It was a cold winter day in 2007. Which was unfortunate because this being Calgary, odds were 50/50 on it being a warm winter day and it wasn’t.
I was sitting at the tech support desk in between waves of support calls contemplating…something. What to have for lunch, what I was going to do when I went home for the day, the meaning of life. Ghandi would have been proud.
I’m really good at that. Thinking, I mean. I’m the type of guy who likes to stare at a problem and will a solution. And if I can’t find one, I stare harder.
Anyways, I recall getting really, really close to reaching an epiphany of some sort. Could have been the secrets of time travel; I can’t recall. But it was at that critical juncture that the bane of my (then) existence appeared: The ringing of the support phone.
Now, being a tech support agent, you have to answer the phone. Which is hard for me because I’m an anti-phone guy. “Real-time conversations?” Pshaw. Remember, this was BT (Before Twitter) and for a nerd like me, I prefer my human interactions to involve a keyboard.
So I answer the phone and alas, the human race misses out on what could have been a solution to Time Travel.
Lather, rinse and repeat the above multiple times a day, every working day for a couple of years, and it starts to grate on you. It got to the point that I started to hate the interruptions.
Now, I’m the type of guy who likes to work backwards. So, in my nerdy, meticulous analysis of the situation, I realized that the interruptions were caused by people. And so the people responsible were to blame.
And just like that, I learned how to hate people. It was so easy!
My next post: How I learned to love people instead.