The Boston Diaries

The ongoing saga of a programmer who doesn't live in Boston, nor does he even like Boston, but yet named his weblog/journal “The Boston Diaries.”

Go figure.

Wednesday, August 30, 2000

“Like, is this a trick question or what?”

I'm in the Computer Room when the phone rings. “Hello?” I answered.

“Dude,” said Jeff C, a client of mine. “Where are you?”

“I assume this is one of those rhetorical questions, right? I mean, we're talking, aren't we?”

It's nice that I have clients whose sarcasm hasn't atrophied.


Scrambled Eggs

My client Jeff C invited me out to a dinner meeting at a Japanese restaurant, Ichiban's. I normally don't care for Japanese food but as long as there's something besides miso soup and sushi (which I affectionally called “bait”) I'll go.

Especially if I'm not the one paying for it.

So we're sitting at the table, type type of table where they cook the food for you right there and the cook is standing on the other side when he tosses this egg up in the air and catches it with a spatula. It's not broken mind you. He then flicks the egg in the air and catches it again with the spatula. He does this about a dozen times, working up speed when snick the spatula goes vertically through the egg cleaving it in half and spilling the contents onto the cooking surface sending the shell to either side.

I wonder how many eggs one has to break to perform that particular cooking maneuver?


Ouch

At dinner, my client's boss is telling us various stories about being a doctor. He goes on to relate that one time while eating at a similar Japanese restaurant with table top grills that a gentleman sitting across the table from him suddenly knelled over and whap! his face hits the cooking surface. The doctor leaps up to help the man who's face is now cooking only to encounter some difficulty in getting the gentleman up as his face is stuck to the table.

Ouch.

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[The future's so bright, I gotta wear shades]

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