Wednesday, April 22, 2020 was a crappy day at work.
Beyond the awful news of the day—which remains dreadful no matter how you slice it—there was no real reason that this work day was any worse than any other in the last five weeks of this stay-at-home, work-from-home marathon.
It just felt like a slog. Some days are like that.
In addition, my quiz offering for today, written in the morning, never really came together. I sat down with a list of items—an ode to the odd—but it all took a strange turn when I somehow tried to connect my company’s decision to hold a “Virtual Take Our Kids to Work” day on Thursday, April 23 to one of my favorite quotations from Robert Penn Warren in “All the King’s Men.”
There is nothing more alone than being in a car at night in the rain. I was in the car. And I was glad of it. Between one point on the map and another point on the map, there was the being alone in the car in the rain. They say you are not you except in terms of relation to other people. If there weren't any other people there wouldn't be any you because what you do, which is what you are, only has meaning in relation to other people. That is a very comforting thought when you are in the car in the rain at night alone, for then you aren't you, and not being you or anything, you can really lie back and get some rest. It is a vacation from being you. There is only the flow of the motor under your foot spinning that frail thread of sound out of its metal gut like a spider, that filament, that nexus, which isn't really there, between the you which you have just left in one place and the you which you will be when you get to the other place. You ought to invite those two you's to the same party, some time. Or you might have a family reunion for all the you's with a barbecue under the trees. It would be amusing to know what they would say to one another. But meanwhile, there isn't either one of them, and I am in the car in the rain at night.
If you can help me figure out how this quotation (which is brilliant) is connected to “Take Your Kids to Work Day”—virtual or otherwise—I’d appreciate it. The whole thing was a hopeless mess. Something about your work-self being different from your home-self and how that was upended when you were home with your kids and you could not take them to work to meet your work-self because, well, he was upstairs in the guest bedroom/home office with pajama bottoms on, typing away on his laptop (again).
So, instead, I’m turning to the mailbag—which is a pretty lame move considering that I have only been sending the quiz out as a daily newsletter for a few days now. (In my defense, there are more than 30 quizzes in the archive if you want to take a look.)
Here, then, is the email I received from college friend Brooks.
Steve,
Alright. Not a big fan of your new format. As ridiculous and kind of Jack Nicholson in The Shining-like as your quizzes have become, I find them diverting and entertaining and have looked forward to them. But, a big part of the entertainment has been the instant gratification I get in the google forms format. A quick yes or no. I think you are asking a bit much from your audience to try to remember what the fuck was in the quiz the day before when looking for the answer the next day. You are making us think about this stuff twice? Trust me, once is enough.
And, for the record, three final points:
(1) the what did NOT happen format may be a gimmick, but it’s a good gimmick. Stick with it.
(2) that Christmas gift opening spreadsheet and color coded wrapping paper shit is really, really odd. (See Quiz #13. OOO and Pure O, March 29, 2020.)
(3) the photos are great.
Brooks
The Christmas Grid and color-coded Christmas paper from Quiz #13.
So, for those for whom “once is enough,” I am changing the format of the quiz.
You no longer need to wait until the next day to get the answer! After the “What did NOT happen?” question, I’ll give you a link to the answer. Click and you will get the “instant gratification” which, like Brooks, you may crave.
What did NOT happen?
A. Given that I had accidentally Facetimed Annie earlier this week at 9:01am during her morning staff meeting as a psychiatric social worker at a hospital in Queens, I set my alarm to text her at 9:01am:
B. I was walking the dog when the alarm sounded. It’s set to play “Begin the Beguine” which was my father’s favorite song. At first, I forgot why I set the alarm. Hearing that song always sort of startles me—which is a good thing for an alarm;
C. At 9:01am, I texted Annie, “It’s 9:01am. Do you know where your father is?”
D. This morning, we had a Zoom birthday party for a colleague. We lit candles and blew them out. Someone’s smoke detector went off.
E. Sara was not pleased when her work conference call was interrupted by the smoke detector going off in our house. As I said, it was a crappy day.
Want the answer?
Answer #34. Brooks, April 22, 2020
If you’re a subscriber, the answer to the quiz will be emailed to you separately when each quiz is published.
Want more?
Here’s the next quiz in the series: Quiz #35. Odd .
Here’s the previous quiz in the series: Quiz #33. The Pledge.
Here’s the first quiz in the series: Quiz #1. Stella and Social Distancing, March 13, 2020
Here is an archive of all the quizzes.
The quiz is explained here: Steve’s Stay-at-Home Coronavirus Quiz.
Want to let me know how I’m doing with this quiz?
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Comments, corrections and confessions welcome.
Thank you and good night.
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