QSG

At work this year, I was tasked with updating the main catalog used in North America, the Quick Select Guide or QSG. Since I was in the role of project manager for this document, I decided to not just simply update the code numbers and add a few new products, but to overhaul its entire design. I wanted to make the catalog easier to use while also making it look more like the catalogs the corporate office in Denmark makes for Europe. That meant that we had to start from scratch and rebuild it from the ground up. And it was most definitely "we" because my skills in InDesign, the program the catalog was created in, are lacking. So I enlisted the help of a freelancer, Holly, whom my department uses on a regular basis.

I had been emailing Holly and collecting all of the necessary data and files when, in the second week of February, I was provided with the last pieces we needed so that we could begin. I was then told that we needed the new catalog to be printed in March. That may not seem like a big deal, but for a sixty page document, this was basically no time. I worked through the last preparations I had and sent everything off to Holly. For two weeks, we worked at a feverish pace. I regularly stayed about ninety minutes late and often worked through my lunch break. At the end of two weeks, we were done! I almost couldn't believe it, but we finished with enough time so that two segment managers could have a week to review it before the end of the month. My boss, Magda, told me that she noticed my hard work and how much she appreciated my efforts. I sent off the QSG for review, walked out the office door, and started laughing just from the relief of having finished a stressful project.

Or so I thought.

I came back in the following Monday to see emails that the reviewers weren't going to even attempt to get to the QSG for at least a week. Wonderful... I did eventually get the feedback I needed from one of the two segment managers, but the other one was not giving the QSG priority. I suspect that he was annoyed that I was making so many changes to it since he had been the one to originally design it. To be fair, his catalog had worked for several years, but again, being fair, he's not a technical writer and he doesn't have a background in document design. Just because it had worked, doesn't mean we couldn't do it better.

After some meetings, several edits, and lots of cajoling from me, we finally placed our print order last Friday. Only two months after we originally planned.

One thing that I think is cool is that my initials are on the catalog. In Danfoss, whenever a new document is released, it has a literature number, a publication date, and the initials of the main author (mostly so we know who to blame if an error is found). As a technical writer, I've gotten used to being invisible and letting my writing stand for itself, but I still like the fact that I'm getting credit for this document.

Even though the catalog has been approved, there's been a delay in posting it on the Danfoss website. Once it's up, I'll share a link to it. It's not a fun read, but as far as catalogs go, it's a pretty one.

Aphasia Strikes Again

On Monday, at about 3:30 in the afternoon, with about ninety minutes left in the work day, I had an aphasic episode. I've had episodes like this plenty of times before, but this time I was medicated and I wasn't in the middle of transitioning to a new medication.

When it hit me, I was listening to a podcast and immediately lost the ability to understand anything that was said (I recognized all the words as English, but I had no idea what any of it meant). I also felt exhausted and struggled to stay awake -- not that it mattered since I wasn't able to read or write while I was in the throws of the episode. After about twenty minutes, I was able understand what I was listening to, but I was still exhausted and couldn't concentrate. After about five minutes of futilely trying to be productive, I stood up and walked over to the desk of my boss, Magda.

She was talking with one of my coworkers, Chelsea, so I waited for a break in the conversation before speaking up. Before I had the chance to interject, Magda looked up and asked what was wrong (apparently, the feeling of extreme exhaustion was all over my face). I explained what happened, describing aphasia as a kind of micro-seizure, and said I needed to go home. She was completely understanding and Chelsea offered to drive me, which I declined -- I've had aphasic episodes while driving before and never blacked out, so I figured I was fine.

As I drove home, I talked to Leah on the phone. She also expressed concern about me driving while in my fatigued state, but I assured her I was fine. Almost on cue, I felt another aphasic episode begin before evaporating (I can feel them just before they hit, though sometimes they pass). She told me I was lucky and that I should have accepted Chelsea's offer for a ride.

The next morning, I woke up and felt sick. It felt like I had the flu and I was physically weak. I worked from home, though I was not terribly productive. Thankfully, I felt better this morning and was able to put in a full day at the office.

After talking about what happened with my neurologist, she recommended increasing my medication dosage. We increased the dosage for a few weeks last year when I first transitioned onto oxcarbazepine and it made me really drowsy. My neurologist thinks that this time I'll handle it better since my body has acclimated to the medication, but if I feel overwhelmingly tired like I did before, she has a supplemental medication in mind that we can try. For now, we're going to wait and see if simply increasing the dosage will be sufficient.

Perhaps I was foolish to think that my epilepsy problem was solved since it was under control. Maybe my life will be segmented by periods of being in control, punctuated by times when I have to look for new solutions. While I'd rather not have to worry about my epilepsy, it's under control for now and we have a possible remedy lined up if I start to show symptoms again, so things are still pretty good.

Food Guru

As I was leaving work yesterday, one of my coworkers, Chelsea, stopped me to ask a question.  I was not happy with the idea of staying late, but I paused so she could ask her question.  Instead of being a work-related question, however, she wanted cooking advice.

She wanted a quick way to cook zucchini and had asked around and even checked Pinterest for a recipe, but hadn't found anything helpful.  I thought about her dilemma and asked her how comfortable she was using her broiler.  She immediately nodded, acknowledging that she hadn't thought of going that route.  I further explained that she would need to flip the vegetable (which was something she hadn't realized was necessary) and suggested some ways to prepare it that would make that easier.  She thanked me for my help and I was on my way.

I followed up with Chelsea this morning to see how it went.  Apparently, she hadn't been patient enough for the zucchini to get crispy, but it was fully cooked when she ate it.

I wasn't expecting the cooking question that I received, but it's nice to know that I have a reputation as a cooking expert and that I can live up to it.

A Real Marylander

Today, I have had a truly authentic Maryland experience: I went crab picking.

A few weeks ago, one of my coworkers, Chelsea, talked about how much she enjoyed crab picking when my boss, Magda, and I admitted that we had never partaken in one of Maryland's favorite activities.  With our secret revealed, it was decided that we needed to go picking as a department.  Chelsea found a place that offers crabs for $1.50 each on Tuesdays, so we made our plan to go.

The thing about picking crabs is that it takes a lot of work and there's a lot of waste.  Most of the crab is inedible and the parts you can eat are hidden away under layers and layers of shell and organs.  It's a good thing I had help because to my novice eyes, the gills (which can make you sick if you eat them) looked exactly the same as the meat.  After a few crabs, however, I got the hang of it.  I didn't count how many crabs I ate, but I think it was around six or seven.  The five of us (the marketing department plus Alejandro from accounting) went through two and half dozen crabs and I could have kept eating if left to my own devices.

At the end of the meal and to everyone's surprise, Magda said that our outing counted as a team building experience and paid for the meal with her company card.  I had already had a great time, so getting to enjoy the meal for free made it even better.

If you ever visit Maryland, I definitely recommend going crab picking, but be sure to take someone who can show you the ropes.

Chance Coincidence

I had the missionaries over for dinner last night (a different pair than before) and the Elder who gave the spiritual thought challenged me to share the gospel with someone soon.  I said I had a coworker in mind who might be ready, so I accepted the challenge.  Now, this particular coworker who I had in mind, is away at a trade show until sometime next week, so I didn't think too much of the Elder's challenge, at least for now.

At work today, I sent an email to someone and jokingly used the word moron (facetiously referring to myself).  This email was deemed humorous enough to be shared with a few friends, one of whom was the receptionist.  The receptionist responded back with a joke about how I left out the second M (making "moron" into "Mormon"), though only to her friend that sent it to her and not to me.  After all of this happened unbeknownst to me, I went and asked the receptionist an unrelated question.  Once she answered my question, she shared her joke with me, not realizing that it's a joke that I've heard off and on since high school.  And then, because I'm an explainer, I gave her a brief summary of the word Mormon (the prophet, the book, and the nickname for the church).

With that completed, I was going to walk back to my desk, but she asked another question: what do Mormons believe about karma?  (Not sure how she made that leap.)  So, I gave the Golden Rule as a quick answer, but then I delved a little deeper.  I explained that while we should do good, that doesn't mean that only good things will happen to us.  Sometimes bad things happen to us because of either our own or others' free agency or because God is placing an obstacle in our way so that when we overcome it, we're better for it.  I closed by quoting my current favorite scripture, 2 Nephi 5:27: "...we lived after the manner of happiness."  This seemed to really connect with her and she thanked me for sharing, adding "I needed that."  Before I walked away, I asked if she was interested in a Book of Mormon.  She said she was.

I wasn't planning that encounter and I'm not saying that it happened because the Elder challenged me to talk to someone, but it did all line up pretty well.  I don't know if anything will come of this exchange, but I'm glad I opened my mouth.

Free at Last!

The divorce is final!  Last night I checked the website that updates the status of civil cases in Maryland, and to my surprise the judge had already seen and ruled on my case.  On Monday, in fact.

Digital proof that it's finally over.

If that wasn't enough, I got the official document in the mail when I got home from work.  Not only am I divorced, I have the documentation to prove it!

I was so excited that I barely slept.  When I went into the office this morning, I was a ball of energy, which is quite out of the ordinary when I first arrive.  The people that I shared my news with know me well enough to recognize that I was happy to done with the legal process and be out of a dead marriage; unfortunately, some other people overheard and made jokes like "I bet you won't make that mistake again!" or "Quit making those of us still trapped jealous" and so on.  That was frustrating, but it couldn't bring me down.

Thank you to everyone that prayed for me during this difficult time.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go and meet some nice Mormon girls and go on as many dates as possible.

Seeing All the Errors

Recently, one of my coworkers asked for some advice planning out a big trip this summer.  He's originally from Estonia and is in Baltimore as part of a postgraduate program.  His current position is temporary (I think he worked for Danfoss in Europe, though I'm not positive), so he's planning to take full advantage of his time in the US by seeing lots of sights.  He spends nearly every weekend traveling to different locations all over the east coast, so for his vacation, he's heading west.  His plan includes places like the Grand Canyon, Zion National Park, Las Vegas, Joshua Tree National Park, Disneyland, the Monterey Bay Aquarium, San Francisco, and more, all in two weeks.  Like I said, he's making the most of his time here.

While we were sitting at a table in the breakroom during our lunch hour, my Estonian coworker pulled out his itinerary to ask the group of us questions to see if we could offer any advice.  The first thing I brought up?  His itinerary's title of "West Coast Trip" was inaccurate: the more correct title would be "West Coast and Southwest Trip."  As soon as I pointed it out, I realized that I was correcting an insignificant problem, and one that he hadn't asked for help with.  I immediately apologized for being overly pedantic.  In good humor, he scribbled out part of the title, leaving only "Trip" behind.

I have been a pedant for most (if not all) of my adult life, but I think I've been even more scrutinous lately.  I know that I'm doing it because my job is to catch errors and flaws in writing and when you do that day in and day out, it becomes hard to "turn it off" when I'm not working.  In an effort to be less of a jerk, I'm trying to be more aware of my corrections.  So far, I'm starting to catch myself as I make the unnecessary -- and unwanted -- corrections.  Now I just need to be able to catch myself before I say anything at all.

Pass Me the Bucket!

Imagine you're in a bucket brigade putting out a house fire.  There's only one bucket, so it takes a while until it gets to you so you can dump water on the fire.  The home owner is watching nearby and is understandably anxious.  They start to yell at you to work faster and save their home, which might be understandable, but they're only yelling at you, not anyone else in the line.  You try to explain that you can't actually throw the water on the fire until you have said water.  They don't seem to understand and say that you're letting their house burn down, why won't you save it?  Again, you explain that once the water comes to you, you'll throw it on the fire.  Finally, they seem to understand just as you're handed the bucket.

As I've explained before, I often have to copyedit documents that explain changes to products or packing.  Sometimes these documents detail errors in manufacturing and need to be sent out as soon as possible.  One recent change to the processing of these documents (that came out of the experience I linked to) is that before I can do any editing, the documents need to be proofread by someone for technical content.  I'm all for that, since it should prevent errors like before.  However, not everyone seemed to understand the new process.  I got calls from two separate product managers asking me to copyedit their documents right away, without waiting for the email of approval from the technical proofreader.  They both understood why we had that particular process in place, but they both followed up with "Once it's approved, we need you to edit it right away," or something similar.

I'm happy that my reputation is continuing to spread throughout the company (one of the managers said that my edits vastly improve the documents he sends me), but it's frustrating that the new step in the process has not been properly communicated.

Four by Jordan

At work today, one of my coworkers, Michael, was describing a banner he was planning to order for an upcoming trade show to our boss, Magda.  When asked how big it would be, Michael gave the dimensions he had chosen: four feet by six feet.  Unfortunately, Magda is unfamiliar with US standard measurements since she's from from Europe, so she needed further clarification.  Before anyone else could respond, Micheal said "It's as long as Jordan is tall."  Magda asked me to stand up to help her better imagine the banner.  And it worked.  She nodded her head and approved the banner's size.

This experience reminds me of a prank I heard about that happened at Harvard back in the late fifties.  A fraternity used one of its member named Oliver Smoot to measure a bridge, repeatedly picking and moving Smoot over and over again until they had crossed the length of the bridge.  One Smoot equals five feet seven inches and the bridge totaled 364.4 Smoots (plus or minus one ear).  To this day, Smoots are occasionally used as a humorous length, as someone might also use archaic measurements, like cubits or rods, for fun.

While one Jordan really equals six feet one inch, it was close enough for today's purposes and got a chuckle out of those in the room (including me!).

Take Me Out to the Ballgame

Yesterday, I went to see the Baltimore Orioles play against the New York Yankees at Camden Yards.  Just like the last time I attended a live game, I went with my coworkers.  However, unlike last time, I actually liked the people I went with.

Several weeks ago my department had one of our weekly meetings and someone (I think it was me, but I don't remember for sure) brought up the idea of doing something outside of work to build camaraderie and the idea of going to a baseball game was brought up.  Magda, the department manager, loved the idea, despite being completely unfamiliar with the game.  We agreed to look up the game schedule and figure out a date that worked for everyone.  I suggested that we go yesterday as a friendly ribbing to my coworker, Michael, who's originally from New Jersey and is a loyal Yankees fan.  He thought that was pretty funny, so we scheduled the game in our calendars.

Last week, I asked Magda if the department was going to pay for our tickets or if we were expected to buy our own way (I made it clear I was happy either way).  She looked disappointed told me that I ruined the surprise she was planning.  Apparently Magda's boss liked the idea of this team building outing so much, that he bought the tickets for us, as well as gift certificates for food or souvenirs.  All that was left was for us to arrange transportation.  We decided that it would be too much of a hassle to all go in one car, so we split up, with Chelsea and Magda commuting together and Michael and I going in the same car.

As for the game itself, it was a great example of both teams' strong defense.  On both sides, no one got a run in.  One of the Yankees made it third base at one point, but was taken out before he made it home.  Magda asked a lot of questions and we all took turns answering them (I hadn't realize how complicated baseball is, but it has a lot of subtleties that take time to explain).  Eventually, we got to the ninth inning and the game was still tied at 0-0.  Finally, at the bottom of the tenth, Hyun-soo Kim of the Orielos, stole home.  After an entire game of building anticipation, the crowd went wild.

It was a good time.  I enjoyed the company of my coworkers, I had fun at the game, and I got to see more of downtown Baltimore.  We all agreed that we needed to do something similar again sometime.

From left to right: me, Magda, Chelsea, and Micheal.

Yes, I painted my beard orange, and yes, I got a lot of compliments from other fans.

Thirty-third Year

My birthday was on Wednesday.  Birthdays aren't a big deal for me, so I wasn't expecting much and I was not disappointed this year.

When I got to work, I found a gift bag on my desk.  Inside was a rather nice looking cookbook focused on baking.  What was really clever was that each person in my department had placed a post-it note on the page of the treat they wanted me to bake for them.  I thought it pretty funny: my gift was a book, while their gifts will come later when I use my present.

That evening, I met with the Bishop and the Ward Clerk to discuss one of my responsibilities in my new calling.  The meeting lasted longer than I expected, but I was happy to be available to serve.

While it might not seem like much, the celebrating isn't over.  When I visit the Larsens over the weekend for General Conference, we'll share the cake that Ian baked for me, the first one he's made from scratch.

If birthdays are decent, I consider it a win.  With this year's being better than that, I'm more than happy.

I Cost Too Much

The other day at work, I was talking to my manager, Magda, about how I was having trouble with the copyediting work I was doing.  In the instance in question, I was having to argue my case for the edits I made to two separate managers who are not native English-speakers.  This wasn't simply a matter of using a dashes instead of parentheses, but of using the wrong word.

The document I was proofing was explaining how some new packaging would secure the product better during transit and kept referring to the bottom layer as the "lower wedge."  I can see why that word was picked since wedges are sometimes used to secure things (like a door stop), but there were no triangular shapes to be found anywhere in any of the diagrams or photographs of the packaging.  I finally quoted a dictionary and highlighted why the word didn't fit.  Finally, the product manager saw the light and we compromised with "pack bottom."

When I related the story to Magda, she pulled up an email that she thought was similar.  In it, one of the people from product information (the group that I met with back in October) was dealing with a similar back-and-forth over several emails and finally got fed up.  "I cost too much to be spending so much time on this project," he wrote.  Magda made it clear that his choice of words was too strong, but she agreed with the sentiment.  My time is valuable and if people are arguing with me over something, I need to let them know that they're wasting the company's money, albeit gently.

I must say, I really enjoy having a boss who clearly has my back, almost as much as I do knowing that I'm a valuable commodity for my company.

Investigative Baking

On Thursday, my boss, Magda, dropped a hint to one of my coworkers that her birthday was coming up, but she didn't say when it would be exactly.  When I heard about it, I walked down to the HR department to see if they were allowed to tell me.  Since I've built a reputation for myself of being a skilled and generous baker, they knew exactly why I wanted to know, so they looked up the date.  As it happened, Magda's birthday was the very next day.  With the little warning we had, my department members and I each took an assignment, with me handling the cake.  I asked for suggestions on flavors and someone said that I should just make a cake that I liked.  I quickly jumped at the chance to make another Angel Food cake.

The next day, I came in and sat the cake (in a carrier) on my desk.  I didn't announce what it was, but I didn't hide it, either.  After everyone had had a chance to sign her birthday card, we presented it to Magda, who was visibly touched by the thoughtful act.  She asked that she be able to take us to lunch, to which we agreed.  When we had decided on a place, I called ahead and asked for permission to bring in the cake, which I was granted.

I'm guessing that Magda hadn't had Angel Food cake before because she kept commenting on how light and fluffy it was.  I encouraged her to take the leftover cake home to share with her family, but she instead decided to share it with the rest of the office, including the HR department.

While I bring baked goods to the office fairly regularly, this was the first time that I brought a birthday cake, though I doubt it will be the last.

Double-checking the Double-check

I made some cream puffs yesterday, but I couldn't figure out why the custard I made to use as the cream-filling was so runny.  I went back and looked at the recipe and discovered that I had misread it: instead of putting in one-and-a-half tablespoons of corn starch, which is what the recipe called for, I put in one-and-a-half teaspoons.  Corn starch is a common thickening agent and does its job well, but only when used in the proper quantities.

I'm embarrassed that I made such a rookie mistake, but hopefully my coworkers won't mind.

Irreplaceable

Yesterday at work, I took a picture of one of the lab technicians posed to like he was working (because what he was really working on at the time required he just sit at a computer).  The picture is for an upcoming ad and I had him look through a microscope, which I thought looked very scientificky.  As I was framing the shot and getting in the right position, the lab tech, Sean, commented that I have a lot of jobs in our office: technical writer, photographer, and videographer.  I smiled and confirmed that, yes, I utilize a lot of different skills for the company and it was all part of my plan to ensure my own job security.

"Yeah," I said, "I do a lot of different jobs, but that means I'll be harder to replace.  If they lose me, they'll have to hire three people to do all my jobs."

I have never felt more secure in at any other job than I do now, so job security's not really on my mind, but it's still a good idea to not just do your job well, but do a wide range of jobs well.  And the truth is of the matter is, the more I do for Danfoss, the more irreplaceable I'll be.

Language Freak

My boss, Magda, is originally from Poland and, while her English skills are impressive for a non-native speaker, she still struggles with phrasing from time to time.  I've told her that I can answer any English questions she has and lately she's been taking me up on my offer.  In fact, earlier this week, she was so impressed with my skills that struggled to find the words to compliment me.  She said, "I don't want to call you the office 'language freak'; I just know that you're the expert."  I suggested that we just stick with "technical writer," since it's my job title and she laughed, apparently surprised that she forgot the obvious choice.

I don't think of my abilities as making me a freak, but it does make me stand out.  Also, with my extensive knowledge, I have a responsibility to improve the writing around me as much as I can.  I call it my "write-y sense" and it tingles. Sometimes a lot.

Still, it's never bad when your boss asks you for help because you're better at something than they are.

Best in Beard

As many of you know, I grew a beard for a contest at work.  The Friday after we returned from Thanksgiving, we all lined up and were judged to determine who had the best beard.  Judges were to assess us based on four categories: length, fullness, manliness, and overall appearance.  Most of the judges were employees at the office, but we did have two "celebrity" judges: a local DJ and a former local news anchor, both of whose names escape me.  With the judging completed, the scores were tallied (by someone in accounting, to make sure it was done right) and the top three winners were named.

I didn't even place.  I may have been fourth or dead last, but I'll never know.  I think I lost because my beard is so light-colored these days and because the shape makes it appear less full than others.  I don't regret participating in the contest, but I doubt I'll join in next year.

One nice thing about the contest was that we raised money for the American Cancer Society (ACS), nearly $3,500 this year.  I didn't raise much, but I did get a couple of people to sponsor me, so I helped out a little.  Though again, I doubt I'll be back for more in 2016.

Left to right: Jeff, one rep from ACS, Jason, Neal, the unknown DJ, Matt (first place), Morten (second place), the unknown anchor, me, Don, the other rep from ACS.

Can't Stop Baking

For the Thanksgiving celebration at my sister's, we had fifteen pies.  Even with us cheating by buying a few pies from the store, that's still a lot of pies to make.  My sister, Margot, made three pies and her nine-year-old son, Peter, made one too.  That left me to make six pies myself.  What flavor of pies did we have?  Nearly all of them.

• 3 sugar-free, crustless pumpkin pies (Margot)
• 2 double-sweet pumpkin pies (me)
• 2 chocolate angel pies (me)
• 1 sugar-free apple pie (Peter)
• 1 pecan pie (me)
• 1 eggnog pie (me)
• 1 razzleberry pie (store)
• 1 coconut creme pie (store)
• 1 mince pie (store)
• 1 sugary cherry pie (store)
• 1 sugar-free cherry pie (store bought, but we had to put it together)

The week after I came back, I barely cooked for myself and I ate out way too much since I was worn out from all the time I spent in the kitchen.  Well, I guess I'm over it because I brought muffins to share with my coworkers on Monday, I brought some weird pseudo-brownies in today, and I have plans for more stuff for Friday and Saturday.  I guess after a long day at work, nothing relaxes me like making sugary treats.

A rare bearded baker at work in his natural habitat.

A Lousy Situation

The office where I work regularly has holiday themed activities: luncheons near holidays, an ice cream buffet in the summer, and a beard-growing contest during November.  However, the biggest activity of the year is the Holiday Party, which happens sometime in December.  Unlike the other activities, the Holiday Party takes place outside of work.  Last year, I didn't attend because I had only been with the company for a few weeks and I didn't really know anybody.  This year, I'm not attending for a completely different reason: I won't have a date.

The invitations that were sent out have encouraged everyone that attends to bring their significant other.  That's a nice way to include the spouses and girl/boyfriends of employees, but for those of us that aren't in a relationship or, even worse, are in the process of ending a previous relationship, it only serves to reminds us that we're alone.  I don't fault the party planning committee for including significant others at the Holiday Party, I'm just stuck in a lousy situation.

There's still hope for Holiday Party 2016, though!

Building a Team

On Wednesday, the new girl, Chelsea, asked why several people referred to our coworker, Michael, by his full name.  I suggested that it was probably to differentiate him from one of the managers who is also named Michael.  Michael our coworker agreed with my posit, but also agreed with Chelsea that it was a little distracting sometimes.  Then, as a joke, I said, "That's why I call him B-Man" (Michael's last name starts with B).  He laughed and said we should actually call him that.  It was a simple joke.

At least, it was intended to be.

Later on, I asked my coworkers if they smelled something weird -- they didn't -- but Chelsea said she would ask around.  Making another joke, I called her Detective [her last name].  She then said that I needed a nickname since everyone else in the department had one.  I said that I've never had a nickname before and I didn't intend to start now.  Chelsea said that giving each other nicknames would help with team-building.  After I returned from a bathroom break, I was told that I was now "JLa."  For those of you who don't know, actress Jennifer Lawrence is often referred to by the media as "J-Law" -- so I said they'd have to do better than stealing a nickname from someone else.  Chelsea protested that I don't have a say in the matter, but I pointed out that both she and Michael accepted their nicknames (which weren't intended to stick), and I was simply asking them to be more original.  After talking to Michael, they came up with "L-Dawg," probably because I'm so obviously the opposite of a rapper or a gangster.  I still didn't really like it, but it was more original than their first attempt, so I acquiesced.

This whole thing was rather silly and, if I'm being honest, a little annoying.  But I guess I only have myself to blame.  After all, I was the one that first started calling my coworkers silly names; who would have guessed that joking around would have had such an impact?