Moving to a new geographical area is always an adventure. Sometimes the adventure is due to the exotic nature of the move (from the U.S to Nepal, Los Angeles to Wilmot, AR [pop 522], etc.), but it is important not to underestimate the entertainment value of simply moving across a few states. Recently, if you've read my most recent posts, you know that my family is trying to transition to a new state; Washington. Now, it should be noted, that while I have never been an expat, I have lived in my fair share of places within the U.S. and I have traveled a bit abroad. My academic foci in grad school centered around intercultural communication and how people acculturate when they relocate. Still, now it seems I tend to pay attention to the little details of difference that often just plain amuse.
Yeah!
Every region has its own words, expressions or practices regarding conversation. If, as Rita Mae Brown said, language is the roadmap of a culture (it is certainly one), then slang is a shortcut to the back alley subcultures of which all broader cultures are made. Colloquialisms are found everywhere. While there has been discussion that regional colloquialisms seem to be dying out in favor of a national jargon, I submit that travelers will find regional patois wherever they roam. In southeastern Washington one of the more noticeable Tri-Cities-isms is "Yeah." Not the (slightly lazy) affirmative response to a question, or an expression of agreement, no. In this case, "yeah" is said in response to "Thank You." The first time I received this response it was from a teenage kid working a drive-through window. I figured the kid was raised by wolves and disregarded the moment (because now that I am old I do that sort of thing). Then it happened at a sit-down restaurant. Granted, it wasn't Nobu or Tavern on the Green, but come on! My plate was put in front of me, I said Thank You, and was answered with YEAH. I am fairly certain that, at that point, the ghost of my grammarian-by-hobby grandmother silently brandished the Oxford Guide to English Grammar and mourned the imminent downfall of western civilization. Even then, though, I thought the response was a coincidence...By the time the third person said it, I knew it was a "thing" and started paying even more attention (at this point, if you are thinking I have too much time on my hands, you couldn't be less correct; I am simply somewhat obsessive sometimes). I started hearing it at work, I heard it between familiars and in more formal conversations. I heard it between adults and also between kids. I am now waiting for my ten year-old to start saying it (Gramma, where is that book?). Here's the thing, and it's probably just me, "Yeah" sounds so weird as a response for "Thank You." Someone might as well say, "refrigerator." How in the hell did "yeah" become a thing? Perhaps it morphed from someone saying "Sure" or in response to "Thank You." So, basically it took a condensed term and uber-condensed it...why? The worst part is, I tend to be a pretty good mimic, I have a good ear for languages and I learn slang quickly, (I think it is an unconscious attempt to immerse myself in the group), so I am not afraid to admit that I may end up jumping onto the "yeah" wagon. Sigh. In a year, if I am saying "Yeah" as "You're Welcome," you, dear reader, have my permission to hit me upside the head with a grammar book.
I do NOT want a straw with that...
I've started drinking more coffee. Nothing hardcore, I am no connoisseur. I am fine with Starbucks (most of the coffee snobs have now stopped reading) and it must have lots of milk, cream (ice, whipped or liquid, or, preferably all three), sugar and some sort of chocolate, caramel, cinnamon, nutmeg, or vanilla foo-foo flavoring in there is good too (no hazelnut, I'm not a maniac). This increased consumption of caffeine-laden, roasted bean juice is in direct response to my move to Washington. The truth is, the transition is very stressful and sustained stress makes me tired. I go to bed tired, I wake up tired, and I spend every day at varying levels of constant fatigue. So I drink coffee; at least two shots of espresso in some iced or hot form every day. I realize this is not a lot of coffee for long-time coffee drinkers, but I think we are talking gateway amounts here... I typically vary my coffee procurement between Starbucks (and there go the last of the coffee snobs), a local Tri-Cities place called Roasters, and a regional favorite, Dutch Bros. Unless the morning is already very warm I usually buy a hot coffee. So, imagine my surprise when I was asked if I wanted a straw. I am going to let that sink in, but you should know, it wasn't an accidental question; the barista knew I ordered hot coffee. Seriously. A straw. How could anyone decide that drinking hot coffee with a straw is a good idea? Sucking potentially scalding liquid through a small hole and shooting it into your mouth and straight to the back of the throat. Seems like a perfectly reasonable thing to do, right? One of my friends, an ex-barista said that he knew people who ordered straws with their coffee so that the coffee and it's staining properties would by-pass newly whitened teeth. In some weird, American vanity gone mad sort of way, that explanation makes sort of a skewed sense. In point of fact, I have only ever seen three women using straws in their hot coffee and they do have remarkably white teeth. End of mystery? Probably, but it still seems like an unnecessarily masochist means of consuming hot coffee.I suppose, though, that I won't worry too much until someone gives me a spoon with my steak...
The geese have landed...
Having relocated from an area where I saw wildlife on a regular basis, I truly dig the number of waterfowl that spend their summer on or near the Columbia River in the area. Canada geese are especially numerous and amuse me no end because they are relatively fearless creatures and can apparently be quite an annoyance to the locals. Say what you will about the terrorizing potential of a large goose (One friend would walk across the street to avoid the inevitable confrontation with a particular pair of geese in her neighborhood), they are not stupid creatures. When we first visited the area and were walking along the Columbia, we met a gaggle that included several young goslings. My daughter got perilously close to the babies and the mothers (or nannies, as they certainly do use the village concept of raising their young) didn't raise a feather, but when some "immature" children came by and wanted to hold the babies, the adult geese broke into two groups; one herding the little ones to safety while the others went after the culprits. To their credit, the parents of the boys asked them if they learned anything and kept on with their walk. For their part, the birds continued with their routine with nary a feather out of place.
The place where I now work has cooling water (Cooling what? I have no idea-don't judge me, I'm still a tourist.) in large ponds that sit in the midst of buildings on campus. They include fountains and add a pleasing aesthetic to the commons area. The first time I saw the area was during my interview day and I noticed that there also seemed to be dogs on the premises. German Shepherds to be exact. Several of them, guarding what I could only assume were strategically mysterious areas of the grounds. Impressive, I thought, and then I realized the dogs were moving in a wholly unnatural bobbing motion. Face palm. Turns out these black, metal silhouettes of dogs (ahem) are used to keep the geese away. The dogs (who have collar tags with the acronym of the place on them-woof) sit on a spring that allows the slightest breeze to move them, thus keeping those pesky geese from settling on the area around the cooling ponds. Aww, I thought, the water, which is a strangely hued blue, must not be safe for the geese, so they are keeping them away for their own good. Nope. Sometimes I wonder how I lived this long being so naive. The dogs perpetually stand guard to protect the cement walkways (and thus those who walk on the walkways) from an over-abundance of...you got it...goose poop. Turns out those feathered gangs produce loads of waste and don't give a honk where they deposit it. Apparently the dogs work pretty well, as I saw only a small amount of goose guano and have not yet seen a goose on the premises.
Say what you will about the terrorizing potential of a large goose (One friend would walk across the street to avoid the inevitable confrontation with a particular pair of geese in her neighborhood), they are not stupid creatures. When we first visited the area and were walking along the Columbia, we met a gaggle that included several young goslings. My daughter got perilously close to the babies and the mothers (or nannies, as they certainly do use the village concept of raising their young) didn't raise a feather, but when some "immature" children came by and wanted to hold the babies, the adult geese broke into two groups; one herding the little ones to safety while the others went after the culprits. To their credit, the parents of the boys asked them if they learned anything and kept on with their walk. For their part, the birds continued with their routine with nary a feather out of place.
In other areas of Richland, the geese have invaded the leisure time of the locals. Not being short on water, Richland has built a golf course in the middle of town, replete with (perhaps naturally occurring) marshes that serve as water traps. These reed-ringed ponds also make great goose bait. Add to the aqueous treat the presence of grass and conveniently placed sand traps (to help them digest said grass), and you have a veritable waterfowl wonderland! The geese descend on this spot with no concern for the traffic streaming nearby, nor the golfers wishing to play through. Once, while at a red light, I saw a man shake some sort of golf club in an attempt to scare the geese. Rookie. The next thing I saw was the over-tanned retiree retreating across the green while chased to his golf cart by at least five adult geese. Advantage, badass waterfowl.
Aye, robot!
Skynet. H.A.L. Robbie the Robot. Science fiction abounds with instruments designed to serve humanity that ultimately turn on its creators. My theory, is that the overthrow of humans will not come from the coup d'etat of our defense systems or the mutiny of our smarter-than-us companions. Rather, I suggest that it will be the meek robots who inherit the earth; those robots who seem harmless, those that aren't even designed to "think" in complex ways. Case in point; the carpet-clening-bot. This bot, as my not-going-to-get-myself-sued-name suggests is a floor cleaning robot; an overgrown, hyper-steroidal version of those little round robot vacuums that are the subject of ten thousand hapless cat videos on YouTube. Recently, my employer deployed one of these monsters in the building that houses my office. To be fair, they sent out notification a couple of weeks before they brought it in, and I thought, cat videos; small, innocuous, harmless, defenseless, and drop-kickable if necessary. Instead, I rounded a corner in the hallway yesterday and came face to face with the imminent downfall of humanity. It was huge and it was humming. This thing was designed specifically NOT to look at all menacing; slightly square in form, no discernible features that could be mistaken for eyes, and as far as I know, no vocal capabilities. In sum, it was reminiscent of the purser robots from film Wall-E; meant to do a job and then stay out of the way. It will avoid walls and people and office furniture and presumably not try to overthrow the free world in an instant of apocalyptic chaos of our smart phones morphing into zombie-making death machines. All this being said, the true menace (and yes, that may be a harsh term) of this robot is what it means to the person whose job it is now doing. The notification stated that the robot will clean the floors, thus allowing the custodian to focus on other tasks, but it also said that the robot will save a boat load of money; implying that the custodian will, in fact, lose hours. Harumpf...Is this where my eyes are opened to my new, seemingly benevolent employer who will turn out to be a northwest version of the evil empire? Turns out, the answer is NO! Hope abounds because who, do you think, dear reader, is in charge of ensuring the bot is charged; the human who comes when the bot sends a signal that it has come to an obstacle in its floor-cleaning path? The custodian! It turns out that another reason for the bot-deployment was to mitigate the effects of the repetitive motion injuries that are common from the vacuuming motion. Not exactly the evil empire after all. This turn of events makes me happy because the truth is that I am not creative enough to think of a future overrun by vicious robots, but it wouldn't be the first time that big business had been short-sided with regard to its human talent. Pro-robot people (whatever they are called) posit that robots only take the jobs that humans don't really want to do anyway and that the associated technology will always require human intervention, and thus, provide job security for mankind. Oh sure, if you are a robotics engineer. I realize that some of this cynicism is a little hysterical, and probably a function of getting older (we don't worry less as we age, we simply worry about different things). Also, I like our custodian, she is gregarious and works hard and we chat in the hallway. I like seeing her face when we talk, her animation and her emotional response. I like that we exchange pleasantries and commiserate about the mid-week hump. She also goes home when her work is done, she doesn't sit in the corner, humming, recharging herself, and plotting the downfall of humanity.
A couple of weeks later, I am not only accustomed to the Bot, but now I find myself anthropomorphizing that silly rounded square that cruises the floor. I found a pattern in its lights that actually resemble a friendly face (coincidence?!), and when I encounter it during its rounds, I feel bad for it when it gets stuck. But it could be worse, at least it's not honking and chasing me down the hall....
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