the very efficient Thanksgiving dinner, the threat assessments, and other ways our jobs follow us home

Last month we talked about what habits have followed you home from work, and here are some of the most delightful habits you shared.

•  My husband is a captioner and uses a specialized voice-to-text software to write the captions. He will occasionally come out of a long session and say things like, “How did your meeting go, question mark?”

•  I’m a medical biller, and every time I read a fantasy or sci-fi story where some character has an exotic magical illness/condition, I find myself thinking about how I’d code that.

•  Sometimes my children’s librarian brain takes over and I introduce myself to people as, “My name is Miss [First Name]! What’s yours?” in a chippy and condescending-to-adults voice.

•  Back in the 90s, I volunteered at a zoo and I still scramble eggs the way the raven preferred them.

•  I once typed up a novel for my friend, a master carpenter, so he had a soft copy after losing the original file. The story was okay — not a bad idea even — but he spent a lot of time describing the furniture and not enough describing the people.

•  I used to teach two-year-olds at a day care, and there is a very specific speech pattern you kind of fall into when you work with kids that age. One time I was at the gym and a guy next to me was jumping onto a very unstable looking stool while holding weights. Without even thinking, I said, “You are not making safe choices for your body!” He looked at me, I looked at him, and then I awkwardly tried to go back to doing what I was doing as if it hadn’t happened.

•  I mind dogs for a living and will often say to regulars when they show up, “There’s my handsome man!” Started accidentally saying it to people in my life and I’m not gonna lie, they’re chuffed when I do it so I kept it up, but I cannot tell them where it started.

•  Instructional designer here. I’m not sure my family appreciates me starting all conversations about planning things with, “What are the outcomes we’re hoping to achieve?” but I think everything is humming along quite smoothly because of it.

•  30 years after lifeguarding, while I was swimming laps at the YMCA I reflexively boomed out a “WALK!” when some kids were running on the pool deck. I was amused that everyone — kids, adults, and the lifeguard — reflexively froze, then started walking very slowly again.

•  Not me, but a museum colleague who cared for the live animals. Her husband would have to stop her when chopping veggies for salads – she’d be autopilot cutting everything small enough for a little turtle to eat.

•  I work in rights for a publisher (a lot of questions about is this art/text/etc. under copyright or in the public domain) and once completely unprompted told my tattoo artist that she didn’t have to worry, I’d already confirmed the source for the text she was putting on my body was in the public domain. She hadn’t been worried at all.

•  While at the hospital with preeclampsia, drugged to the gills, the doctor and the nurse were both standing very close over me and talking over each other both telling me why I needed a C-section and I was like (teacher voice), “STOP. You may each take two steps back! Thank you. Now, you may speak one at a time.”

•  I write threat assessments for a living, but I also write fiction on the side. I wind up removing a lot of assessments (and the reasons behind why those judgments are made) from romance novel drafts. For example: “Jenna watched Isaac as he approached from across the room. Two drinks in his hands suggested that yesterday’s flirtation — the jokes, the interest in her life, the shoulder bumps that sent a thrill of adrenaline up her spine — hadn’t been an aberration. As he drew near, she saw his pupils were dilated, an indicator of likely attraction…”

I promise the second drafts are better, and contain fewer “likelies.”

•  We all use “Coming through hot” and “Behind you sharp” and “Oven/dishwasher open” at my home; it’s good practice and avoids a lot of potential mishaps. I once had to explain to a new housemate that my friend in the kitchen shouting “Hot behind!” was not, in fact, making a pass at them.

•  I used to “produce” Thanksgiving dinner. I made a call sheet and a color-coded gantt chart that listed each dish, cooking assignments, and when my dad was allowed in the kitchen.

•  After many years as a reporter, I feel unavoidably compelled to make sure all my written communication is in AP style. Emails, text messages, social media posts, forum posts, doesn’t matter. They all have to use full name on first reference and last name in all subsequent references.

•  I worked in Lean/Continuous improvement. When I built my house, I designed the kitchen to eliminate as much wasted movement possible – especially when unloading the dishwasher and unpacking groceries. Same with laundry.

•  I’ve used a Kepner-Tregoe decision matrix for buying my last two cars and my house.

•  When I was younger, I worked in a daycare center where we would say “1,2,3, eyes on me” when we needed the kids to pay attention during morning circle. Years later, I was presenting at a meeting and had to break for a minute to fiddle with the computer. When I had trouble getting the attendees to come back to order, I just reflexively blurted it out. The roomful of executives immediately stopped talking, turned toward me, and chorused “1, 2, I see you” in response.