All About The Claus
The first version of this paragraph was much different than this one is. Upon its presentation to the subject which it portrayed (namely, The Claus), it was rejected on the grounds that it was a pack of lies. This author was subsequently beseeched to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. The masterpiece that resulted from this had to be entirely deleted in the name of good taste. However, the third try seemed to find the right balance between fact and fiction, and was accepted for publication on this worthy website.
Anyone who is reading this knows Claus ten times better than I do, so the best that I can do is to relate some amusing anecdotes and things that I've noticed in the short time that I've known him (namely, 1 month, 27 days, 10 hours, and 35 minutes). I guess one of the first things that I noticed is that he's actually a really patient teacher. He spent an entire hour saying, "Rød grød mid fløde" while I repeated "Rul grol meth flooeughhzz." And his patience doesn't end there - when it comes to photography, it is boundless as the sea. It is a normal thing for him to spend upwards of twenty minutes for a single shot - wars have been fought and nations have fallen in less time than that! He is unconcerned about this - no amount of time spent on a photograph can ever be too much for him. But don't get me wrong - there seem to be some things for which he has absolutely no patience. He will waste no time in evaluating a situation in terms of money - how cost efficient is this? does this cost more money than it is worth? would I actually be saving money by hiring someone to scratch my butt than doing it myself? You can always count on Claus to be thinking about the important things in life.
And his obsession with money does not end there. He is one of the select few people who would rather administrate an organization than participate in it. Perhaps it is just his quirky desire to organize everything, put it in order, and make sure than it runs smoothly just like he wants it. Or perhaps it is his raw need for power - he is drawn to it as a moth is to a flame - and mayhaps he will meet that same fiery end as the moth because of it. We can only hope that he will tame this lust before it consumes him.
Another obsession that may turn out to be the death of him is his need for travel. Having been to more countries than years he is old is not jaw-dropping in itself, but one must remember that he has a flair for making ordinary excursions life-threatening. Any normal person would have turned back on their assault on Mount Kota Kinabalu after feeling the drag of jetlag - or after feeling the distinct signs of altitude sickness - or after not having slept at all the night before - or after realizing that the temperature was dropping far below what their clothing could ever handle. But his will was stronger than his common sense, and he made it up and back down - alive. It was a shame that he didn't really learn anything from it, though, because it was only a year later that we find our hero in a similar predicament - out in the wild, after dark, wading through thigh-deep glacial rivers, flashlightless, mapless, and realistically unable to make the return trip to safety and warmth. But to his credit, he brought quick-drying pants, two litres of coke, and enough perseverance and willpower for the both of us. And he made it out alive, again. Let us hope that his luck never runs out, what with his penchant for getting himself into sticky situations.
But enough anecdotes; you must be getting bored, so I will skip to the conclusion: if I had to sum the entire personality of Claus up in one sentence, then I would be doing him a great disservice, simplifying up such an intricate and colourful personality with a single inadequate sentence. But I won't let that stop me, so I'll just say:
Underneath his cold, callous, grumpy old man exterior, underneath his metro clothing and diamond cufflinks, underneath his constant whining about how everyone else is incompetent, about how deplorable the quality of goods is outside of Denmark, about how cold it is in the house, and about how he has to do everyone else's job himself, underneath this complaining that sometimes develops into a deafening roar, underneath all of that is... is... well, there's gotta be SOMETHING under there, I'm sure of it - I just haven't figured out what.
Anyone who is reading this knows Claus ten times better than I do, so the best that I can do is to relate some amusing anecdotes and things that I've noticed in the short time that I've known him (namely, 1 month, 27 days, 10 hours, and 35 minutes). I guess one of the first things that I noticed is that he's actually a really patient teacher. He spent an entire hour saying, "Rød grød mid fløde" while I repeated "Rul grol meth flooeughhzz." And his patience doesn't end there - when it comes to photography, it is boundless as the sea. It is a normal thing for him to spend upwards of twenty minutes for a single shot - wars have been fought and nations have fallen in less time than that! He is unconcerned about this - no amount of time spent on a photograph can ever be too much for him. But don't get me wrong - there seem to be some things for which he has absolutely no patience. He will waste no time in evaluating a situation in terms of money - how cost efficient is this? does this cost more money than it is worth? would I actually be saving money by hiring someone to scratch my butt than doing it myself? You can always count on Claus to be thinking about the important things in life.
And his obsession with money does not end there. He is one of the select few people who would rather administrate an organization than participate in it. Perhaps it is just his quirky desire to organize everything, put it in order, and make sure than it runs smoothly just like he wants it. Or perhaps it is his raw need for power - he is drawn to it as a moth is to a flame - and mayhaps he will meet that same fiery end as the moth because of it. We can only hope that he will tame this lust before it consumes him.
Another obsession that may turn out to be the death of him is his need for travel. Having been to more countries than years he is old is not jaw-dropping in itself, but one must remember that he has a flair for making ordinary excursions life-threatening. Any normal person would have turned back on their assault on Mount Kota Kinabalu after feeling the drag of jetlag - or after feeling the distinct signs of altitude sickness - or after not having slept at all the night before - or after realizing that the temperature was dropping far below what their clothing could ever handle. But his will was stronger than his common sense, and he made it up and back down - alive. It was a shame that he didn't really learn anything from it, though, because it was only a year later that we find our hero in a similar predicament - out in the wild, after dark, wading through thigh-deep glacial rivers, flashlightless, mapless, and realistically unable to make the return trip to safety and warmth. But to his credit, he brought quick-drying pants, two litres of coke, and enough perseverance and willpower for the both of us. And he made it out alive, again. Let us hope that his luck never runs out, what with his penchant for getting himself into sticky situations.
But enough anecdotes; you must be getting bored, so I will skip to the conclusion: if I had to sum the entire personality of Claus up in one sentence, then I would be doing him a great disservice, simplifying up such an intricate and colourful personality with a single inadequate sentence. But I won't let that stop me, so I'll just say:
Underneath his cold, callous, grumpy old man exterior, underneath his metro clothing and diamond cufflinks, underneath his constant whining about how everyone else is incompetent, about how deplorable the quality of goods is outside of Denmark, about how cold it is in the house, and about how he has to do everyone else's job himself, underneath this complaining that sometimes develops into a deafening roar, underneath all of that is... is... well, there's gotta be SOMETHING under there, I'm sure of it - I just haven't figured out what.
posted by laurenm at 9:08 PM
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