Punch-Drunk

Punch-Drunk: When you're so tired, *anything* is funny.

I'm fine... really...

We had a major project launch at work last week. The Powers That Be wanted us in the office at 4:30 AM to get everything in place before the morning rush. There were a *lot* of punch-drunk people in the office that morning.

What follows are a couple of stories from that day, which probably aren't terribly funny unless you imagine the participants as confused stumbling yawning sleep-deprived semi-coherent code jockeys.

In other words, everybody was acting like I normally do. It was freaky.

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We were having a ... well, let's call it a "complaint session", regarding some folks in another department. Communications are occasionally difficult between our two groups. They want this, we want that, requirements misunderstood, that sort of thing.

Maarek lamented, "I wish we had some way of communicating our disgust with them in a way that would really get the message across."

Your attention please...

"Stay simple," I recommended. "A wood club with a nail in it. You could just plunk it down hard on a random desk, you'd have everybody's attention."

Maarek's face lit up with joy. "Oh! And then you announce, 'Negotiations... have failed.'"

I like it. Simple. Elegant. We were so tired we laughed at this until we cried.

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There was a gathering at Big Dawg's desk. As the crowd shuffled around, SpanFan came into view. Big Dawg blinked rapidly and leaned back. He looked like somebody was shining a flashlight in his face. "So bright!"

He was staring at SpanFan's shirt. "It's just pink," she said. "I know, but it's BRIGHT!"

You will succumb to our evil! Ha!

A delirium-inspired idea struck me. "For the first time ever, I'm tempted to get a pink shirt. SpanFan and I can come around your cubical from opposite sides, then JUMP out on either side of you!"

Without even the slightest pause Big Dawg said, "I'd call it the Care Bear Stare."

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Halfway through a phone conversation with Cowboy I forgot who I was talking to.

Awkward.

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There was a moment where somebody inside our group did a thing the wrong way, and he should have known better. I sent out a "policy" email warning, "Somebody goofed up, so everybody, don't do this, do that instead."

My shirt may be ugly, but so are you, and *I* can change!

I was a bit blunt in the message, so I sent out a separate email to a few individuals saying, "Just FYI: It wasn't you."

Web Ninja replied to the email. "*Now* you tell me. I freaking soaked my shirt in tears."

I replied to him, "That was by design. I hate that shirt."