23 articles found for: work in DC

It’s time for another round of “You Know You Work in DC When!”

10 May, 2010 | | No Comment

That’s right, your favorite game is back – It’s time for another round of “You know you work in DC when!” I had a good example today, which I’ll use to start the game; please share your own, even if anonymously – or as we say here, “not for attribution.” Come on, you watched the West Wing – you can play too!

You know you work in DC when you can tell the tourists at a glance – they don’t have badges.

You know you work in DC when you decide you can’t come to work because you’re allergic to cherry blossoms.

You know you work in DC when you wonder why your 5th-Grader is still talking about getting a seat in musical chairs, and you realize they’re referring to a Senate race.

You know you work in DC when you flip to the “Local Sports” section of the paper and they’re covering your county’s school board elections.

You know you work in DC when you take the train to the metro to your office, but you’ll still hail a cab to get 6 blocks up Pennsylvania Ave.

You know you work in DC when you hear people talking about the Oscars nominee and assume that some “Oscar” guy is being considered for the Supreme Court.

You know you work in DC when the number of euphemisms you know for “slept with an intern” exceeds the number of interns you actually know.

(Not to be confused with “You know you’re in politics when…” – You know you’re in politics when the number of interns you’ve slept with exceeds the number of euphemisms you know for it.)

OK, your turn!

It’s time for another round of “You know you work in DC when…”

21 November, 2008 | | No Comment

That’s right, your favorite game is back – "You know you work in DC when!"  I had a great example today, which I’ll use to start the game; please share your own, if anonymously – or as we say here, "not for attribution."

 

You know you work in DC when your spouse catches you on the computer at 1am and you try to tell them you’re surfing porn, because you don’t want to admit you’re still tweaking those PowerPoint slides.

You know you work in DC when your kids don’t ask if you can teach them to throw a ball, they ask if they can leverage your spherical acceleration experience.

You know you work in DC when you hear about the Attorney General collapsing, and the first thing you think of are the people you know who won’t be getting much sleep that night.

You know you work in DC when your idea of "going blackberry picking" has nothing to do with fruit.

 

OK, your turn! 

You know you work in Washington DC when:

27 August, 2007 | | No Comment

You check CNN in the morning to plan your work day.
Your friends have press secretaries.
You look at the World News / Current Events section of the paper – to plan your weekend.
You can plan your upcoming work week by looking at the press releases at Whitehouse.gov.
You walk around with more badges than keys.
You color coordinate your badge chain with your clothes.
You never ask what a three-letter acronym stands for. If you haven’t heard of it, you either look it up later or assume they can’t tell you.
When someone mentions a secretary, you don’t ask “whose secretary,” you ask “secretary of what?”
Your hot dog vendor knows more about politics than your high school civics teacher did.
You can’t remember the last time you heard less than three languages on the Metro/Bus/Train ride home.
You refer to all the memorials by their last names: The Lincoln, the Jefferson, the Einstein…
Someone mentions the end of the year and you assume they mean fiscal.
“Start of term” has nothing to do with school, or with loans.
You’re more likely to take a page out of someone’s office than someone’s book.
You measure success with how busy you are, not how much free time you have!

You know what’s wrong with DC?

11 October, 2007 | | No Comment

You know what’s wrong with this city? I’ll tell you. I was walking down the street the other day, and there was a guy panhandling, playing music, busking for money from passers-by.

Now ordinarily, I don’t mind that. You’re outside, you’re introducing the magic of music into my day, forged from your own breath, your own soul. A good or even halfway decent street performer will usually get my buck. But this guy wasn’t doing that. This guy had plugged in a boombox to an outlet on the side of a public building, and was playing the radio out of the boombox. He was just sitting there, looking angry, holding out his Big Gulp cup, empty but for the few couins that he rattled.

So let’s review: He’s not working, he’s not creating, he’s not paying for the electricity he’s using to play the radio, he’s playing a radio station – not even playing music that he’s purchased or even selected to play, and he probably stole the damn boombox. OK, that’s uncharitable, but still – here’s this homeless guy with his cup, and he’s too lazy to beg. What have we come to?

A Choice of Saints

30 April, 2017 | | 1 Comment

It seems sainthood is the question of the hour for me – so I’m running with it.  There we were, just a pair of innocents driving down the street, when we saw a license plate that said “StBndct.”  Sometimes you really have to try to parse a vanity plate.  In this case, one can tell right away that it’s an invocation to St. Benedict.  But why?   What’s he the patron Saint of, anyway, and why should he in particular be looking out for the welfare of this Toyota?

A little research turned up the fact that Good Old St. Ben is actually the Patron Saint of a lot of stuff:  Agricultural workers, civil engineers, coppersmiths, dying people, Europe, farmers, fever, gall stones, heraldry, inflammatory diseases, Italian architects, kidney disease, monks, nettle rash, servants who have broken their master’s belongings, spelunkers, and temptations.

Whoa.  I mean, that’s a lot of shit to be the Patron Saint of.   Patron Saint of temptations?  Pro or con?  Did Otis Williams know this?  The Patron Saint of dying people?  Isn’t that pretty much everyone, eventually?  That’s a pretty big gig.  Plus having to look after all of Europe.  And why civil engineers and Italian architects in particular?

And you know, it’s got to be a bit of a bummer to have to be the Patron Saint of kidney and inflammatory diseases, plus the gall stones.  Who decides this?  And I still don’t know why the Toyota was claiming him – a European model car would have made more sense.  Maybe the driver was a coppersmith, or a particularly clumsy butler.

Some further discussion lead to the topic of the patronage of saints in general.  It turns out, and some of you may know this, but there are more than 800 saints of something or other.  I knew that St. Christopher was the patron saint of travelers, but Bona of Pisa has them also, covering not just travelers in general but flight attendants in particular.  There doesn’t seem to be a lot of rhyme or reason:  Augustine of Hippo covers printers and brewers, Bernard of Clairvaux looks after bee keepers and overpaid Madison Avenue advertising executives.  St. Christopher also covers bookbinders, gardeners, and pilots.  I knew St. Jude was for lost causes, but it turns out that undertakers have their own saint (Dismas), as do coffee house owners (Drogo), locksmiths (Dunstan), and lawyers and lumberjacks (Genesius and Gummarus, respectively).

Nurses and shepherds seem to have a lot of patron saints.  St. Malo covers pig-keepers, while St. Roch drew surgeons and gravediggers – two sides of one coin, I suppose.  St. Veronica was famous for her veil, which became the Shroud of Turin; seems kinda mean to make her the patron saint of laundry workers, but there you go.

I have to wonder, is there a beautific game of cards going on somewhere, where the saints swap these patronages around when someone is newly canonized?  Poor St. Agatha got stuck being patron saint of breast cancer, while St. Christina the Astonishing is the saint against insanity and mental disorders.  I suppose she was astonished to get picked for that.  And it really seems mean-spirited that the patron of the blind and the lame is Saint Abel.  Seems pretty ableist to me.

I can see them sitting around a heavenly table playing cards, halos slung over their chairs, bitching about their lot.

St. Damien of Molokai:  “Oh man,  leprosy?  Really?  That’s just gross.”
St. Edmund the Martyr of East Anglia:  “Just one disease?  Quit your bitching, I drew pandemics.  Besides, hardly anyone even gets leprosy any more.”
St. Fiacre:  “I’ll trade you there, Ed.  I’d rather have a nice quick pandemic than my divine plate full of venereal diseases and hemorrhoids!  Hey, Vitus, wake up!  What’d you get?”
St. Vitus:  “Heh, sorry, yeah, that sucks.  I got oversleeping.”
St. Edmund the Martyr of East Anglia:  “Oversleeping?  We need a damn saint for oversleeping?  Pansy.  Gummy, what the hell are you singing?”
St. Gummarus:  “Oh, I’ve got lumberjacks and I’m OK….”
St. Fiacre: “Shut it, you.  Someone shuffle the cards again, huh?  Come on guys, I hate hemorrhoids.”

In light of the fact that it seems like you can self-select your own patron saint and the poor sod of a saint just has to live with it, I think bloggers need their own.  I know Saint Isidore is the patron for the Internet in general, but I’m declaring St. Arnold of Soissons to be the Patron Saint of Bloggers.  He was probably bored, just covering beer and those who pick hops – he should have plenty of time to watch after the bloggers!

Besides, now I can have a beer and pretend I’m working.