Remember the great scene from "12 Monkeys" with Brad Pitt yelling, "Get out of my chair!"? That's pretty what my job is like. Except it's:
"Quit putting shit on my desk!"
"Don't reach past me to get a pen!"
"Don't pick greeting cards up off my desk and start reading the message inside! Christ!"
Can you tell I work in "higher education"? I'll have applications spread across my desk, attempting to ascertain the future these bright students might have in the exciting world of health care, and some brain trust will drop an application and supporting documentation on top of the application and supporting documentation I'm working on, causing document miscegenation. Argh!!!
And when did people stop asking if they could borrow a pen, a paperclip, a stapler - whatall - and just reach around you and grab it? I'm going to end up a lemon-puckered (not the good kind), bun-haired old bitch at the age of 34. And not just because all of the perpetrators are 19, Fred-skinny, wearing out-of-style ultra low-rise jeans and glittery half-shirts and they have ultra flat bellies and sparkly belly-button rings. Huh-uh. I've got no hidden agenda. I'd yell at the non-traditional student wearing the grey sweat pants and Ralph Wiggum t-shirt with a hole over the nipple (
stoney321 SHOUT OUT!) if they reached around me for a pen. I mean, there's good reach around and then there's strangers reading my Valentines cards (which, admittedly, I need to take down.) In closing, "Get out of my chair!"
Well, that rant was exciting, wasn't it?
"Quit putting shit on my desk!"
"Don't reach past me to get a pen!"
"Don't pick greeting cards up off my desk and start reading the message inside! Christ!"
Can you tell I work in "higher education"? I'll have applications spread across my desk, attempting to ascertain the future these bright students might have in the exciting world of health care, and some brain trust will drop an application and supporting documentation on top of the application and supporting documentation I'm working on, causing document miscegenation. Argh!!!
And when did people stop asking if they could borrow a pen, a paperclip, a stapler - whatall - and just reach around you and grab it? I'm going to end up a lemon-puckered (not the good kind), bun-haired old bitch at the age of 34. And not just because all of the perpetrators are 19, Fred-skinny, wearing out-of-style ultra low-rise jeans and glittery half-shirts and they have ultra flat bellies and sparkly belly-button rings. Huh-uh. I've got no hidden agenda. I'd yell at the non-traditional student wearing the grey sweat pants and Ralph Wiggum t-shirt with a hole over the nipple (
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Well, that rant was exciting, wasn't it?