Cookie Rant: A Perfect Storm of WTF
Hello Dear Readers. it's not often that i have a good tale to tell you, but today took the cake. Or the cookies. You be the judge.
The scene: I work for a venerable magazine in the Chicago 'burbs. It's a stodgy rag for old farts, and our staff is small- 12 editors, one publisher, two graphic artists, one receptionist, and me, the Fearless Research Director. Our office has a library atmosphere- most days it's extremely quiet but for the tapping of keyboards.
Twenty minutes ago, i heard the dulcet (ha!) tones of childrens' voices. i ventured out of my office to encounter a woman i had never seen before, and her two children (a boy and a girl, roughly 7 and 9 years old). She was coming out of an editor's office with an order form. I said, "Hello" and she sort of herded her children away from me (it is Casual Friday, Dear Readers, and i have my floral sleeve tattoos hanging out). She hauled her children into the next office.
A brief check showed that this woman was not anyone's wife, sister, friend, cousin, or other relation. She did not, in fact, know anyone in the office, or even in the building. She and her children were selling Girl Scout Cookies (yum!) and thought that a captive audience would suit their needs.
Our security staff goes home early on Fridays. Our receptionist took a half day today, so she wasn't able to head them off at the pass. Our Publisher (a notoriously cranky man with a complete lack of Profanity Filter) had just left for lunch. It fell to our Art Director (the owner's sister) to kick them out.
But not before they had sold a dozen boxes of cookies. Because everyone assumed she was the wife of someone who worked here.
As they flounced out the door, the mother pointed to our Art Director and informed her children, "That lady wasn't very nice!"
The End.
The scene: I work for a venerable magazine in the Chicago 'burbs. It's a stodgy rag for old farts, and our staff is small- 12 editors, one publisher, two graphic artists, one receptionist, and me, the Fearless Research Director. Our office has a library atmosphere- most days it's extremely quiet but for the tapping of keyboards.
Twenty minutes ago, i heard the dulcet (ha!) tones of childrens' voices. i ventured out of my office to encounter a woman i had never seen before, and her two children (a boy and a girl, roughly 7 and 9 years old). She was coming out of an editor's office with an order form. I said, "Hello" and she sort of herded her children away from me (it is Casual Friday, Dear Readers, and i have my floral sleeve tattoos hanging out). She hauled her children into the next office.
A brief check showed that this woman was not anyone's wife, sister, friend, cousin, or other relation. She did not, in fact, know anyone in the office, or even in the building. She and her children were selling Girl Scout Cookies (yum!) and thought that a captive audience would suit their needs.
Our security staff goes home early on Fridays. Our receptionist took a half day today, so she wasn't able to head them off at the pass. Our Publisher (a notoriously cranky man with a complete lack of Profanity Filter) had just left for lunch. It fell to our Art Director (the owner's sister) to kick them out.
But not before they had sold a dozen boxes of cookies. Because everyone assumed she was the wife of someone who worked here.
As they flounced out the door, the mother pointed to our Art Director and informed her children, "That lady wasn't very nice!"
The End.