I worked this weekend, a time when the temperature was in the mid-90s and the humidity was 80%. Did I mention that the job was outside and that I wore a black skirt and a shirt with button-down sleeves? That's right, ladies and gentlemen, this can only mean two things: one, that today's post is a re-post (for which you have my apologies) and two, that there is a post in the near future in which the word "swamp butt" or a variation thereof will figure prominently.
So do we have time for a quick story?
At one time, I was a court reporter, one of those intense-looking women pounding out, phonetically, everything said in the courtroom.
That’s the key: phonetically.
And I was good. But there came a day when I came across a line in a transcript that I was working on that stumped me.
The deponent said she had been coming back from an appointment, that she had just gotten – and here I wrote “P S D S”.
PSDS. I rolled that son of a gun around in my mouth for a good hour. I checked the Physicians Desk Reference. I called the library. I called my friends. "You ever had P.S.D.S.? You know anyone who has?"
I had to have this word; and eventually I did what is, for court reporters, a last resort.
I called the deponent.
“Hi. This is Pearl. Your court reporter?”
There was a pause.
"Sorry. Who is this?"
“This is Pearl. I was your court reporter yesterday afternoon?”
Another pause. Apparently she wasn’t expecting me.
“Ma’am, I just have one question about your testimony. You mentioned that you had had an appointment on the day in question for PSDS. Do I have that right?”
“Oh,” she said, warming. “Yes. Yes, that’s right.”
“So, um,” I said, fishing, “Does that hurt, PSDS?”
“Oh, no, not really,” she said. “Just a quick pop. The earrings just get shot right in. It heals in no time.”
Did I mention the woman had been raised near Boston?