Guest Post: The Dorkiness Equation Part 2 by author Graham Parke

January 30, 2011

The Dorkiness Equation — Part II

I understand if at this point you are in awe of me. If you have trouble believing anyone could be this insightful. And that’s fine. That’s natural at such life changing moments. But, really, I cannot take full credit. I happened to witness an event early in my professional career that gave me a vital clue to the puzzle. Without it I would not have figured this out. I had help. In fact, it was more or less spelled out for me.

Here’s what happened:

I was doing an internship at a large corporation. My first involvement with the corporate world. With the ‘nine-to-five grind’. With the ‘picking each other up for lunch and suffering each other’s company in the cafeteria’ kind of deal. The lunches were mostly boring, because the only thing everyone at the table had in common was their jobs. But one day something strange happened. Something that fascinated me. A scientist-type sitting diagonally across from me decided to fill his glass from a jug of water. He did this by holding his glass over his plate and heaving the jug above it. On that particular day, he managed to spill a great deal of water over his plate before realizing what he was doing. And I do mean a great deal of water. His potatoes were basically floating. I watched him do this in awe, and then I watched him silently put the jug back and continue his meal.

What happened next taught me much more about my colleagues than the whole week of working with them had. Because what happened next was: nothing.

Not a single thing. Although I couldn’t possibly be the only one who witnessed this incredible display of dorkiness, not a single person at that table gave any sign they’d noticed. They were embarrassed enough for the guy to pretend nothing had happened. And the reaction of the victim himself told me this was unlikely to be the first time he’d done this.

If it had been me, I’d have slapped my forehead and grumbled profanities, followed by something like, ‘I can’t believe I just did that!’ Then I’d follow it up by joining in with my colleagues as they fired off the mandatory jokes, after which I’d inspect the damage to my meal very carefully. I would do this to assess whether there was any way I could finish my lunch without having to walk back to get another one (choose the lazy solution whenever possible, you’ll live longer). I might indeed continue my meal, true, but not before very serious deliberation!

That day I understood, at least on some level, that I’d witnessed something of monumental importance, even though it would take me years to figure out exactly what that was.

Thinking back, another vital clue was the fact that I didn’t for an instance feel like sniggering. Without ever having spoken to the guy, his general demeanor had already informed my subconscious that he was indeed a dork, and so my initial reaction was one of sincere pity and compassion.

Which wasn’t very nice of me. I realize this now. And so, if by some strange coincidence I ever run into this guy again, I will apologize for joining in with the rude behavior of my colleagues, and then I’ll finally do the decent thing and laugh at him.


Graham Parke is responsible for a number of technical publications and has recently patented a self-folding map. He has been described as both a humanitarian and a pathological liar. Convincing evidence to support either allegation has yet to be produced. 

No Hope for Gomez! is his fiction debut.

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