Office Kung Foolishness

I was walking to the bathroom yesterday at work, when I saw something that made me bashfully look at the ground.

I'll give you one guess as to what made me bashfully look downwards:

a) a pretty girl
b) a very pretty girl
c) a co-worker doing kung fu
d) two of my co-workers making out in a cubicle
e) all of the above

Pick one.

Ready for the answer?

No, seriously, pick one first. It'll be more fun that way.

Here's the answer...

c

(If you didn't get the answer, come on! The glorious title of this entry gave it away, no? Unless you picked e...in which case, you're weird.)

That's right, it was the sight of a co-worker doing kung fu as he was walking about 20 feed ahead of me in the same direction, not initially realizing that he was being seen from behind by me.

First, I must describe the context of this scene.

I work in an office where all the employees have some kind of computer programming/science/engineering background. I won't say that each and every employee fits the stereotypical bill of a geeky looking Asian guy who has a terrible accent when he speaks and wears thick glasses, but this particular co-worker basically...fits that.

Now, imagine that kind of guy doing kung fu moves. Now, picture that same guy doing kung fu moves in an office setting, where professionalism is supposed to reign supreme. Are you starting to get it?

Without beating this into the ground, it goes without saying that this sight was one of the more unexpected, surprising, and ridiculous things I've ever seen, especially in an office. It's like he was totally oblivious for those three seconds before he turned his head ever so slightly to catch a peripheral glimpse of me. Needless to say, the kung fu action stopped immediately thereafter, arms quickly becoming limp at his sides once again.

Now, I don't know whether or not the guy was taking martial arts classes, or if the dude is a bona fide ninja. The bottom line is that no one should ever be caught flinging around their arms and fists, looking like a poor man's Steven Seagal in an office. No one, much less a computer engineer. (Unless that engineer's name is Chuck Norris.) It just doesn't fly.

My simple, straightforward point is that we all look foolish sometimes. The thing that matters is whether that foolishness stems from acting like someone you are, or acting like someone you aren't. Our current setting may tolerate one, but not always the other.

Prodigal Miser

I have a dirty little secret.

But if I share this with you, you have to promise me that you'll keep it on the hush-hush.

Ready?

I use a lot of printer paper at work, and none of it for my actual job.

For example, I eat lunch every day at around 2 p.m. At around 1:50 p.m. I begin perusing some of my favorite Web sites for interesting articles that I can print out so that I can read them during my lunch break. I have been doing this since my first week at work, which was over a year and a half ago. During the NBA season, most of the articles I print will be basketball-related, but during the offseason I'll print maybe one or two basketball articles, then print out a couple more articles originating from various news sites. On average, I print out approximately 8-10 pages of content every afternoon.

This past week, I had to print out 100 copies of something that was not work-related. I printed 50 pages at one printer, and 50 at another. One of the printers kept on getting jammed, so every sixth or seventh sheet would get crumpled up in the printer and would have to be thrown out. Alas, it took about 10 minutes to print out all 100 pages. A tragedy, I know.

I began thinking about my liberal use of company paper (in addition to various other company resources, including napkins, plastic utensils, drinks, and toilet paper [this last one could be another entry by itself] among others) and realized that the reason why it is so easy for me to print things out is because I do not pay for the printer paper. In fact, I do not pay for a single thing I use at work.

Would I ever print out 100 pages of anything at home? No! And why is that? Yes, because I'm cheap, but also because...well, I'm cheap. I mean, c'mon, do you know how much printer ink costs these days? It's ridiculous.

Now, I began mulling this over on my drive home today. I don't know why exactly. I'm sure part of it stemmed from guilt, and part of it from sheer 'the-drive-home-after-work' boredom.

But I realized this: though my liberal printing habits at work is a fairly appalling offense, the idea behind it does not have to be.

The way I see it, (get ready for a trite statement) there are basically two types of people: those that think that their life is their own, and those that do not. To dig even further into the latter group of people, they can be further split into two groups: those that believe their life belongs to those around them, their fellow man, and those that believe their life belongs to a higher being.

I'm a Christian, so I will speak from that perspective.

As a Christian, I believe (among many other things) that my life belongs to God. Not in any shallow, vanilla sense either. To be more specific, I believe that my life has been ransomed, purchased, redeemed, etc. by God, and that this fact is evidenced by the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

So, in a very real sense, it is my firm conviction that everything in my life (my time, my energy, my words, my thoughts, my body, my resources, my personality, my pains, my joys, my passions, my strengths, my weaknesses, my likes, my dislikes, my past, my present, my future, etc.) is not my own, but God's, because in ransoming my life he has come to possess all of me. Like Paul says in Romans 6:22, I am now God's slave.

I have not paid a single cent for anything I have had, anything I have now, or anything I will have in the future, nor have I paid a single cent for anything and everything that I am (and am not) today. Nothing that I would call "mine" in human vernacular is really mine.

I have paid nothing for it; I have paid nothing for anything.

Here is the point of the entry where that incessant confabulator named Conscience begins to murmur something in my ear.

Why, then, is it so difficult for you to be liberal with it all?

Tomorrow, at around 2 p.m., I shall feel utterly penurious.

WALL•E Wisdom

"I don't want to survive. I want to live!"