I was thinking about trainable monkeys yesterday, thinking about the ones that bring in the mail and light cigarettes for quadriplegics…
I don’t always think of monkeys, but when I do, I somehow equate them to myself; because somewhere in my mind is the idea that there are parts of my job to which a monkey may pay more attention...
A minor misunderstanding recently regarding the number of copies required for a meeting had me dramatically overprinting a document needed right-freaking-now to the tune of a small-ish Douglas Fir.
What is the tree-to-paper ratio, anyway?
And as if being ecologically homocidal weren’t enough, to suffer the look of disappointment and incredulity on my boss’s face! Have you seen that look? It's the look that says, “We’ve spectacularly under-estimated your ability to take direction, Pearl; and we’ve decided to replace you with a well-dressed and reasonably intelligent monkey. You may go now.”
I hate that look.
In all fairness to me, the directions were vague and 20 minutes prior to their deadline.
And in all fairness to him, he seemed to be genuinely unaware that he had needed them in the first place.
But that’s how it is, isn’t it?
Dinner Friday night? Daiquiris. Bananas Daiquiris.
A Meeting in the Meeting
8 minutes ago