One Space. Period. One Space.

It really doesn’t seem so long ago that I was one of the youngest people in the office, and if not the whole office, at least on my team. I remember when I arrived in Saskatoon as the assistant branch manager, I was the youngest person in the branch. When I added Regina to my empire, there might have been one person there who was younger than me. Now, sadly, I’m always one of the oldest. While I think that things definitely change, almost immediately as you step over that chronological milestone called 40, I haven’t spent a lot of time lamenting the fact that I’m aging.

A lot can happen once you pass this magical mile marker

However, now at least weekly, if not even daily, I encounter things that make me feel old. I was at a conference the other day and the speaker was talking about the Energizer Bunny. Just as he began to say that the Energizer Bunny is a pop culture reference that our younger colleagues have never heard of, it hit me that there are a bunch of things that make me feel old. Like that freakin’ pink bunny.

He kept going and going...Now, apparently he's gone.

I made a reference to Issac the bartender on Love Boat the other day. Not only did my audience not know who Issac was, they didn’t even know what Love Boat was. Really?  Am I that old?  When I facilitate a meeting, I like flipcharts and markers. I had no idea that flip-charting was old school, but when my kids saw my marker collection a couple of months ago, they really couldn’t conceive of anybody writing on a flip chart. Dad, what’s a flip chart?

How could a whole generation not know about the Love Boat.  I had such a crush on Julie McCoy.

I work with a guy, a communications specialist. He’s a great writer, and like all great writers, he’s very ‘particular’ about things like punctuation and spelling and all that. Every time I write something he edits the hell out of it, and it’s usually better as a result. We have this ongoing argument about the period, and how many spaces follow it when you’re typing. I say two spaces, and he says one. "Two spaces," he says, "...is old fashioned."  I’m resolute when it comes to my two spaces.  And he's fanatical when it comes to getting things right.  That's what makes him such a good writer and editor.

I said ONE SPACE!!!!

To put this into context, I took a typing class in grade nine. My dad couldn’t understand why typing would ever be important. I didn’t really know either, but there were lots of girls in the class, and as a gawky, chubby grade niner, it couldn't hurt to have the odds tipped a little in my favour. My teacher, Mrs. Clendenning, roamed the class with a manual typewriter on a wheeled cart, yelling out, “F, Space, F, Space, Semi, Space…” and so on. We typed as she yelled. There were always two spaces after a period and if there weren’t, you failed. Then, when I got to journalism school, one space after a period also earned you a failing grade.

Turns out that even the improved odds of being the only guy in typing class didn't help.

The communications specialist is practically always right when it comes to grammar and punctuation, and I know he enjoys demonstrating his rightness. Just a wee little bit. He searched it up on the google, because God knows everything on the google is right, and as it turns out, computers have made putting two spaces after a period obsolete. There is apparently no reason to do it anymore. The brain inside the computer understands and spaces appropriately. Hmmph. I still put two spaces, first, because I just can’t stop, and second, perhaps, just to keep him on his toes. If I keep doing it, he's gonna hurt me.

"Really, Sean, do you need some electric shock therapy to get this one space thing right?"

I learned that this spacing issue annoys other people too…After I posted my blog last week, I got a call from my friend Vera who runs a magazine. She had read my post and called to offer her feedback. “Seannie…,” she said, “…what’s the deal with the two spaces after the period?  It just makes you look old.” Bloody hell.

If Andy Rooney would have had a blog, he would have written it on a typewriter. And there would have been 2 spaces.

Seriously? You have no cash?

If you’ve been following along, we’ve established that I’m a pretty avid business traveler.  For the last two years, I’ve traveled somewhere every single week.  I’ve almost exclusively traveled in Canada, but I’ve covered the country pretty well.  In the last two years, whether on personal or business trips, I’ve been to every province in the country.  Based on that, I can tell you that there are many differences between cities and region.

Johnny's been everywhere, man.  Me too.  Click to hear Johnny's version of Hank Snow's classic.

For example, in Saskatoon, I can, without any fear, drive down the street and stop at any customer site and pop in to say hello.   Even without an appointment I can be reasonably sure that I’m going to get a warm welcome.  In Halifax, there may even be a hug involved.   In Calgary, I get a warm western welcome, but they’re a little suspicious, as in, “…Um hi…how are you?  Why are you here?”  Toronto is a completely different story.  Not only does the receptionist look at me disdainfully, he or she will most likely not even call my client to see if they have a moment to see me.  “Um, well, you don’t have an appointment, and she couldn’t possibly have time to see you.   Come back when you have an appointment.”  And with that, I’m dismissed to the street.  My client doesn’t even know I was there.

Really?  You think you can just walk right in here?  Who do you think you are? 

The service at airports often reflects the region, as does the hotel service.  Car rental people are a pretty good gauge as to how people are going to be in the city.  The same is absolutely not true of cab drivers.  Now I can speak about this because for a couple of years, in a small town in Alberta, I drove a cab as a part-time job.  I’ll say up front that I absolutely loved it.  In that small town, people would just fall into the cab, sometimes drunk, and just expect that you knew where they were going.  “OK, Mr. Mayor, I’ll take you home.  I’ll wake you when we get there.”

You're the mayor of what?

In Vancouver the cab drivers are chatty.  They are fiercely proud of the Canucks and they like to talk about your day.  In Winnipeg, taxi drivers ride the brake.  A drive down Portage Avenue can give you whiplash…stop, go, stop, go, stop, go.  And trust me when I say that there’s no reason for all the braking.  Winnipeg cabbies also sit behind a big plexiglass shield that wraps around them for their safety.  It also takes up a huge amount of the back seat, and I’ve had my 6’2 frame wedged behind a Winnipeg cabbie more than once.  That sounds dirtier than it was meant to.  In most cities cabbies actually shut the meter off when you arrive at your destination.  In Montreal, they don’t shut it off ’til they’re damn well ready to.  No sense arguing.

Imagine getting jammed behind that thing.

Across all my trips, there’s one universal truth that I’ve discovered, and that’s that cab drivers, whether in Fredericton, NB or Kelowna, BC, or downtown Toronto, are allergic to plastic.  No cabbie wants you to pay with a credit card.  I’ve had some who pretend that they don’t know how to work the machine.  I’ve had some completely lose the ability to communicate in English at the mere sound of a card coming out of my wallet, and I actually watched one pull the cord out of the machine and tell me that it wasn’t working.   My favourite question from a cab driver is “Why don’t you have cash?” 

There's a Taxi Driver you don't wanna mess with.  He wants cash, you give him cash.

My practice is now to set it up before I even get in the car, making sure that they accept credit before giving custody of my luggage to the driver.  When I call for a cab, I make sure to arrange in advance that they’re going to take a credit card.  Neither of these has been foolproof since after using both of these methods, I’ve arrived at my destination just to hear those magic words, “What, no cash?”  

No, I don't have cash.  is that a crime?

For God’s sake, it’s a plastic world and I’m a debit man.  I’ve been known to buy a Slurpee with my debit card.  Where am I going to come up with 56.00 in cash for a taxi ride from the airport when I don’t even have a toonie for a double-double?

Apparently having this sign in the cab window doesn't mean you can actually pay with one of these cards.
Who knew?