Give me rewrite

When I was an enthusiastic young journalist in the post-Watergate 1970s, a T-shirt was popular with us ink-stained wretches. It showed an old-time reporter -- sleeves rolled up, press card in the band of his fedora -- shouting into a phone: “Hello, sweetheart, give me rewrite!”

That was the way it worked, kids, back in the days before cell phones and laptops. A reporter on deadline called a “rewrite man,” typically a grizzled, cigar-chomping veteran who could type faster than the wind. The reporter “fed” the rewrite desk all the information on the hot story, and the rewrite man fashioned it into a proper newspaper article, on the fly.

Filing a story through rewrite was a sort of magic, and I fear it’s lost forever. These days, reporters can write their own stories, wherever they are, and zip them into the mothership electronically. But some of us remember when a rewrite man could make a reporter look great, recasting excited gibberish into cool prose.

Yes, I am a dinosaur. Thank you for noticing.

Wouldn’t it be great if life had a rewrite man? Someone who could smooth over rough spots, remove awkward moments and recast our everyday babbling into concise, intelligent language. It would be the ultimate do-over, the end to regret. If we filtered our lives through a rewrite desk, we’d always hit our deadlines, make the right choices, impress our friends.

An example: You’re in traffic and another motorist does something exceedingly stupid right in front of you. You lean on your horn, shout curses and make an obscene gesture. Then you recognize the other driver. Worse, he recognizes you. Ouch.

Wouldn’t you love a rewrite man about then? He could change “curses” to “warnings” and “obscene gesture” to “friendly wave.” A potentially dangerous road rage incident becomes a neighborly encounter. And you wouldn’t feel so bad when you bump into that other motorist at church.

A rewrite man could fix a lot of things in the workplace. Let’s say you’re standing around the watercooler with your coworkers, talking about your boss, and you use the term “sniveling jerk” just as said boss comes around the corner. Hello, rewrite? Can you change that to “model citizen?” Or, um, “an inspiration to us all?” Thanks.

Certainly, a rewrite man could help one’s financial situation. Your life story could say you were always careful with your money as you amassed a fortune that you later gave to charity. That sounds so much better than “gambled on the stock market” or “wasted every nickel on liquor and lotteries.”

I could use a rewrite when it comes to parenting. I’d like to be known as “stern but fair” rather than “overprotective lunatic.” But I guess that’s a story that’ll be written by my kids.

A rewrite man could portray me as a “handy do-it-yourselfer type.” Just once I’d like someone to believe I could fix something around the house. Even if the statement required a correction later.

I want my friends to remember me as a witty raconteur who was always “the life of the party.” Think I can get that past the rewrite desk? That would be better than “last time I saw him, he was yarking into a flowerbed.” Friends’ memories can be so selective and cruel.

Practicing self-amuse at work

Every job, no matter how challenging, has its ho-hum moments.

One sign of personal growth is successfully finding ways to deal with the everyday ennui, the humdrum, the rut.

Some people focus on life outside the workplace. Others burrow through boredom by remembering the bottom line. But the happiest workers are those who find ways to turn the tables on tedium and amuse themselves on the job.

Some Fun Tips for Beating Boredom at Work

1. Take frequent breaks. Lunch breaks, coffee breaks, bathroom breaks, smoke breaks, they all add up. Play your cards right, and you can spend your whole shift on break.

2. Get some exercise. Just because you're at work doesn't mean you can't keep fit. Try taking long walks around your workplace. As long as you look purposeful and carry a clipboard, your boss will think you're busy.

3. Develop a hobby. You've got all those paper clips right there. Why not build something? Doodling can be great fun. You've always wanted to learn to whistle an entire opera.

4. Set records for your personal bests. How many times can you clear your throat before you're threatened by a coworker? How many trips to the water cooler can you squeeze into a single day? Be creative. This is how people make it into the Guinness Book of Records.

5. Yak on the phone. Everyone loves an employee with good phone manners. Practice on your friends and relatives!

6. Staredowns with customers.

7. "Gaslight" your boss -- do things that'll make him think he's losing his mind. Every time he leaves his office, sneak in and rearrange his desktop items. Leave fake phone messages. Repeat everything he says. Ask him frequently if he feels ill.

8. Two words: Elevator races.

9. Trespass into your coworkers' cubicle space. See how far you can encroach before they complain.

10. Make xerographic copies of your body parts. An oldie, but always entertaining, especially if you're the simple-minded sort.

11. Hoard office supplies. Why do you think your desk has drawers?

12. Follow customers or colleagues around, mimicking their every movement. Always a hoot.

13. Chatting with coworkers can be entertaining, especially if you make a practice of interrupting them at every opportunity.

14. Flirting can be fun, right up to the moment you're called in for sexual harassment. But hey, even that's a variation in the routine, right?

15. Liquid lunch. Afternoons breeze by when you're boozy.

16. The Internet contains a million distractions, not all of which have to do with pornography. There's also gambling!

17. Gossip makes a great escape from boredom. You can get colleagues going for each others' throats while you sit back and smirk. It's like creating your own soap opera!

18. Going on job interviews. If you practice the above techniques enough, you'll almost certainly get out of that boring job and into the lines at the unemployment office.

Have fun!

Spillage, people

When you work alone at home, something as trifling as a spill can derail your whole day.

I was having one of those bumbling days recently, where I spill and drop things and walk into door jambs. Sometimes the gravity field feels screwed up around here. Not my fault that we live on the Cul de Sac of Gravitation Variation.

While mopping up a small lake of coffee, I felt the fizzle of my morning ambition. Another workday shot. A long comatose afternoon of ceiling-staring and CNN opened before me.

I know I'm crying over spilled milk here, and that many of you would give your eyeteeth to work at home all day and spill stuff on your pajamas. But this work-at-home lifestyle has its hazards: It's easy to get sidetracked when nobody's watching. Whole days can vanish. You spill a little coffee after breakfast; next thing you know, the family's home, wanting dinner. Poof.

When you work alone, a spill is an event. It bites half an hour out of the meat of your day. More if the spill results in emergency laundry. Much more if you manage to soak a deskful of invoices ready to go into the mail. (Allow bonus time for cursing and dancing in place.)

Because you can't just leave it there, can you? A spill must be remedied immediately. You must swab it up and get every little speck so it doesn't leave sticky freckles on the floor. Then you discard the paper towels and/or rinse and wring out the mop. Put everything away. Deep breathing to calm yourself, then back to your desk, where you were working on what, again? Plus, you still don't have any coffee. Which means another trip to the spill zone in the kitchen--

If you work in a regular office, with colleagues, a spill becomes a group event. But, generally, it's over quickly and everybody can have a nice chuckle and, whew, catch our breaths and go back to work.

In a small office, your workmates may help you clean up the mess or, at least, offer their sympathy -- "Oh, (insert your name here), you poor, clumsy thing!"

At a bigger company, you make a token effort to throw paper towels on the spill, then call the janitor.

Higher up the food chain, you have your secretary call the janitor. Then you square your shoulders and stand staring out the window until the mess is removed.

After a spill at a big corporation, you pick up the phone and have all the carpet replaced on the fourteenth floor immediately. Then you claim a tax write-off for hurricane damage.

When you work alone, there's no way to turn a spill into a moneymaker for the company. Just the opposite. You lose man-hours, productivity, concentration, the flow.

You may curse the interruption, but it's important to keep a spill in perspective. Don't give yourself a heart attack. After all, it's not the Exxon Valdez. It's a minor spill, a blip on the radar of your day. No big deal.

Even if you spilled the coffee in your lap, how hot was it, really? It had been cooling on your desk for minutes. You'll survive. A bigger cleanup, maybe a dry cleaning bill, but hey these things happen. Hardly worth mentioning to your spouse at the end of the day.

But if you spilled on those invoices . . .

Oh, you poor, clumsy thing!

Browbeating the blabbermouths

In everyday conversation, it's remarkable how many people can't tell the difference between "rapt" and "trapped."

They'll yammer on and on, believing they have our undivided attention, when in fact we are secretly practicing the skill known as "yawning with our mouths closed."

It's not just that these people are boring. They're so self-absorbed that they think they're fascinating, or their topic so enraptures them that they assume it must be equally interesting to the world at large. They feel justified in "sharing" with the rest of us, so we won't be deprived of this information/opinion/enlightenment.

We've all been trapped in such conversations. In the workplace, a co-worker (or, worse, a boss) corners you in a corridor and forces you to listen to gory descriptions of his recent surgery. Or, a client spends an entire business lunch reliving the detailed itinerary of an exotic vacation you yourself could never afford. Or, you're seated at a dinner party next to a blowhard so breathtakingly boring that you want to spit in his plate.

Fortunately, you needn't suffer in silence any longer. You can use special communication techniques to derail runaway yakkers. Try the following:

Direct confrontation. If a co-worker insists on telling you the plot of last night's TV sitcom, say, "I thought only idiots watched that show."

Distraction. Sometimes, all you need is to divert the person's attention. For example, if a colleague won't shut up, try interrupting with, "You've got a smudge on your face." When he wipes his cheek and keeps talking, say, "No, on the other side." When he wipes his hand on that side, say, "Oh, no, you made it worse." Soon, he'll stop chattering and go find a mirror.

Appeal to the senses. You can create a diversion by saying, "Is it cold in here?" Or, "What's that smell?" Or, "Look! A bear!"

Physical cues. Roll your eyes. Clear your throat repeatedly. Look at your wristwatch. If none of those cues work, then get physical with the talker. Give him a little "goose" in the ribs with your finger. Seven or eight times. Or, a friendly slap on the shoulder. Harder each time, until he goes away. Actual strangling is considered bad manners.

Disagree endlessly. When a colleague wants to complain about working conditions, say, "I like it that way." Every time.

Agree endlessly. Some people just love to argue. If you agree with everything they say, you take the legs right out from under them. If your agreement causes problems later, you can always deny it.

Verbal judo. Use the yakker's own momentum to throw them off-balance. Some examples:
If a colleague insists on telling you about last night's dream, pretend to listen, then, no matter how outlandish the description, say, "I had a dream just like that."

If the person keeps talking about illness/poor health/surgery, take it farther by "topping" them. Tell them their malady is "nothing compared to dengue fever." Offer to compare scars. Try, "Want to see my boil?" Soon, even the sickest gabber will find the strength to scurry away.

If a genealogy nut tries to tell you about past generations in her family, pretend to consider the names, then say, "I thought my ancestors killed all your ancestors. Guess we missed some."

If a co-worker complains about his ex-wife, say, "I know just what you mean. She's been the same way, ever since we started dating."

Using these techniques can rescue you from many excruciating conversations, and in most cases can actually lengthen your life.

Remember, though: If you find people using such techniques on you, then it's time to shut up. Before they start goosing you.

Can your inner child come out to play?

Researchers who study children say it's imperative that parents tear their offspring away from the TV and make them go interact with other kids.

Play time, they tell us, is when children learn many of the social skills they'll one day need to become functioning adults.

For instance, kids of my generation learned the rules of social debate from the standard shooting games -- cops-and-robbers or cowboys-and-Indians or (after steady doses of the TV show "Combat!") heroic G.I. vs. evil Nazi. These games went like this:

"Bang, you're dead."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you ARE."

"You missed me."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Liar."

"Cheater."

"I'm telling."

At this point, the offended child would run to a weary Mom to complain. Game over.

Nowadays, of course, kids aren't allowed to shoot toy guns. Even whispering "bang" can get a kid expelled from school for life. Instead, children learn social skills by debating which Pokemon is most powerful, the argument escalating until one child runs to Mom, crying and complaining.

The playground is where kids learn to make friends and gossip about enemies. Where they learn to evade bullies. Where they learn to shrug off slights with dignity.

As we grow older, we forget many of those lessons. Or, we water them down. We want to be taken seriously as adults, so we disdain the social tricks that have proven valuable to generations of kids.

For example, we learn to gloat in smug silence when we outdo our competitors or when that jerk in the next cubicle makes a costly mistake. What we'd like to do, of course, is to call out: "Hahahahaha. I win, I win. Neener, neener, neener." But that's not how serious adults act.

We might be better off if we let that inner child go out to play more often. Maybe we're missing something by keeping those playground taunts and tactics bottled up inside. Some examples:

--Are any two words more chilling than "I'm telling?" Try it the next time you catch co-workers filching office supplies or competitors violating federal regulations. See if they don't shape up immediately.

--Remember picking teams on the playground? Was anything more humiliating than being the uncoordinated geek who was chosen last? You can turn that around in your career life. Pick the geek first. He'll be your salvation when the computers go down.

--When your boss is handing out assignments, be the quickest to say, "Not it."

--Turn aside insults by using those old favorites, "Sticks and stones . . . " or "I'm rubber and you're glue . . . " They might not defuse an angry confrontation, but they're better than gunfire.

--Hum background music as you go through your workday, the way boys provide action soundtracks to their playground heroism. When you finish a task, go for the crescendo: "Da-dum-da-dum-ta-DAAAH!" Your coworkers will love it. Really.

--If an irate colleague tries to corner you, sprint away while yelling over your shoulder, "You ca-a-an't catch me."

--Also effective: "You can't make me." (You should have another job lined up before trying that one on your boss, however.)

Maybe you're saying to yourself about now: "Hey, there's a reason I put aside all this kid stuff. My job is important, and it requires me to act like a grown-up. I want to be taken seriously."

To which I reply: "Haha, you're an adult. You don't get to play. Neener, neener, neener."

Cubicle curs

By now, you've no doubt heard about the expensive new mixed-breed dogs that are taking the world by storm.

People are paying top dollar for the Labradoodle (Labrador/poodle cross), the schnoodle (schnauzer/poodle mix), the dorgi (dachshund/corgi) and the cockapoo (cocker spaniel/poodle).
Buyers are attracted to such mixes because they have the best properties of the original breeds, such as the poodle's allergy-friendly curly fur, and because mixed-breeds tend to be healthier.

I'm a big fan of mutts. Our family dog, Elvis, is a sheepdog/deerhound mix. (What would the clever breeders call that? Sheephound? Sheepdeerdoodle?) He's the best dog ever. Long-legged, smart, shaggy, friendly. Looks kind of like a giant schnoodle.

We got Elvis at an animal shelter, rather than pay a breeder thousands of dollars. Which just raises his worth, in my estimation.

Since I work at home, Elvis is my co-worker. He spends all day sleeping in my home office, staying handy in case of an emergency, such as spilled food. He never disturbs me, never tries to horn in on my successes and will gladly take the blame for my failures, especially if I spill some food while I'm ranting. He's the perfect colleague.

The trend of "hot" mixed-breed dogs got me to thinking: Maybe it would be possible to classify co-workers the same way, focusing on the best or worst of particular types. Here are some possibilities:

--Overdoodles. These are great co-workers because they gladly shoulder the load, producing twice as much as their colleagues. Unfortunately, this breed tends to be short-lived.

--Snickerdoodles. Co-workers with funny laughs. Once they get started, they can't stop. Such laughter is contagious, and can boost morale.

--Hairdoodles. These workers spend most of the day tending their elaborate hairdos, while others do the actual work. Recognizable by their curly fur, and by mirrors placed strategically near their desks. Closely related to two other mixes, Manicurgis and Shampoos.

--Doodledoodles. Workers who pour all their energies into idly drawing in the margins of important reports and business plans.

--Coldbricks. These cross-breeds waste all day complaining that the office thermostat is set wrong. Prone to wearing sweaters.

--Schnoozers. Workers who frequently fall asleep at their desks. Also known as Napoodles.

--Perdiemdoodles. These colleagues are the masters of the expense account. Usually found "out to lunch" or away on pricey business trips to, say, Hawaii.

--Garfieldoodles. Co-workers who decorate their desks with cartoons and other "cute" items. This breed tends to be friendly, if rarely effective.

--Borgis. This long-winded breed puts fellow workers to sleep with epic recountings of summer vacations and after-work shenanigans.

--Canoodles. Office-romance types. Look for them in the supply room where they often, er, breed.

--Dorschtop. Rarely does anything beyond taking up space. They're so inert, you might not even know they're present unless you stub your toe on one.

--Nerdoodles. High-tech types who have trouble relating to other breeds. They're born with pocket protectors, which explains their alternative name, Kangaroodles.

--Schmokers. Hard to find because they're usually outside somewhere, puffing away. Another short-lived breed.

--Boohoodles. Temperamental types, prone to bursting into tears when they don't get their way. Can often be traced by the trail of Kleenex they leave behind.

--Poopoos. A crass, unruly breed that often distracts colleagues with "bathroom humor." To be avoided.

--Snapoos. Ill-tempered breed recognized by incessant barking and occasional backbiting. Quick to rage and difficult to please, Snapoos often are found in management positions.

--Whatchadoodles. An inquisitive breed known to waste the workday asking colleagues what they're up to.

--Noodledoodles. Dreamy types who spend hours "noodling" ideas that never amount to anything. Also known as "columnists."

Meeting expectations

It's a common notion in the business world that "nothing gets accomplished in meetings," but that couldn't be further from the truth.

Plenty occurs in your typical business meeting. In particular, careers are ruined because participants don't know how to play the game.

No matter what your field, you eventually will be expected to "take a meeting" with your superiors or co-workers or clients. Somewhere, I'm sure, lumberjacks are forced to sit around a long table and analyze performance and profit ratios.

(Even we lowly workers who toil in home offices occasionally are summoned to headquarters or forced to pitch our ideas to customers. We tend to be ineffective in meetings because we're accustomed to working alone, muttering and cursing and wearing coffee-stained sweatpants.)

The key to a successful business meeting is to be prepared. You must know your material and how best to project it. You must know the participants and what they expect. You must make sure you don't have spinach stuck in your front teeth.

All the etiquette lessons your mother tried to teach you apply to business meetings. Since you didn't listen to your mother any more than you currently heed your boss, let's review:

--Mind your manners. Common courtesy is expected at business meetings. Don't talk over other people, no matter how slow and befuddled they seem. Don't shoot rubber bands at co-workers. Don't chew gum while meeting with a client, and never, ever stick the chewed gum to the underside of his desk.

--Know your audience and what connections lie behind the scenes. Do some research, so you know which client is a slack-jawed idiot and which ones simply look like slack-jawed idiots. Dogpile-on-the-boss'-nephew almost never works. And, how many salesmen have been ruined by referring to competitors as "Satan's spawn," only to learn the customer is married to one of those competitors?

--Avoid sweeping generalizations. For instance, don't say "golf is for morons" until you find out your client's handicap.

--Don't hog the conversation. Nobody likes a know-it-all. Give others a chance to dig their own holes of ignominy. (Note: When you witness a colleague sink his career in a meeting, it's considered impolite to snort-laugh.)

--Pay attention. No matter how long-winded your boss or how unproductive a meeting seems, it's always bad form to start leafing through magazines. Just like in school, the teacher always calls on the student who's staring out the window.

--Know the terminology. You won't make a good impression using terms like "gizmo" and "widget" unless you work for Universal Gizmos and Widgets, Inc.

--Dress appropriately. At one time, the traditional business suit was the correct uniform for all meetings. No more. Part of knowing your audience is knowing how they dress. Hollywood types, for instance, tend to dress like carpenters. Computer engineers go for the "surfer/nerd" look. If you wear a business suit to a meeting with software geeks, they will sneer and flick pizza on you.

--Be careful with jokes. "Two drunks walk into a bar…" may not seem funny to a client who's active in Alcoholics Anonymous.

--Make suggestions. If you sit silent as a stump through every meeting, co-workers will start treating you like a stump. Or, worse, the way dogs treat a stump.

--Be prepared to back down. Don't insist that your idea is the only workable one or that the boss is stupid to ignore you. Wait until you're out of the meeting, then say those things in the "safety zone" behind your manager's back.

--Stay awake. No matter what.

If you follow these simple rules, you, too, can be effective in business meetings and go on to have a successful career. Particularly if you're the boss' nephew.

A shaggy dog story

It can be a lonely workday for those of us who labor at home, but here's the answer: a dog.

(OK, don't all you cat lovers write in to complain. I'm sure cats are wonderful, too, but I'm allergic to them. I'll take your word for it. No catty letters.)

I recently returned to the world of canine companionship after a 10-year hiatus. Our last pet had been a mutant Airedale named Scotch, who still thought he was a fidgety lap dog when he reached 85 pounds. Scotch nearly caused me to swear off pets forever. He ruined the yard. He left tooth marks in the doorknob, trying to get inside. He barked all day while my wife and I were at work, prompting the neighbors to leave anonymous threatening notes. I realize now that he was lonely and neurotic and way too excitable. We found him a nice home before our first son was born.

While that was a terrible experience in pet-owning, it was, I learned later, pretty good training for parenthood.

I wasn't in any hurry to try another dog, but my wife and kids wore me down. My best ammunition -- a dog would be lonely and loud if left alone all day -- became a dud once I started working at home.

A couple of months ago, we adopted a puppy. Actually, at $75, it was more like ransom. He's a shaggy mutt named Elvis. My sons say "he ain't nothin' but a hound dog," but I believe he is part Clydesdale. He nearly doubled in size the first month we had him. He's only six months old, but we're already sizing him for a saddle. We can tell the boys we got them a pony.

So far, Elvis is rowdy with the kids, apparently thinking they're puppies, too, which isn't so far from the truth. But he thinks I'm the Alpha Male, in charge of things around here (ha, ha!), and his job is to follow me around the house.

When I go to the kitchen for coffee, he comes along, watching carefully, as if he's trying to learn to brew French Roast. (Which wouldn't be a bad trick to teach him, come to think of it.) When I'm working at my desk, he sleeps. He's delighted to go outside and play by himself.

He is, in fact, the perfect co-worker.

He doesn't talk back. He doesn't complain. He does exactly what is requested of him (sure, that's essentially nothing, but he's good at it). He never tries to sell me band candy.

He doesn't goldbrick and then hog all the credit. Indeed, a dog can even provide a good excuse for your own lolly-gagging. This has been true since the days of "the dog ate my homework," though it pays to be more sophisticated than that now. Your grandmother can pass away only so many times, but your dog can have repeated miraculous recoveries.

A dog makes sure you don't sit too long at your desk. You have to let him outside and later you have to let him back inside. He'll let you know when. One way or the other. Get too wrapped up in your work and the carpet suffers.

There are other disadvantages. Elvis sheds hairballs, something you don't see much with human co-workers. And humans don't usually snore and drool while you work. Well, some do. But they don't usually chase rabbits while they're sleeping. That can be distracting.

Because Elvis follows me wherever I go, I have a good excuse when walking around the house, talking to myself. See, I'm not really talking to myself like a lunatic, I'm talking to the DOG. Maybe he doesn't answer, but it helps to have someone to bounce ideas off. I find myself muttering, "Elvis, where did I leave that invoice?" And then, "Ah, here it is!" He shares my delight, naturally, though he may just be scamming for another Milk-Bone.

But the No. 1 reason a dog is best is this: You can rarely get your human co-workers to lie on your feet and keep them warm.