The building I now work in houses a great number of financial institutions, which puts me in the enviable position of being in frequent contact with "financial types." I've spent quite a few elevator rides listening to them gab. Aside from wanting to throttle most of them for (even minutely) being a part of the industry that has brought the world economy to its knees, I wouldn't mind throwing any one of them out of a top floor window for forcing their loud stupid-ass conversations on everyone else in hearing distance.
Sample conversations include such gems as:
"...that won't be seeing any action until Q3! Haw haw haw!"
Honestly, who says Q3? Just say "third quarter" like everyone else!
"...and she asked me if I wanted any help on the Johnson account and I said 'do you need the hours?' Hee hee hee!"
I take exception to the use of the phrase "the xx account." It's just lame.
"...I am a complete douchebag and love talking in acronyms and silly buzzwords to make myself sound important! Har har har!"
Not an actual conversation...sadly.
Unfortunately I can't quite remember any of the stinkier piles of verbal doo doo, so you'll have to just bear with my lame attempts at recollecting conversations that I try desperately to sear from my mind.
Of note is the fact that when I am conversing in the elevator with coworkers, likely those finance people are thinking "What an idiot, and what stupid language does he think he's talking in anyway?"
Natto is a Japanese concoction made up of fermented soybeans. It's supposed to taste good on white rice and with mustard. As an American and somewhat sane person, I don't have the same appreciation for Natto that many Japanese do. Maybe it's the fact that it looks like rabbit poo, smells like weeks-old sweaty socks, and has the consistency of mucous. To me it tastes like funky coffee, which doesn't necessarily mean I dislike Natto. I just don't like it.
Imagine my surprise and horror to discover the work refrigerator absolutely packed with the stuff. The first time I discovered it, I was so bewildered that I had to retreat to the safety of my office to take stock of this new development. Over the period of a week or so the Natto vanished, with only a hint of grungy socks lingering as evidence that it had ever been there.
Apparently a local New England maker allows our office to order it in quantity; all of the Japanese workers here swear that it's actually better than Japanese-made Natto. Such a statement, of course, is a huge deal, as anyone worth his salt in Japan knows that anything Japanese is far superior to its equivalent from other countries.
This time around (it happens with a certain regularity) I got in on the action and ordered a couple tubs myself. I just can't wait to have that slimy stuff hanging from my chin.