Oh and please be clear Beck, there is absolutely no snark involved here. I’m sort of jealous of people that have a good hand on cursive. I just can’t do it. All my writing on anything is printed.
I know it’s called “faceblindness” but is it specific to faces? I’m going to try to explain- let’s say I go to a concert or sporting event, something that restricts entry to sections based on your ticket so that an usher wants to see that your ticket is for Section 302 before letting you into section 302. Is it possible that faceblindness would prevent the usher from recognizing me when I return from the restroom ten minutes after I left ? Sure , if they are faceblind they wouldn’t recognize my face but to let me back into my seat, my face doesn’t need to be recognized or connected with my name or seat number or anything else. It’s enough to recognize other attributes, such as the clothing I’m wearing.
I imagine a lot of ushers are paying little to no attention to individuals if their job is to look at ticket stubs. It’s just easier for them to follow a rule “blindly.”
Maybe sometimes - but as you can imagine, I’m thinking of a particular person/situation. It would probably be easier for her if management didn’t get constant complaints from the plan ticket holders who have been sitting in her section for 20 games a year for five or ten years. (It’s kind of difficult to pull out your phone to show your ticket when your hands are full carrying food and drink) It would make a lot more sense for her to work in a section with different people every game - but I assume it’s some sort of union rule that keeps her there.
Clothing can be helpful sometimes, but it can also be really confusing. The person who was wearing the bright red jacket may have taken it off; the person who was wearing a blue shirt may have put on a jacket over it; there may be sixteen people wearing similar blue shirts. The ticket’s going to be a much more reliable indicator, and therefore the usher may not be bothering to try to memorize which clothing goes with which seat – especially because doing so requires a chunk of conscious effort for each customer (and there are probably hundreds or thousands every day) which may interfere with their getting something else right. As I understand it, face recognition for people who do this easily doesn’t take conscious effort.
I will say that I’m good at recognizing cats – but cats don’t change their coats or wear clothes that (to varying extents for the same person at different moments) conceal or exaggerate their body shapes.
You’re not going to know the difference unless the person tells you. You just shouldn’t automatically assume that of course everybody can recognize you, and get ticked off at people who don’t. It really isn’t a thing you should think “everyone would know about.”
There are remarkably few jobs and industries in which one isn’t expected to recognize either one’s co-workers or the customers or both; and the person may be quite well suited to the job otherwise, and/or may not have been able to get one that’s a better fit. I’m doing direct-market produce sales, which I’m well suited to otherwise; and this is definitely a problem – but it helps to be able to tell people, and if I get a reasonable chance in the conversation I will warn them (as I usually will if introduced to people in other contexts). Often there’s no reasonable chance in the conversation, however; and sometimes even people who’ve just been told that I don’t recognize people seem to continue to assume that of course I know who they are.
Seems unreasonable to expect an usher to remember that many total strangers.
Maybe she’s faceblind or something similar (which is why I asked the question) - but I’ve been going to games and concerts for years and she’s literally the only usher who’s ever done this so apparently most of them can recognize a person who just left their seat a few minutes ago - including the random people who fill in on her break. They do look at the ticket when you first enter.
Well, umm, you know you can write by hand without it being cursive right? There is nothing that connects writing in a journal with writing cursive unless that’s what you choose to do. Anyone can still journal as much as they want even if they have no idea what cursive is.
Yes, the majority of the population can do this. And a small minority (but enough to add up to a lot of individuals) of the population can’t. That’s why there’s a name for not being able to do it; because most people can do it.
(There’s also a name for being extraordinarily good at it: super-recognizer. Some people can easily recognize a person they last saw 30 years ago when that person was a child; and/or everybody in their line of sight in a crowd they were in five minutes.)
The thing I find sorta interesting is that my teenage son was taught cursive but not, in any formal way, touch typing.
When I was in high school in the 80s I was offered a full semester touch typing class in a room filled with IBM Selectric typewriters. By the time I was done with that I could do 80wpm easily. Over 90% of the students taking the class were girls, but I could tell how useful it would be.
My kids, on the other hand, living in a world dominated by keyboards were expected to just pick it up. None of their schools even offered a touch typing class. While they are very fast hunt and peck typists, they are still hunt and peck typists and can only type around 30 wpm.
I wonder what percentage of Millennials or Gen Z are true touch typists.
I took a touch typing class in high school in the 80s, too. Like you, it was mostly girls in the class, but it was obvious it would be useful.
As far as cursive, the only thing ever write by hand is a grocery list and I print that. My signature is an illegible scrawl, but a consistent illegible scrawl.
To be fair, the Space Race was only covered as part of “current events” when I was in school (I was in elementary school when we landed on the moon). I had to learn about the Apollo 1 fire myself, as I got older and more interested in Space. I’m pretty sure that the accident was downplayed, out of “national embarrassment.”
This reminds me of reading some books about European history that were written in the mid 20th century, and coming across the term “the Low Countries.” It took awhile, but I gradually began to figure out that this meant Belgium, the Netherlands, and Luxembourg, collectively. These days that area would more likely be called “Benelux,” but apparently “the Low Countries” was once the common term for them, in English at least.
When I finished college in 1986, 30wpm was fast enough for jobs that required typing your own reports and correspondence. It wasn’t fast enough to get a job as a dedicated typist or secretary , but I wasn’t interested in that.
I deliberately didn’t learn to touch-type because it would be useful. At that time and place, I would have been able to earn more money if I could type 80 wpm than I was likely to get with my bachelor’s degree but it would have been very difficult to get out of that path for a few reasons.
One of my most pointless skills, learned during boring biology classes, was trying to reduce the length of the pencil-written alphabet, while remaining legible.
We got down to 0.6cm (0.236 inches) on standard A4 paper.
We did use a microscope to check the results, but the actual writing was done by eye and a very, very sharp pencil. Oh, and lower-case letters.
Yes I do understand this. I write in print a bunch. I write in cursive alot. It’s my way.
I don’t care what other people write like. I WAS shocked because I thought people didn’t journal anymore.
I’m pleased to find out that some still do.
If you don’t wanna do it, I’m perfectly fine with it.
Bottom line: write like YOU want to.
I do think handwriting of any kind should still be taught in early education. Teachers often have kids journal. Any way to reduce screen time is good, I believe.
Fractions? They can kick that to the curb any day they want and I’ll rejoice.
I’m not saying, nor do I believe adults should do anything they do not want to do. At. All.
My wife’s paternal grandmother kept a journal and wrote in it nearly every day of her adult life. She would probably have characterized her life as boring, being nothing but a plain old housewife, but my wife is fascinated by her entries, some of them individually, and some collectively. She would write about traveling (sometimes hours) to go a few miles to visit family or harvesting produce from the garden plot. Other days, her entries were just a few words. More than once, she just wrote, “Pooped”. We can’t figure out if she was recording that she had a BM or that perhaps she worked so hard that day she was too tired to write anything more than a single word.
My wife is eternally grateful that it didn’t fall to her father to go through his mother’s belongings, because he would have thrown the journals out, but her mother at least had the foresight to save a lot of personal belongings. My wife is the family genealogist (her family AND mine), and that journal really humanizes and puts a face to things we usually just learn in history class (if we learn it at all).
They call it keyboarding now.
It’s taught in school.
I think the rules are out the door. You type on a keyboard, like we’re all doing right now.
No one cares what finger you’re using to type which letter key.
Typewriters are outdated. Sad to say. I like the idea of them.
Old diaries are great reads.
I search them out. Many are published works.
It’s a particular kind of story telling that is just so personal and yet you have to think someone might read it.
The ones written during world events, wars, difficult situations are very interesting.
There are many more than Anne Franks diary.
That reminds me of my first journaling effort, when I was about seven. For the first few days my entries were very complete and detailed, I was really enjoying the process of re-experiencing my day and thinking about how to describe events and my reaction to them. But after a week or two, it started to feel like a chore, so my entries sometimes dwindled to “Nothing good happened today,” which quickly got abbreviated to “NG.”
About four NGs and I was done.