can get. Soon, Lyle will become a scrum master, with no responsibility other than to ensure his own processes are both efficient and properly recorded. Although the projected outcome is always the same — problem resolved — apparently, for some, the journey is more important than the destination.

The Curmudgeon Chronicles

The following is a true story. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent, although no one is truly innocent. Today Karl is slightly perturbed because he is becoming absent-minded. Lately he has been misplacing his coffee mug or keys but today he forgot which side of an argument he was on. Those who say that you are only as old as you feel are senile. Growing old carries with it many torments, as Karl will often remind me and does so even now:

Hearing things that aren't there but not hearing things that really are there;

Falling asleep when you sit down but not being able to fall asleep when you lie down;

Flatulence, uncontrollable flatulence;

Aggravation with whippersnappers who have no notion of good old-fashioned common sense;

Back spasms, uncontrollable back spasms;

Dietary restrictions on sugar and salt, plus everything else;

Wearing all one color (sweat suits, pant suits, coveralls, denim ensembles);

Not seeing well enough to drive at night, nor in inclement weather, nor during the day in broad daylight;

Aggravation with whippersnappers who have no notion of a good old-fashioned work ethic;

Abnormal skin growths, the likes of which cannot simply be removed with fingernail clippers;

An endless variety of pharmaceutical supplies and their incessant barrage of TV commercials — particularly those which may be beneficial;

Weekly pill planners upgraded to monthly pill planners;

Garbage day on a Tuesday instead of a Monday;

Modern conveniences not being so convenient;

Aggravation with whippersnappers who have no notion of good old-fashioned consideration and manners;

A snot rag in every pocket except the one you keep reaching into;

Less and less trust in humanity because you no longer understand the times;

Nose and ear hairs that cannot be seen to be removed until you are looking in the rearview mirror of your car and don't have anything to pluck them with;

Increased use of pseudo-profanity when complaining (dadgummit, doggonit, dadburnit, dangnabbit, et al);

Taxes, Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, annuities, and all that shit;

Dependency upon lists, not only due to a failing memory but because, when things are neat and orderly, life itself is neat and orderly; and there's nothing more neat and orderly than a list, especially when it's typed and printed out.

I have a good laugh as Karl finishes his rant, along with his usual lunch, which is a piece of fruit (today a green apple), a sugar-free soda/pop/soft drink/cola (Diet Mt. Dew), a small bag of plain Lay's potato chips, and a sandwich with some kind of sliced meat on whole wheat bread — transported in a used, brown paper sack. About this time, he receives a phone call on his work cell from a vendor needing access to a communications closet on the other side of town.

"Yeah, and what do you want me to do about it?" he says, then adds before hanging up, "Try me again tomorrow before 9:00AM. I'm old and I don't like surprises."

The Curmudgeon Chronicles

The following is a true story. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent, although you get the point by now. Today Karl is slightly perturbed. There's a kitten somewhere in the basement that can be heard through the walls. My only hope is that it's trapped in the old boiler room that has been walled-in as of late. It is brought to our attention by Karen that it must be located and vacated, to which Karl responds, "And what do you want me to do about it?"

So, I take all of the boxes from one of our storerooms that were stacked neatly by Karl in front of the access panel to the old boiler room and pile them in the hallway, causing his blood pressure to elevate, as evident in the bulging of his veins in his neck, forehead, and temples. Later, I print out a certificate of appreciation for Karl to hang in his office as a reminder of his hard work stacking boxes and, I am sure, for lifting them properly. Our agency provides a template for this certificate to be awarded to whomever we like, and I like to award it to Karl every chance I get, even though he has made it abundantly clear that he does not appreciate them.

As for the whereabouts of the ghost kitten, that remains a mystery — one which I don't particularly care about and neither does Karl. He's a proud dog owner and I'm deathly allergic to kittens (and bunny rabbits). Besides, I am not a pet person, especially thanks to Karl and his ilk for all of their horror stories about owning a precious canine. My wife and I have often argued about getting a dog. She wants one, I don't. However, I am willing to concede the many reasons why dogs are so important to humans in a list that is neat and orderly:

• Hunting, especially for larger, more dangerous game like sabretooth tigers or mastodons.
• Companionship and affection which are absent from a marriage or lacking within a modern, human family.
• Healthier lifestyle — according to the American Heart Association, fat-ass dog owners are 54% more likely to get some sort of exercise than lazy, non-dog owning fat-asses.
• The need for less sleep (some people would never get out of bed if it wasn't to tend to a needy dependent).
• Carpet fertilizer (some people would never clean their carpet if it weren't for feces and urine).
• Best way to determine if underpants are clean. If not, they will be destroyed or eaten.
• Adds an all-natural protective layer of shed fur and hair to furniture, clothing, and children.
• A way to get to know the neighbors better (some people would never meet their neighbors if it weren't for canine hijinks and incessant barking).

Make vacations and getaways more costly and therefore more valuable.

• Acts as an early warning detection system for earthquakes, epileptic seizures, PMS, cancerous moles, plagues of rats, the USPS mail delivery system, or Amazon drones.
• Boost the local veterinary economy — we can't totally rely on horse owners and who wants to pay a fortune to keep a cat alive?
• Dogs telepathically induce higher levels of serotonin and dopamine. Most prescription antidepressants are made from selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors harvested from the brains of unwanted dogs.
• Long walks in the cold outdoors, where you will undoubtedly need something to deflect porcupine quills and absorb skunk spray.
• Increased social interaction due to continually apologizing to strangers for your dog's misbehavior. (And what proud parents of hominin children don't want to hear all about your adopted canine children?)
• To help reduce stress, blood pressure, and heart disease, thus prolonging life. Many a dog owner who at first was caused undue stress from their noisy and troublesome tail-wagger soon learned to tune them out and ignore them. After time, they become conditioned to do this with all stressful situations.
• To share loneliness, because no one likes to be both lonely and all alone. Misery loves company. Hypothetical studies of single pet owners tend to show that dogs are empathetic towards depressed humans; unlike cats, which couldn't care less about the black hole inside your heart. If a dog can't lick your troubles away, then it will sadly suffer along with you.
• Increased immunity — a recent study published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences found that British children who rub dog saliva in their eyes and consume dog feces are less likely than their international counterparts to develop dog allergies.
• Trusty co-worker. Some people bring their dogs with them to the office because, behind closed doors, it can do the same work while their owner curls up and sleeps in a corner.

The Curmudgeon Chronicles

Today Karl is slightly perturbed. He has arrived at work and logged in, or logged on, only to discover that I have nabbed all the open help desk tickets. I laugh at him, not with him, and tell him to get to work earlier if he wants a piece of the action. He has no recourse but to grumble as he pours his first of many cups of black coffee.

At least I didn't steal all of the tickets already assigned to him, which I take great pleasure in doing when he has Monday off. Oh, wait, this is Tuesday, so I did steal all of his open tickets yesterday (and closed them, I might add). This displeases him immeasurably, since I never resolve the issues the way he intended. I often attribute this to his documentation, or lack thereof, which elevates his blood pressure, as evident in the bulging of veins in and around his temples.

He reprimands me for robbing him of his livelihood. "And what do you want me to do about it?" I say, using his own words against him.

But he responds, "I want you to quit being such a fucking pain in my ass." Touché, Karl, touché. It's not the best comeback you've had but it is a classic, nonetheless.

"How about this," I say, "You and I take a ride up north on a service request and get to know each other better? It's just a simple, ten-minute part replacement so it should only take two people a couple hours to fix."

He replies, "How about if you just let me have the ticket and I go by myself in peace and quiet? I know all I need to know about you already."

I cannot argue with this, so I assign the ticket to him and bid him farewell. However, before he can make an escape, Karen tells him to take Lyle along for the experience. Instead, Karl convinces her to allow Lyle to make the trip alone so that he truly learns from experience rather than just watching. Although she agrees, Lyle calls an hour and a half later to inform her that he forgot the replacement part. So, Karen calls for an emergency meeting to determine the best course of action — send someone up with the part or have Lyle return for the part himself? Against his better judgment, Karl offers to deliver the part. Even though this is a greater waste of resources, it gives him a couple hours of peaceful driving. But Karen insists that if Karl goes, then she goes along with him so she can knit along the way while going over his annual job performance review.

In the end, Lyle drives back to retrieve the part, which takes ten minutes to replace but four and a half hours to deliver.

The Curmudgeon Chronicles

Today Karl is slightly perturbed. At lunchtime, he recounts how judgmental regular church-goers are towards him when he makes an occasional appearance during a religious holiday. He says it's enough to make him either turn around and leave or get up and shout, "Bullshit!" It also irks him to hear pastors stand before a congregation and ask for more money.

Anyway, we all compliment him on his new haircut and he points out that my belly is growing over my belt, which I cannot deny. If I ate the same thing he did every day — a piece of fruit (an orange or a green apple), a diet soda (pop, soft drink, cola, whatever), a small bag of plain Lay's potato chips, and a sandwich with some kind of sliced meat on whole wheat bread, all transported in a used, brown paper sack — I might be as svelte as him.

Over my leftovers, we discuss incompetency throughout our department and I'm surprised to learn how many IT managers there are who are computer-illiterate. Karl remains relatively calm, so he receives another compliment about his assimilation into government service by Dennis, although he remains resistant to bureaucratic inefficiency more so than the rest of us. The quicker you become numb to the politics, the longer your lifespan, and Karl is about due for an early retirement. Our collective concern is that he may have a brain aneurism on the job and, although cranky, he will be hard to replace. He maintains the old-fashioned ethic that you work yourself to death and, when that day arrives, we may just leave his corpse atrophied over his keyboard for inspiration.

Eventually, the conversation turns to a general consensus that gravity's effect on inanimate objects is one of the most annoying difficulties of life, cognizance is what sets us apart from reptiles but that it's in short supply, forehead plots are generally disproportionate to their facial real estate, and leftovers are oftentimes better than the original meal.

Afterward, Karl returns to his office where he has torn apart a Fargo DTC4500e ID badge printer in order to replace a stepping motor. I casually enter his office and examine his craftsmanship. There is another printer nearby that I recognize as already having been thoroughly scavenged and parted out which he has been digging through.

"Did you test the feed sensors?" I ask.

"Come again?" he replies.

"The feed sensors," I start to say when he interrupts and says, "Yeah, I heard you. Feed sensors, my ass."

It's quiet for a while except for the soothing sounds of Buffalo Springfield. When he's distracted by the audible tone of a newly arrived e-mail message, I quietly place one extra screw on his workbench next to the printer parts. That way, when he has finished putting it all back together, he will cuss and swear as he contemplates tearing it all apart again to find out where that screw was supposed to go.

The Curmudgeon Chronicles

Today Karl is slightly perturbed. Roger has been stealing his help desk tickets, which is nothing new — I've been doing that for years — but Roger will work on them at the same time as Karl and try to close them before Karl can. It's a dog-eat-dog world and Karl is growling and snapping like a Yorkshire Terrier.

To make matters worse, Roger takes quite a bit of time off and is seldom around when Karl actually needs his help. Roger was gone most of last week and Monday but came in long enough today to piss Karl off, which I believe is Roger's official job description because he works at it harder than I do. In reality, it's part of all of our job duties and we all take great pride in our collective efforts.

Tomorrow, Lyle returns from vacation, which will undoubtedly perturb Karl all the more. If one were to document Lyle's foibles, they would fill volumes (which HR is well aware of). I try not to make fun of Lyle because he's not a godless heathen like all my other co-workers, but he continually makes it as difficult as possible not to. I think maybe his mind works on another plane of existence in another dimension, which might explain his constant reliance on flow charts for ordinary tasks. Anyhow, Karl is about due for an aneurism any day now and tomorrow may be that day with both Roger and Lyle in double-coverage.

Today's episode was brought to you by Microsoft Office. In order to keep you on your toes in a fast-paced society of digital transformation, Microsoft Office is constantly changing its layout. You will never become complacent with spreadsheets, documents, databases, or slideshows with Microsoft Office's constantly-changing format, hiding all necessary features in order to keep your brain active and constantly learning.

Microsoft Office — Making It All Make Sense.™

The Curmudgeon Chronicles

It has been a while since we last heard about my co-worker, Karl. Did he retire? Is he still alive? Well, the following is a true story. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent, although no one is truly innocent. Today Karl is slightly perturbed because of the infiltration of bullshit IT nomenclature into our organization (e.g., presence potential, parsed implementation approach, convergence capabilities, premise based solutions, dedicated telepresence system, operation continuity, baseline value, leveraged holistic approach, viable integrated metrics, seamless operational modules, total quality management redundancy, industry standard best practices, etc., etc.), which is sucking the life out of his career.

He complains openly and bitterly about the Information Technology Infrastructure Library (ITIL) and how incompetent staff are implementing IT Governance without any understanding or grasp of the subject. After his tirade and a refill of coffee, Karl receives a phone call and says he has to go home to tend to a family emergency. He claims he has been taking care of his mother, but we all suspect that he is his mother — just like Norman Bates. On occasion, Karl can be heard arguing with what sounds like an elderly woman, only to discover him alone each time. He has also begun to wear a shawl to work, claiming that it's just plain nippy all the time.

Before he leaves, he stops by Roger's office to ask a question, only to find the office empty and the lights off. Roger tends to work offsite most days, although no one knows where he goes all day. No one can keep track of Roger – not even his supervisor. Generally, his regular practice is to say he's leaving to go somewhere non-specific to do something vague for some unnamed person and does not return until the end of the day. His explanations are so convoluted that as long as he comes back to the office he is seldom questioned.

Karl wants Roger tethered to his desk so that he's available when needed, or tracked via GPS when absent so that his whereabouts are less of a mystery. Karen nods in agreement as she knits a stole for Karl's mother, which is being made from locally-sourced alpaca wool. Karl prefers that it not be one of those useless, loopy things that have big holes, to which she assures him that she is utilizing a fortress stitch, but he doesn't care for any of the terminology — there's too much of that crap already.

The Curmudgeon Chronicles

Today Karl is slightly perturbed. The next round of proposed budget cuts includes a 3% salary reduction plus a monthly furlough day. He came into my office to share this with me like I didn't already know, only to find me sitting in front of a blank screen and pretending to type.

I was just getting up to leave on a call and had logged off when I heard him coming and sat back down. Convinced I am actually trying to look busy while doing absolutely nothing, he chastises me vehemently and blames the impending cuts solely on me, which makes me laugh out loud and, in turn, shorts out his fuse. With veins-a-poppin' in his forehead and temples, he storms out of my office, turns off my lights, and slams the door.

At lunchtime over his usual brown-bag meal, he is hangry and complaining about the amount of money his wife gives to her church. I argue that it isn't enough and should be 10% of her gross, not net. This really pisses him off and his face turns red as he bemoans how churches are ripping off their members by constantly asking for more money in the form of tithes, offerings, and charitable contributions. I reply that they are called "alms" and that it's all biblical, which is absolutely no consolation to him.

We finish playing Cribbage in silence, except for the sound of him peeling his one serving of fruit and the shuffling of old playing cards, and he tells me before leaving that he's fed up with working for this department, this agency, and this state. I ask if he truly means what I hear him saying or if he's just momentarily more perturbed than usual and he confirms his long-standing disgust for the job. This troubles me, not that my co-worker is unhappy, but that he demonstrates the qualifications for a promotion into management.

The Curmudgeon Chronicles

Back by unpopular demand is my co-worker and armchair Trump advisor, Karl. Today Karl is slightly perturbed. Come to think of it, he was slightly perturbed yesterday and the day before that. Anyway, everyone has developed a surreptitious hobby to keep them tethered to their desks when work is slow. By slow, I mean that all of the Main Distribution Frame (MDF) rooms and Intermediate Distribution Frame (IDF) rooms are clean and documented — communications closets are swept, network patch panels are all labeled, data drops are identified with their corresponding switch ports, and uninterruptable power supplies (UPS) all have green lights.

Well, Karen knits when business is slow because that's what Karen does. It perturbs Karl when she does it during meetings or in the car, but she is currently in her office knitting. Karl interrupts her to enquire/inquire what the hell she thinks she's doing and she replies that she is multitasking, which includes online in-service training, reading meeting minutes, and knitting. So far, she has completed Fire Extinguisher Training, Sexual Harassment in the Workplace, LGBTQ Obsequiousness & Deference, and IT Security for Dummies, all while knitting warm, winter lederhosen for an agency-sponsored charity fundraiser.

Karl reads online tech articles so he can keep up on the outside world, where cutting-edge technology actually exists. Lyle likes to login to miscellaneous technical training courses provided by the agency, whereby he receives printable certificates for a myriad of hour-long sessions. I usually take the opportunity to ensure/insure* that all my documentation is up to date, including any internal Instructions & Procedures which I personally authored. These are technical instructions which upper-level managers have proof-read and turned into meaningless guidelines for accomplishing nothing by removing any and all technical jargon they don't understand.

Roger, however, is never at his desk and always out and about. No one can keep track of him; not even Karen. He'll pop into the office in the morning before Karen arrives on her bicycle, chew the fat for a half hour, smoke a cigarette, then disappear for the remainder of the day after saying he's going somewhere non-specific to do something somewhat vague. His explanations are so convoluted that as long as he returns the next morning he is seldom questioned.

Karl wants Roger chained to his desk and monitored with a GPS ankle bracelet when loosed to go free during business hours. He demands that all who answer to Karen be accounted for and supervised closely as a matter of principle. Karl has a strong work ethic which none can match — not even Jesus. (Although Jesus was known to work on the Sabbath.)

As I may have mentioned in the past, Karl's wife is a Christian and her pious friends look down their noses at poor Karl, the heathen husband. Being a snooty Christian myself, I pray that I might be a Godly influence to my co-workers, yet whenever Karl brings up the hypocritical arrogance of Christians, I just laugh at him as I often do. But it's not a condescending laugh, rather, it's a hearty, spirited laugh that relays my deepest sympathy for the plight of his unrepenting soul. Sometimes, though, it's a nervous laugh because the joke's on me, the hypocrite.

*When time permits, I ask Karl what the difference is between ensure and insure. He responds that the former is a brand of nutritional supplements for the elderly, while the latter is a means for providing financial compensation for accidental damage to property. So, that settles that.

The Curmudgeon Chronicles

Today Karl is slightly perturbed. Someone had the nerve to help themselves to his coffee and then complain about the taste.

"If you steal another man's horse, then you have no right to complain when it bucks you off," Karl says as he passes me in the hallway.

Here are some special sayings I remember Karl uttering on occasion while in passing or before temporarily departing my presence:

"All things in moderation, including sex, smoking, alcohol, profanity, and religion."

"Faith is healthy, but keep your damn religion to yourself."

"If you act like white trash, then you are white trash. If you dress like a whore, then you are a whore."

"Dogs are man's best friend, not wives."

"You'll never become wealthy in government service, but it's better than welfare… Only slightly better."

"Alcoholism is a disease, just like death and stupidity."

"Look both ways and straight up before crossing the street or you'll get hit by an Idaho driver."

"A tomato is a vegetable, not a fruit, no matter what anyone says. No one puts tomatoes in a fruit salad."

"Sponges are better than washcloths, at least when cleaning inanimate objects. They don't do so well behind the ears or under the scrotum."

"The Internet revolutionized the way in which we waste our time. What did we do before computers? Oh, yeah — everything."

"There is no better motivation than a swift kick in the ass. If you find this offensive, then bend over."

"Don't stare at your computer screen too long or you'll go blind, especially if you're masturbating under the desk."

"Spend less time with negative people. If you are a negative person, then spend more time asleep."

"Coffee will cure whatever ails you, as long as it's black and hasn't passed through another digestive system."

The Curmudgeon Chronicles

Today Karl is slightly perturbed as he confronts me with Matthew 5:29-30. During his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus said that if your right eye causes you to sin, then gouge it out and throw it away, or if your right hand causes you to sin, then cut it off and throw it away — it is better to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to go into hell.

Karl has never heard anyone interpret this passage literally, but it only seems logical given the strictness of the entire sermon, which includes the threat of hell for calling someone a fool, more righteous qualifications than a Pharisee to get into heaven, and allowing others to take advantage of you without recourse. Therefore, Karl concludes, all Christians with two eyes and two hands are hypocrites, which includes me. I cannot argue with this reasoning and have to concede that he has a valid point.

At lunch, while eating a green apple, plain Lay's potato chips, a Diet Coke, and a whole wheat sandwich with mystery meat, he asks if I thought about what he said earlier regarding his mastery of Biblical scripture. I shrug my shoulders and admit that I actually agree with him and would like to hear more. He folds his brown paper sack, stands to his feet, stuffs it in his back pocket, and, as he leaves the room, says, "That's your fucking sermon for the day."

The Curmudgeon Chronicles

Today Karl is slightly perturbed as Roger has chosen his office door in which to stand and chew the proverbial fat for a half hour before going outside to smoke a cigarette, then leave for the day to some unknown destination to do God-only-knows-what. He should be chained to his desk and given a tin coffee can to piss in.

Roger is rather boisterous and can be heard down the hall telling Karl about his opinions regarding Mexican immigrants illegally entering the U.S. Roger thinks building a wall is the dumbest idea imaginable. Immigrants shouldn't have to earn their new citizenship, they should have to win it. This is the land of the free and home of the brave, so they should be subjected to a series of television gameshow trials that will determine whether or not they are lucky enough to gain citizenship. Winners will receive a new life of opportunity, while losers will be sent to Canada for another round before deportation.

No, but really, bring our troops home from the Middle East and then send the National Guard down to the Mexican border so they can round up illegal aliens and put them in a federal prison camp where they will receive the best care and medical treatment available, free of charge. Whole families are welcome. Once ready to return home, they will be catapulted back over the border. With ideas like these, Roger intends to campaign for the role of Border Czar.

Boisterous laughter erupts, but only from Roger. He stops by his office to grab his vape pen because he is trying to quit smoking, even though his vape pen has more nicotine than a cigarette. Once gone from the premises, we all try to forget the indecorous one-liner that still lingers in the air, along with a strong hint of Aqua Velva Classic Ice Blue® with Humectin.

Karl wonders aloud how Roger has managed to stay employed all these years, but the answer is clear: he has honed the skill of bullshitting his way into and out of any situation. He should be a politician or a used car salesman. Here he's just wasting his talents.

The Curmudgeon Chronicles

Today Karl is slightly perturbed. His doctor has recommended an SSRI antidepressant to help alleviate his aggravation, which he refuses to take on account that only crazy people are prescribed this kind of medication. For a while, Karl visited a bevy of psychiatrists, psychologists, and psychotherapists provided by his HMO who taught him some valuable relaxation techniques, which he has shared with me and which I now offer to you without a fifteen-dollar co-pay:

Sit comfortably. It seems simple enough, but you'd be surprised how many people maintain a painful position just to look casual.

Breathe slowly and deeply, inhaling through the nostrils and exhaling from the mouth. Again, many people ignorantly suck in air and blow it out just one hole without any voluntary control.

Close your eyes but don't become too comfortable so as to fall asleep. Visualize a place you'd rather be than at a doctor's office or at work, without dreaming.

Slowly rub your eyelids and concentrate upon the phosphenes, which are the light and colors produced by rubbing your eyelids.

Listen to pan flute music against a background of waves crashing onto a rocky shore while seagulls squawk randomly overhead. Hear that in the distance? It's a sperm whale.

The sperm whale is an endangered species. Are you an endangered species? What is your significance in the grand scheme of things? Write down what makes you special. Now crumple it up, throw it away, and become one with the cosmic sperm whale.

Brace your legs in stirrups and gently douche your rectum with a warm solution of salt water, vinegar, aloes, and calamine.

Listen to a recording of a Chinese philosopher reading fortune cookies. A stringed instrument called a guqin is plucked as he or she says in broken English, "An open mind is a treasure chest. A welcoming heart is the treasure that fills the chest. Ignorance and hatred plunder the chest, leaving it empty. Love and tolerance fill the chest, making the individual wealthy in riches that truly matter. With this, one may nourish many souls, thus spreading wealth everywhere."

What are some of the things that really irritate you? Write them down. Now crumple it up, throw it away, and don't think about those things ever again.

If you feel yourself becoming irritated, then breathe slowly and count to ten. Should anger or anguish instantly overwhelm you within seconds, then run your head into a predetermined spot on the drywall (between studs) and take time to cool down as you patch the hole.

Do you spend too much time online while neglecting your health and well-being? Download an app that will help you organize your time wisely, count calories, and remind you what to do and when to do it.

Replace coffee, energy drinks, and beverages high in caffeine with herbal tea or tepid water. Replace foods high in fat and sugar with herbal tea or tepid water. After a while, you may replace herbal tea and water with the quenching sustenance of pure, wholesome thoughts.

Stuck in traffic? Look over at the driver in the vehicle next to you. Imagine them floating in outer space. Yes, of course, they are dead.

Do you suffer from anxiety? Be mindful of your mindfulness, spending every moment mindfully minding your thoughts and actions.

Are you a stressed over-achiever? Try the "FLOP" method: (F) Fail once in a while; (L) Lose every now and then; (O) Or; (P) Play dead.

If you feel tense, wherever you may be, strike the yoga position of the Cow Face Pose (Gomukhasana) by starting in the Mountain Pose (Tadasana) then slowly transforming to the Upward Salute (Urdhva Hastasana). Now bring your right arm down to your side and up behind your back to clasp your left hand as you lower it behind your head, breathing deeply and steadily while being mindful that those who have distressed you are now staring at you.

Meditate on positive self-affirmations, such as, "I deserve to retire," or, "I will pass this asshole driver and be rid of him forever," or, "I am confident that today I will follow through with the divorce and not succumb to the pressure of remaining a pitiful victim of an overbearing and abusive spouse."

With your eyes closed and your arms resting at the sides, drive along a winding road with a gentle breeze blowing in your face.

Read a self-help book about anger management. Read several. Keep a daily journal of your thoughts. Create an online blog. Now write your own book. Maybe a podcast will follow.

Reluctantly, take 60mg of fluoxetine daily.

The Curmudgeon Chronicles

Today Karl is slightly perturbed. Martin Luther King Junior Day is approaching and we have all gone to another facility to listen to the administrator, a Black African American, recite the "I Have A Dream" speech from memory. He is very impassioned and animated as he speaks, however, we didn't realize just how long the speech actually is and I begin nodding off about halfway through. Problem is, we are all seated in front and I am sitting next to Karl.

Karl keeps elbowing me and afterward he calls me a bigot. I argue that it doesn't make me prejudiced that MLK's most famous speech bores me. I inform Karl that my favorite MLK quote is, "You don't have to hit every step when falling down the stairs. They all go straight to the bottom, except for winding staircases. A winding staircase without a railing is like the path of ignorance." Karl replies that this is a misquote and that I am racist.

He is obviously distraught, as apparent by the bulging vein in the center of his reddening forehead. I argue that if I am racist, then it's against people who are white trash. In response, he snarls that I cannot be racist against my own kind. Dadgummit, that's a knee-slapper.

On the drive back to the office, we stop along the way to visit telecommunications closets at outlying field offices in order to audit assets and take pictures. One comm room is in the basement, the entrance to which is a padlocked door inside the women’s restroom. It has a dirt floor and a single incandescent light bulb hanging from the joists. Another is used as a storage closet and someone has parked a shopping cart in it filled with lost and found items. Yet another shares space with a natural gas hot water heater which has cans of paint, paint thinner, and a variety of cleansers stacked around and on top of it.

All of the comm rooms are hot, lack adequate ventilation, and are poorly lit. Half of the Ethernet twisted pair and fiber optic cables hang down to the floor where they lay in tangled disarray.

"I have a dream," I say.

"No," says Karl, "You don't."

"I have a dream that one day," I continue.

"Stop," says Karl.

"I have a dream that one day our comm rooms will all be judged by the standards of our telecommunications policies and not by the colors of their mismatched patch cables." There, I said it.

The Curmudgeon Chronicles

Today Karl is slightly perturbed. Mary-Beth overheard him on the phone talking to an end user in his usual, cranky manner and made him put the call on speaker phone so she could interject her positivity from having read Dale Carnegie's How to Win Friends and Influence People. She likes to be the arbiter of goodwill whenever the situation does not in any way call for it.

Some people have mastered the skill of telling others surreptitiously that they are stupid and, in return, being thanked for it. Karl has the natural ability to tell people outright that they are stupid and, in return, they thank him for it. He's the kind of cantankerous old man whom everyone reveres with a tender fondness, which undoubtedly makes Mary-Beth jealous, especially since she tries to be benevolent but no one finds it genuine.

From the Mary-Beth School of Paraprofessional Encouragement, here are a few adages to live by:

You will never achieve success unless you truly enjoy what you are doing, even if it's prostitution, serial killing, or fund-raising for the Democratic Party.

Always be prepared to offer a stick of chewing gum or a breath mint — poor oral hygiene is a deal-breaker and friends with halitosis reflect poorly upon you.

Point out foreign objects in someone else's teeth or facial hair. Lend a hand to brush off dandruff from their shoulder. Let them know you are astute to their needs and that you truly care.

Use ALL CAPS in every e-mail message because anything you have to say is important.

Lend your keen advice liberally. Recipients may not thank you, but they will undoubtedly be better off for it. Appreciation comes through helping to lift others to your standards.

Do not be ashamed to display pictures of yourself abundantly in the workplace or home office so that others can see how important you are instead of just always having to take your word for it. Other items of self-promotion include trophies, diplomas, certificates of achievement, newspaper clippings, and blue ribbons (no hand-drawn certificates of appreciation from children or ribbons that are not blue). Also, frame everything.

All pictures displayed for public viewing that include or feature your likeness should be at optimal perfection. Do not think twice about ordering someone to delete an image of you from their cell phone if it does not meet to your approval.

All forms of apparatus have their proper place in your environment and everything should be parallel or perpendicular to adjacent objects, whether it sits on your desk or hangs on the wall. Anything out of alignment leads to chaos.

Be slow to anger and quick to correct. Focus on constructively criticizing each individual and soon you will have built a global consortium of confident associates who consider you not as a co-worker but, more importantly, as a colleague.

Treat subordinates with respect, even though they are inferior. Do not let them sense your superior acumen, lest they distrust you out of fear. Rather, instill upon them a feeling of significance and equality, as though you are all in this together.

Do not hesitate to take credit for a job well done out of teamwork. There may not be an "I" in team, but there is a "me" in there somewhere.

Keep at least one finger broken. Use the broken finger to point, especially when pointing at other people. Make it plain to see that you are not afraid to poke your finger in another person's chest.

Always suggest a potluck for any and every occasion, creating a perfect opportunity to showcase your culinary mastery in a slow cooker or crock pot. Those who bring pre-packaged food do so to their own shame, as they are keenly aware. Good or bad, nothing demonstrates ambition like hot food cooked in a home kitchen.

Keep a mirror handy at all times. You may not have eyes in the back of your head but you need to maintain that reputation.

Have everyone over for dinner at least once. That way, if and when the time comes, you can accuse them of ingratitude after you invited them into your home.

The Curmudgeon Chronicles

Today Karl is slightly perturbed as I barge into his office to make a public announcement that it is International Day for Tolerance, adding a quote from the UN website:

"The United Nations is committed to strengthening tolerance by fostering mutual understanding among cultures and peoples. This imperative lies at the core of the United Nations Charter, as well as the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, and is more important than ever in this era of rising and violent extremism and widening conflicts that are characterized by a fundamental disregard for human life." (https://www.un.org/en/filename_something_or_other.extension)

Karl stares at me while holding tightly to his cup of coffee, his knuckles turning white and his face reddening. I assure him that this use of government resources is de minimis and acceptable according to policy.

When I finish, he takes a slurp and then says, "Well, I for one struggle with tolerance for those who drive in the passing lane on interstate highways without passing. Not only is this illegal in this state, but it's also immoral and unnatural, making these people inhuman monsters. Out-of-state offenders should be ticketed, while in-state offenders should be publicly flogged. If you have to ask what the big deal is, then you should not even be driving an automobile."

I actually cannot disagree with this intolerant position and I tell him so. His response is, "So what, and who cares? Now get out!"

It's hard not to like this guy. His brutal honesty has become a staple of my existence here. Maybe we are kindred, curmudgeonly spirits. Oh, he's becoming really annoyed. A vein just popped. I really must go.

At lunch, he brings up the Inquisition in response to the issue of tolerance. Not being knowledgeable on the subject, I try to pass but he insists that I defend the brutal actions of the universal church of Christ against those of its own deemed heretical during the Dark Ages. However, I am incapable, although I do add that Jews and Muslims were also interrogated, imprisoned, and tortured. I do not belong to the "Catholic" church, but he counters that every believer belongs to the Catholic Church and he is correct, at least as far as the Catholic Church is concerned.

If I were alive during any of the various Inquisitions from the twelfth through the seventeenth centuries, I would probably have been boiled alive. Karl argues that I would have recanted under the mildest of torture. Maybe he's right. I cannot begin to imagine being subjected to long periods of solitary confinement and/or psychological interrogation and/or cruel and painful means of torture on account of my faith or convictions, whether because of heresy or martyrdom. I know there is a joke in there somewhere related to government service and I was hoping Karl would've provided the punchline, but only crickets.

The Curmudgeon Chronicles

Today Karl is slightly perturbed. Once again, for two days in a row, I have barged into his office to make a public announcement — this time that it's World Prematurity Day. However, Roger is right on my heels and takes the opportunity to interject his self-righteous opinion on the matter:

"Let me take a stab at evaluating the goodness of humanity — much of which has to be based on self-evaluation, so the outcome is not optimistic. People are basically meat with electricity flowing through them, which just goes without saying. Their primal attributes are laziness and selfishness, which makes them seem evil and appear stupid. Although there is some beauty in humanity, it is in the design, not its demeanor. Are people intrinsically bad? Does it even matter? Yes and no.

"Mankind tends towards a propensity for baseness, so we are inevitably doomed. Those who delude themselves by pretending to be virtuous only prolong our demise ever so slightly, but in vain. Try as they might to overcome their depraved nature, they are outnumbered and can only become absorbed or devoured by the abject populace. Without hope that there may be an absolute benevolence above and beyond ourselves, then we are relegated to rely on physical comforts: the principal foundation for material acquisition, exploitation, and domination.

"Egotism leads to gratification, which tends towards complacency, which ultimately cannot sustain us as a whole. I am prepared to survive man's downfall and outlive the end as we know it. Are you? Oh, shit, look at the time. I have to get going."

Roger then goes outside to smoke a cigarette, after which he drives off in a government vehicle to go somewhere undisclosed to do something unknown with nameless, faceless persons for the remainder of the day.

Karl says that someone needs to reel him in and make him accountable for his time and whereabouts, then looks at me and asks why I'm still in his office. I remind him that Karen has been compiling pages and pages of documentation for HR regarding Roger and that one day soon Roger will be just like us: duty-bound, compliant, and obligated to the tax-paying citizenry.

In fact, Karen has created so much documentation that I have encouraged her to write a book on how to manage difficult subordinates using both Roger and Lyle as prime examples. It would be an instant New York Times Best Seller and she could retire and go on tour, for which she accuses me of wanting to get rid of her.

I am, of course, thinking this inside my head and not verbalizing it, while gazing randomly around Karl's office. Then I notice him glaring at me. His mustache is quivering. The knuckles of the hand holding his coffee mug are white. He points to the door with his other hand and, like a cat, I look at his finger and not the door. He retracts his arm, then extends it again, pointing at the door. Again, I look at his finger.

"Do I have to roll up a newspaper and swat you on the nose with it?" he says angrily.

I answer his question with a question: "Where are you going to get a newspaper?"

Karl continues to point at the door. Like a dog with its head down and tail between it legs, I obediently leave because I am duty-bound, compliant, and obligated.

The Curmudgeon Chronicles

Today Karl is slightly perturbed. His aged mother is not well and he has been trying to take care of her while looking for a nursing home he can force her into. Over the years, Karl has shared his mother's sage advice. Here are some of her more memorable proverbs:

"Always wear clean underwear before leaving the house. You never know when you will be strip-searched by the Nazis, Secret Service, or KGB."

"A penny saved is a penny earned, but a penny lost is a year off your life."

"Never sass your elders or else, when they die, their tormented spirit will possess your appendix — the number one cause of appendicitis."

"Never take candy from a stranger. Candy causes tooth decay."

"Wash your hands after urinating. Wolverines and badgers are attracted to the scent of urine and their favorite food is a soft, prepubescent youngster."

"If you don't like something about the government, then write a letter to your congressperson. Make it 300 pages long, single-spaced, and two-sided, just like the laws they pass without voter approval."

"Never accept a ride from a stranger, not even a bus driver. Some people will go to elaborate lengths to pull off a kidnapping."

"Never trust a milkman — milk is the number one cause of pregnancy. Never trust a mailman — mail is the number two cause of pregnancy."

"Masturbation leads to progressivism, liberalism and, finally, retardation."

"In my day, VD stood for Victory Day. Now it is an acronym for Venereal Disease. On that note, it's possible to contract psychological herpes from looking at pornography. Also, syphilis is hereditary."

"Acne in male adults is caused by a lack of sex. Whiteheads are the build-up of semen trapped in pores as sperm try to leave the body through the skin. Acne in female adults is caused by the practice of black magic. Puritans often determined if a suspected witch was guilty based on the presence of blackheads."

"People who eat people are the hungriest people in the world."

"Somewhere over the rainbow awaits an angry little leprechaun itching to beat your head in with his shillelagh."

"Guns don't kill people; people kill people with whatever means are available. Guns are just more convenient than, say, an elaborate plan consisting of an anvil, a refrigerator, skis, a giant magnet, crates full of dynamite, great heights, and an Acme rocket."

"Cars don't kill people; animals driving cars kill people and portraying them on television as capable of driving only gives them the wrong impression."

"Youth is wasted on the young. Money is wasted on the elderly. Humor is wasted on dads."

"Your farts may not smell like a rose, but some farts do smell like flowers, such as the corpse lily and titan arum of Indonesia, carrion flower and parasitic stinking root of South Africa, dead horse arum lily of some Mediterranean islands, and the western and eastern skunk cabbages of the U.S., just to name a few."

"You always should've taken the opposite turn at Albuquerque."

"Meat is murder — savory, delicious, God-sanctioned murder."

"Girls are smarter than boys. Boys are generally smarter than animals — not all animals, just some, but you can't marry a porpoise. Or maybe now you can."

"Golf becomes more exciting the less exciting you become. Shuffleboard and croquet are drinking games for all ages."

"Variety is the spice of life. Always have a bottle of ketchup and a bottle of catsup handy. Never underestimate your ability to make your own."

"It's not the destination — it's the voyage that matters, unless voyaging aboard a geriatric cruise ship that features the original Solid Gold Dancers in costume."

"Hamburger Helper helps your hamburger help you make a great meal. This is just plain horse sense. You can't trademark that."

The Curmudgeon Chronicles

Today Karl is slightly perturbed. Although he opted to work on Black Friday, the biggest shopping day of the year that kicks off the capitalist Christmas season and one of the quietest days of the year for office dwellers, he had to stop by Toys "R" Us at 4:00AM to stand in line for two hours to get a Nintendo Wii for his daughter's boyfriend's children, only to discover they had just five of them which were sold out as soon as the store opened.

According to Roger, who opted to join Karl and keep him company, "Black Friday has been a term used since the early 1950s. It was first coined to describe the day when workers called in sick following Thanksgiving. A decade later it was used to describe the same day when the same people congested the streets to go shopping, causing traffic control problems in big cities.

"With no relation to the Black Plague, Black History Month, Black Day for sad and lonely South Korean singles, or the traditional sense of the term related to days of emotional and psychological darkness, Black Friday has come to mean the most financially profitable day of the year for many retailers, lifting them out of the red from lower sales the previous months.

"Some have tried to change the name over the years, including Buy Computer Parts Friday Go Home Set It Up All Weekend Then Shop Online Monday (National Retail Federation), which came to be known simply as Cyber Monday."

Yeah, it would appear that Karl's quiet day at work is going to be filled with Wikipedia entries from Roger all day long. However, Karl takes his laptop and large travel mug and disappears in a government vehicle to go somewhere undisclosed. Settling into a vacant office across town where a few like him have shown up for a quiet day at work, he is soon confronted by a staff member who shyly emerges from a dark hallway to ask for some computer-related assistance. She is relieved that it is Karl and not Roger, otherwise it would be a long process replete with unilateral dialogue.

After work, Karl stops by Costco to buy toilet paper and finds they have a whole palette of Nintendo Wii consoles right at the front door. Funny thing is, they are sold out of toilet paper.

The Curmudgeon Chronicles

Today Karl is slightly perturbed as he recovers from being dragged to church by his wife, who reminds him that his biannual attendance (Christmas and Easter) was in their wedding vows. This, however, was the Sunday following Thanksgiving and not part of the agreement. Karl says he doesn't remember how he got there, to which his wife tells him that it was by the power of the Holy Ghost.

Karl doesn't like to attend church because he feels he is being looked down upon and judged unworthy by the clergy and members of the congregation who know his wife. Although he is being judged, I do not confirm his fears but, instead, I provide him with some helpful tips to avoid pious eyes and make his next scheduled visit more undetectable:

• Don't put anything in the offering basket that isn't money and don't take anything out — just pass it along.
• If a stranger attempts to hold hands because the pastor has asked that everyone hold hands, then hold hands for the brief amount of time of hand-holding and no longer. If attending a Unitarian or Episcopal service, then keep your hands firmly anchored in your pockets.
• Pretend to sing hymns, but avoid singing hymns loudly during prayer time or before the sermon is over.
• If a Catholic service, try not to speak in tongues. If a Pentecostal service, remember that after speaking in tongues someone must be allowed to interpret for the edification of all.
• Do not interpret the speaking of tongues with obscure movie quotes, such as, "I'm the Dude, so that's what you call me. That or, uh, His Dudeness, or uh, Duder, or El Duderino, if you're not into the whole brevity thing." (The Big Lebowski)
• Do not question the speaking of tongues out loud. For example, "What in God's holy name are you blathering about!?" (The Big Lebowski)
• Refrain from making fart noises. If you do fart loudly, immediately look with disgust at the nearest elderly person. If you farted quietly, then no one is the wiser. A guide dog or service animal is always a good scapegoat.
• Do not pretend to be covered by the blood of the lamb by literally soaking yourself in sheep's blood.
• Wear a turtleneck and a trapper hat rather than a burqa to cover any offensive tattoos or fresh hickeys around the neck and facial area.
• Fall asleep upright, not laying flat on the pew or lying down on the floor.
• Refrain from yelling, "Bullshit!" If moved the other way, then refrain from yelling, "Hell, yeah!" instead of, "Amen!"
• Speak quietly when addressing the voices inside your head, or not at all. Do not laugh aloud at something funny that you remembered.
• Don't argue openly with the pastor, priest, or clergyperson. Wait until after the service is over to go forward and quietly disagree. You may have to make an appointment or write your vicious reprisal on a visitor card. Also, deny the temptation of approaching an open mic.
• Avoid sitting in a wheelchair, using crutches, or wearing a cast or any kind of brace. If completely unavoidable, soil yourself to keep would-be layers-on of hands at a distance.
• If you have uncloved hooves and fear being labeled unclean, consider having them surgically cloved.
• If you have any condition of the skin that resembles leprosy, then wear pants, a long sleeve shirt, and a paper sack over your head with "NoTW" scrawled on it in big, bold lettering.
• If your breath smells like alcohol or sex, then wear a surgical mask. This also applies for Tourette Syndrome.
• Put out your cigarette before going inside.
• Stop greeting others with a "holy kiss."
• Don't shake hands if signs of the stigmata appear on your body and start bleeding.
• Try not to let any holy water get in your eyes or a crucifix touch your skin.
• If you are possessed by demons, try not to let your head spin around, projectile vomit, or utter unkind words about other people's mothers.
• Hide your liquor in a Starbucks cup with a drinking lid rather than from a flask or bottle conspicuously concealed in a paper bag.
• Refrain from eating Corn Nuts, or at least from ruffling the bag and burping while eating them.
• No shoes or shirt? Stop by the Lost & Found for a quick shopping spree.
• Avoid wearing a name tag that reads "Judas Iscariot" or "Mephistopheles."
• Avoid anointing foreheads with Chap Stick, or at least refrain from offering to heal others of their ugliness and stupidity, then criticizing them for their obvious lack of faith.
• Carry an Authorized King James Version Bible with you at all times — the bigger, the better.
• Turn off your cell phone.
• Sit in the front row. People can only stare at the back of your head, not turn and glare directly at your face.
• If there is a designated time to turn and greet your neighbor before getting the show on the road, then simply nod in their direction.
• If a Catholic service... Never mind — there is too much standing, sitting, kneeling, prescribed responses, memorized prayers, and traditional practices; not to mention that the Eucharist is off limits to your kind. You won't make it through. Just don't go. Refuse any invitation. Say that you're a Seventh-day Adventist.
• If a Seventh-day Adventist service.. Never mind — if not a church-goer already, then you are definitely not going to go on a Saturday.
• Exit out the side doors, but don't run. If your path is blocked by stragglers, then don't panic. Simply utilize spin maneuvers to deftly steer around and through them.
• Refrain from coffee and cookies. It's a trap by the friendlies.
• Should the person you came with linger afterwards to chit chat, then act like you don't know them and leave before they try to introduce you to others who will undoubtedly ask questions.
• If you shared a ride but you are the first one to the car after the service is over and you find yourself without keys, do not try to break into the car. Just start walking home. The person you came with should've known better — that's on them. This is a good opportunity to practice forgiveness.