I needed a new laptop for work. The one I was using all along is my own, but it can't cope with the technology needed to do everyday work stuff. My boss arranged for me to get a work one and yesterday, I went to collect it. This was the furthest I've travelled in eight weeks and I was so excited. I washed by hair, with shampoo; the first time in two weeks.
When I got there, cars and vans were parked all over the place, including the roundabout right in front of the Hub. I crawled obediently to the back of the Quad to look for parking. There were cars there too but they were parked at least a full space between them all. Even the cars were socially distancing. I slotted into the first free space.
I headed for the Kane Building. With the bright sunshine and the wind blasting around the cars parked in front of the building and wearing my Ironman sunglasses, I was a little disorientated by the time I stepped through the automated sliding door entrance. As the door closed noisily behind me, a voice greeted me from the darkness, “You nearly got blown away!”
I couldn't see him at first. It was a security guard standing three metres away leaning against a dark brown wall. With his dark navy uniform and reddish hair he almost blended into the wall.
“Do you have a letter from the UMTO giving you permission to be here?” he said.
“No.” I said, “I’m only here to collect a laptop.”
“Are you not watching the news?” he said, “Do you not know we’ve been on lockdown these past three months? Six of ye were in this morning, all collecting laptops, at the same time. No one told me ye were coming in. Do none of ye have any sense that you're all coming in at the same time?”
I couldn't tell if he was bored or just joking. I would probably go out of mind too if I had to mind a building with no-one in it. When he paused for my reaction, I said, “Can I go up? They’re expecting me on the 3rd floor.”
“I know they are,” he said, “Andrew told me, but it’s not good enough.” He then gave me precise directions, two times, to the IT office.
Rather than take the lift, I walked up the three flights. Looking down over the campus as I climbed above the level of rooftops, I could see the trees in their full-blown glory but with a deserted campus, there isn’t a sinner around to appreciate them. This is exam season and ordinarily, the library would be heaving with students, College Road would be swarming with students looking either relieved or anxious and the corridors outside the exam halls would be filled with even more students holding handwritten notes for last minute cramming. All this activity while staff members would carefully step around them on their way to an innocent, care-free coffee. Now it was a scene from a ghost town in the old wild west with the wind howling around lifeless buildings behind shuttered doors.
I found IT Services, exactly as described, and knocked on the door. A really tall man named Colin let me in. Colin had my designated laptop opened on a desk and asked me to sign in with my password so that he could set me up as an approved user. I told him my current laptop was only two years old. He laughed politely and assured me this would be better even though it seemed the exact same size. It was only when he put the laptop into the bag it came with did I realise it was brand new. The ones distributed to my colleagues on the 12th March were second-hand. Colin also gave me a keyboard still in its box and a mouse.
Out of curiosity I decided to drive home again via the city centre. A garda checkpoint had been set up on the Mardyke Road outside St Joseph’s National School. There were two of them taking two cars at a time: a young, smiling one and an older one. I landed on the older one. I hoisted the laptop bag up onto the passenger seat and made sure my work ID around my neck was visible. I lowered the passenger window in anticipation. The garda stooped down and smiling into the window asked, “Where are you going?” I had my story ready but only got as far as, “I work in UCC and….” when he said, “You’re grand on you go.” I was so disappointed.
There is traffic but it’s mainly delivery vans, trucks and buses. Nothing is open. I saw two homeless men sitting on the courthouse steps sharing a cup of something and laughing. I passed the English Market. No queues yet but they were taking in deliveries of fish.
Back at home again, Hubbie and Son (22) were having a late breakfast. They pounced on the new computer. Hubbie shouted in disbelief, “It’s a Dell and you got an i5 – very impressive.” It meant nothing to me. I got a bowl and rooted into the freezer for ice-cream. “What’s in the box?” asked Hubbie and reaching into the Aldi bag, he pulled out the longish box containing the keyboard. The table looked like Christmas morning with the discarded boxes and plastic wrapping and instruction booklets. Hubbie said, “A remote keyboard, cool AND the mouse is remote too" and almost drooling at the mouth said, "I’ll set you up.” “Please do," I said as I sliced the first of two bananas into my almost full bowl of vanilla ice-cream with chunks of fudge pieces gently melting alongside two scoops of double chocolate fudge brownie.
I headed for the Kane Building. With the bright sunshine and the wind blasting around the cars parked in front of the building and wearing my Ironman sunglasses, I was a little disorientated by the time I stepped through the automated sliding door entrance. As the door closed noisily behind me, a voice greeted me from the darkness, “You nearly got blown away!”
I couldn't see him at first. It was a security guard standing three metres away leaning against a dark brown wall. With his dark navy uniform and reddish hair he almost blended into the wall.
“Do you have a letter from the UMTO giving you permission to be here?” he said.
“No.” I said, “I’m only here to collect a laptop.”
“Are you not watching the news?” he said, “Do you not know we’ve been on lockdown these past three months? Six of ye were in this morning, all collecting laptops, at the same time. No one told me ye were coming in. Do none of ye have any sense that you're all coming in at the same time?”
I couldn't tell if he was bored or just joking. I would probably go out of mind too if I had to mind a building with no-one in it. When he paused for my reaction, I said, “Can I go up? They’re expecting me on the 3rd floor.”
“I know they are,” he said, “Andrew told me, but it’s not good enough.” He then gave me precise directions, two times, to the IT office.
Rather than take the lift, I walked up the three flights. Looking down over the campus as I climbed above the level of rooftops, I could see the trees in their full-blown glory but with a deserted campus, there isn’t a sinner around to appreciate them. This is exam season and ordinarily, the library would be heaving with students, College Road would be swarming with students looking either relieved or anxious and the corridors outside the exam halls would be filled with even more students holding handwritten notes for last minute cramming. All this activity while staff members would carefully step around them on their way to an innocent, care-free coffee. Now it was a scene from a ghost town in the old wild west with the wind howling around lifeless buildings behind shuttered doors.
I found IT Services, exactly as described, and knocked on the door. A really tall man named Colin let me in. Colin had my designated laptop opened on a desk and asked me to sign in with my password so that he could set me up as an approved user. I told him my current laptop was only two years old. He laughed politely and assured me this would be better even though it seemed the exact same size. It was only when he put the laptop into the bag it came with did I realise it was brand new. The ones distributed to my colleagues on the 12th March were second-hand. Colin also gave me a keyboard still in its box and a mouse.
Out of curiosity I decided to drive home again via the city centre. A garda checkpoint had been set up on the Mardyke Road outside St Joseph’s National School. There were two of them taking two cars at a time: a young, smiling one and an older one. I landed on the older one. I hoisted the laptop bag up onto the passenger seat and made sure my work ID around my neck was visible. I lowered the passenger window in anticipation. The garda stooped down and smiling into the window asked, “Where are you going?” I had my story ready but only got as far as, “I work in UCC and….” when he said, “You’re grand on you go.” I was so disappointed.
There is traffic but it’s mainly delivery vans, trucks and buses. Nothing is open. I saw two homeless men sitting on the courthouse steps sharing a cup of something and laughing. I passed the English Market. No queues yet but they were taking in deliveries of fish.
Back at home again, Hubbie and Son (22) were having a late breakfast. They pounced on the new computer. Hubbie shouted in disbelief, “It’s a Dell and you got an i5 – very impressive.” It meant nothing to me. I got a bowl and rooted into the freezer for ice-cream. “What’s in the box?” asked Hubbie and reaching into the Aldi bag, he pulled out the longish box containing the keyboard. The table looked like Christmas morning with the discarded boxes and plastic wrapping and instruction booklets. Hubbie said, “A remote keyboard, cool AND the mouse is remote too" and almost drooling at the mouth said, "I’ll set you up.” “Please do," I said as I sliced the first of two bananas into my almost full bowl of vanilla ice-cream with chunks of fudge pieces gently melting alongside two scoops of double chocolate fudge brownie.
Hubbie had me set up in minutes. “Now clean this table before you use the mouse," he ordered, "and don’t even think of lighting candles anymore." “Candles create ambience,” I replied snottily. "Have your ambience somewhere else," he said firmly, "at least not around this computer anyway." He continued to cluck and fuss over the laptop like it was a new-born baby. “We’re almost out of ice-cream, “I said. "But I got four tubs on Sunday," said Hubbie. Then looking at my face said quickly, “Ok I’ll get more later." He got up from my chair said, "Go on, log in and see what happens."
It was better. It responded faster and the screen seemed sharper.
It was scant consolation for the disappointment of this morning. I was so psyched about seeing my workplace for the first time in almost eight weeks and to be interacting with colleagues, even ones I had never met before: a bored and hostile security guard, a helpful IT man but anxious to leave again and a smiling, non-interested garda. What kind of human contact is that?
I watched the one o’clock news and then settled down to familiarise myself with my new gadget before my 2.30pm on-line course on OneDrive. Rochelle, the instructor was able to share the documents on her computer with the 23 people taking part. We could ask questions orally or write them to her via the ‘Chat’ function while she was giving the demonstration and she in turn could interact with us while it was all happening. We are all sitting in our homes scattered around various parts of Munster discussing the same thing and looking at the same document. It’s a miracle. Or just a faster laptop.
Son (22) is reading a book by Cal Newport called Deep Work in which the author describes an experiment on boredom. A group of volunteers are told they are taking part in research about pain tolerance. Each volunteer is brought into a room in which there is nothing but a table, a chair and a button. The volunteer is asked to press the button once. When they do, it gives them a mild electric shock. A device placed around their ankle monitors the subject’s bodily reaction to the pain. The researcher then leaves the room with the excuse that she is checking the results on her computer and will only be gone a few minutes. She in fact leaves the volunteer alone for 15 minutes. In that 15 minutes, the researchers discovered that 25% of the women and 67% of the men pushed the button even when they did not have to. It seems that some people would rather be in pain than endure boredom.
I was bored with my interaction with three human beings yesterday. In fact, I was so deflated I doubled my daily quota of ice-cream to fill the void. Tomorrow my stitches come out. Maybe that will have better results. I can’t wait.
It was better. It responded faster and the screen seemed sharper.
It was scant consolation for the disappointment of this morning. I was so psyched about seeing my workplace for the first time in almost eight weeks and to be interacting with colleagues, even ones I had never met before: a bored and hostile security guard, a helpful IT man but anxious to leave again and a smiling, non-interested garda. What kind of human contact is that?
I watched the one o’clock news and then settled down to familiarise myself with my new gadget before my 2.30pm on-line course on OneDrive. Rochelle, the instructor was able to share the documents on her computer with the 23 people taking part. We could ask questions orally or write them to her via the ‘Chat’ function while she was giving the demonstration and she in turn could interact with us while it was all happening. We are all sitting in our homes scattered around various parts of Munster discussing the same thing and looking at the same document. It’s a miracle. Or just a faster laptop.
Son (22) is reading a book by Cal Newport called Deep Work in which the author describes an experiment on boredom. A group of volunteers are told they are taking part in research about pain tolerance. Each volunteer is brought into a room in which there is nothing but a table, a chair and a button. The volunteer is asked to press the button once. When they do, it gives them a mild electric shock. A device placed around their ankle monitors the subject’s bodily reaction to the pain. The researcher then leaves the room with the excuse that she is checking the results on her computer and will only be gone a few minutes. She in fact leaves the volunteer alone for 15 minutes. In that 15 minutes, the researchers discovered that 25% of the women and 67% of the men pushed the button even when they did not have to. It seems that some people would rather be in pain than endure boredom.
I was bored with my interaction with three human beings yesterday. In fact, I was so deflated I doubled my daily quota of ice-cream to fill the void. Tomorrow my stitches come out. Maybe that will have better results. I can’t wait.
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