In Which the Author is not Himself

I felt like two different people tonight, and they probably couldn’t be more opposite.

First, I felt like a character from a Judy Blume book. I haven’t actually read any Judy Blume books, but when I think of children’s books and mischief, that’s what I think of. That and Amélie, which I will not identify with, for reasons I will outline later in this post.

In any case, I felt like a Judy Blume character.

At my workplace, which I shall not name due to the company’s “Social Media Technology Policy,” which actually has the gall to suggest I tack a “The material on this site is my own and does not necessarily represent the view of my employer” on my websites, Headbooks, Facespaces, etc. Instead, I won’t name my employer, which is a shame. I would gladly testify to the quality of their smoothies and reuben sandwiches.

In any case, I’m at work, and I work on drive-thru. One of the headsets used for this purpose is old, ratty, broken, etc. It doesn’t function well and this serves only to aggravate workers and interfere with communication with customers. I whined, others complained, but no nagging led the boss to buy a new headset. So, Thursday, I arranged it that the restaurant owner – let’s call her “Della” –  would have to use the crappy headset when she worked drive-thru.

Lo and behold, there’s now a note in the office that we need a new headset. Mission accomplished.

The other person I feel like tonight is the opposite of Superfudge: V. Vendetta V.

I have a reputation of correcting notes in the break room. The management puts up notes, but some of the managers have horrible English skills. So I’d take a pen to their notes and run wild through their sentences and paragraphs, correcting grammatical errors like mad. Finally, the bosses complained. They said that my correction undermined their authority. I agreed, but didn’t see this as a bad thing. However, I stopped correcting the notes for the most part.

However, a curious thing occured. The notes still get corrected. Sure, there are plenty of glaring comma errors going uncorrected, but the big stuff’s getting changed. And it makes me feel like I’ve inspired people. It may be in a tiny, pointless, and almost annoying way, but I’ve still inspired people. I’m gonna chase that feeling.

Now then. Amélie.

One of the professors that I respect most loves that movie, and it has won many awards. Even the things I hear about it, the idea of gaslighting someone, etc, make me think I’d like it. There’s only one problem: That movie poster and DVD cover try to eat my soul. Look for yourself.

Jesus Christ. She’s going to open her mouth and it’s going to be a tunnel to hell, like a sarlacc combined with more teeth. And she’s going to Dementor’s Kiss me.

I trust I don’t have to hotlink that joke for people to get it?

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Header photo by David Reber's Hammer Photography. Many ideas and images copyright Blizzard.
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