You Think You've Got Communication Problems Where You Work? Read This.

Written by Susan Dunn, M.A., The EQ Coach

Here are some maintenance log entries from a major airline – or sorepparttar email says, showingrepparttar 118277 problems reported by pilots (P) and solutions recorded by mechanics (S).

It’s probably true. You couldn’t make these things up.

P: Left inside main try almost needs replacement. S: Almost replaced left inside main try.

P: Test flight OK, except autoload very rough. S: Autoland not installed on this aircraft.

P: No. 2 propeller seeping prop fluid. S: No 2 propeller seepage normal. Nos. 1, 3 & 4 propellers lack normal seepage.

P: Something loose in cockpit. S: Something tightened in cockpit.

P: Dead bugs on windshield. S: live bugs on backorder.

P: Autopilot in altitude hold mode produces a 200-fpm descent. S: Cannot reproduce problem on ground.

P: Evidence of leak on right main landing gear. S: Evidence removed.

P: DME volume unbelievably loud. S: DME volume set to more believable level.

P: Friction locks cause throttle levers to stick. S: That’s what they’re there for!

P: OFF inoperative. S: OFF always inoperative in OFF mode.

P: Suspected crack in windscreen. S: Suspect you’re right.

P: Number 3 engine missing. S: Engine found on right wing after brief search. [The pilot meant engine ‘misfiring’.]

P: Aircrafts handles funny. S: Aircraft warned to straighten up, fly right, and be serious.

P: Radar hums. S: Reprogrammed radar with words.

P: Mouse in cockpit. S: Cat installed.

Communication is hard inrepparttar 118278 work world, and in our private lives. Someone said “Whatever you say, assume it’s been misunderstood,” and it’s probably a good idea.

How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count the Spam!

Written by Chuck Smith

Valentine's Day is fast approaching, and I (like many men) am in a state of near panic. Because I'm married, I need to come up with some kind of Valentine's Day gift for my wife that conveysrepparttar feelings I have for her inrepparttar 118276 most romantic way possible.

The only problem is that I (like many men) don't have a romantic bone in my body. Not one. My sense of romance, if it was ever there to begin with, has withered and died along with my youthful ideals, dreams of six-pack abs, and my long-range jump shot.

This poses a very big challenge for me since my wife has a keenly developed sense of romance. Like a blind person who has a tremendous sense of hearing and smell, my wife, who has been forced to live in a romantic vacuum, can senserepparttar 118277 romance in everything. She points out beautiful sunsets and old people staring into each other's eyes. Sappy birthday cards make her cry. She wants to hold hands with me while walking inrepparttar 118278 mall. It's sickening.

But, because I love her (and I'm afraid ofrepparttar 118279 repercussions), I have to try and pull a decent Valentine's Day present out of my backside. So this year, I've decided to userepparttar 118280 awesome power of spam email to help me narrow my search. After spending several anxious seconds combing through my Deleted box in email, I plucked some candidates out for this year's Valentine.

American Blinds, Wallpaper, and More: Nothing says "I love you" like a nice set of vertical blinds. Or perhaps that crazy fruit print wallpaper that my wife had on her kitchen walls back inrepparttar 118281 70s. In perhapsrepparttar 118282 weakest marketing move in recent memory, American Blinds, Wallpaper, and More is pitching their products as Valentine's Day gifts. For those of you desperate enough to consider this, I can suggest a few good divorce attorneys, or perhaps a good motel forrepparttar 118283 night.

Atari TV Classic 10 Games in One: The next entry intorepparttar 118284 Valentine's Day email sweepstakes is this fine video game on a joystick. Basically, you plugrepparttar 118285 joystick into your TV and choose from 10 "classic" Atari games. Just picture this . . . The lights are dimmed,repparttar 118286 candles are burning, and there's a blanket in front ofrepparttar 118287 fire. A bottle of Dom Perignon (hey, if I'm going to fantasize, I'm going all out) is chilled and open nearby. I lean over to my wife and whisper gently in her ear, "hey honey, want to play Space Invaders."

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