Put a Rock in it
Absent-mindedness, fatigue, or "just don't give a damn," the past few months I have been less than enthused about a great many things and my attention to detail has pretty much faded.
In my profession I deal with big files. I mean big dog files which stand at least a foot or two tall on their own before I even touch them.
Once upon a time I was most diligent and way too organized in the manner I handled and approached these files. Whether I have now become more comfortable with what I do or too doggone tired to care, I have streamlined the workflow. Enough said.
At one point I had nice desk accessories: silver letter opener, leaded glass paper weight from the United States Supreme Court, another attractive Murano glass paper weight, etc. I often used these items to hold open a section of these monster files or keep my page as I flipped through it. Not surprisingly, they began to disappear.
At first, I attempted to track them down through the office because it was apparent they were not being stolen, but were effectively being eaten by these gargantuan files.
There is a switch inside my head that says when I am done, I am done. There is no going back. When I finish with a case file, I am done. I do not want to look at it again. I stink at proof-reading and simply hate to do it.
Translation: I do not proof-read.
That switch also applies to perusing a file for extraneous items such as desk accessories.
Fortunately, I have learned not to use my mobile phone, sunglasses, small framed pictures or keys as bookmarks; however, everything else is pretty much fair game.
Seriously, these files are so huge that once closed and sitting atop a desk, it is not readily apparent such things are contained within them.
There are eighty-five other people in my office and it became widely known some time ago if something unusual was in a file, it was to be returned to me; however, after a certain point the really nice items simply disappeared. I admit, it was my own fault and there are no hard feelings about that.
These days, I have discovered the smooth river rocks which adorn the plant-scapes in our building make excellent paperweights. I have quite a collection, in fact.
This morning one of the judges with whom I work closely and primarily presented me with a large box tied with a bow. This box was one of those in which reams of paper are routinely delivered. As he presented the box to me he mentioned something about a "record."
When I opened the box, I discovered it was filled with two dozen or more smooth and round river rocks. Rocks he had collected from the files on which I have worked.
The record?
Well, the last dog case I gave him had three rocks in it.
In my profession I deal with big files. I mean big dog files which stand at least a foot or two tall on their own before I even touch them.
Once upon a time I was most diligent and way too organized in the manner I handled and approached these files. Whether I have now become more comfortable with what I do or too doggone tired to care, I have streamlined the workflow. Enough said.
At one point I had nice desk accessories: silver letter opener, leaded glass paper weight from the United States Supreme Court, another attractive Murano glass paper weight, etc. I often used these items to hold open a section of these monster files or keep my page as I flipped through it. Not surprisingly, they began to disappear.
At first, I attempted to track them down through the office because it was apparent they were not being stolen, but were effectively being eaten by these gargantuan files.
There is a switch inside my head that says when I am done, I am done. There is no going back. When I finish with a case file, I am done. I do not want to look at it again. I stink at proof-reading and simply hate to do it.
Translation: I do not proof-read.
That switch also applies to perusing a file for extraneous items such as desk accessories.
Fortunately, I have learned not to use my mobile phone, sunglasses, small framed pictures or keys as bookmarks; however, everything else is pretty much fair game.
Seriously, these files are so huge that once closed and sitting atop a desk, it is not readily apparent such things are contained within them.
There are eighty-five other people in my office and it became widely known some time ago if something unusual was in a file, it was to be returned to me; however, after a certain point the really nice items simply disappeared. I admit, it was my own fault and there are no hard feelings about that.
These days, I have discovered the smooth river rocks which adorn the plant-scapes in our building make excellent paperweights. I have quite a collection, in fact.
This morning one of the judges with whom I work closely and primarily presented me with a large box tied with a bow. This box was one of those in which reams of paper are routinely delivered. As he presented the box to me he mentioned something about a "record."
When I opened the box, I discovered it was filled with two dozen or more smooth and round river rocks. Rocks he had collected from the files on which I have worked.
The record?
Well, the last dog case I gave him had three rocks in it.
posted by Feisty at 7:46 AM
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