WWED

I've lately been working a temp job in the credit department of a local flour company. That's right. I process paperwork all day. In case you were unsure, it's as boring as all get-out. Not to mention repetitive. Highly repetitive.

I do quite well with repetitive work, really. I enjoy not having to think too hard and being able to concentrate on other things (like audiobooks, or -- this week -- the glory of Muse). But I do have a tendency, when performing repetitive tasks, to work a little too quickly, overlooking things and letting errors slip in. To combat this weakness of mine, I have been double- and triple-checking my work at the flour mill, trying to slow myself down. I checked things that no one cared about (i.e., Are these invoices all in the same order that they were listed in on the DOS print-out I used when compiling them?), just to make sure I didn't let my desire for speed overtake my desire for quality work.

Even so, the other day, one of my co-workers genially suggested, "You don't have to work so fast." I didn't have a response to that -- anything I could think of to say would probably have sounded like bragging.

Besides all the tedious work, though, there is also the issue of my supervisor. I like her just fine ... except that I'm not sure she always really knows what she's doing. The other day she assured me that the invoice notes -- written in French, for a Canadian-based company -- indicated that samples had been given to the company (therefore, our department would credit their account for the goods they had incorrectly been billed for). I couldn't figure out how she got that from looking at the invoice, so I asked. "I speak French," she responded -- as though this made the whole thing obvious. I looked at her blankly for a moment. "So do I," I finally said. "But I still don't see how you're getting that." "It's written at the top of the page," she told me. I looked again and then held it up for her, pointing to the word frais written in all-caps at the top of the page. "You mean this?" I asked. "Yep. It says 'free.' That means samples." Now, my French is not the best, I will readily admit. But I happen to know that the word frais means 'fresh.' I looked it up today and learned that it can also mean 'fees.' But 'free' it does not mean. That would be gratis. Unless there's some weird French-Canadian thing going on here that I'm unaware of -- which is entirely possible. But my point here is that my supervisor has a tendency to pretend that she knows what's going on, even when doesn't really (which I suspect is most of the time). [NB: Remind me to tell you all someday about the phony math formula she gave us.]

So, between being assured of various "facts" that I happen to know are false, and constantly surprising people with my super-speedy skills, and having recently stayed up all night (literally -- went to bed at 6:30 am) to read Eclipse, I found myself this week sitting at work and wondering, "What would Edward do?"

Clearly, others in cyber-space have beat me to the punch here, but I still found myself amused by my own thought.

You know, I'm not so sure I'd want to be a vampire -- at least not the way that the Cullens do it. Can you imagine the eternal torture of sitting around at high school year after year after year, listening to lectures on things you already know -- because you already have a plethora of undergraduate, graduate, and professional university degrees -- ignoring information that is blatantly incorrect, and pretending not to mind any of it? Or constantly moving at a significantly slower speed than you are naturally inclined to, just so that people won't get suspicious? I actually tried slowing myself down this week -- not just the double-checking stuff, but actually working slowly, making myself take more time than necessary to lift my pen and make a check-mark -- just to see what it was like. Torturous, that's the word.

I hope Bella knows what she's getting herself into.

If I were a creative writer, I would give you a snap-shot of some of things I thought about this week -- imagining Edward or Bella working in my job, and their reactions to the things I find so frustrating. But I'll leave that kind of thing up to the scritcher.

I can't remember when it was good; moments of happiness elude. (68 points)