sometimes a pony gets depressed.
in case you didn't know, this is what i do at work:
- spend at least twenty minutes per day convincing my boss that words like "compulse" and "actuability" are not, in fact, real words, and that "requisition" is not a synonym for "acquisition."
- subtly insist that using the word "shitbox" in a legal letter doesn't really exhibit professionalism.
- reword, retype, and thus basically rewrite every form of correspondence between her and anyone she needs to contact. this is not so much a personal favor to her, but moreso a desperate attempt to salvage and sanctify the english language by any means possible.
- order three bottles of sauvignon blanc and stoli peach every two days from a wine shop where she actually has a credit card on file.
- pour her a glass of alcohol after she says, "today was supposed to be my last day of drinking, but i'm upset. i need it."
- attempt once again to explain the difference between internet and e-mail, and that unplugging the modem will not, in fact, stop her e-mail account from requiring a password.
- regularly, involuntarily, and often unknowingly take the blame for mistakes and/or misunderstandings that i am neither responsible for nor mildly associated with.
- constantly reorganize and properly file documents, clean off tables and desks, and keep a list of duties to complete. after she enters the office and haphazardly ransacks the place in search of god-knows-what, i am scolded for my organizational ineptitude.
- attempt to comprehend sputtered sentence fragments, interpret bewilderingly vague requests, wait patiently for her to thoroughly complete thoughts, and receive irritated looks when i can't understand/respond to statements like, "anne, where did i put that thing i just had?" and "anne, where did you--?"
- try to make sense of and somehow legitimize her previous career as a high-standing trauma surgeon.
- return her unwanted, overpriced personal merchandise to bloomingdale's, tiffany's, ralph lauren, and other stores i feel uncomfortable entering.
- assume her identity at least four times per day. this includes everything from voice authorization over the telephone to signature fraud at the bank.
- manage all invoices, purchase orders, utility bills, and bank accounts, while continually making sure that her other assistant hasn't bounced the same checks for the fourth time or embezzled funds again.
- eat fancy lunches with her while she drinks 3 more glasses of sauvignon blanc and, again, freely spills uncomfortable details about her personal life that disturbingly breach the standard employer/employee relationship.
- walk three blocks to her apartment when she is too exhausted/lazy to get dressed and come to the office. this includes watching her flit around in a semitransparent nightgown and alligator heels, listening to her yapping chihuahuas, and wanting to vomit.
- convince myself each day not to drill a corkscrew through my neck.
- spend at least twenty minutes per day convincing my boss that words like "compulse" and "actuability" are not, in fact, real words, and that "requisition" is not a synonym for "acquisition."
- subtly insist that using the word "shitbox" in a legal letter doesn't really exhibit professionalism.
- reword, retype, and thus basically rewrite every form of correspondence between her and anyone she needs to contact. this is not so much a personal favor to her, but moreso a desperate attempt to salvage and sanctify the english language by any means possible.
- order three bottles of sauvignon blanc and stoli peach every two days from a wine shop where she actually has a credit card on file.
- pour her a glass of alcohol after she says, "today was supposed to be my last day of drinking, but i'm upset. i need it."
- attempt once again to explain the difference between internet and e-mail, and that unplugging the modem will not, in fact, stop her e-mail account from requiring a password.
- regularly, involuntarily, and often unknowingly take the blame for mistakes and/or misunderstandings that i am neither responsible for nor mildly associated with.
- constantly reorganize and properly file documents, clean off tables and desks, and keep a list of duties to complete. after she enters the office and haphazardly ransacks the place in search of god-knows-what, i am scolded for my organizational ineptitude.
- attempt to comprehend sputtered sentence fragments, interpret bewilderingly vague requests, wait patiently for her to thoroughly complete thoughts, and receive irritated looks when i can't understand/respond to statements like, "anne, where did i put that thing i just had?" and "anne, where did you--?"
- try to make sense of and somehow legitimize her previous career as a high-standing trauma surgeon.
- return her unwanted, overpriced personal merchandise to bloomingdale's, tiffany's, ralph lauren, and other stores i feel uncomfortable entering.
- assume her identity at least four times per day. this includes everything from voice authorization over the telephone to signature fraud at the bank.
- manage all invoices, purchase orders, utility bills, and bank accounts, while continually making sure that her other assistant hasn't bounced the same checks for the fourth time or embezzled funds again.
- eat fancy lunches with her while she drinks 3 more glasses of sauvignon blanc and, again, freely spills uncomfortable details about her personal life that disturbingly breach the standard employer/employee relationship.
- walk three blocks to her apartment when she is too exhausted/lazy to get dressed and come to the office. this includes watching her flit around in a semitransparent nightgown and alligator heels, listening to her yapping chihuahuas, and wanting to vomit.
- convince myself each day not to drill a corkscrew through my neck.