2003-10-15

I like the new girl a lot, as far as these things go. I do! She’s around my age; she’s pleasant; she doesn’t wear obnoxious perfume; she hasn’t once pinned me beneath an onslaught of anecdotes about her children – heck, as far as I know, she doesn’t even have children. In short, she’s nothing at all like your average government employee, and that suits me just fine.

But a fast learner she is not. Trying to get anything to stick in her brain is like trying to glue live goldfish together with Crisco. I’ve answered the same question so many times that I’m starting to wonder if I somehow died while slacking off at my post and have been condemned to a horrible Hammurabian purgatory. My encouraging, “you’re not a hopeless imbecile! Not at all!” smile, which was rusty from disuse, is now rusty from being permanently plastered to my face, leaving me with very rusty features indeed: I’m sort of like the Tin Man, except that instead of having no heart, I have, you know, no soul. And no patience! Forsooth, I am not cut out for this! All this diplomatic non-screaming of foul profanities is giving me a cramp. It is clearly stated in my operating manual that I am NOT to be left unsupervised with children or stupid people, lest I become a danger to myself and others. If I have to explain the online tracking system ONE MORE TIME, I’m going to…complain about it some more. Uh oh, my hyperbole mechanism is stuck. Someone fetch my grease tin.