The Exploits of a TurboGeek!

No, this isn’t another post about the Hooter’s Girls.  *sigh*

I’ve got stuff!  Cool stuff!  I’ve got a fridge that is quietly humming away as it cools itself off in my Kitchen.  Did you know that “for safety, 5 degrees Celsius” should be sufficient for your fridge?  And also that -18 Celsius for the Freezer.  Neg 18, that’s like.  Um.  36, drop four.  Thats like 0 degrees F, and freaking cold.  Why isn’t just plain old freezing enough for the freezer.

I don’t know, the manual said that, the fridge agreed when I turned the dial to that value, I don’t care.  It will be cold, and full of food.  That is what matters.

I also have my “Waschtrockner”.  Wasch means “wash” and Trockner means “Dryer” and together they are the niftiest thing I hope I haven’t already discussed because I’m going to do it right now anyway.  A waschtrockner is a cool little device.  It washes your clothes.  Then when it is done washing them, it dries your clothes.  Easy peasy nice and easy.

Put clothes in, push button, come back later, dry clothes.  It also has a timer, so you can set the waschtrockening to happen in the middle of the night, when the power is cheaper, so that your clothes are nice clean and warm when you wake up in the morning.

Here come my boxsprings.

I don’t know why, but the installers started the waschtrockner when they installed it.  I guess that is a standard checkout-installation thing.  So it is downstairs wasching.  I’m going to stop it before the trockening starts, and then throw some clothes in there.  I haven’t done laundry since I moved out of my old place, and I need some fresh stuff to wear

In the meantime, I’m going to take my boxsprings upstairs.

I am tempted to write this in as suspenseful fashion as possible… I want this to be an interesting read, though the events probably don’t really fall into that category. I haven’t written for a few days, and my absense requires at least some explanation.

It started simply enough. A coworker was celebrating his 36th birthday, so his wife suggested we go to “Hooters.’ Yes, we have those here. After my last fiasco there, where I got far too drunk and was sick for two days, I decided that I’d volunteer to be the Designated Driver, since that should keep me out of trouble. During the last fiasco, which was highly entertaining, our DD got very drunk, so we took a train home. I was determined not to let that happen on my watch.

So, we were there for the party, and it was a blast. The Hooter’s girls are all darlings, and the celebration was great. The birthday boy got a good spanking with the Hooter’s Stick, and his 10 year old son got married to a Hooter’s girl… A fact which he was uncomfortable with, since he was afraid his girlfriend might find out.

And there was drinking. Lots of it. Our table (the kiddy table if you will) seated just four, since our party was too large to fit at one table alone. We went through about 100 euro worth of beer, an appetizer and a sandwich. A good time was had by all.

When Hooter’s closed, we all headed to another nearby bar for more hijinks, which is where we saw a sight none of us had ever witnessed before. The single largest and most comprehensive Polizei checkpoint in our collective histories. They had actually shut down the entire autobahn. Every car exited, and every driver was checked.

Ever been through a DUI checkpoint? They’re scary. Add to the mix an officer stationed every 20 feet or so, stopping you to give instructions, in a language none of you understand very well… Luckily for me, I probably speak the best German of the crew we were with, and I happened to be driving. Happy coincidence.

Luckily, the final officer we met spoke some English, so he was able to communicate what he needed from us, then the dreaded words…

“I smell some alcohol in here, I think.”

“Yes, I said. Its from all these guys.” I replied, at which point everyone in the car cheered.

“I think you must step out of the car and take a test.” He said.

‘Don’t stumble when you get out. Just don’t stumble…’ I thought to myself. Then I reminded myself that if I attempted to refuse the test I would immediately lose my job, and get shipped home. They’d also wrestle me to the ground and take my blood if they wanted. One does not refuse in Germany.

The mechanics of the Breathalyzer were explained to me in German and English, and then I blew…

“Hmmm.” He said. Showing me the display somewhat in disbelief.

“0.00… Very good.” He said.

I just smiled. “Someone’s got to get these guys home safely I said.” and then everyone in the car cheered again.

So that was it. I spent all night at Hooter’s drinking water (I had a beer with Dinner, but that was over 6 hours ago) and earned myself a Hooter’s spanking (barehanded and it hurt so good!) for “Watching my 3 friends get drunk because I’m the best Designated Driver ever.” in the Hooter’s girl’s estimation.

My colleagues couldn’t stop thanking me. I still wanted to wet myself. That checkpoint scared the bejeezus out of me. I knew I was sober, but all I could think about was what if something went wrong with that tester… My life as I know it would have ended right there.

But it didn’t. The device worked right, and I worked right, I was responsible and I got my friends home safely. I got an awesome spanking by hot Hooters girls (twins no less) and universal praise for doing something that I enjoy.

I was thinking about my rant a few weeks ago when I complained about feeling like I always have to do the right thing and be ready for everything. Turns out, I like being that guy. Generally it is a thankless job, but there are days when it pays off. Days when everyone looks at what you did and just keeps saying “Thank you.” because they can’t say it enough.

Maybe I can be a hero, and still have fun. Maybe I can pull it off.

Maybe those Hooter’s girls will email like they promised too. One can hope

P.S. I didn’t write for 2 days because I

went to Munich to visit my brother

Y’know,

I don’t like reading instructions.  Well, that isn’t true.  I do like reading instructions, I just don’t like following them.  As my stinker sister implied I had not Read The Fancy Manual (RTFM)…

In fact, I was actively following the instructions.  Those wily Swedes make a nice instruction manual.  Everything you need to setup a futon on exactly 2 pieces of paper, cunningly folded to make a 3 page book, consisting of about 18 or so pictures.

However, the bolt icon used to indicate “Do you have X?” for each bolt type contained in the package, is different than the generic “Bolt these two things here.” bolt icon used to indicate that two given pieces are to be connected.  Hence, the fact that I was reading the instructions actively didn’t help.

Which brings me to the next tale of instructional woe.  We have some stupid processes where I work, and some of them I’m not allowed to fix, I just have to play along.  So, I was assigned a task, which was fairly complicated and much hated by all, but I accepted since it was my turn.  They gave me the instruction manual, and off I went.

At around step 10, nothing was working right, so I asked the resident expert.  “Did you do step 0-C?” he asked?  Step 0, being the first step before Step 1, the first step in the manual.  “No.  I only did steps 0-A and 0-B.”

“Start over from the beginning and do all three of those, it should work…”  He said.

So, I started over, got to step 10, and the same problem, so I asked him again what was wrong, and then I learned about step 0-D…

“Well, you have to do 0-D too.  Start over from the beginning.” He replied.

“What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?” I asked… He just laughed…

So, again, I started over.  And then I followed the instructions to a tee, and when I got to the end, it didn’t work.  By now, I had reinitiated the process 3 times and had (apparently) avoided a very serious train wreck while performing another set of unlisted instructions.

By the end, a few of us had gathered around to see if it would all work, and there it was, not working.  Then our expert says, ‘Oh, you did all the steps.  There were two you should have skipped.”

“Of course I did all the steps!  Why are there steps that shouldn’t be done in the list of steps that should?”

A short discussion later, we were able to, thankfully, fix the problem without starting over.

And here is my point.  I don’t generally follow instructions because instructions are generally not well written.  I find I have better luck if I have to figure things out as I go, since I’m forced to actively think about what is going on, rather than just follow the script.

Granted, much of what I was doing at work required consistency, so the instructions were useful.  However, some stuff I could have done better if I thought about what I was doing, rather than doing what I was told.

Same thing with the futon.  If I was flying solo, I would have considered each bolt for the job I was employing it to do, rather than trusting the instructions to make the distinction.  Since I would have been thinking about the task, rather than the action, I might have made a better decision.

By the same token, if I had been working with someone else, I would have probably said something like “These bolts sure seem long…’ and then that might have sparked a discussion about bolt waste, and we’d have noticed some bolts were less wasteful for the task at hand.  We’d have been thinking about the task, and not the action.

So, this is why I don’t like following instructions.  Sure, many things might go easier, some stuff would also be harder.  It boils down to a choice.  Would you rather:

Do moderately well, and make a mistake because someone told you to.

Do moderately well, and make a different mistake because you’re a bonehead.

I pick the latter.  I don’t mind cleaning up messes that result of my own stupidity nearly as much as i mind cleaning up after other idiots.  Furthermore, if I make a mistake as a result of my own boneheadedness, I learn something, generally a unique mistake not to repeat.  If I make a mistake because I’m taking instruction from a proxy (manual), I only learn not to trust proxies.

This is particularly unfair as I’m sure that there are many trustworthy proxies out there who are needlessly maligned by the actions of some thoughtless manuals…

And for the record, the same goes for pulling over and asking directions.  Most of the time I’m lost I can’t easily describe where I’d like to be, and there is no reason to expect that a random person on the street might be prepared to guide me there.

It isn’t that I don’t want to admit I am lost, I freely admit that.  I’m lost often and I love it.  What I don’t want to do is compound my error by placing my trust in a proxy of unknown value, and thereby failing to learn enough about my environment to find my way on my own when I’m next in a similar situation.
So there is my “Think for yourself, mess up and be proud.’ Rant

Hey,

To answer Mike’s question…  No, he didn’t go outside and set his pants on fire.  Apparently he was only interested in setting his pants on fire if he could do it from the comfort of the chair he had been currently occupying.

To respond Lee Anne’s comment. Mmmm.  My bean bag chair.  Oh how I have missed thee.  I long to ensconce myself in your pebbly corduroy arms once again….

In other news, I’m a big stupid head.  Here’s why.  First, I was quietly putting my futon together one night, in my mostly vacant apartment.  I was self conscious about noise, since my place is all hard wood floored, and the previous tenant had remarked to me that his first encounter with his neighbors was them coming over late one night to ask him to stop putting together furniture.

Yes, in Germany quiet hours are enforced by law.

So, as I diligently worked into the wee hours, trying not to drop a single bolt or wrench, clattering and echoing about the place, I wondered to myself.  “Wow.  What a waste to use such incredibly long bolts in this spot.  That seems wasteful.  I’d have used shorter ones.”

Then I merrily went about assembling until I got to the end and then found myself thinking, ‘What the?  These bolts are way too short, there’s no way they’ll ever rea…  Awww Crud.”

Why don’t I ever pause to reflect upon what my quiet nagging doubts are showing me?

So, I had to partially unassemble parts of my partially assembled futon, without dropping anything…  But I pulled it off, and only dropped around half the parts after all was said and done.

Second reason…  Today, I bought a microwave oven.  You might have a microwave oven, but it isn’t nearly as cool as mine.  You see, in Germany, they really pack an oven into that microwave.  I had seen the microwaves before, when I was buying a toaster, but I wanted a toaster not a microwave, so I passed them by.

Then, while looking at the nukers, I saw they had two power ratings.  Microwelle und Grille…  Well, Microwelle seemed like Microwave, but grille?  That seems like “Grill”…  Then I realised that not all ovens had both ratings.   Upon closer inspection I found that many of the units had toasters built in!!!  A microwave and a toaster all in one!  You can toast and nuke at the exact same time!

No more crisp hot pizza crusts with cold sauce.  No more pies with cold crusts and molten filling that makes me want to cry.   Now, every portion of every meal I cook will be unbearably hot, none of this some hot some cold business.

What a wonderful world!

Of course, I now have a completely redundant toaster…

Howdy,

I’m back in the saddle, as it were.  I have internet, and therefore my phone, so I’m set.  I’m trying to settle into my new apartment, but it is slow going, so far.  You see, Internet and phone are about all I’ve got, so it is kind of hard to get settled.

Oh sure, I got me a nifty futon at Ikea, and the desk i always had.  Plus, some closets that I bought from the guy who moved out…  I also have a new washer/dryer (in one unit, it does it all while I do nothing!).  I have a mattess too, but those last two items I only own on paper, they haven’t been delivered yet.

Oh, I also have a couch, Love Seat and coffee table, also not available for another 3 months!  In fact, the majority of stuff I own, I don’t have yet.  Computer, car, matress, sofa, loveseat, washer dryer…  Also, my watch is in Switzerland getting recertified and my DVD player is god knows where also getting repaired. My stuff is everywhere but here.  I can’t wait until we’re all (re)united again.

I have to buy a refrigerator too.

Oh, I was going to work this into an entry somehow, but I just took to long getting back online.  How crazy is my workplace when I’m the one who has to say “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to go outside if you want to set your pants on fire.”

Me.  I had to say that.  To someone else.  What the hell?  And I was serious, some idiot at work was honestly trying to set his pants on fire with a lighter.  In a room with sprinklers and oh…  I don’t know, several million dollars worth of computers.  Egad.