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The language of office mates

Right off the bat, this post is in no way piggybacking on all the obesity-your social circle debate. I've worked in a ton of different workspaces--part of that is the (desultory) nature of my business, part of that I attribute to an especially roiling tween & teendom. But everywhere I've worked, there were always a few people with whom I experienced a workaday yet still severe kind of infatuation--either out of desperation because the job was either scary or boring or actually dangerous, or sometimes because the job was too good to be true and so was everyone in the office. What grew out of these infatuations, was, inevitably, lingo. A shared language. Of course there are always inside jokes 100% endemic to your suite number, and conversations that pick up exactly where they left off at the next lunch or coffee or perhaps smoke break. But I'm talking about the lexicon that develops at a work place, and its staying power.

Now, of course this verbal appropriation happens in close friendships and romantic relationships, but I'm particularly interested in how our officemates shape our phraseology--mostly because office life and language is more functionally public, more sanctioned, and perhaps more in need of verbal ciphers.
At my current office, I find myself calling everyone "Mary Louise." It's not because this is the name of anyone I know or aspire to know (though I'd love the opportunity!)--it's just a saying one of my coworkers started, and it took over the entire office. Any proper pronoun is now predicated by "Mary Louise." And anytime someone needs to be corrected on a work-related issue, we firmly say: "Absolutely not." Often: "Mary Louise! Absolutely not." This habit has so inculcated my daily routine that I now find myself addressing cars as such: "Mary Louise! Absolutely not."

Via another office, I found myself saying (wince) "For sure!" to any request, and then just in place of "Got it," or "I understand," in place of all affirmations: "For sure"--though it eventually morphed into a single Frrsurr. In all my West Coast offices, I quickly learned that everything was "hateful" instead of horrid or rotten or anything else, and I was quick to conform. Hateful, hateful, hateful. But beyond the workplace, I'm not sure my friends took these developments in my vocabulary to heart, but maybe that's because I was too busy noticing the words and phrases they'd picked up. The offices where this kind of magical sparring was most prevalent were all busy offices, and I suppose all this talk was a shorthand I haven't even begun to psychoanalyze--any linguistic determinists out there who'd like to try? Every place I work seems to turn into its own Wayne's World. Otherwise, have you noticed/spearheaded anything like this in your workplace?

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Animals
This Is the Age When Puppies Reach 'Peak Cuteness'
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All puppies are cute, but at some point in a young dog's life, it goes from "It's so cute I could squeeze it to death" to merely regular cute. But when? According to one recent study in the journal Anthrozoös, peak cuteness hits between 6 and 8 weeks old for many dogs, The Washington Post reports.

Finding out when puppies reach their peak attractiveness to humans may give us insights into how domestic dogs evolved. Researchers from the University of Florida asked 51 students at the school to look at 39 black-and-white images of dogs, who belonged to three different breeds and whose ages ranged from birth to 8 months. The viewers then rated them on a sliding scale of squishability.

The results will sound familiar to dog lovers. Puppies aren't entirely adorable immediately after they're born—they can look a little rat-like—and the participants rated them accordingly. As dogs get older, as much as we might love them, their squee-worthy cuteness declines, as the attractiveness scores reflected. The sweet spot, it turns out, is right around when puppies are being weaned, or between 6 and 8 weeks old.

The participants tended to rate dogs as most attractive when the pups were within the first 10 weeks of their lives. According to the results, Cane Corsos were at their cutest around 6.3 weeks old, Jack Russell terriers at 7.7 weeks old, and white shepherds at 8.3 weeks.

The study only used still photos of a few breeds, and it's possible that with a more diverse sample, the time of peak cuteness might vary a bit. Certain puppies might be cuter at an older age, and certain puppies might be cuter when they're even younger. But weaning age happens to coincide with the time when puppies are no longer getting as much support from their mothers, and are thus at a high risk of mortality. By evolving to attract human support at a time when they're most vulnerable, puppies might have boosted their chance at survival until they were old enough to completely take care of themselves.

[h/t The Washington Post]

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entertainment
Why Our Brains Love Plot Twists
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From the father-son reveal in The Empire Strikes Back to the shocking realization at the end of The Sixth Sense, everyone loves a good plot twist. It's not the element of surprise that makes them so enjoyable, though. It's largely the set-up, according to cognitive scientist Vera Tobin.

Tobin, a researcher at Case Western Reserve University, writes for The Conversation that one of the most enjoyable moments of a film or novel comes after the big reveal, when we get to go back and look at the clues we may have missed. "The most satisfying surprises get their power from giving us a fresh, better way of making sense of the material that came before," Tobin writes. "This is another opportunity for stories to turn the curse of knowledge to their advantage."

The curse of knowledge, Tobin explains, refers to a psychological effect in which knowledge affects our perception and "trips us up in a lot of ways." For instance, a puzzle always seems easier than it really is after we've learned how to solve it, and once we know which team won a baseball game, we tend to overestimate how likely that particular outcome was.

Good writers know this intuitively and use it to their advantage to craft narratives that will make audiences want to review key points of the story. The end of The Sixth Sense, for example, replays earlier scenes of the movie to clue viewers in to the fact that Bruce Willis's character has been dead the whole time—a fact which seems all too obvious in hindsight, thanks to the curse of knowledge.

This is also why writers often incorporate red herrings—or false clues—into their works. In light of this evidence, movie spoilers don't seem so terrible after all. According to one study, even when the plot twist is known in advance, viewers still experience suspense. Indeed, several studies have shown that spoilers can even enhance enjoyment because they improve "fluency," or a viewer's ability to process and understand the story.

Still, spoilers are pretty universally hated—the Russo brothers even distributed fake drafts of Avengers: Infinity War to prevent key plot points from being leaked—so it's probably best not to go shouting the end of this summer's big blockbuster before your friends have seen it.

[h/t The Conversation]

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