“Oh, so you’re one of THOSE, huh?”
Wow, I hadn’t been on the receiving end of such a venomous question in a long time. The phrase “...one of THOSE,” was spoken as if it might refer to a pedophile, or a Trump supporter, or a Biden supporter (depending, of course, on which side of our nation’s calamitous rift you happen to be on), or, worst of all, a Yankees fan.
The young woman who asked that question of me with a sinister sneer is a dental hygienist. At the moment the question was asked, she was holding very pointy metal instruments in her hand, while I was in a rather defenseless position, laying back in the dental chair. So, being well-versed on when to hold ‘em and when to fold ‘em (from listening to Kenny Rogers songs), I knew that arguing with her would result in one of the more memorable — that is, painful — routine cleanings in a long time. (“Hey, is that instrument you’re holding RUSTY?!” “Why are you using aircraft cable instead of dental floss?”)
In the most innocuous way possible, I cautiously asked, “Uh, what do you mean by ‘one of those’?”
She quickly replied, “You’re one of those PowerPointers, aren’t you?”
Ah, PowerPoint. I didn’t think that was going to strike a nerve. A few minutes earlier, I had explained that whatever needed to be done to my teeth that day, they couldn’t use any Novocain. I was scheduled to give a lunch presentation right after the dentist appointment, and I did not want to try and speak for 60 minutes with half of my face numb. To emphasize the point (and to try and be a smart aleck, which is kind of my superpower), I pretended to have a numb mouth and talk as if I were giving a presentation. I hung my lower lip way down, and with difficulty said, “Ann noww, we can shee on shlide noombur sheven…”
In the most innocuous way possible, I cautiously asked, “Uh, what do you mean by ‘one of those’?”
She quickly replied, “You’re one of those PowerPointers, aren’t you?”
Ah, PowerPoint. I didn’t think that was going to strike a nerve. A few minutes earlier, I had explained that whatever needed to be done to my teeth that day, they couldn’t use any Novocain. I was scheduled to give a lunch presentation right after the dentist appointment, and I did not want to try and speak for 60 minutes with half of my face numb. To emphasize the point (and to try and be a smart aleck, which is kind of my superpower), I pretended to have a numb mouth and talk as if I were giving a presentation. I hung my lower lip way down, and with difficulty said, “Ann noww, we can shee on shlide noombur sheven…”
The moment I said “schlide” (that is, “slide”), her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared. Then she blurted out her angry and accusatory question.
She later explained to me that she and her husband have to attend many training seminars to maintain their respective certifications, and during the process, they have come to loathe PowerPoint presentations. She said, “They are ALWAYS very boring, and they are ALWAYS at least 30 slides longer than necessary.”
I quickly replied, “But my presentations are not like that.” (What I neglected to mention is that what makes my presentations different is the fact they are EXTREMELY boring and at least FIFTY slides longer than necessary.)
She later explained to me that she and her husband have to attend many training seminars to maintain their respective certifications, and during the process, they have come to loathe PowerPoint presentations. She said, “They are ALWAYS very boring, and they are ALWAYS at least 30 slides longer than necessary.”
I quickly replied, “But my presentations are not like that.” (What I neglected to mention is that what makes my presentations different is the fact they are EXTREMELY boring and at least FIFTY slides longer than necessary.)
If you are not familiar with PowerPoint presentations, well, congratulations. You have lived a blessed life and managed to avoid one of the biggest time-wasters in the history of human communication. And this is coming from someone who gives PowerPoint presentations multiple times each month. My presentations are officially titled “Lunch & Learns.” This means my company buys 10 pizzas or a few large trays of deli sandwiches for the meeting. I suspect that might be crucial in getting people to attend, but I like to tell myself they would come anyway even if we didn’t provide lunch. (Yeah, right. Just like I tell myself the Boston Red Sox will be calling me any day now because they need a wily left-hander out of the bullpen.)
If you are a fellow PowerPointer, let’s try to be considerate of our (often captive) audiences. Review your presentations and ponder what you can do to make them a bit more interesting. Or maybe you can delete some unnecessary slides. Er, I mean, schlides. After all, who wants to be accused of being one of THOSE?
If you are a fellow PowerPointer, let’s try to be considerate of our (often captive) audiences. Review your presentations and ponder what you can do to make them a bit more interesting. Or maybe you can delete some unnecessary slides. Er, I mean, schlides. After all, who wants to be accused of being one of THOSE?
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