Carnival of Wank

I used to train call center agents how to troubleshoot technical issues with a specific piece of software (a tale for another time), and one class a particularly outspoken agent (who had a tendency to ask rather personal questions) asked me “Do you like grilled-cheese sandwiches?” Please keep in mind that the subject of the moment had nothing to do with grills, cheese, or eating.

I stood in front of the class, slightly perplexed, and pondered for only a moment before answering, “Yes….”

Undeterred by the skeptical look on my face, she asked another question: “If I made you a grilled-cheese sandwich, would you eat it?”

This time I didn’t hesitate before answering with a firm, blunt, “No.”

Everyone laughed. The girl didn’t seem at all surprised, and dropped the subject. I honestly have no idea why she asked (I never did ask her), but based on some of her other questions (again, a story for another time) I can only assume she had a mild crush on me.

I did, however, explain to the girl, and class why I wouldn’t eat the offered sandwich, and why I no longer take my shoes off if someone else me not to.

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I work in a multi-story office building, and am lucky enough to have what amounts to a corner office. I get to spend my days and nights looking out over the city, the busy highway beside us, and one of the parking lots.

For the last month I’ve been working the graveyard shift, and I’ve noticed a rather strange series of occurrences. Between two and four AM, usually on Saturdays and Sundays, a single car would pull in to the parking lot. The driver and his passenger would the proceed to get out of the car and make out, rather sloppily, on the hood.

This would continue for ten or so minutes before the two would stop, get back in the car, and drive off. So far, I have seen this happen eight times, and always the same couple.

I wonder where one goes to find someone with that level of class?