Connect to Server


The outcome wasn’t as successful as I’d hoped. I plunked down in a seat next to a girl in my photography class that I’d always wanted to meet. I’d recognized her from a restaurant I once ate dinner at, and thought to use that as a conversation starter.

So I asked, and she responded with several comments to my questions, mainly how tired she was of school and how hopelessly close it felt she was to finishing. End of conversation. Moving on.

The next class period was much the same. I found myself seated next to a pair of young men, both uncertain of how to connect to the server and turn in the due assignment to the Hand-In folder. Since I know a thing or two about these things (shamelessly, yes), I thought maybe I’d wiggle my way into their conversing and extend my knowledge to help them get their assignments turned in.

“A-a-are you trying to connect to the server?” I finally spoke up after a minute of painfully watching them search without a clue for some big, red, prominent “CONNECT TO SERVER” button, a button that in fact, doesn’t exist. They didn’t know this.

“Chyeah,” says one dude.

In a swift sentence I instructed them, and received the standard “Ohhhh…I knew that” response.


I thought afterwards that maybe, just maybe they’d look to me for more help if they needed it, or at least want to converse. Maybe ask me where I was from, what was my zodiac sign, what was my biz-nass. Perhaps all of the above.

But nothing! Not even the slightest nod in my direction. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t somewhat put off by the whole scenario, and even as I attempted to speak to them once again they glanced at me with a painful look of despair and carried on with their jabber about video game forums and comic books, probably.

It was a conscious effort, however unsuccessful.

And one more thing. You know in the movies when you see the teenage valley girls, and one girl has just told another something of absolute shock, to which the other replies:


Well, I always thought this was a dramatization and that no real woman speaks in this manner. Until today. Girls that use this phrase really do exist.

That, friends, is a slice of Monday.

Until next time,

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