Tuxedo Day

My new work place has a casual dress code, supposedly. Every day, I see people there in jeans, t shirts, and shorts. Usually not all at the same time. I haven't yet gotten into it yet because I am worried that the day I pick to go casual will be Tuxedo Day. And then I'll have run through the halls in my short pants and halter top, yelling "I'm new here! I didn't get the email!" Not that anyone will care, because it will also be Drive the New Guy Slowly Insane By Refusing to Acknowledge His Presence Day. I can only imagine that this would be an elaborate way of proving one's self, and so from now on, I'll have to keep a tuxedo hung up next to my dry erase board. Whenever a coworker asks me about it, I'll just point to my eyes and then point back at him. Oh yes, I'm on to you.

Last night at dinner, I need to make a call and my cell phone wasn't getting reception. I went up to the front desk of the restaurant where we were eating and asked if I could use their phone. The girl there was very nice and said I could. I asked how I got an outside line, and she said, "Just hit the asterfik key." I thought I didn't hear hear correctly, so I said, "Do what now?" Again, she said, "Hit the asterfik key." Well, obviously it wasn't a mistake if she said it twice, and I just figured there was an extra key on their phone called the asterfik. Phones always have all sorts of weird buttons, therefore I wasn't going to call her an idiot just yet. So, I stared at the phone pad for a second, seeing if there were a key on there that looked kind of like an asterisk, but fikier. I couldn't find one; it looked just like a regular keypad. She sensed my anxiety about this, so she took the phone from me, hit the star key and then gave it back with a loud, theatrical sigh.

Even now, that experience doesn't make much sense. First of all, who calls that button on the phone the asterisk key? That's two more syllables that you could save later for a haiku, perhaps. And then, once that's established, who on earth has ever called an asterisk an asterfik? I can only guess that's what she's referring to; it sounds like a magical platypus from the Chronicles of Narnia.

The fire alarm in my room won't stop chiping. It's incredibly loud, and I"m worried that when I go back into my room, I'll discover it's not my fire alarm at all, but an enormous bird who has nested on my bed. We'll have to battle the death for who gets to sleep there. I'm not too worried about it; I bought those salad tongs for a reason.