calm before the storm
Today was my last day in the office before I retreat to my study cave.
Alas, the Wednesday after Jesusmas marks my return to the world of the Bar Exam. It's ugly territory. For a first time taker, the exam is yours to own. There are courses, practice tests, flow-charts, outlines, CDs, graded essays, a veritable tool belt that runneth over with materials to prepare your for Bar Exam domination. But what do you do when you've exhausted all the resources and lost all of your hair only to come up 2.6 points short? What do you do when you've done all you can and it wasn't enough? Tune in over the next two months, dear readers, as we explore this wasteland together.
And then I locked myself in the stairwell.
Indeed, as if my pride wasn't already bled dry by having to bid farewell to an office full of briliant and competent first-time passers so that I could spend the next two months bathing in my own mediocrity - I locked myself in the stairwell.
Our office has been undergoing some cosmetic renovations - new carpet, some new paint, replacing the wood floors in the lobbies with marble tile, that sort of thing. And I garnered a new life lesson from watching this - everyone wants new carpet until you make them box up their stuff and move it so that you can put in said carpet. I'm sure that is tenuously applicable to something. And apparently, while our floor was being demolished, they decided to do something or other to the men's restroom, thus making it inaccessible. The solution - go up or down one floor to use their restroom. Fine.
But I'm going out to the restroom the same time as Tom. Tom is a good guy, except for the fact that he calls me Aaron. This is a problem, because Aaron is a significant departure from my real name, Batman. I've seriously pondered calling him Tim. And when he says, "Actually, Aaron, my name is Tom", I would say, "Fair enough then Tom, my name is actually Batman." Aaron is aa sstupid nname. Anyway, Tim/Tom is going down to 4 to use their facilities. Now any guy out there reading this knows that I can't follow Tim/Tom all the way down to the 4th floor and go the restroom with him. That's unacceptable.
"Hey buddy... Goin' the the restroom? Cool. Mind if I tag along?"
No. Not gonna happen. So I decide to go to 6. Now it gets complicated, but try to track this reasoning. To go up or down one floor in a building, isn't it reasonable to take the stairs? I think so. It's quicker, and you don't feel like a total slug because you waited 3 minutes for an elevator just so you could descend 9 feet. So I go into the stairwell. I walk up to 6 (Because Tim/Tom went to 4), and it's locked. Go back down to 4. Locked. Back up to 5. Locked.
At this point, I have two problems. 1. I still need to use the restroom with a fair amount of urgency. There are no urinals in the stairwell, which you wouldn't think would be a problem, but today, it actually was. 2. I worked out legs yesterday at the gym. So going up and down stairs was about as cool as... Well, it just defies analogy. It sucked. Jello legs hobbling up and down stairs trying to find an unlocked door, and there was none to be found.
So trying my best to walk as though I had no knees, I descended to the first floor to go out that way. But there was a sign...
"This door for Emergency Exit only. Opening it will sound an alarm. Please use elevator."
I'm now faced with two choices: risk the alarm or rot in the stairwell. I chose neither, and using the same cerebral mastery that got me locked in a stairwell to begin with, I proceeded to walk up 10 flights of stairs checking for unlocked doors. None. Back down to the first floor.
My only consolation was that if an alarm went off and the fire department showed up and I got arrested, it would make this post even better (and longer). But no alarm went off. But I did get to look like a complete idiot in front of a large crowd of people by walking out of the stairwell door, and then turning around and walking right back into the front door to the office building.
Maybe it was good to end on a low note. After all, it can only get better from here. Although I will miss the disposable income. And so will the Apple store. And tomorrow I'm going back to Texas, because I need a week of blue skys and good Mexican food. I don't know why you hippies like shredded beef in your burritos. That junk is wrong.
Holla at me if you're in the 806 this week.
Alas, the Wednesday after Jesusmas marks my return to the world of the Bar Exam. It's ugly territory. For a first time taker, the exam is yours to own. There are courses, practice tests, flow-charts, outlines, CDs, graded essays, a veritable tool belt that runneth over with materials to prepare your for Bar Exam domination. But what do you do when you've exhausted all the resources and lost all of your hair only to come up 2.6 points short? What do you do when you've done all you can and it wasn't enough? Tune in over the next two months, dear readers, as we explore this wasteland together.
And then I locked myself in the stairwell.
Indeed, as if my pride wasn't already bled dry by having to bid farewell to an office full of briliant and competent first-time passers so that I could spend the next two months bathing in my own mediocrity - I locked myself in the stairwell.
Our office has been undergoing some cosmetic renovations - new carpet, some new paint, replacing the wood floors in the lobbies with marble tile, that sort of thing. And I garnered a new life lesson from watching this - everyone wants new carpet until you make them box up their stuff and move it so that you can put in said carpet. I'm sure that is tenuously applicable to something. And apparently, while our floor was being demolished, they decided to do something or other to the men's restroom, thus making it inaccessible. The solution - go up or down one floor to use their restroom. Fine.
But I'm going out to the restroom the same time as Tom. Tom is a good guy, except for the fact that he calls me Aaron. This is a problem, because Aaron is a significant departure from my real name, Batman. I've seriously pondered calling him Tim. And when he says, "Actually, Aaron, my name is Tom", I would say, "Fair enough then Tom, my name is actually Batman." Aaron is aa sstupid nname. Anyway, Tim/Tom is going down to 4 to use their facilities. Now any guy out there reading this knows that I can't follow Tim/Tom all the way down to the 4th floor and go the restroom with him. That's unacceptable.
"Hey buddy... Goin' the the restroom? Cool. Mind if I tag along?"
No. Not gonna happen. So I decide to go to 6. Now it gets complicated, but try to track this reasoning. To go up or down one floor in a building, isn't it reasonable to take the stairs? I think so. It's quicker, and you don't feel like a total slug because you waited 3 minutes for an elevator just so you could descend 9 feet. So I go into the stairwell. I walk up to 6 (Because Tim/Tom went to 4), and it's locked. Go back down to 4. Locked. Back up to 5. Locked.
At this point, I have two problems. 1. I still need to use the restroom with a fair amount of urgency. There are no urinals in the stairwell, which you wouldn't think would be a problem, but today, it actually was. 2. I worked out legs yesterday at the gym. So going up and down stairs was about as cool as... Well, it just defies analogy. It sucked. Jello legs hobbling up and down stairs trying to find an unlocked door, and there was none to be found.
So trying my best to walk as though I had no knees, I descended to the first floor to go out that way. But there was a sign...
"This door for Emergency Exit only. Opening it will sound an alarm. Please use elevator."
I'm now faced with two choices: risk the alarm or rot in the stairwell. I chose neither, and using the same cerebral mastery that got me locked in a stairwell to begin with, I proceeded to walk up 10 flights of stairs checking for unlocked doors. None. Back down to the first floor.
My only consolation was that if an alarm went off and the fire department showed up and I got arrested, it would make this post even better (and longer). But no alarm went off. But I did get to look like a complete idiot in front of a large crowd of people by walking out of the stairwell door, and then turning around and walking right back into the front door to the office building.
Maybe it was good to end on a low note. After all, it can only get better from here. Although I will miss the disposable income. And so will the Apple store. And tomorrow I'm going back to Texas, because I need a week of blue skys and good Mexican food. I don't know why you hippies like shredded beef in your burritos. That junk is wrong.
Holla at me if you're in the 806 this week.
posted by hoov, esq at 10:15 PM
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