Webinar Etiquette
I spent this morning attending a webinar; the speakers were very good, though as usual I was really flagging towards the end.
One thing irked me: The man hosting the webinar said we'd have a break, he then announced, "It's five past eleven now, let's have a break, stretch our legs, and be back for quarter past eleven". He then continued to talk for another two minutes, cutting into everyone's break time.
I had just about enough time for a comfort break and to grab my mail, text some friends to thank them for a card, and boil the kettle to make coffee, and then I heard from my computer, "right, we'll make a start again". I looked at the time on my computer; now, maybe his clock was fast, but according to what I could see, he was stopping the break four minutes early, which is quite a big deal when a ten minute break has already been cut down to eight minutes by his rambling.
Meanwhile, I'm bummed about the Great Outdoors Challenge; I looked at the list of participants on the work intranet, and my name does not appear - I sent them constant updates, until I reached 90km, which I was led to believe was the upper limit (turns out many people did a lot more; they should have written clearer guidelines).
I did get my Christmas cards delivered, unfortunately while I was trying to listen to the webinar, so I've managed to write the ones I still needed to write; I've now delivered cards to some of the neighbours (well, to two flats anyway). On a sidenote, I am getting tired of people asking me to repeat myself when they tell them things over skype or an intercom; it's like I suddenly have a really thick accent that I wasn't aware of.
I also noticed another of these signs up on the common, so it must be some kind of Advent trail put on for children.
It turns out that taekwon-do tonight is an extra-long lesson, potentially with some sort of games, but it won't be the usual team stuff, which will be impossible with social distancing. It's the last lesson of the year, though - returning on January 4.
Addendum (sorry, forgot to include earlier - here's the first part of my next X-Files fan fiction, following on from My Struggle V - it's called Don't Look Now; I was frantically changing stuff as I wrote it up, so this is very much in draft form.
Former Assistant Director Skinner was discharged from the hospital on Saturday evening; the hospital called a taxi for him, and they dropped him off at the motel room that he had booked up while his own apartment was being modified so that it would be wheelchair accessinle.
He had a lot to sort out; first off, he had to call a company to get a stair lift fitted, and he’d also need to make sure that he could use the kitchen and bathroom facilities; thank goodness the elevators in the building were quite reliable, and there were four of them - he was much less likely to end up stuck and unable to get back up. When he bought a two-floor apartment all those years ago, he had never imagined that he might end up paralysed from the waist down.
His first visitor was Holly, a former colleague from the F.B.I, who he’d had a good relationship with, aside from the time when she had attacked him. It was a long storey, but she had been under the hypnotic influence of Robert “Pusher” Modell, who had convinced her Skinner was a mugger. You couldn’t fire a member of staff on grounds of temporary insanity.
“I can get some things for you from your apartment” Holly offered.
“Thanks, Holly; several spare outfits first, I guess” he replied. “Flat 606, go up the stairs, and my bedroom is the first door on the right”.
“I imagine you’ll need a wash bag too” replied Holly.
“That too; the washroom is the first on the left at the top of the stairs; bring me a towel, flannel, toothbrush and toothpaste; that should be enough - oh, and deodorant”.
“Certainly, Sir”.
“Walter” he reminded her, “I’m no longer with the F.B.I.”
“Of course; Walter. This looks like a nice motel, anyway”.
Skinner had been surprised when he had no difficult getting himself an accessible room; at least the compensation package that he was receiving from the F.B.I would help to pay for the expense incurred from having booked a motel room for two weeks. Stewart Motel wasn’t too impressive, but it had all that he needed; besides, he had plenty of experience of staying in worse places back before his promotion to Assistant Director of the F.B.I.
Skinner handed over a set of keys to Holly, identifying the keys for the main entrance and his own front door.
“I’ll see you in about an hour then, Walter” replied Holly.
When she had left, Skinner wheeled his way over to the window at the back of the room, just next to the bathroom, and looked out of the window. There wasn’t much of a view, as there was another building close by. Because of the time of year, it was dark already, although it was only six in the evening.
He could see in some of the windows; there was a women’s fitness class taking place in one of the apartments; in another, he could see a couple who appeared to be bickering about something.
This was when he heard the scream; he could hardly believe for a second that he had heard correctly, but it appeared to be coming from one of the ground floor windows. He couldn’t see much there, except for a man with his back to the window. Skinner decided not to think about it too much, and turned away from the window, not seeing the large bat fluttering out of the open window of the building opposite and away into the evening sky.
One thing irked me: The man hosting the webinar said we'd have a break, he then announced, "It's five past eleven now, let's have a break, stretch our legs, and be back for quarter past eleven". He then continued to talk for another two minutes, cutting into everyone's break time.
I had just about enough time for a comfort break and to grab my mail, text some friends to thank them for a card, and boil the kettle to make coffee, and then I heard from my computer, "right, we'll make a start again". I looked at the time on my computer; now, maybe his clock was fast, but according to what I could see, he was stopping the break four minutes early, which is quite a big deal when a ten minute break has already been cut down to eight minutes by his rambling.
Meanwhile, I'm bummed about the Great Outdoors Challenge; I looked at the list of participants on the work intranet, and my name does not appear - I sent them constant updates, until I reached 90km, which I was led to believe was the upper limit (turns out many people did a lot more; they should have written clearer guidelines).
I did get my Christmas cards delivered, unfortunately while I was trying to listen to the webinar, so I've managed to write the ones I still needed to write; I've now delivered cards to some of the neighbours (well, to two flats anyway). On a sidenote, I am getting tired of people asking me to repeat myself when they tell them things over skype or an intercom; it's like I suddenly have a really thick accent that I wasn't aware of.
I also noticed another of these signs up on the common, so it must be some kind of Advent trail put on for children.
It turns out that taekwon-do tonight is an extra-long lesson, potentially with some sort of games, but it won't be the usual team stuff, which will be impossible with social distancing. It's the last lesson of the year, though - returning on January 4.
Addendum (sorry, forgot to include earlier - here's the first part of my next X-Files fan fiction, following on from My Struggle V - it's called Don't Look Now; I was frantically changing stuff as I wrote it up, so this is very much in draft form.
Former Assistant Director Skinner was discharged from the hospital on Saturday evening; the hospital called a taxi for him, and they dropped him off at the motel room that he had booked up while his own apartment was being modified so that it would be wheelchair accessinle.
He had a lot to sort out; first off, he had to call a company to get a stair lift fitted, and he’d also need to make sure that he could use the kitchen and bathroom facilities; thank goodness the elevators in the building were quite reliable, and there were four of them - he was much less likely to end up stuck and unable to get back up. When he bought a two-floor apartment all those years ago, he had never imagined that he might end up paralysed from the waist down.
His first visitor was Holly, a former colleague from the F.B.I, who he’d had a good relationship with, aside from the time when she had attacked him. It was a long storey, but she had been under the hypnotic influence of Robert “Pusher” Modell, who had convinced her Skinner was a mugger. You couldn’t fire a member of staff on grounds of temporary insanity.
“I can get some things for you from your apartment” Holly offered.
“Thanks, Holly; several spare outfits first, I guess” he replied. “Flat 606, go up the stairs, and my bedroom is the first door on the right”.
“I imagine you’ll need a wash bag too” replied Holly.
“That too; the washroom is the first on the left at the top of the stairs; bring me a towel, flannel, toothbrush and toothpaste; that should be enough - oh, and deodorant”.
“Certainly, Sir”.
“Walter” he reminded her, “I’m no longer with the F.B.I.”
“Of course; Walter. This looks like a nice motel, anyway”.
Skinner had been surprised when he had no difficult getting himself an accessible room; at least the compensation package that he was receiving from the F.B.I would help to pay for the expense incurred from having booked a motel room for two weeks. Stewart Motel wasn’t too impressive, but it had all that he needed; besides, he had plenty of experience of staying in worse places back before his promotion to Assistant Director of the F.B.I.
Skinner handed over a set of keys to Holly, identifying the keys for the main entrance and his own front door.
“I’ll see you in about an hour then, Walter” replied Holly.
When she had left, Skinner wheeled his way over to the window at the back of the room, just next to the bathroom, and looked out of the window. There wasn’t much of a view, as there was another building close by. Because of the time of year, it was dark already, although it was only six in the evening.
He could see in some of the windows; there was a women’s fitness class taking place in one of the apartments; in another, he could see a couple who appeared to be bickering about something.
This was when he heard the scream; he could hardly believe for a second that he had heard correctly, but it appeared to be coming from one of the ground floor windows. He couldn’t see much there, except for a man with his back to the window. Skinner decided not to think about it too much, and turned away from the window, not seeing the large bat fluttering out of the open window of the building opposite and away into the evening sky.