Reasons why Millennials prefer e-mail to phone in a work environment:

anais-ninja-bitch:

rafi-dangelo:

1) We don’t want to talk to you.

2) We don’t want to pause our music to talk to you.

3) We don’t even talk to each other on the phone — why would we want to talk to you?

But the biggest reason is A TRAIL. If I e-mail you back, you can see what was said in the future. You can’t tell me I forgot to tell you something because it’s right there. You can’t tell me I “never reached out” because we can both SEE it. I don’t have to trust your recollection.

And, in a group inbox, you can see who has been responded to. I got forwarded a voicemail from my supervisor (through e-mail! imagine that!) asking me to call some lady back for clarification. So I did, against my will of course…and she said somebody had called her yesterday.

Who? When? What did y’all talk about? Is follow-up necessary?

Phone calls back and forth only work in a workflow where the standard procedure is to *log* phone calls in a shared system with a brief summary of what was discussed. Otherwise, y’all need to let us e-mail. It’s not just about a generation gap. It’s also about efficiency.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk. Any feedback can be proffered via e-mail.

EDIT

Also: let’s keep it real – we multi-task better than you do. If I’m on the phone with you, I’m FORCED to do that ONE thing and put whatever you want above all the other things I could’ve been doing. If you e-mail me, I can research what you want (while doing other things), find the solution (while doing other things), and offer it to you in a nice concise package (while doing other things) without sitting on the phone with you in awkward silence looking for the answer to whatever you think is urgent. (It’s not urgent. You’re not dying. I know it’s not urgent.)

OP is being kind in saying “i don’t have to trust your recollection.” people straight up lie, especially customers.

blackbrownuniverse:

Hair bias is a real problem. It’s rarely talked about, but it affects millions globally.

This World Afro Day, we’re calling time on this.

Whatever your hair type, join the movement to Change the Facts, Not the Fro. In celebrating our Afro hair this weekend in all of its versatility, help us continue the conversation by tagging us in your pics @worldafroday.

Let’s wear and share our hair with pride!

Models: 
@__olakemi__ 
@eeshamarr 
@thekimhiatoussaint 
@dee_ajayi

Hair: @charlottemensah 
Photography: @d_kakembo

anauthorandherservicedog:

catscraftsandcommentary:

madgastronomer:

catscraftsandcommentary:

lierdumoa:

niqaeli:

gallusrostromegalus:

kimbergoat:

destroyroxy:

kimbergoat:

arinrowan:

kaitoukitty:

arinrowan:

kaitoukitty:

arinrowan:

lazulisong:

lavenderprose:

Today I found out that yarners think crocheting socks is subversive and controversial and I just…on one hand, why the fuck not, I guess yarners are allowed to have their controversies, but on the other, how much time do you have in your FUCKIN DAY??

My main concern is how they would feel but Maggie u know yarn fandom gotta think about something while knitting five miles of stockingnette for a sweater

Look, you can’t just leave it at that, why is it subversive and controversial? *gets popcorn*

I mean, I’m taking this on good faith, and I’m not saying this is my own personal belief.  I believe in all crafts. 

But…the structure of the stitches and the resulting fabric is pretty different between crochet and knitting.  You get different effects between them, which lends themselves to different crafts.  And none of the effects of (most) crochet stitches lend themselves naturally to socks.  You’re (usually) going to end up with something either stiff and bulky, or full of holes that will Not Feel Good to walk on. Whereas knitted socks will just…BE elastic and comfortable.

Sure you CAN do it.  And there are people and patterns that do it well!!

But MOST crochet socks are a bit like calling this a bicycle

I mean… Okay?  But people are going to Talk.

But this is BABY controversy, this is nothing.  You haven’t even touched on the good shit like RHSS or that time the Olympic Committee dissed us.

Iiiinteresting. So one of those “just because you CAN doesn’t mean you SHOULD” things.

Also I know very little about the yarn fandom except for that bit where a woman had to fake her death and had a nervous breakdown over selling homespun/dyed yarn so like, I already have big expectations.

Was that the one that “died” of leukemia or the one that “died” of lupus, or the one that overdosed?

From what I know of the narrative as it was described to me, I want to say the one that overdosed, but I am intrigued and vaguely concerned that there are multiple distinct individuals the above situation could apply to.

hey umm, what the fuck

the fake deaths thing: indie yarn dyer gets popular, gets overwhelmed by orders, can’t refund money because of shitty bookkeeping, decides faking online death is the only way out.

i’m sure some of them are unintentional rather than premeditated scammers but they’re all still thieving assholes who shouldn’t be running businesses and need to give all the money back.

the olympics commitee: ravelry, well-known knitting (fiber arts in general) site, held a contest they called the ‘ravelympics’ to drum up olympic support then get a cease-and-desist letter for copyright infringement, and the letter said that calling it that ‘denigrates the true nature of the Olympic Games’ and was ‘disrespectful to our country’s finest athletes’

except, you know, ravelry had like 2 million users who all, by nature of ravelry being a website, have basic tech literacy. the social media backlash was so bad that the olympics board had to make 2 official apologies because the first wasn’t good enough.

RHSS: Red Heart Super Saver is cheap Walmart-level yarn. some people hate it because it used to be just really fucking awful and they haven’t bothered updating their opinions. some people hate it because they hate non-natural yarns. some people hate it because they’re yarn snobs(which, btw, comes in two flavors: the disdainful assholes and the people who just don’t see the point if you have the money and don’t indulge yourself). a lot of people defend it because it’s cheap and widely locally available and honestly not that bad after a wash and some fabric softener.

crocheted socks: exactly what kaitoukitty said. people who crochet socks tend to either be new crocheters who are not aware crochet is not the best medium for socks or experienced crocheters who are pushing the boundaries of the medium.

babies on fire: i can’t believe we’re talking about yarncraft controversies and no one mentioned babies on fire. that’s my favorite controversy.

so when deciding what material to make baby blankets out of, in addition to considerations like softness, ease of washing, and allergy concerns quite a lot of people like to consider what would happen to the baby if the blanket was set on fire. yes, really.

wool has the problem of hand-wash only blankets for a new mother (superwash wool exists but that’s a whole ‘nother paragraph), allergy concerns, and also
real fucking expensive if you want quality not-itchy-on-baby-skin wool. but pro-wool-blanket people insist that because wool actually resists being set on fire pretty well and also can self-extinguish, it’s the only sensible choice.

acrylic on the other hand is cheap and you can throw it in the washing machine, and while bad quality acrylics might be stiff and plastic-y they’re not itchy, but if it gets set on fire it will melt onto the baby’s skin. pro-acrylic people insist that if your blanket is on fire, you probably have bigger problems than what the blanket is made of.

wow I didn’t expect such a detailed response. thank you!

Fiber Arts Just Be Fucking Like That.

Humans Just Be Fucking Like That.

I mean, seriously, we will do this this shit in literally any goddamn community you care to conceive of and some you haven’t. The human condition, man. It’s literally everywhere humans are and has been since we started being human. so, like, a couple million years.

Same wank different fandom.

And NO ONE likes it when you mistake knitting for crocheting or crocheting for knitting.

And weavers are salty because everybody forget we even exist.

But spinners are all HERE LET ME TEACH YOU TO DO THIS THING, but we get snippy amongst ourselves about wheels vs spindles.

Meanwhile, embroiderers and tatters are off in the corner like “hey….hey we’re still here….anybody wanna learn?”

I don’t even know how to tag this.

lilaccoloursplash:

doctorangelpenguin:

wepon:

mustlearntoadult:

gutmeats:

regretityet:

tifalockharts:

tifalockharts:

this article about some woman’s 21 y/o son coming home from school w/ a tattoo is THE funniest thing i have seen today

I’M SHRIEKING

You guys.

What the fuck

SOMEONE LINK THE ARTICLE

a classic

As I was reading this I kept waiting for the tattoo to be revealed as like a nazi symbol or some racist shit like for the kkk of something but nope….. She was just THAT hurt by ink

You left out the BEST part “I stand, a lone tyrannosaurus, bellowing at a world I don’t understand.”

caffeinewitchcraft:

writing-prompt-s:

Write a story that starts with emptying the wastebasket in the bathroom.

There’s a quest scroll in the bottom of the trashcan, under the bag, and I pause putting in a new bag as I stare at it. Since it’s being observed, the scroll changes and begins to glow with golden light.

“Congratulations,” a genderless, lightly accented voice says. It doesn’t make sense, but it sounds like it’s coming through the light, echoing and warm. “You’ve been chosen to embark on a magnificent–”

I lunge before it can finish, heart thundering against my ribs, and wrap it in the black trash bag. It’s warm to the touch, even through the plastic, but once I get it properly bundled, I can’t hear or see it which means I’ve managed to contain it.

For now.

I abandon my cleaning cart, shouldering the bathroom door open too quickly. It nearly takes out a high schooler lurking behind it.

“Watch it,” the girl snarls, shaking out the hand that had caught the door before it connected with her face. 

“Be grateful,” I tell her, shoving the garbage bag bundle under my shirt. “I’m, like, basically saving your life right now.”

She scrunches her nose. “What?”

I don’t answer, instead hurrying towards the principal’s office. Sometimes the sorcerer or witch or whoever sticks around after planting them and I definitely do not want to run into them.

“Principal Flag!” I skid past the receptionist and kick the door open, arms wrapped around the quest scroll under my shirt. “We’ve got a problem!”

Principal Flag nearly throws her brush across the room at my sudden entrance, a blush rising furiously along her cheekbones. “I told you to knock!” Her horse hindquarters stamp in irritation and she hastily smooths her long, centaur skirt back over them.

“Sorry,” I pant, coming to a stop in front of her desk. “But this can’t wait, we’ve got a problem. I found a–a quest in the girls’ bathroom.”

“It’s actually a gender-neutral bathroom now,” Principal Flag corrects, seemingly on reflex. “The students voted and I think it’s quite wonderfu– did you say you found a quest?” She pales. “Was it–was it activated?”

“No,” I say. I carefully pull the bundle from out under my shirt, dropping it onto her desk. “I’m the first to come in contact. It tried to give me the Chosen One speech.”

Principal Flag’s hands hover over the black plastic. “God, it talked? Did you feel a compulsion? Depending on the strength, we could be facing quite the adversary here.”

“I don’t know.” I pull up the visitor’s chair, legs still shaking. “I’ve already been a Chosen one, you know that, a compulsion wouldn’t work on me.” I shake my head. “We can’t let whoever did this try again. A quest scroll ruined my life, our lives, I don’t want that to happen to a kid.”

“I remember,” Principal Flag says grimly. “I’ll be damned if I let some thousand-year-old warlock make off with one of my students. Not. In. My. School.” She trots around her desk to the cabinet. From there, she removes a black, metal box. “First, we’ll destroy it. It’s times like these that I’m thankful we have so many helicopter parents on the PTA. They practically give us the money for these.”

I watch as she opens the box. Dark, rolling steam pours from it and across the desk. When it touches the trash bag, the air begins to smell of burning plastic.  Principal Flag picks it up, wincing as the heating plastic burns her fingers and drops it into the box.

“A CURSE,” the scroll shrieks from inside the box. “YOU HAVE DEFIED THE ANCIENT–”

Principal Flag slams the lid back on, locking the thing down. The thing is still shrieking, but the words are muffle and neither Flag or I are susceptible to half curses. Not since our childhoods.

“It had to be an inside job,” I say after the screams begin to die out. “You’ve got the school locked down and I would have noticed anyone sneaking in.”

“I agree,” Principal Flag says. She’s still glaring at the box, mouth a thin line. She looks back at me, grey eyes sharp. “Whoever planted it is a monster. There’s no way they didn’t mean for a kid to find out.”

“Giving quest scrolls to minors is against the law,” I say. “We could call the police?”

Both Flag and I stare at each other for a long moment. Then we burst into laughter.

“A Successful?” Flag howls. “Oh my god, can you imagine what a Successful would say?”

I wipe tears out of my eyes. Successfuls were people who completed quests, generally the light and fun ones that made good day time drama. “Oh,’” I say in a falsetto, “’I’d have killed to have a scroll as a kid. It’s such an honor. They’re starting off right!”

We laugh more, the sound verging on hysteria. Neither of us had the good fortune to be quested with a return the stone to the mountain scroll. We’d gotten something much, much worse.

“Oh, that’s good,” Flag says, dotting under her eyes with a tissue. She sobers slowly, chuckles dying out. “No, we won’t go to the police. I think that us two Unsuccessfuls will do the job nicely.” She grins and there’s something dark in it, darker than one might expect from a highschool principal.

I know that darkness is reflected right back in my smile. “I’ll get on it.”

There are Successfuls, heroes and martyrs who come back stronger and better after getting a quest scroll.

Then there are Unsuccessfuls like us who, if they come back, come back much, much worse.

sarahthecoat:

green-violin-bow:

sarahthecoat:

la-luna-lunaa:

why-cant-people-just-think:

What’s remarkable about John Watson is that when Sherlock first deduced everything about him, he must’ve thought that “Okay, this person just told me my whole life story without being nice about it” and then just accepted it. Like, “okay, he knows everything about me now, no going back. And besides what does it matter? He just knows. I can’t take all that back. It’s just who I am and this person knows and didn’t have any judgements about me. This Sherlock Holmes just knew everything about me. He didn’t mean to humiliate me by telling me about my life. He just told me everything he knew about me. Which is remarkable, by the way.”

What I’m trying to say is, I don’t know how I’d react if put into such a situation but Sherlock just knows things about people. He can’t help it. It’s just that he sees these things about them. Like signals coming into his brain, he can’t stop that. It’s as natural for him as breathing. When Sherlock tells everyone what he’s deduced about them, he doesn’t mean it to be humiliating, (sometimes he does that, if it’s necessary)he just lets people know that he knows. Like, “you’re a pilot and I was able to deduce that from your thumb. You’re having an affair with so and so” etc. He just states them like they are facts. He isn’t judging anyone. It’s just what he does. He deduces for the sake of it. Not to harm anyone.

But people get offended. Would I get offended if a stranger just tells me my whole life story? Well, I’m currently on my bed and I think I won’t be offended. But I don’t know what I’ll do if I was in that situation. What I do know is that it won’t make sense for me to be offended. There are things I do, things about my life that are just facts. I can’t change them. I’ve made decisions that made me the person I am and that’s made up my life, so why should I be mad if someone just tells me all of that?

Like, Anderson and Sally are having an affair and Sherlock points that out and they get offended. Sure Sherlock does that to achieve that effect. But my point is, if you’re doing something, own up to it, like “Okay. I’m having an affair. So what?” But if it’s something worth getting offended over, stop doing it. It’s a simple choice. Sherlock Holmes’ deductions aren’t false: he points out your life and your choices and if you get offended by his details, then that’s your problem, not his. It’s like a doctor telling someone that they have a disease and them getting offended. Pointless, that is.

But John, oh my lovely John. He’s not happy with himself when he meets Sherlock. His image of himself is this: an invalided army doctor who has nothing to do, no purpose, useless in every sense of the word. He’s aware of everything Sherlock points out: he is an army doctor, he got shot, he has a psychosomatic limp, he has an alcoholic, divorced sibling with whom he wants nothing to do with. They are all facts about him. So why should he be offended? This stranger he’s just met and is about to probably live with, knows everything about him. Which, of course, makes one feel vulnerable and such but this person already knows and that can’t be changed, so what? He doesn’t care about all that.

What our Army Doctor does think about is how amazing that was. How incredible it was that someone was able to tell him all about his life. Because he knows it’s not common, it’s extraordinary in every way. He knows no one else can do that. It’s interesting. So let’s concentrate on that because the rest are just facts about his life, no point in dwelling on that.

As self deprecating he is, he is self aware. He knows his weaknesses. He knows he can’t change them. So why should he be angry at someone who just told him all that he already knows about himself? Why not tell this person that what they just did was amazing and extraordinary and he’s never seen anything like it. Because those are facts too. Sherlock Holmes’ deductions and mind are “fantastic” and “brilliant” and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t let Sherlock and the rest of the world know that.

yes!!! even though he’s insecure and not entirely comfortable with himself, john is still confident enough that sherlock’s comments don’t make him feel inferior. he knows he’s exceptionally smart, and doesn’t make him feel bad about it out of envy. i feel like the reason why most people hate sherlock isn’t because of the things he says but because of his near-superpower. take sally and anderson, for example. they clearly can’t be upset about the fact that they’re having an affair-i mean, it’s their choice; and they are adults who should own up to it. of course it would be beyond annoying to have someone tell you that to your face, but that still doesn’t explain why she would hate him so much, and constantly insult him. i mean come on, what grown person on the planet starts and ends every sentence with an insult? it just makes her look childish, because her reaction to sherlock is out of her control and isn’t really the annoyance that one would normally feel in that situation, if a clearly lonely and weird man tells you something insensitive. i’d shrug it off unless it was something truly offensive, in which case i’d tell him once to stop, and otherwise i’d just avoid contact with him. isn’t that what adults (funny that i’m considering myself one) do? that’s because this is not about what he says, but about 1) the fact that he sees through people, which makes everyone uncomfortable (the content, if you will) and 2) his actual ability to know what he knows. that’s envy, plain and simple. 

yes!

Yes yes yes. I also feel there’s something very particular about the moment at which Sherlock meets John – in other words, when John is suicidal. He’s trying his best to envision a future for himself (find a flatmate, a basic precaution against the loneliness that leaves him time to stare at the gun he shouldn’t have).

He’s operating on nothing – we can all recognise it. He’s tired of himself, tired of things going wrong, tired of life; but still holding on, still struggling to keep going out of that desperate urge to live – that will to hope that better things might come – that every human has deep down.

You’re so right to say that he has no illusions about himself during ASIP. He’s too tired to pretend, to bristle, to put up walls between him and the all-seeing madman. He’s almost got used to taking himself out of the equation, to thinking of himself as hardly there. Instead, he just sees Sherlock, and how brilliant what he can do is. He doesn’t have that gap that most people – most adults – have between what their actions say about them, and what they believe about themselves.

John’s lack of ego in ASIP is a very subtle and beautiful part of his characterisation, and a good indicator of how close he came to suicide, to loss of himself.

I’d also argue that it’s very faithful to ACD canon. You can tell, in the way Watson writes in STUD, that his affable exterior hides a desperately unhappy, scared man. All the clues are there: “my health irretrievably ruined”; the description of London as a “cesspool” (the place that he chooses for himself, and this is how he describes it!); “leading a comfortless, meaningless existence”. Watson’s life truly reaches a crisis the day he meets Holmes – and the writing makes clear that he clings to his interest in, and intrigue about, the mysterious figure of Holmes, as a way to escape his own pain and attacks of ‘nerves’ (depression/possibly PTSD).

RB for discussion, lovely!