it, I'd be happy to get things unlocked and lights-on downstairs before finding my stuff if it would help you guys get going.” If I'd brought the box of donuts with me, it would have closed the deal, but since there were only six left, and they were re-packaged for my next stop, I had to try Smile #3, friendly/sincere/helpful.
I've been watching people smile my whole life, and didn't internalize that smiles were something people just “do” until midway through my 12th year. Since then I've been studying and categorizing smiles; I have 19 in my repertoire, and they're pretty solid until I get up into the newer ones in the mid-teens. Number 3 was likely to work with Ben, as he makes some assumptions about my relationship with Cynthia, and at the same time sees me as completely non-threatening to him personally or professionally. He paused only long enough to let me know that he was carefully considering the cost/benefit of taking my help, and then said, “Thanks Tyler, that would be fantastic, it's a mad house here today... a mad house!” He had me categorized in the nerd/geek box, and used an appropriate set of quotes and references with me, many of which I had come across before, others I had to research ( which was easy as he didn't have much depth to his collection ).
I fumbled, then dropped, the keys that he tossed at my head, letting people feel superior never hurts in my experience, they tend to let their guards down... plus the keys came straight at my eyes quite fast. I went down and unlocked the Adirondack Research Center, the study room, and the restricted collection space, and turned the lights on everywhere. I came back upstairs with a pile of books that would have to be re-shelved, and some documents and bound reports that had been left on one of the tables, and looked as though they needed tending; besides being helpful it eased my transition back behind the main desk and into the office in back, where Cynthia's desk/space/cubicle was located.
She had the usual layers and piles of crap on and around the desk in her area; I stuck a post-it from last week, with my name in her hand-writing, on a pile of stuff that wasn't obviously outside of my interest range ( no Justin Bieber biographies, or LOLcat pictures ) to give my presence a little credence. I stuck my USB drive into her computer as it started up, and entered the password I had seen from over her shoulder a few weeks ago, hoping that she hadn't changed it; she hadn't. I opened up a couple of screens and her browser, and dumped all documents modified within the last 3 months, the history and bookmarks from the browser, newish images from her cache, and everything from her computer desktop garbage can into the stick-drive. I moved the copy-progress window behind the browser and looked around a bit, while keeping my head aimed rigidly at her computer screen. She keeps a journal and notes about work and home project ideas in a series of those black marbled composition notebooks; I grabbed the five for May, June, July, August, and September and mixed them into the pile of books I had stuck the post-it note onto. I had been at her desk for four minutes and ten seconds, and it seemed long to me; I was nervous. I might have found more stuff if I stayed and hunted for another five minutes, but Ben might also decide to check and see what I was doing, and perhaps even hold the stuff until he checked with Cynthia. I put the USB drive into my pocket, put a bit of tape onto the post-it note ( to insure that it stayed in place ), and walked out of the library with an appropriately bored look on my face. I dropped off the stuff at Smart Pig, took a coke out of the coke-fridge, grabbed the Tupperware full of leftover donuts, a box of finished leashes, and then headed to my car for the drive to the Tri-Lakes Animal Shelter.
Tri-Lakes Animal Shelter (TLAS), 9/5/2012, midday
Dogs like me. Cats do not like me. I don't understand
I've been watching people smile my whole life, and didn't internalize that smiles were something people just “do” until midway through my 12th year. Since then I've been studying and categorizing smiles; I have 19 in my repertoire, and they're pretty solid until I get up into the newer ones in the mid-teens. Number 3 was likely to work with Ben, as he makes some assumptions about my relationship with Cynthia, and at the same time sees me as completely non-threatening to him personally or professionally. He paused only long enough to let me know that he was carefully considering the cost/benefit of taking my help, and then said, “Thanks Tyler, that would be fantastic, it's a mad house here today... a mad house!” He had me categorized in the nerd/geek box, and used an appropriate set of quotes and references with me, many of which I had come across before, others I had to research ( which was easy as he didn't have much depth to his collection ).
I fumbled, then dropped, the keys that he tossed at my head, letting people feel superior never hurts in my experience, they tend to let their guards down... plus the keys came straight at my eyes quite fast. I went down and unlocked the Adirondack Research Center, the study room, and the restricted collection space, and turned the lights on everywhere. I came back upstairs with a pile of books that would have to be re-shelved, and some documents and bound reports that had been left on one of the tables, and looked as though they needed tending; besides being helpful it eased my transition back behind the main desk and into the office in back, where Cynthia's desk/space/cubicle was located.
She had the usual layers and piles of crap on and around the desk in her area; I stuck a post-it from last week, with my name in her hand-writing, on a pile of stuff that wasn't obviously outside of my interest range ( no Justin Bieber biographies, or LOLcat pictures ) to give my presence a little credence. I stuck my USB drive into her computer as it started up, and entered the password I had seen from over her shoulder a few weeks ago, hoping that she hadn't changed it; she hadn't. I opened up a couple of screens and her browser, and dumped all documents modified within the last 3 months, the history and bookmarks from the browser, newish images from her cache, and everything from her computer desktop garbage can into the stick-drive. I moved the copy-progress window behind the browser and looked around a bit, while keeping my head aimed rigidly at her computer screen. She keeps a journal and notes about work and home project ideas in a series of those black marbled composition notebooks; I grabbed the five for May, June, July, August, and September and mixed them into the pile of books I had stuck the post-it note onto. I had been at her desk for four minutes and ten seconds, and it seemed long to me; I was nervous. I might have found more stuff if I stayed and hunted for another five minutes, but Ben might also decide to check and see what I was doing, and perhaps even hold the stuff until he checked with Cynthia. I put the USB drive into my pocket, put a bit of tape onto the post-it note ( to insure that it stayed in place ), and walked out of the library with an appropriately bored look on my face. I dropped off the stuff at Smart Pig, took a coke out of the coke-fridge, grabbed the Tupperware full of leftover donuts, a box of finished leashes, and then headed to my car for the drive to the Tri-Lakes Animal Shelter.
Tri-Lakes Animal Shelter (TLAS), 9/5/2012, midday
Dogs like me. Cats do not like me. I don't understand
Similar Books
