Boothbay Mini-Moon, Part 2

I rescued my pictures from my camera! Now I can actually show you what we did and where we were all weekend.

The weather was gorgeous on Saturday and Sunday. Perfect blue skies with just little poofs of clouds here and there, lots of sun, and although it was windy and I was chilly, the 60 degree temps in Maine in April were a welcome surprise.

This is the Welch House where we stayed. Here's a view from the roof deck:

And here's from the window of our room (The Captain's Lady):

Saturday morning after our yummy (and my adventurous) breakfast, we took a walk down the hill into town to watch the morning's Fisherman's Festival activities. We'd missed the Cod Relays (yup--dressed up in fisherman regalia tossing giant fish at each other) but were able to get to the dock for Trap Hauling Contest. In this event, contestants ran down the dock, untied their boats and jumped in. The Skipper hauled that sucker out into the harbor where the contestants raced to find, bait and drop a few lobster traps and then haul ass back to the dock, tie up and run back up the dock. Fastest time wins. Our view wasn't great--we were on the next dock over and two boats were in between us--but we got the vibe. Especially when those lobster boats came full speed into the docks and the wake shook us around a little bit.

I didn't have sweatshirt with me and was getting a little cold, so we decided to walk back up the hill to the inn. We spent some time on the roof deck relaxing, reading and listening to more of the festivities. After a little while, we decided to walk around town again since there were a few other goings on. We did a little shopping, stopped by the craft fair and watched the crowd around the docks some more. Then we decided to take a drive. Stopping by the market, we grabbed some lunch, got some beverages and drove out of town to Ocean Point, a rocky coast on the opposite side of the harbor.

We ate our lunch and hiked along the rocks. It was windy, but really pretty and D took some great pictures. These shots are his--I was using our little point and click camera and it was so sunny, I couldn't even see the screen to know what I was taking a picture of. A photographer I am not.

We came back to town and took another walk around, this time stopping at Orne's Candy Store. This place is awesome. Everything is handmade and they've been in business for 125 years. We thoughtfully chose our favorites (I definitely bought two peanut butter cups because I certainly wasn't sharing one with D) and walked toward the shipyard. Supposedly there was to be a tour of a big sailboat and D was looking forward to it. However, when we got to the shipyard, not only was there no people around, there was no sailboat. Anywhere. Not even a little one. We suspect the boat just never made it. A bit of a bummer for D, but I was ok. I had chocolates.

Later that evening, we finally decided to go to dinner at Robinson's Wharf, a cute pub-style restaurant with seating on the dock (in the warmer weather) and a pub upstairs with a deck and live music. We stayed downstairs and grabbed a seat at the window so we could look out at the water (until it got too dark and all we saw were our reflections). I stopped being adventurous and ordered a burger and fried, but D was in his glory trying the lobster BLT. He described it as a lobster roll topped with a BLT sandwich for garnish. And he was very excited to have gotten two primary vacation food groups in one meal--lobster and bacon.

(See, I told you I wasn't an photographer.)

The next morning we awoke to another wonderful breakfast. This time is was blueberry pancakes the size of the plate and sausage, with good old fashioned New England maple syrup. They were fantastic, as expected. After, we took a brief walk around town, stopping to take some pictures. We walked down to the pier and I remembered that next time we visit Boothbay, it has to be during whale-watching season since they do great whale-sighting cruises out of the harbor. I'm sure my niece will give me a hard time though because she's wanted to come visit for years ever since she learned that I live somewhere close to where she can see whales.

We walked out on the dock and I actually did take one cool shot, so maybe I'm not that bad a photographer after all.

And then I had to share this one. It's a really big shop specializing in magical-dragon-fairy-rainbow stuff. It's hilarious. This tiny little coastal Maine town described by a local as "a drinking town with a fishing problem" can actually sustain this store:

For reals.

Later, we checked out of the inn, thanked Michael for the wonderful stay and hospitality and drove to Pemaquid Point, another rocky coast--this one boasting a lighthouse from the 1800s--a little further up from Ocean Point. It was a great day for a drive and again, D got a lot of great pictures. The lighthouse wasn't open, but we walked around the grounds and hiked the rocks, enjoying the late morning.

After basking the warm sun and chilly breeze, we decided to head back. I teased D about stopping at Subway for lunch. Unamused, I offered that we stop at Red's Eats, a very popular-- and it turns out very yummy--food stand right on the corner as Route 1 goes though the town of Wiscasset.

D had crab cakes and I just got chicken tenders, but the food was yummy. And the people where great. They run a very tight ship, but a great operation. Super friendly staff. It's just a little place, so all the seating was outside and I think part of why they were so busy was the beautiful weather. Everyone was taking advantage. When we sat down, I noticed a sign that listed probably 100 publications/TV broadcasts where Red's had been mentioned or featured. It was pretty impressive and not just limited to New England. Sure the Boston Globe and Phantom Gourmet had noticed Red's, but so had newspapers in Indiana and Alabama, the Food Network and even a PBS special from Pittsburgh. Pretty impressive.

So our mini-moon was a relaxing success and of course we'll be going back to the Boothbay Harbor. I didn't make D stop in Freeport to shop on the way home, but I'm thinking next time, I might just have to do that.

Boothbay Mini-Moon, Part 1

This weekend my husband and I took our mini-moon. And it was a great weekend.

Backing up, D & I tied the knot in September, but chose not to honeymoon right away. We’d planned to go to Lake Tahoe this month, but hadn’t made plans or reservations. We just knew we wanted more time to plan it out, save a few more bucks and do it right. We wanted to do an active vacation with possibly hiking, biking, kayaking and other fun, outdoor things. Unfortunately, when D got hurt in December, that wrecked any idea of planning since we couldn’t be sure he’d be well enough for that type of excursion.

Luckily, in mid February we got a postcard in the mail from the bed and breakfast we’d stayed at the weekend we got engaged. It offered a deal we couldn’t refuse, so we made the best of the situation and took our mini-honeymoon to Maine.

We drove to Boothbay Harbor on Friday afternoon. It was cloudy and drizzled at some points, but was an otherwise ok drive. Well, except for the lunch part of things. We’d left the house at noon and decided we’d stop for sandwiches at Subway somewhere along the way. I knew there was a Subway on the highway about 30 minutes from home, but wasn’t sure which exit. When I saw the sign on the highway, it was too late for D to switch lanes, and since it was so early in the trip we figured no big deal, we’ll see another one. We continued traveling on I-495, and then eventually I-95, and ultimately I-295. And wouldn’t you know there wasn’t a damn Subway anywhere? To be honest, we had gotten to the point where we didn’t really care if it was Subway or something else, but really, we drove for hours without seeing anything suitable for lunch. Finally, we got close to Freeport, ME, and I saw a sign for a Subway, a half mile from the exit to the right(ish) (it was one of those arrows that wasn’t actually pointing in a direction you can describe—halfway between right and straight, but the street didn’t have that many options). So D went that way, but I guess we picked the wrong right(ish) road, because we ended up driving through downtown Freeport.

Now, if you’re not familiar, Freeport is your typical small Maine town, except for the fact that it is home to L.L. Bean company headquarters and its massive outlet store, around which a village of outlets sprung up. Despite this, the town is still very cute and cozy (at least the parts I saw of it)—very Maine. D did ask me if I wanted to stop anywhere, but I resisted and we actually didn’t go into any stores. (My credit score is proud of me.) We eventually came across a Friendly’s and decided that was good enough, so we parked, grabbed a bite to eat (about 3 hours after we left the house), and resumed our trip (which was less than 45 minutes). Of course, on the way back, I was able to locate about 5 Subways.

We got to Boothbay Harbor and pulled into the parking lot at the Welch House Inn, a beautiful bed and breakfast with the most wonderful view of the Harbor. When we stayed a year and a half ago, our room was on the top floor, overlooking the roof deck that overlooked the Harbor. This year, our room (which was bigger) was just underneath the roof deck, but still had a great view. We checked in and got settled into our room. Then we took a quick walk down the hill for some beer, and started our vacation. We decided to unwind with a beer before figuring out where to go for dinner.

For the record, part of the reason we chose this weekend to visit Boothbay Harbor was the events planned for the weekend. The Fisherman’s Festival was taking place, which is basically a lot of hokey, fishing-related events that the locals get really excited for as one last hurrah before the busy summer tourist season kicks off. It’s sort of like the unofficial end of winter for them. So as we walked around town, we noticed a few businesses were opening for the first time for the season, while others were still closed up. And there were few people milling about on Friday night. This may be because they were all at the high school for the Miss Shrimp Pageant. Our decision to go to McSeagull’s for dinner was based in part because our deal at the inn included a $50 gift card for the restaurant and because we figured the locals would swamp the place after Saturday’s festival events.

We wandered down to McSeagull’s which is a good sized pub and restaurant catering to the beer drinking public specializing in local favorites—any kind of seafood, especially lobster. They had a live band that night and we got a seat right on the water (the restaurant is on a pier). The food was great. We ordered drinks and nachos; I had a pulled pork sandwich and D had “popcorn lobster” because he’d never had it before and was curious. For those of you who want to know, I renamed the dish lobster tenders because these suckers were huge. Big pieces of claw and knuckle meat, deep fried and served with French fries.

Now, I don’t eat seafood. I’ve tried different kinds on many different occasions, and I just can get past the fish-flavored aftertaste (yes, I know good fish doesn’t taste ‘fishy,’ but the general flavor of the ocean/seafood is too much for me) and oftentimes the texture. But I was feeling adventurous, so I asked D if I could have a bite. I tasted it, really waited for the flavors and can honestly say it wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever had. It was, in fact, the best fresh seafood I’ve ever had. But I didn’t really like it. (D gave me points for trying, though.)

Saturday morning we woke up and were anxiously looking forward to our breakfast. The Welch House is known for two things—the gorgeous view of the water and their a-MAZE-ing breakfasts. They start with a wonderful spread of fresh fruits, pastries (Saturday was cranberry muffins), cereal, yogurt and their homemade granola that is so good and different. D and I call this spread the breakfast appetizers. As we sat on the deck enjoying the beautiful sunshine and warm weather, Michael, the husband part of the husband and wife owners, came over to offer us the day’s breakfast—quiche with crabmeat. Still feeling adventurous, I decided to give it a try. We joked with Michael that I didn’t have to finish it, but it was worth tasting.

Michael brought out our dishes and I must admit it looked very pretty with a little baby green garnish and finely chopped crabmeat you could barely tell it was in there. I took a bite and did ok, but noticed the seafood undertones much sooner than in the lobster tenders from the night before. But I couldn’t decide if I didn’t like it. So, yes, I had another bite. Ultimately, I decided it really wasn’t my thing, but I was proud of myself for testing the waters since that’s something I don’t normally do. I guess that’s part of growing up—I supposed that since I’m 30 I ought to at least try things I’m not sure about before I turn my nose up at them.

D was proud of me too, but I think he was also happy I didn’t eat my breakfast. Michael came over to check on us and asked if I was going to finished it or let D eat it. I told him it was ok, but I was going to give it to D. He thanked me for trying and D definitely finished every bite.

There’s definitely more to the story, but I think the Festival activities deserve their own post. And I have pictures that are currently being held captive by the camera, so I’ll stop here.

Night of the Living Mouse

You know that commercial where the cat hires the bloodhound to sniff out her litter box? I’m very close to hiring a cat to sniff out mice in our attic.

Ok, so where did I leave off? Yes, D had caught a mouse but there was suspicion that another mouse existed. Well, that was confirmed. D reset the trap and another mouse was caught. Yet, the peanut butter was again suspiciously missing. So D reset the trap and added a second trap to rid ourselves of the possible mouse sanctuary in our attic.

Snuggled comfortably in my bed, dreaming of things other than mice, I am bolted awake at 2:45 am but not exactly sure by what. It was a loud noise, for sure (although seeing as how D was undisturbed in his slumber, he’ll argue it wasn’t that loud). The noise is followed by softer noises, but not the traditional scratching of a mouse. Of course, persistent noise in the middle of the night causes my mind to immediately race to an intruder. I came this close to waking up D, and then thought, “Wait, this sounds mildly familiar.” The humidifier then cycled off, so I got a better idea of the noise. Oh how familiar it was!

Remember when I said a few years ago our mouse trap was “inefficient”? Yeah, turns out the new ones are inefficient, too. Again, struggling on the access board to the attic, was a mouse that got himself caught, but not “finished.” So I lay in bed in the dark, trying to ignore the sounds of my struggling mouse-intruder, hoping to be rescued by peaceful slumber.

And then I had to pee.

D & I have a strange layout to our bedroom that has two doors leading to the hallway. They are side by side, but not connecting. We believe the original layout of the house was two separate rooms, and at some point, someone took down a wall, but left the two doors. We rarely use the one closer to the closet (I’ve got shoes and clothes hanging on the back of it), but at this time, having it seemed like such a good idea. Because the door we typically use leads out to the hallway directly under the attic access point.

But using the other door would be too easy. Why have a simple solution to avoid walking directly underneath vampire-mouse? I couldn’t use the other door because D had the ladder resting against it in the hallway (that would have been one way to wake D up—“sorry I dropped the 6 foot aluminum ladder on the bedroom floor at 3 in the morning, baby!”). So I had a decision to make. Use the regular door and get close to the sounds of the undead or hold it and hope to fall asleep anyway. (And if you know me, you know that the second option is just preposterous.)

So after about 20 minutes, I summoned the courage to go to the bathroom (wow that looks as ridiculous typed out as it sounded in my head). I ran to the door, opened it, and hurriedly made it to the bathroom without hearing too much movement. Unfortunately, I was not so lucky upon my return (I think he knew someone was nearby and was pleading for help). I tried desperately to ignore it, ran back into bed, and eventually fell asleep.

Three hours later, my alarm clock goes off and I have vague recollections of the events of the wee hours that morning, although I do think to myself, “I’d better tell D to take care of that later today.” As I walk out the bedroom door to the bathroom, I am surprised to hear slight movement above my head.

I kid you not, in 3 hours this mouse would not give it up.

At this point, I’m so over Terminator-mouse, that I’m not even fazed by it. I continue to get dressed and ready to leave. I wake up D to drive me to the train station, fill him in on his duty for the day, and let him know that we have a special breed of indestructible mice living in the sanctuary.

Later D tells me that he did check out the situation (approximately 4 hours from impact). Both traps had gone off, but only one was “full.” And all the peanut butter was gone. We’re hoping that the caught mouse had tried to eat the bait off the other trap and set it off, but we’re not sure.

And if you think this story is over, it’s not. However, the next part is a little gross, so I won’t be offended if you stop here.

Apparently when D checked the trap, the mouse was still, we’ll say struggling. D knew he had a task to handle, so he did what any good man would do. He thought about his petite, peppy and brilliant friend who for several years held a job in a lab that required her to kill mice on a regular basis. And he recalled the method she’d shared with us. Below is the email exchange they shared on the subject.

Dear K,

I’m so lucky to know someone that does such strange work as killing mice/rats. I’ve had a couple of the pesky critters roaming my attic. I successfully taken out 2 of them. They all went quietly. Recently I caught a 3^rd. It did not go quietly. After finding it attached to the trap I devised two options. 1. The soon to be patented K Neck Snap technique (with pencil) and as a backup 2. The guillotine method with a hatchet. I’m very thankful that after my second attempt with the K Neck Snap technique. Option number 2 was not necessary. I really didn’t want to clean my hatchet.

Thank you for your wisdom,

D

Her response:

Haha, I'm glad I could help. Good job! Be careful with the pencils though- they can break... pens are much more reliable. My current lab doesn't allow us to do cervical dislocations down here, so it's been awhile since I've used that technique myself. We need to gas mice and then cut open their chest cavity. It takes like 5 minutes to kill a mouse now. Lame!

How do you pronounce Eyjafjallajokull?

Apparently you just say “volcanic ash.”

So as I’ve mentioned, I work in an environment that brings business executives from around the world together to learn how to do better business. This week I was scheduled to work on a custom program, which means all of the individuals would be from the same company. My organization would teach 29 executives from this company all the things they need to improve their company. The company is a large, recognizable shipping company based in Denmark. In recent news, they’ve been the target of pirates in the South seas. What I didn’t know is that apparently pirates and volcanoes are friends.

On Friday, my team and I started thinking, “Hmm. We have 29 people trying to get from Denmark to Boston. And a volcano is preventing any flights from leaving Europe. So, how’s that gonna work?” The program was to start on Sunday, with some people arriving to Boston on Saturday night and most of the group arriving on Sunday morning and mid-day. By Friday afternoon, the company had canceled each employee’s booking with the commercial airlines and chartered a private plane. They were scheduled to depart Europe on Saturday morning, and arrive in Boston Saturday night.

I think you know where I’m going with this.

Of course they didn’t get out on Saturday. Their fancy chartered plane doesn’t change the fact that a VOLCANO erupted and was making it reckless and unrealistic to fly. So there was a 15-20% chance (where the hell they pulled that number from, I have no idea) they would get out on Sunday, so we could push the program start to Monday, and go through Friday (we were supposed to be Sunday to Thursday). On the bright side, I didn’t have to work on Sunday. So I stayed home and baked cookies. (D is now very happy with the volcanic ash).

So of course it was no big surprise when I got an email on Sunday telling me the program was canceled. The good news was that I didn’t have to work any long hours this week. Yeah, it’s a little crappy that I won’t get the overtime hours and I did put a lot of work into the prep, but I’m OK with that.

But what’s funny is that through the process of updating us on the timeline and changes, the program manager kept saying, “I’m so sorry for all these changes,” which I just found hilarious. I finally had to say, “Stop apologizing. You didn’t piss off the volcano.” But then I started to wonder.

Maybe she’s a pirate.

A Mouse in the Attic

Or possibly a squirrel.

Last week, I was nestled in my cozy bed in the middle of the night, minding my own business when I was suddenly woken up. A little noise was coming from above the bed, namely, the attic. It was a combination of the tell-tale scratchy noise of a mouse and what I can only describe as an acorn being rolled across the rafters. (D later described it as mouse bowling.)

Regardless, I was not pleased. Especially since between the acorn rolling and scratching sounds, I also had to deal with D's snoring. Well, until I poked him. Which he didn't like. Because he started whining in a sleepy, confused state, "Ow, why'd you hit me?" And then proceeded to fall back asleep and continue snoring. Lucky me.

I stewed for a little while before falling back asleep because a) I had to go to work the next morning and this little bugger was annoying; and b) D & I had bought mousetraps the weekend before since we had heard Mr. Mouse's scampering before. It was rather inconsistent and we didn't hear him every night. In fact, D had even set a trap before. And when he checked it, it had not gone off, but the peanut butter was all gone. Hence, we needed to buy new traps.

Eventually I fell asleep and the next day ask D if he'd set the trap. He hadn't. Apparently I'd hidden the traps. In the bag from Lowe's. In the kitchen. Right out in the open that he probably walked past 20 times a day. I love my husband dearly, but he's right. If I want to hide something from him, all I have to do it put it right in front of him.

So he baited and set the trap and put it in the attic. And we proceeded to forget about it...until last night.

Now, I must interrupt myself and explain, this is not like the time that I was home and heard the trap go off. Since we live in a ranch-style house and the attic doesn't have pull down stairs, there is just a piece of wood at the access point to the attic, which is located in the hallway. A few years ago we had a little mouse get in the attic. D set a trap, and apparently placed it very near to this access point. One day I was home and the trap went off. Now that's a sound I was ok with. But what proceeded to happen is something that could have lived without. The trap went off, and must have fallen onto the access piece of wood, because for the next 15 minutes all I heard was "thump, thump...whack, thump...thump, whack." Apparently our trap wasn't "efficient" so I actually started pleading with the mouse to "just give it up, buddy." Of course, D was very happy that I'd left it for him to take care of when he got home.

So fast forward a few years, and what did I hear last night? Well, it wasn't the trap going off.

Me (lying in bed, just about to go to sleep, with my eyes wide open as soon as I heard the faint scampering): I know you heard that.

D: Um...yeah.

Me: Did you check the trap?

D: No...but only because you've been home. (I like that in this situation, I'm more of a nuisance than the mouse)

Me: So, it might be a new mouse?

D: It's either a mouse or....

Me: Or a squirrel? Because I'm still trying to figure out what a mouse would do with an acorn (because I am convinced that was what he was rolling about the other night).

So imagine how excited I was to receive this text from my husband this morning:
mice population in attic -1

Unfortunately, he also confirmed that there is in fact a second mouse. Apparently our attic is a mouse sanctuary. Although D said he thinks the first mouse was a sacrifice because all the peanut butter in the trap was gone. I guess now it's my husband versus the Alpha Mouse.

APB: The Dingo is Missing!

I came into work this morning and walked past the dingo habitation and I noticed something was awry. The dingo is missing! Even his tail is gone (his tail was a good 3 feet away from the rest of his body on Friday).

If you have any knowledge as to the whereabouts of this dingo, please let me know.

On a brighter note, there are no geese on the lawn this morning.

Must Have Been the Good Weather

If you don't know my feelings on the public transit commuters in Massachusetts, let's just say I'm not friends with them. The pushing, the shoving, the me-first attitude and the blatant disregard for the fact that other people are riding with you and that you are not in a bubble, drive me bonkers. But yesterday, I witnessed two things that my first thoughts were (in this order): 1) wow, that was really nice; and 2) I have to make a blog post out of this.

Yesterday afternoon I was on my way to North Station which required a longer trip on the T than I usually take. I'm fortunate to usually have a one stop ride, but this was 5 stops and then changing trains for another 3 stops--not my favorite kind of thing. But it was a pretty day, cool with some wind, but generally sunny. And after the month of March being monsoon season around here, even a little bit of sun was putting everyone in a good mood.

At one of the stops after I got on, a women wearing hospital scrubs got on. Nothing unusual, but she actually looked more like she was a patient, possibly chemo, and since the train was rather full, there were no seats (I was standing in the doorway area). And then something happened that has happened so infrequently, I could probably count the number of times I've seen it in 3 years on one hand. A gentleman in his late 30s/early 40s got up and offered his seat to this woman. I was so shocked I wanted to lean over and say, "You're a good man." And not as a means of being offensive to the people who didn't offer, but more to acknowledge that he did the right thing.

A few stops later, a much older woman (maybe 80s) got on the train with bag and her cane and was standing next to me (at this point, I'd moved further into the middle of the train, still standing). Immediately a young woman (20s probably) said to the older woman, "Please take my seat" and got up. The older woman protested and said no, but the younger woman stood her ground and said, "No, I insist" and moved away from the seat. The older woman sat down and was very thankful.

I was floored. Two random acts of kindness in one train ride!! That's amazing. And it made me feel a little better about my fellow commuters. Don't get me wrong, we're still not friends. But next time I might pause before I yell at someone for pushing me.

Who am I kidding? Of course I'm still going to yell at them.

Why I'm Glad I'm Not 24

Last week I had an opportunity to take a half-day training session on Communicating at Work. Sounds like something you have to go to because you did something wrong (partially true), but I actually was interested in going before I was "asked" to look into it.

See here's the thing: you already know I work with mostly women, but what you may not know is that all lot of those women are young. Now I know what you're thinking--"But you're only 30 and you've spoken so much about how life is just beginning!" Well, yes that's true. But oftentimes I find that the 6 or 7 years between myself and my coworkers can feel like a lifetime.

There is an absolute difference in maturity and experience, as well as general work skills. It's amazing how working in an office every summer of college and having a work-study job in the Registrar's Office during my junior and senior years gave me skills that some of these young women can't even grasp. Like how to load a printer. Or change toner. Or order office supplies. It's really what irritates me the most about the people I work with. There are simple tasks that they don't need their fancy degrees for but yet they can't figure it out. I learned to do some of these things when I was 18 but at 24, they still stand there for 5 minutes trying to figure out if they have to take the cap off the toner.

But, back to my training. It was actually time well spent and the trainer was very engaging. He was down to earth, funny and made the material useful. Which is important. He discussed how to create an invitation to speak and a bunch of other stuff that only communication geeks like me would be interested in. I actually got a very good question answered. At the end of the class I asked him how I can create an invitation for someone to listen to me.

Here's the deal, my direct teammate has an aggravating habit of not looking at me when I'm speaking to her. Instead, she'll have her eyes glued to her computer (usually Face*book or G*chat) and responding to messages while I'm talking to her, regardless of whether I'm providing her with my witty banter or important information to accomplish our jobs. It was to the point that last week I was actually doing on of her tasks (because she doesn't know how to mail merge--yes I realize a lot of people don't, but this is actually something she should know because it's her JOB), and when it came to a point for me to tell her the next steps I had to say, "Look at me and listen because this is important." Seriously--how much of a bitch did I sound like. But nevertheless, I'd already said it (and she actually seemed unfazed by it).

Feeling like I should improve this style of behavior for both myself and my coworker, I asked the trainer what to do after relaying to him this most recent incident. And he had some genuinely good advice. He suggested I point out to her the behavior makes me feel crappy and like she doesn't care about what I'm saying, and then take the conversation from there. I haven't tried it yet, but I intend to and it will probably be successful.

So now the question is, at what point do you learn that it is appropriate to give someone your full attention when they are speaking to you? And when did it become such a bad thing to ask questions when you don't know the answers (like, hi, I'm new here. How do I order office supplies?)? It's really mind-boggling. Asking questions indicates that you are interested and involved and want to be successful. Standing there with a blank look on your face and an inability to complete your tasks indicates that you don't care and/or are stupid.

Honestly, was I that stupid when I was 24? (Anyone other than my brother can comment.)