Non Sequitur

Usually, the audio files I transcribe make sense to me. The moderator is representing some company, and they're developing a new product: a new toothbrush, a new drug, a new car - whatever. The moderator asks probing questions designed to get honest opinions about various aspects of the product with as little bias as possible. Pretty simple. And since I have to listen to the audio file in order to type it, I can't help but analyze it as I go, trying to figure out what each question is really designed to do.

If I'm very, very lucky, I can get myself into a mental state where I'm not actively listening to what I'm hearing, yet am still able to type it in a kind of dazed state as my wind wanders. Of course, since I'm typing it and hearing it, sometimes I'll get jolted back into reality when I miss something or don't understand something.

Recently, I was typing a long, long file (3 hours, which is about 10 hours of work), and I was cruising, about an hour through, really in the zone, just typing with nary a care in the world. From what I'd gathered, the moderator, a woman with a thick German accent, was talking to 3 men about their hair, or lack thereof. Apparently all three of these guys were balding. They talked for an hour about going bald, how it felt to lose hair, how they approached their stylists, and how they felt about approaching their stylists. It was pretty gay. But thankfully I was in the zone, not really listening. Then something happened - it was not just a shock, it was a lightning bolt, as I was jarred back to reality and went, "Wait - what? Did I just hear that?" Here is what the moderator said, typed verbatim, and when you read it, hear it in your mind being spoken by a woman with a thick eastern European accent:

Moderator: OK, guys, let’s take a trip to the board back there. We’re going to actually leave this galaxy. We are going into the hair loss galaxy, and while we’re there we’re going to visit 4 planets. On the first planet, we’re going to visit the anti-thinning planet. The anti-thinning planet in the hair loss galaxy. You’ve just landed: get off your space shuttle, or whatever we’re traveling in, and we step on this planet, what do we see?

As I rewound the tape, making sure I'd heard correctly, my mind went through this rapid-fire series of thoughts: Did I just hear that? OK, I did. I feel stupid even typing this. I'm worried I might actually get dumber if I type this. Holy shit - serious people with actual jobs wrote this question. People in charge of things at a major company. Fuck. Somebody at this company thought this was a good idea, and other people agreed. There were probably memos. Holy shit, people are fucking idiots. I hate people. I hate people, so, so much.

But wait, it gets even better. The three guys don't even blink. They just jump right in, albeit with fairly predictable answers:

Respondent 1: People with a lot of hair.

HAHA! ZING! Got 'em. Can't argue with that! On the anti-thinning planet in the Hair Loss Galaxy, there will be PEOPLE WITH LOTS OF HAIR. Oh, Respondent 1, you clever, clever man. Next, the moderator starts probing about the planet. What's it like there? What colors do you see? What do people do there? There's a lot of hair stylists there, says one of the guys. Then we get this exchange:

Moderator: Any other professions that we observe on planet anti-thinning?

Respondent 2: Models.

Moderator: Hair models?

Respondent 2: No, just models.

Moderator: What are they doing there?

Respondent 2: Modeling.

Moderator: And why, why are they on this planet?

Respondent 2: They’re tanning.

Moderator: And just to be sure I understand why they’re models there –

Respondent 2: Because they have beautiful hair.

Respondent 3: They could have an ugly face, but they have beautiful hair.

What the fuck kind of inane bullshit is this? Again, I am forced to ask myself, WHY are you asking these questions? It almost sounds like she's getting the backdrop for a commercial, but are you really going to script a commercial based on the first thing that comes out of the mouths of 3 random guys from Chicago?

Now we get to what I consider the best part of this unfolding saga:

Moderator: I’m afraid we have to leave that planet. We’re going to the medical planet. The medical planet, in our hair-loss galaxy, so you step off the medical planet, what do we see there?

Respondent 1: People walking around in coats, I don’t know.

Moderator: Why coats?

Respondent 1: With scissors, and samples of our hair.

Moderator: Mike, I’m afraid with this pen I can’t hear you. What did you say?

Respondent 1: They want to take samples of our hair, maybe trying to look at the DNA, trying to see if there’s any similarity in the genetic code of hair. Trying to find similarities with women and men’s hair loss, and maybe seeing if there are similarities regardless of sex.

Respondent 2: There’s no models. There’s probably more people that are having more problematic hair that don’t have a lot, that are trying to save what they have.

Respondent 3: There are a lot of people with treatments on their scalps, bandages on their heads.

Respondent 1: There’s electrodes going on there too. Oils, lasers –

............

OK, so is it just me, or does this sound less like three guys talking about hair-care products and more like the delusional ramblings of three paranoid lunatics with alien abduction experiences? I was having a hard time typing this section, as I was giggling pretty much nonstop. I kept expecting one of the guys to just snap, Travis Walton-style, and start screaming, "THEY COME FOR ME AT NIGHT! SPACE SUITS...SPACE SUITS!!!!!!1"

Actually, what I really wanted wanted was for one of the guys to stand up in the middle of the moderator's rambling narrative about the fantastical Hair Galaxy and the mythical anti-thinning planet, just stand up and say, "Hey, wait a second! This is BULLSHIT! Let's get right the fuck out of here! YARRGH!" (that last part is him transforming into a dinosaur. I have a very active imagination)

Anyway. My job has no redeeming qualities other than the fact that I don't have to go anywhere, but my loss is your gain. And by "gain," I mean, "Wasted a full 6 minutes of your time, or 15 in Luke's case because he's a slow reader who I'm pretty sure still sounds out the longer words."