DTC 355: Blog #2

My name is Dena Lacey and this is my embarrassing story.

It was some time in the fall of 2002. I was working at Apple Computer in Austin, Texas as a Sales Support Specialist trying to claw my way up to the next rung of an endless corporate ladder. I had recently been approved to train for another position in the dog race for a title that today eludes me. With much trepidation I sat down at the desk to shadow my trainer, Eric, and jump into using a totally new software program that had more loopholes and less organization than a chaotic board of mismatched Scrabble words. Phone call after fielded phone call left me feeling helpless and stupid as I tried to navigate through the software program and commit it to memory; the minutes and the hours ticking by as the frustration mounted. My trainer patiently explained the program AGAIN and I felt more pressure to succeed despite his patience and reassurance that this was a difficult program to master. To add to my frustration, other work laid waiting at my own desk and a mandatory staff meeting was creeping up on us.

Then it happened. The call came in and like a perfect dream I was able to complete the call, navigate the software and complete the task without help from Eric. We shared an elated high five before signing off the phones and heading to our meeting. As we walked down the hall and stood in the threshold of the conference room where our meeting was being held I blurted out an enthusiastic but warped, “I DID IT!” I say warped because the way in which I uttered these words can best, albeit not necessarily PC, be described as being said like a ruhtard (retard). Everyone within earshot could clearly hear me and the manner in which I spoke these words, and since I was standing in the doorway of the conference room, this would include more than half of my co-workers and peers including my immediate supervisors and, much to my dismay, 3 executive supervisors visiting our campus. All eyes were on me. Even though half the room was laughing at me because they thought the way I made my exuberant statement was funny, I could feel the color and heat rise underneath the surface of my skin; my embarrassment was impossible to conceal. Even a couple of the execs thought it was funny and wanted to know what had made me so happy. From that day on, I was unfortunately known as the “I DID IT!” ruhtard and anytime anybody did something good, they would exclaim, “I DID IT!”

What did I learn that day? Look before you speak, especially when entering a conference room for a staff meeting!

For part two of this assignment, we are asked to answer the question: What is dangerous about amplification through simplification?

In sitting down to contemplate the answer to this question the first thing I thought of was cartoons I enjoy watching like Venture Bros. or South Park. Each of these adult cartoons focuses precisely on amplification through simplification as described by Scott McCloud. By stripping down “real life” to something cartoon political and social norms can be parodied to point out the ridiculousness of an event or situation. What I consider to be dangerous about this is that although it’s funny, the message can be masked by the simple pleasure of the cartoon. Perhaps the cartoonist/creator is trying to make a point and bring awareness to their audience. However, the audience runs the risk of misinterpreting the message or missing it altogether. Worse yet, I have seen/heard people misinterpret the message and adopting this misinterpretation as their own philosophy. As McCloud wrote, “The cartoon is a vacuum into which our identity and awareness are pulled…an empty shell that we inhabit which enables us to travel in another realm.” Sometimes it seems a shame we do this…sometimes.

McCloud, Scott. The Vocabulary of Comics. Print.