There is a little kitchenette at my place of employment. In that kitchenette I keep various boxes of dry cereal as well as a carton of milk in the fridge. The distance from the kitchenette to my desk is around...50 feet. It takes me about 12 seconds to walk from one location to the other. I have recently been able to shave 3 seconds off of that time. Every second counts when your cereal is in jeopardy. Since I've started working full time, I've eaten cereal almost every morning at work. I've practically gotten it down to a science. If I book it from the kitchenette to my desk, and wolf down my cereal, I can almost still hear the crunch of my cereal even on the last bite. This morning was a different story. Right as I got to my desk, having almost spilled my cereal from trying to shave another second off of my "kitchen to desk" time, my phone rang. Had it been a personal call, I would have ignored it. Cereal is obviously more important. But unfortunately, it was a work call. The call took approximately 6 minutes and 47 seconds. I remember because during the entire length of the call, I stared desperately back and forth between the time on the phone and the bowl of cereal. As soon as the call ended, I immediately raised the spoon full of Life Cereal to my lips and into my mouth. There was no crunch. None. I contemplated throwing the ruined cereal away and starting over. But I didn't. BECAUSE THERE ARE STARVING CHILDREN IN AFRICA. (There are starving children in every country, but people tend to focus on Africa, so I'm just trying to conform.) Therefore, I finished every soggy bite of my cereal. Like a brave soldier. And by soldier I mean the toy ones in Toy Story that don't really do anything.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Currently there are quite a few things in my life that are "time sensitive." For example: Job applications, work projects, my summer diet plan, etc. However, I find that the most time sensitive project that occurs in my day to day life is when I attempt to finish my cereal before it gets soggy.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
I had recently added a psychology class to my schedule. Because I was two weeks late entering the class, I needed to stay after to talk to the teacher about what I've missed. My teacher is a grad student who looks like he's twelve. But I'm not judging.
As he was flipping through his folder, looking for a syllabus for me as well as other class materials, he started making small talk.
Teacher: So....where are you from?
Teacher: Yeah? That's really cool. What do you like to do?
Me: I like to cook.
Teacher: Oh really? That's great! Do you make a lot of Thai food?
Me: Not particularly...no. Haha.
Teacher: No? You've never made good Thai food? Like pad thai? Do you even like Thai food?
Me: I love Thai food...I've just never made any.
Teacher: I bet your parents love Thai food huh?
It wasn't until this point in the conversation that I realized he wasn't just living up to his looks of a weird, geeky grad student. He was mistaking Taiwan for Thailand. But again, I'm not judging. It's a common misconception.