(no subject)

Boing Boing linked to an announcement of the Digital Genres conference to be held in Chicago:

The conference is based on the idea that digital and network technologies are creating new methods of communication that, like the popular genres of the 1920, allow novel forms of creativity and expression. After a half-century dominated by the mass-media, we argue that it is these new genres - the genres that will preoccupy us on this side of the millennium - that are the true successors to the lively arts of the 1920s. What can slash, blogs, massively multiplayer games, fan fiction, chat rooms, and other popular digital genres tell us about how humans communicate today? And how do they shed light on human meaning making more generally? Could it be that these genres are not just ways for people to communicate in the world, but in fact create whole worlds within which people communicate? The conference examines a wide variety of cultural production enabled by digital technology.

Sounds like it could be interesting. (I'm especially intrigued that slash is the first item in that laundry list of "popular digital genres.")

(no subject)

OK, gals and pals, it's time for a little pop quiz, so sit up straight, put away your gum, and pay attention!

Now--imagine that you are a salesperson in a retail store selling a reasonably big-ticket furniture item such as ... oh, let's say, mattresses. A customer enters the store, and tells you upfront "I'm just looking right now, to get a sense of what's available in various price ranges." Do you:

___ a. Say, "That's fine, take your time, let me know if you have questions," and then hover at a tactful distance, allowing the customer to peruse the stock in a leisurely fashion, perhaps tossing out a bit of info now and then about the features of the various mattresses, but otherwise giving the customer a bit of time and breathing room? OR:

___ b. Clamp onto the customer like a freakin' pit bull, drag her over to the most expensive mattresses in the store, insist she try each of them out, and when she mentions a desired price range considerably lower than twelve hundred dollars, give her the stink-eye and strongly imply that she might as well sleep in a refrigerator carton under the bridge, but huffily show her the cheaper items, and then when she begins saying, "Well, OK, I'll need to think this over," swing right into the high-pressure close-the-deal stuff of "When should we arrange delivery?" and "Would you like the extended financing?" until the customer, feeling panicked, starts babbling all sorts of obviously lame and contrived excuses (forgotten dental appointments, a sudden case of the flu, grandma's funeral) so that she can flee, hands flapping, still babbling, sweating profusely?

I mean, OK, selling mattresses has got to be an awful job, but jeee-zus. I shall never in this life enter that store again, even if the only alternative was to pull a Benton Fraser and sleep on the floor in a freakin' bedroll.

[edited to add: And yeah, I could have told her (politely) to back the hell off, but really, my script for the day was "Kat goes to look at some stupid mattresses," *not* "The Very Special Episode in Which Kat Discovers the Miracle of Assertiveness." Bleah. God, I hate shopping.]