Emails Rool, Phones Drool

I hate the phone. I really do. I never really liked it, but now that email has arrived, I use the phone very little. I might be of a minority on this issue.

Of course, normal people live for their phones nowadays. Most people need little else in life, because their phones also take pictures and send text messages and open cans and cut down trees and sautee mushrooms and compliment your outfit and then thank you for the pleasure. I finally broke down about a year ago and got my first real cell phone. It does none of those things, as far as I know. It might do backflips, for all I know, but I'm not really interested.

Email is a about a thousand times better as a method of communication. I express myself better in written form than verbally, so that's probably a large part of my bias.

But you can't argue with the convenience of email. You can email someone any time, day or night, whenever it strikes you that you should. With the phone, you can't call earlier than a certain time in the morning or later than a certain time at night. You shouldn't really call during meal hours because people usually don't want to be interrupted then. People with jobs really don't have the time to talk to you during the work day. In the end, you're left with a window of about an hour or so each day when you can actually reach someone. You can always leave a message those other times, but then you're locked in a long, tedious game of phone tag.

But most of the time, when I want to communicate something, I don't need an actual conversation anyway. I just need to impart some information. I don't need to go through the whole rigamarole of regular conversation. "Hi." "Hey, how's it going?" "Good, how are you doing?" "I'm good, how's the wife?" "The wife is good." "Hey I really enjoyed ..." and then you're off track.

Maybe in the midst of all this, you can actually squeeze in what you wanted to impart, but then even when you try to end the conversation, there's often another unecessarily laborious exchange. "OK, well, I should get going; I gotta ... um ... melt the cat." "OK, have a good time melting your cat!" "Will do." "And say hi to the wife." "OK, and you say hi to ... your momma, I guess." "Will do!", etc. etc. I guess what I'm saying here is that I don't like talking to people.

So even at work, I email instead of calling or going to someone's desk. It probably saves me a full work day of pointless chatter every week. But old people are horrified at this practice. They seem to think it's rude to email when you could call. "Just pick up the phone!" they say, exasperated. To which I wittily rejoinder, "Fuck you." I don't want to pick up the phone. Who determined that calling is more polite anyway? When you're calling someone, you're interrupting them. They can get and read your email whenever they're ready to. I think email is much more polite.

So there. And, fuck you.

Urban Myths that Even Smart People Believe

For the most part, urban myths are believed only by stupid people. These conventional urban myths are typically stories with tragic endings and some sort of implicit lesson about not trusting people or not following fads or what have you. They're not only pervasive in themselves -- it's also become so prevalent lately to debunk them that they're really not that interesting.

I'm more interested in the little factoids that everyone thinks are true and passes around as givens -- except that they are completely wrong. I'm invariably suprised to learn that these aren't true -- and then I'm invariably pleased that they aren't. These factoids tend to be used as justifications for some sort of prosaic little life lesson, and it's saisfying to see these little lessons exploded. An example is in order:

"You only use 3% of your brain." Sometimes they say you only use 10% of you brain, sometimes more, sometimes less. It's all dead wrong. You use your entire brain. If there was a part that you didn't use, it would waste away -- the brain works according to a "use it or lose it" rule. Evolution would eventually take care of any large useless thing -- it would simply be wasteful to keep feeding oxygen to something that is never used.

The whole idea is founded on a mistaken understanding of the brain. It seems to suggest that the brain has many distinct departments that work independently. In fact, there are some areas that are more active during certain tasks, but for the most part an entire network of neurons throughout the entire brain work together on any given task.

I've heard several different versions for how the "3% idea" came about. The one I like best postulated that it came from an early brain researcher who discovered that a very important part of a major motor task was accomplished by a relatively small part of the brain. It turned out he was wrong, that the task took much more of the brain than he thought. But regardless, he used this result, extrapolated out for all the brain tasks he could think of, and then found there was lots of brain space left over.

But the "3%" idea really gained prevalence with Uri Geller, who repeated it a lot. He was a "mentalist" who would bend spoons, etc., supposedly with just the power of his mind. Of course, he was actually just a magician who used typical magician tricks to do these things -- but he wanted people to believe that they were also capable of telekinesis, and that they had vast stories of untapped brain potential for accomplishing these things.

Nowadays the "3%" idea is used to justify all sorts of things. It gives people hope that they have tremendous abilities that they are not using. Well, I'm happy to say that they're wrong. Whatever you're able to do right now -- that's about it. And over time, even those abilities will decay. You're welcome.

Bullshit Job Titles

I have a bullshit job title. I am a "search engine marketing consultant." Whenever anyone asks me what I do, I prepare myself for one of two possible outcomes:

1. About 15 minutes of trying to explain what the hell that means

2. Complete disinterest from the other person, followed by awkward attempt to change subjects

If I were on the other side of these conversation, I would always opt for number 2. Even more than bullshitty, "search engine marketing consultant" is such a "Golgafrinchan B Ark"-sounding name. I should explain that -- in the Douglas Adams book "Restaurant at the End of the Universe," there's a story about a planet that suddenly was facing disaster and told its population that they all needed to move to a different planet. They divided the population into three arks: the people who led and made decisions went in the A Ark, the people made things and did things went into the C Ark, and the B Ark was reserved for "everyone else." This was mainly hairdressers and middle managers. The B Ark went first. The C and A Ark people then celebrated getting rid of a useless third of their population by making up the whole disaster story out of whole cloth.

It's not fun to have a B-Ark sort of job title. But I have a feeling that more and more people have job titles like this now. Part of the problem is that new jobs are being invented all the time. There's no existing word for what I do, so apparently someone had to make one up.

But we could definitely do better than "search engine marketing consultant." That's a long, boring description, not a job name. Perhaps people thought that this work because it sort of explains the job in the title. But it doesn't, really -- as I just mentioned, no one understands what this is. This becomes especially true since no one who works here actually says "search engine marketing consultant" every time. It's too long -- you always call it "SEM." And no one upon no one outside this industry can possibly know what that means. You might as well just call me a "flooger," because it would be just as illuminating.

"Search engine marketing consultant" isn't going anywhere though, because it's perfect with the corporate world, where you have to use the most bloodless, lifeless words available for everything you say. If a sufficiently bloodless word doesn't exist, you make one up. You can't say "fire," because that sounds too exciting -- you have to say "downsize." You can't say "brainstorm," because it apparently makes it sound too interesting -- you have to make up the word "ideate."

I also think part of the problem is that people expect their job titles to be perfect descriptions of everything they do. For example, where I work, the sales reps don't want to be called "sales representatives" any more -- they are now "client consultants." Their reasoning is that they not only make sales, but they help clients with their Web sites. And "client consultant" apparently allows their souls to become freed from the stifling shackles of the term "sales representatives."

The problem is that "client consultant" is so vague that it is completely useless as a term. It could mean anything. Everyone who works with clients is a client consultant, because they all consult with clients. It's like me telling someone that I work as an employee.

Since when do job title have to be perfect descriptions of what people do? Doctors don't "doct." There's nothing in the word "doctor" that says anything about sickness, health, etc. We've just learned over time that what doctors do is help people who are sick. If doctors were invented today, we'd be called "client health care consultants." Then they'd be called "CHCCs" for short. No one would ever remember that, and then no one would get health care, and then everyone would die. Is that what you want?

It's not like it's impossible to make up good names nowadays and have them stick. Look at the Internet -- they're always making up odd little terms that work and work well. Crappy email you don't want is called "spam." Everyone knows what that is, even though there's really no relation between the Hormel product and crappy emails. Regardless, it now captures the concept perfectly, without having to resort to something like "unwanted email solicitations" (or UESs for short).

But I work in both corporate America and the Internet world, so apparently corporate America trumps the Internet and gives me a corporate-bullshit-sounding job title. Sigh.

Nerd v. Geek v. Dork

Among us nerds (and geeks and dorks), there’s always considerable discussion about nomenclature. Specifically, what are the difference between nerds, geeks, and dorks? Everyone has their own take on the subject, and they’re all wrong except me.

Nerds, geeks and dorks all have the same origin: the fringes of high school life. They were all rejects in high school – not invited to parties, no dates, etc. Sometimes, a high school can be so large that the nerds/geeks/dorks can manage to form their own little hierarchy, but they don’t tend to be good at that sort of thing. Jocks have an inborn ability to form a pack, full of alpha males and omega males and etc. Nerds/geeks/dorks, being all omega males, tend to be a bit more disorganized.

Anyway, as you move into real life, divisions start to show. Nerds are on the top of the heap. Nerds are nice, smart, quiet folks who have basic social skills but would often rather sit at home and watch a documentary than go to a wild party. They’re not the sci-fi crowd – they’re the type who really enjoyed school and continues on a lifelong journey of the mind and yadda yadda. They read literature and go to museums and when often say about themselves with a smile, “ah, I’m such a nerd!”

Nerds can often be quite charming and accomplished. They know how to comport themselves and work with people – the only traits that really mark them as nerds is their intelligence, quiet tendencies and uncool, bookish tastes.

Geeks are not so socially adept. These are the sci-fi fans and Renaissance Fair enthusiasts. These are the people that “just have something odd about them” and make regular folks slightly uneasy. They may be very smart, but their general oddness tends to keep them on the fringes of society.

Geeks are not only a bit socially unaware – they’re also not very self-aware. They don’t actually realize how lame it is to fill your cubicle with unopened action figures. They can’t seem to tell that most of what the Sci-Fi channel shows really, really sucks. They are unable to comprehend how the average person can’t reformat a hard drive. Nerds may have such tendencies but would be a bit bashful about them – geeks have no shame.

I’ve argued with people about this distinction between geeks and nerds with people who say that I have the groups right, but backwards. Geeks are the nice folks, they say; nerds are the ones who give us all a bad name. I stand by my take, though, because of the origins of the words. Originally, the word “geek” referred to a circus performer who bit the heads off of chickens. No joke. The word “nerd” has a more unknown origin. To me, that means geeks are a bit further outside the norm.

So what of the dork? The poor, unloved dork? Well, it’s not good news. They’re neither socially aware nor smart. Dorks are at the bottom of the hierarchy, left to menial jobs and lives of quiet desperation. I’d rather not talk about dorks any more – it’s too sad.

As you might be able to tell, I consider myself a nerd. And not a geek, thank you very much. There is a lot of resentment among us nerds about geeks whose outlandish, unapologetic lameness tarnishes the reputations of all of us. But really, we shouldn’t fight. We need to band together to protect the dorks. The jocks may have lost power since high school, but they’re still out there -- running hardware stores, manning middle management positions -- and we must maintain a united front. I'm sorry. Truce.

The Trouble with Concerts

Hip people, who listen to hip music, often tell us we should see more live music. I know because they sometimes have bumper stickers saying “SEE MORE LIVE MUSIC,” as if there’s some kind of national crisis in that respect. I wish I could tell them that I would, if it weren’t so painful, expensive, and/or irritating to do so.

Let me explain. I went to see the Flaming Lips recently. They are a wonderful band who put on a wonderful show, filled with balloons, confetti, laser lights, and of course most importantly, songs that I love. They were filled with energy and fun. It certainly wasn’t their fault that the experience was difficult for my wife and me. It was the fault of live music.

See, the Flaming Lips show, as is the case with any relatively hip band, played in a place without seats. This is conventional, but insane. Quite literally, as we left, I could barely walk, because my knees and heels were in so much pain. I know, I know, I’m an old, sad man. I’m 31, and I don’t exercise (because, by the way, exercise is for the weak. True strength involves the struggle to survive while in shitty condition), but I remember having the same problem when I was 20 and beautiful.

Where else, outside of perhaps a really bad day at the DMV, are we expected to stand in one place for four hours? At least at the DMV you get to move forward every so often. At a concert you have to militantly protect the tiny patch of floor you’re on so that no jackass moves in front of you.

Which brings me to the second problem with concerts: other people. Sure, it’s great to have a crowd roar in appreciation for something you also enjoy. But the same crowd will also stand behind you and scream “Play something dirty!” to the Flaming Lips and then laugh like hyenas. The same crowd will be really tall and then unexpectedly move right front of you just as the Lips come on stage. Then they’ll chainsmoke and cause your beloved and asthmatic wife to have to reach for her inhaler.

Of course, there are plenty of concerts that allow you to sit down. Those are old people concerts, and clearly, I’ll have to restrict myself to those. But the problem is that old people music still isn’t the kind I like best. I don’t like classical or opera. I’m not wild about the Rolling Stones, and I certainly don’t want to pay ten zillion dollars to sit a mile away from them in the ConHugeCo MegaDome.

To be clear, I love music, and there are few times in the day when I’m not listening to some (and those times are usually when the TV is on). I certainly wish concerts could be the ecstatic experience they’re supposed to be. But I have to wonder if there's something I'm missing. Perhaps the actual songs are secondary to the rite of hero worship. Maybe it’s not as much just listening to songs with others as it is visiting a shrine and watching your god perform a ceremony. Not that there's anything wrong with that -- but I seem to be unable to jibe with that somehow. Oh well.

Success Sucks

Any really successful person will tell you that the secret to success is perseverance. Never give up, they say. Always hold on to your dreams, no matter what happens. They typically say this as they accept an Oscar or Hall of Fame plaque. I think it’s a load of crap.

Granted, it obviously worked for them. But they’re not a representative sample for the overall effectiveness of this approach. You’d need not only to ask them, but also ask the millions of baseball players who languished in the minors and got nowhere. And then ask all the waiters and waitresses in New York and L.A.who waited to get discovered and never did. I’m sure they had the same “never say die” philosophy, and all it got them was a lot of struggle for nothing.

“At least they tried,” you could say. But time is your most precious resource in life -- what if trying means wasting 20 years of your young life on a pig in a poke? You could have been building a stable career, starting a family, making friends, exploring other interests, immersing yourself in a community – but instead you were getting rejection after rejection at auditions.

And many of the failures probably had the talent, but there just weren’t enough job openings. Everyone wants to be a baseball player or movie star. No one dreams of being an insurance adjuster. But there is a hell of a lot more need for insurance adjusters than baseball players or movie stars. Not everyone can follow their dreams – society just can’t support all those dreams.

But I’m probably blowing in the wind here. I think a lot of this really doesn’t have to do with whatever arguments I can make for and against perseverance. Some people are born with an unholy drive, and some aren’t. Some will ride that drive to either success or failure. The rest of us will just sit out and wonder.

I’m taking myself as an example. I was always told I could do anything, be anything, because I was a smart little kid. Part of me still feels like I should, that I’m wasting my potential by just being a cubicle jockey. But the truth is I never actually had the potential, because success is more about drive than raw smarts. And I’ve always been too laid back to do much striving. I like a quiet, contemplative life. I can’t deal with much stress or many demands. I don’t think I’m lazy, exactly, but I’m definitely not a workaholic.

See, there's a general assumption in this country that anyone can (and should, goddammit) work really hard, but I don't think that's true. "Work hard" is easy for some people to say -- for those people, working really hard is a heady experience, expending their surplus of energy. For others of us, working really hard spells a miserable, empty existence, for ends of questionable worth.

I’m not even convinced that success would make me happy. Wouldn’t it just mean even more work? Maybe a little bit more money and adulation – but would all that make up for the added stress? Maybe for some, but not for me.

Probably the big reward of success would be the feeling of accomplishment, of victory. I could see that being pretty good. I guess I’m hoping that instead I’ll get my snatches of pure happiness in a less predictable way. See, I think we’re all searching for moments of pure happiness. You could probably reach those by setting a big goal and then making it. But it’s not like those moments would last forever, because afterwards you just have even more work maintainting that spot.

My approach is to live a quiet life, do what you need to do, surround yourself with friends and family, and let those moments of pure happiness come on their own. I think you get struck with them now and again when you lead a satisfying, balanced life.

It gets back to that other old saw: “Find one thing that you really love and do it for the rest of your life.” I always hated that singular approach. It’s a recipe for a nervous breakdown. I think you have to find lots of things you love and pursue them in a gradual, mellow way. Otherwise, you’re just setting yourself up for the possibility that that one special thing will collapse or not end up being fulfilling. Then you’ve blown your whole life in a dead end. It’s like investing – you got to diversify.

Well, I think I’ve done enough convincing of myself for a while.