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Charlie Hatton
Watertown, MA
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Oh, man. I feel like I've done nothing in the past sixty hours or so but watch basketball.
Now, of course, that's not literally true. There's been... um, well, sleeping. And beer drinking, though of course, most of that happened during the basketball watching. (And much of it happened because of the basketball watching -- this shit is nerve-wracking, dammit!) And I seem to remember making a couple of 'tinkle trips' in there somewhere. During the commercials, of course.
But honestly, since coming home from work on Friday night, there's been little going on around here except hoopage and balling, balling and hoopage.
(Meaning basketball, of course. If I ever get a solid two-and-a-half days' worth of any other kind of 'balling' around here, you're not gonna hear about it here. You guys are cool and all, but there's no way I'm gonna risk jinxing it ever happening again by describing it to the world. This is one blogger who doesn't 'ball and tell'.
'Hoopage', on the other hand, I'll freely discuss. Just as soon as I figure out what else it could be a euphemism for. I just hope it doesn't have anything to do with 'clanging one off the rim'. *shudder*)
All right. What was I talking about, anyway? Rim-clanging? Balling? Basketball?
Yeah, let's go with basketball for now -- that seems like the safest option.
So, the more hoops I've watched this weekend, the more I'm convinced that we need to find a way to make our daily work routines more like big-college basketball games. I've even started putting together a list of improvements that I think we could make. And since I'm certain that you nice folks would want to be in on the ground floor of such an exciting enterprise, I'll let you in on my little list. Here's what I'm thinking:
Long, Baggy Shorts: Now, don't get me wrong here. I'm as big a fan of dress slacks as the next guy.
Which is, basically, no fan at all. Those bastards tug, and pull, and chafe, and generally rub my boys all up in the wrong directions. Screw dress slacks. I wear jeans to work, anyway.
But you know what? Even jeans aren't good enough -- I want those big-ass baggy pants the kids wear on the court. There's nothing bad about them -- they're comfy, they're festive, they're roomy, and just think of the ventilation! I don't know about you, but I could get so much more work done, if I weren't constantly yanking fabric out of some crevasse or other down there. Baggy pants are the way to go, people!
Personal Fouls: Now, this is key. I don't know how we get these called -- I'm not thrilled about having refs roaming the corridors, either -- but somehow, we've got to make this happen. You know how the boss walks in and asks, ever so innocently, whether you have room for just one more thing in your inbox?
*Tweeeet!* That's a foul. Flagrant. Intentional. Despicable.
How about when your email goes down, and the systems people take days getting it back up?
*Tweeeet!* Well, that there's a technical foul, of course. Two of those in the same game, and your ass gets kicked out, right?
Of course, there's still the matter of figuring out exactly what a 'game' is, and what you get for getting fouled. You can't very well shoot free throws in the conference room to settle this shit. Maybe it should involve an exchange of cash, or switching into the primo parking spot for a day; I don't know. I don't have all the details worked out; I'm just the visionary. You'll have to help me with the little stuff, folks.
Sneakers on Hardwood: Sure, walking around in loafers and wingtips on those noise-cancelling carpets is okay for a while. But don't you just feel more active in your sneaks? And especially on a nice parquet hardwood, where you can hear your every step and pivot. It's just easier to believe that you're accomplishing something when every little pitter and patter reverberates around the office. And sure, you could get a similar effect by wearing clogs, or those clown shoes with the horns in them, but it's just not the same.
Do the hardwood thing, folks. And then strap on the sneakers. That *squeak squeak squeak* you hear is the sound of progress!
TV Timeouts: So, for those who don't know, after every four minutes of game time in college, there's a 'TV timeout'; in other words, the cameras cut away for a couple of minutes, so you can go get a sandwich, take a potty break, or grab a beer from the fridge. Maybe you see where I'm going with this.
I'm thinking that every office, every day, every hour, call a five-minute 'TV timeout'. For those five minutes an hour, you're off the clock and get to do whatever you want -- slug down a martini, scarf down a snack, make a quick phone call... hell, if you're fast enough, you can pair off and have sex. All it takes is a little planning, tear-away undies, and a quick trigger on the old joystick, if you know what I'm getting at.
Anyway, how sweet would that be? (No, ya perv, not the shot at a 'nooner' -- plus a 'oner', and a 'twoer', and a 'threer', and so on -- with that hot secretary down the hall. Keep your mind out of your pants, would you?) I'm talking about the timeouts; five minutes an hour, every hour, plus halftime. Er, lunchtime. That's what I meant -- lunchtime. See? See how the borders are blurring? This is really coming together, people.
Cheerleaders, Cheerleaders, Cheerleaders: Sure, sure, I know what you're thinking -- 'he just wants the chickies in short skirts because he thinks it'll be hot'. Well, not so fast, there, Mr. Pokeypants. It's not like that, okay?
Look, all I'm saying is that it would be nice to get a little recognition for a successful project, or a well-written meeting agenda. It would be inspiring to have your name chanted during 'crunch time' of a big pow-wow with important clients. It would be encouraging to see and hear cheers -- designed just for you -- while you plow through your email or fill out your TPS reports. Right? Right?
And yeah, let's not kid ourselves. It would be friggin' hot! If you need me, I'll be in the base of the human pyramid. Nothing like hanging out in your office, down on all fours with a handful of pom-pommed women crawling on your back, now, is there? *nnnnggggghhhhhh*
So there you have it. A full list of ways to improve our workaday lives by taking a page or two from NCAA basketball. And really, isn't just about everything about college hoops better than our office drudgery? Well, except for the tattooed, sweaty men and all the extracurricular ass-patting, of course. But get rid of those, and I'll take the basketball way of life any day. Swish, baby!
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Regarding sneakers on hardwood: It's a pretty good idea, but I have a better one. Since you didn't come up with this yourself, I'll have to assume you don't actually have hardwood, or fake hardwood (whatever the hell it's called, something with a 'p'), or if you do you are too busy wearing your sneaks to discover the joy that is... (drumroll)
sock-sliding.
We're not talking about a little slip here and there, we are talking full-blown, all-the-way-down-the-hall-at-high-speeds SLIDING. (Which can only be achieved by putting some Pledge on the floor, or, even better, on the bottom of your socks.)
I really think this would decrease stress and increase happiness in everyday life, not to mention get rid of a lot of negativity around the workplace. Who has time to cuss his boss when he's busy sliding down to that secretary's office? (Do secretaries have their own offices? I've never had an office job. :P)
Just something you should consider. The rest sounds pretty plausible, though.