Having been admonished, I suppose I should update. As you can see, I’m awfully good at following directions, and that especially pertains to direction in cap-locks.
At my work-place today they served free BBQ sandwiches, and since I love things covered in sauce (BBQ sauce, free sauce) I stuffed my face, commenting between bites how entirely strange it is to serve BBQ in the workplace. We are often being reminded to present a clean and somewhat approachable face to the public and to this end BBQ grub seemed entirely illogical. But I wouldn’t look a gift-BBQ sandwich in the mouth. [I didn’t even bother to find out what kind of meat it was, so I wouldn’t know what sort of animal to find this proverbial mouth on, anyway.]
Fittingly, this tremendous meal backfired overwhelmingly, because I’ve catapulted downward into a post-lunch slump. I feel ever so much like a nap and I’ve adopted a distinct desk-slouch. I’m highlighting so slowly that the freaky and prolonged highlighter squeak is really maddening.
Such is my dreary fate on a Friday afternoon. But there is an exciting anecdote to follow.
A certain manager in my workplace gave us reception types some fake flowers in a silly vase for our desk. Now, these flowers were a really outrageous color and showed up somewhat dramatically against the boring flagstone decor of my desk. With eerie regularity, patients have taken to approaching the desk, often even stopping cold in the hallway to stare beforehand, and fingering these fake flowers. Really, there were several gawkers everyday. After a few moments they would invariably comment on the color and ask if they were real.
I’ll admit it; at first I didn’t know if they were fake or real (I, after all, had not spent the last few moments petting them) and I would express this as politely as possible. But over a few months their unwavering brightness assured me of their immortality and I grew annoyed with the interruptions.
For the last few weeks I have struggled against a desire to ignore people asking about the plant. I wanted very much to instruct the curious parties to poke their fingers into the soil and feel the lifeless Styrofoam heart of the plant and to see for themselves that it was no agricultural marvel. Nothing more remarkable than a little corporate schmoozing.
But I’m too much of a pansy for such direct confrontation, so I took the flowers and disposed of them. It was very satisfying. And this blog is hopefully sufficiently satisfying to requesters.
At my work-place today they served free BBQ sandwiches, and since I love things covered in sauce (BBQ sauce, free sauce) I stuffed my face, commenting between bites how entirely strange it is to serve BBQ in the workplace. We are often being reminded to present a clean and somewhat approachable face to the public and to this end BBQ grub seemed entirely illogical. But I wouldn’t look a gift-BBQ sandwich in the mouth. [I didn’t even bother to find out what kind of meat it was, so I wouldn’t know what sort of animal to find this proverbial mouth on, anyway.]
Fittingly, this tremendous meal backfired overwhelmingly, because I’ve catapulted downward into a post-lunch slump. I feel ever so much like a nap and I’ve adopted a distinct desk-slouch. I’m highlighting so slowly that the freaky and prolonged highlighter squeak is really maddening.
Such is my dreary fate on a Friday afternoon. But there is an exciting anecdote to follow.
A certain manager in my workplace gave us reception types some fake flowers in a silly vase for our desk. Now, these flowers were a really outrageous color and showed up somewhat dramatically against the boring flagstone decor of my desk. With eerie regularity, patients have taken to approaching the desk, often even stopping cold in the hallway to stare beforehand, and fingering these fake flowers. Really, there were several gawkers everyday. After a few moments they would invariably comment on the color and ask if they were real.
I’ll admit it; at first I didn’t know if they were fake or real (I, after all, had not spent the last few moments petting them) and I would express this as politely as possible. But over a few months their unwavering brightness assured me of their immortality and I grew annoyed with the interruptions.
For the last few weeks I have struggled against a desire to ignore people asking about the plant. I wanted very much to instruct the curious parties to poke their fingers into the soil and feel the lifeless Styrofoam heart of the plant and to see for themselves that it was no agricultural marvel. Nothing more remarkable than a little corporate schmoozing.
But I’m too much of a pansy for such direct confrontation, so I took the flowers and disposed of them. It was very satisfying. And this blog is hopefully sufficiently satisfying to requesters.
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