In-Conversation on A Geek's Life

In Conversation - Of Coffee and Banter

Thu, 18 Jun 2015 22:13:45 +0000

I must have looked like shitknackered, or something close by all accounts, if the look the lady at the front desk gave me when I dragged myself, knapsack in hand and windbreaker open all the way down at the front, across the stoop to her desk to get signed in for the day was anything to go by. I was here at my old stomping ground from a few years ago to attend a training course - the first two days of which had lurched from plain boring to an absolute waste of the thousand pounds I’d managed to fork out for it. That my on-off insomnia was back in full pelt could not have helped - four ibuprofren plus notwithstanding - I had flitted in and out of sleep till 6.30am, at which time I gave up, brewed a cup of coffee and got my day started.

Cabbie Conversations

Wed, 21 May 2014 20:49:32 +0000

On a typical day, the scene that meets the eye at the head of the airport taxi rank is one of barely controlled chaos - the line of passengers snaking along into the distance, two or three cabs pulling up every few minutes to whittle away at the edgy crowd and the harried dispatcher somehow managing to maintain a semblance of sanity in the middle of it all defining the mad half hour immediately following the arrival of an inbound flight. Today there is a line of taxis and no passengers waiting. Two men - and a woman - stand at the head of the taxi rank, talking. Their conversation is deep and intense - there are hands flailing about, gesturing wildly and a few guffaws here and there - such that I have to clear my throat to attract their attention. At the second time of clearing my throat, I succeed. They split up like people surprised, maybe even a little guilty. The woman - who must be the dispatcher given her fluorescent yellow jacket - waves me in the direction of the car at the head of the line, a jet black Audi. One of the men standing and chatting turns out to be the driver, his keys remotely popping the trunk as I dump my bags and as he makes his way to the driver’s side of the car.

Bait and Switch...

Tue, 15 Apr 2014 21:18:34 +0000

My father, very much like me, is not a great talker- the sum of our conversation over the course of the year is little more than fifteen minutes. In the main these - 3 minutes here, 2 there, and 5 there have mainly come about as intermissions, snuck in between typically lengthy conversations with my mother - if her constant probing and interrogating can count as conversations. When I wake up to find a couple of missed calls from him on my phone , a whatsapp message from my kid sister, and a BBM message from my brother - all relating to the fact that my father has been trying to get hold of me- it sets the alarm bells in my head off. After arriving from my weekend trip to the middle of nowhere (link) I ordered the largest, most decadent pizza I could from PapaJohns - with a barbecue chicken side- devoured it and promptly fell into my bed for sleep, which was how I ended up oblivious to the clamour for my attention.

A Question of Patience...

Tue, 28 Jan 2014 17:55:21 +0000

In her own words, she is complex in a can of cute. Slouched in my favourite chair by my window, with the sound of passing cars, their occasional horn toots and the odd police siren as the soundtrack to my evening, up until then I had been having a chilled, if lethargic evening natter.

I had one eye on the evolving tactical battle on my FM2013 Liverpool save and the other on my phone whilst we talked, before we segued into the subject of personality types and tests. Thanks to books like Quiet and Networking for Those Who Hate Networking, I am increasingly secure in owning up to being introverted - which was probably why without too much thinking I owned up to being INTJ. Her initial response was to ask me to translate that into real English; I promptly emailed her a link to the sixteen personalities INTJ page. That set off a bout of good natured teasing and banter at my expense - not that I minded. LK is delightfully great to talk to; her brand of acerbic, intelligent, thoughtful conversation delivered in a voice so soft one would assume she couldn’t hurt a fly is one that I have taken a great liking to over the past three months. Teasing over, I pressed her to take the test herself, knowing just how much insight into her personality it would provide and looking for canon fodder to retaliate. That was the setting for her declaration, in the aftermath of which I found myself soberly considering just what the potential ramifications of the revelation might be.