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the girl with violets in her lap [userpic]

July 1st, 2005 (10:49 am)


Dear Everyone Who Ever Walks Into My Office:

Hello, and welcome to the President's Office at our university. I hope you enjoy your time in our office; the view is fantastic, and that antique clock in the corner may be of dubious origin, but it is very old, yes. Whatever business you may have in our office, I sincerely hope to resolve it quickly and efficiently, thus making your day a little easier and brighter. As the president's friendly receptionist, I am here to serve you.

There is one small note, however. Many of you - perhaps as much as 70% of you - come into this office to drop off letters for various people. Now, it is completely understandable to me that you would ask where you can do this. And, although the phrase "You can put it in that box on the desk" does not seem terribly confusing to me - there is, after all, a box on the desk, and it is the only box on the desk, and there is a large sign on the box on the desk that reads INCOMING MAIL - I bear you no ill will when you do not understand what I am telling you at first. I cannot necessarily explain this, but I cannot necessarily explain many of the things that happen in my own head, so I will not presume to judge you for the momentary lapses your own brains may suffer.

However, the following is an example of the sort of conversation I do *not* wish to have with you.

DELIVERYPERSON: Hi, am I supposed to be here?
KYLIE: I... well, are you dropping those letters off?
DELIVERYPERSON: Yes. Do they go here?
DELIVERYPERSON: ::makes no move to show me the envelope::
KYLIE: I'm not sure, can you show me who they're addressed to?
ENVELOPES: ::are addressed to our office::
KYLIE: Oh, yes, that's fine. You can leave them here.
KYLIE: In ::points:: that box on the desk.
DELIVERYPERSON: ::turns around::
KYLIE: In ::still pointing:: that box on my desk.
DELIVERYPERSON: ::looks up at ceiling::
KYLIE: In that box on my desk right there.
DELIVERYPERSON: ::looks at the ground::
KYLIE: Sir? Over here, on my desk.
DELIVERYPERSON: ::starts to walk out of the room::
KYLIE: Sir. In the box. On my desk. The box on my desk. Right there. The box.
KYLIE: Yes! The box!
DELIVERYPERSON: ::looks at the ground again::
KYLIE: ::gets up, walks around desk, places hand in the box:: This box. Right here.
DELIVERYPERSON: ::bursts out laughing:: Oh! The box! On your desk!
KYLIE: Yes! The box on my desk!
DELIVERYPERSON: I was walking out of the office!
KYLIE: Yeah, you were!
DELIVERYPERSON: There's a box on your desk!
KYLIE: Yes! There is!
DELIVERYPERSON: ::exits, still laughing::

Just for future reference, when I say "You can put that in the box on my desk", it means that you can put that in the box on my desk. I am sure this will clear up any misunderstandings that might arise in the future and that we can have many long and happy years of incident-free letter droppage.

The Humble Receptionist in the President's Office

...because seriously, WTF?!?!?!?!?


Posted by: Tasha Rebekah Martin (lietya)
Posted at: July 1st, 2005 03:07 pm (UTC)

the *ceiling*?!!

yep, your funny's back. :) this sure had me giggling.

Posted by: the girl with violets in her lap (slammerkinbabe)
Posted at: July 1st, 2005 03:11 pm (UTC)

And then I found out about O'Connor retiring and oh, God, I'm terrified, lietya. So terrified.

Posted by: Fraser (permogod)
Posted at: July 1st, 2005 03:13 pm (UTC)

me too....

Posted by: Fraser (permogod)
Posted at: July 1st, 2005 03:08 pm (UTC)

the gene pool needs chlorine...

Posted by: Spencer Irving (archaica)
Posted at: July 1st, 2005 03:12 pm (UTC)

At least you didn't say "you can just stick those in my box." Because really, that brings up issues that make Kylie scared!

(Deleted comment)
Posted by: Underwear Ninja (chavvah)
Posted at: July 1st, 2005 05:48 pm (UTC)

Now, imagine today were a national holiday, such as the 4th of July is there. Also, imagine that rather than working in the President's Office, you are working at a national tourist attraction. Got it? Okay. Now consider the fact that admission is free.


Imagine that those letter-deliverers are instead brightly-attired one-day-a-year patriots, constantly wanting to know what is going on, and where, and how, and why. And you have to answer each question five times because your answer, seemingly intelligible to you, is apparently gibberish to everyone else. Add to that the fact that your phone is ringing constantly with the same kinds of people making the same inquiries.

Welcome to my day.

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