Capacity issues

Wish I had a buck for everybody who tried to pass the buck by claiming to "lack capacity."

It may seem foolish to portray oneself as a can't-do person, but like any buzzphrase, I think this one has spread because it captures a complex truth. We all understand and have incorporated into our lives the notion that scarcity boosts value. Unfortunately many of us seem to have gone a bit overboard and concluded that if we, ourselves, are scarce, then our value will rise.

The truth in this is reflected in the way one feels one has won a lottery prize after managing to "get some time" with an overbooked executive or politician. The frequent observation that chief executives are godlike is apt: they spend a lot of time in the sky, walk among us only rarely, and use their power to reward or punish in unpredictable ways. Every organization is entitled to a small pantheon of these creatures.

It's fine to dress like the boss, but acting like the boss before actually becoming the boss might not be the sharpest thing to do. To say yes to everything is to invite abuse, but to say no to everything is to become reviled. Regardless of the business you're in, there has to be service involved.

Besides, to claim lack of capacity isn't the same as claiming lack of intelligence or ability; it's to cleverly suggest that one is a bit of a victim, that if only circumstances were a little different, one would be thriving and would be able to help with whatever the request was. As it is, well -- wish I could help, but it's just not possible. In this way it's possible to both claim and reject accountability at the same moment.

I would rather hear "I'll do my best" or even "hell, no" than "I lack capacity."

Bike-scaring

For years I've wished -- prayed might even be the right word -- for Denver to join the family of civilized cities and offer bike-sharing. Now that it's here, I've come down with a big ol' case of be-careful-what-you-wish-for-itis.

The problem isn't that people aren't using the shiny new B-cycle kiosks scattered around downtown, but that they are. The reality of widespread bicycle usage is shattering the myth of cycling as a force for good. Cyclists, it turns out, are only human, which is to say, selfish and dangerous.

Something about the design and placement of the kiosks -- perhaps that they're located on sidewalks -- seems to suggest to users that they are more akin to slow-moving personal mobility devices such as wheelchairs and Segways than to road machines. The breezy, retro, beach-combing styling of the bikes themselves may contribute to the feeling that they're being offered as an alternative not to driving, but to waking. As a result, great numbers of B-cycle customers are now cruising the sidewalks of Denver, quite illegally. If bicycles are supposed to make our streets safer, they have instead made our sidewalks chaotic.

And what's with renting bikes without helmets? Someone must have got a knock on the head before coming up with this genius plan.

Even if B-cycle gets an A, whether the project succeeds or fails is entirely up to riders.

Dear NPR

Dear Mr. Siegel,

Please stop pausing so long between saying "Welcome" and "to the program" that the guest starts to say "Thank you" and then you talk over him, causing confusion and embarrassment for all. Thank you.

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Dear Ms. Aubrey,

Please force air through your throat even at the end of a sentence. Thank you.

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Dear Ms. Joffe-Walt,

Your ancestors will still love you if you pronounce your name as if you are conversant in English. Thank you.

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Dear Ms. Lim,

Weally? Weally twuly? Thank you.

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Dear Ms. Beardsley,

Do a Southern accent or a French accent, but please God, not both at the same time. Thank you.

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Dear Ms. Silberner,

You know you pronounce your name as if it were Joannsil Burner or perhaps Joe Ansilberner, right? Could you pronounce it properly? It's your name, for chrissake. Thank you.

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Dear Mr. Goodwin,

Texas doesn't deserve you. Westervelt will get caught hiring Hamas hookers or something, and then you can write your ticket to Jerusalem. Thank you.

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Dear Mr. Inskeep,

Whom do you think you're helping by making the guest repeat herself with such cheap verbal tricks as "So you're saying..." and "Let me be sure I understand this..."? You're smarter than that, and more importantly, I'm smarter than that. Thank you.