Mr. Magoo

Mr. Magoo, Mr. Magoo, what do you do?

I have been slow to realize, that as you age your attention span as well as your tolerance for the inane, diminish. Greatly!  I have succumbed to this.

Mr. Magoo was regaling us with his old war stories of his youth of which he couldn’t be any further from and I can almost confirm, since I’ve heard them all before that he remembers them differently each time he decides to share. The unfortunate thing now is that even though the conversation was not directed at me I found myself going cross-eyed just listening to it. His voice goes mono tone and he somehow is able to expel it all without any shred of variance. No change. No rest. No excitement, just full on, absolute live action boredom.

I don’t consider myself a rude person but this conversation had to be interrupted. There is no conversation going on though because if you try to interject your opinion he doesn’t hear  you. He needs hearing aids and doesn’t have them in! He can’t hear any of your attempts to change topic or anything!

I ended up resorting to allowing technology to force the interruption. I asked someone to call my better half. She was being polite. Nodding her head but she needed rescuing. My plan worked out well. She left to talk on the phone, I left to take care of some business then things were once again right with the world.

Tooth-Brushin’ Man

I work in a building with 20 or so floors, we’re on the 5th. Everyday, at the exact same time and even multiple times throughout the day, some guy, from some other floor, wanders up/down to the 5th floor just to brush his teeth.

I don’t know why he does this.  Is he afraid that the people on his floor are going to see him and think him weird and he doesn’t want that impression to take hold, because they might be coworkers so he comes down to the 5th?

I think he’s weird.  Not just because he brushes his teeth multiple times during the work day but that each time he spends at least ten minutes doing it.  Then, when he is done, he takes some paper towel and dries his tooth brush thoroughly.  He must go through tooth brushes on a weekly basis.

Is he afraid of his teeth not being their whitest?  Is he afraid his breath might not be the freshest?

Everyone in our office has noticed him.  We all wonder from what floor he originates from.  There was talk of creating a CIA type of spy device that we could secretly attach to him so that we could track where he goes.  We all speculate that he must be married to a dentist or is often criticized for having smelly breath or funny-coloured teeth.