Before going to bed last night I popped in the ear plugs and I didn’t hear anything from my room mate, even after I took them out. Seems like we both discovered that his snoring is tied to his posture so what he fell into bed and went to sleep, that was a snore-free position.
My job for the day was PM public events meaning that I ran something on the order of 14-18 8-person events like booster drafts but I had my expectations set high by the fact that the morning crew who arrived at 9 left at 3 after breaks giving me the expectation that I’d have a glorious six hour day. At around 5:30 I politely asked when the PM crew would be released and the coordinator said “the hall closes at 2 AM but we’ll cut off events at 8 PM”.
Me: So, the morning crew worked 5.5 hours and got a break and we’ll be on for 10 hours or more?
Him: *pause* Yes.
Normally, I’d be mad, but I respected the coordinators look of “this man is right and I can lie now and be hated later or be right now and be hated briefly”. After a bit of thought I realized that the GPT and PTQ crews would also be hosting long days so I shifted my internal victim to the chorus of internal homunculi mocking the weakness of the AM crew. The evening plodded on and the tenor of the evening improved when all the uptight judges got punch-drunk and accidentally smiled. At one point during the PTQ finals a judge I had previously called Sgt. Sunshine broke into a panegyric in praise of the teamwork element of high school basketball and there was a brief discussion of beer prices at different sports complexes. At around 11 PM I had hit my limit and asked to leave. The organizer thanked me and asked me to get something for him from the judge area. I parted the curtains and was met with a feast of Italian takeout. Few things fight fatigue better than chicken Alfredo with bacon.
Finally, I made peace with an “enemy”. Yesterday, I asked my car mate to go to dinner, he mentioned that he was going to eat with another judge.
Judge 1: Hey, can I bring someone to eat with us?
Judge 2: Sure, that should be fine, who is it?
Judge 1: Terry.
Judge 2: Oh… We don’t have enough food for him.
Today we talked:
Him: So why does it seem like I’m always insulting you?
Me: Well, say there’s a 1 in 5 chance of you accidentally insulting someone and you define a “bad series of interactions” with 3 mess ups. There’s a 1 in 125 chance that you’d blow your first meeting with a person. There were about 60 judges here so it’s a coinflip as to whether or not you’ll alienate someone at a GP. I just happened to be that person.
Him: That is the most bullshit usage of probability I’ve ever heard.
Me: Thank you. I’ve been practicing.