Monday, November 20, 2006

Hey, you got white-out on your face.

Before you ask... No, I didn't get a Wii. I will though. Soon. Mark my words.
(Also, thank you for all your words of sympathy from the previous post. I appreciate it. It was nice to come back to so many kind words.)

Now, ahem:


Okay, really, what is wrong with people!?


I came into work today all dressed up nice-and-purty, because apparently some guy was coming in to look at buying our company. (This is actually
good news.)

My coworker comes in with this form that been filled out and written all over, and is noticeably a copy of a copy of a copy... basically, it looks like hell.


She says,
"Mr. Scary Boss wants you to use white-out to erase all the writing and marks on this form. Then copy it so it looks brand new."

I say,
"It would be faster for me to re-type the whole thing. And it would look better." I hold up a copy to remind her that our piece-of-crap copy machine spits out every single copy completely crooked on the page. "And then we'd have a real nice copy saved on my computer for future use."

She says,
"He wants you to use white-out."

I say,
"Or I could even scan it, pull it into Photoshop, and erase all the marks. That would be faster and look better. This is what we bought the scanner for. Remember, the scanner?" I blow an inch of dust off the $250 scanner next to me, that Mr. Scary Boss insisted we buy, even though I told him, "We will never use it. Let's get the $40 scanner."

She says,
"He wants you to use white-out."

I clench my jaw and say,
"Will do."

A half an hour later, I have whited-out all the writing and marks on the form. (It would have taken me 5-10 minutes to retype it. Or 7-10 minutes to rescan and edit it in photoshop.) My bottle of white-out is empty and I feel like I just wasted 30 minutes of my life because my boss is a moron. Almost the entire page is covered in white-out, making it 3 times heavier than a normal piece of paper. I go to the copier and slide it through.

Not only does it copy totally crooked on the page, but the original tries to jam half-way through because it's so thick from the fresh coat of white-out I slathered on it.

My desk-calendar and my fingers are covered in white-out as well. I'm thinking about going to wash the white-out off my hands in the restroom, when Mr. Scary Boss comes in the front door (bosses get to come in whenever they feel like it), and starts me on another project that "has to get done ASAP" (he was supposed to do it himself 5 week ago).

So I figure: Hell, I might as well wear the white-out fingers as a Badge-of-Effing-Honor after what I just did for this moron. If he even tries to comment on my white-stained fingers, I'll just grind it into his face that I spent over 30 minutes painting the Sistine Chapel of White-Out on his ratty old form from 1967.

My unpaid half-hour lunch time comes around (the only break I get all day), and I go out to Subway to pick up a salad for lunch. I go in, talk a bit with the Subway guys, take my salad, and go back to work. Before I go to eat my lunch, I run into the restroom to wash the freakin white-out off my hands that I had forgotten about. I am washing my hands in the sink... I look up at myself in the mirror... yes. Yeah, I hope you're following me here...

I have a large smear of white-out on my cheek and a small smudge on my forehead.

No one told me. Not my coworkers, not my boss, not even the freakin people at Subway! And don't tell me that the white-out blended in with my skin. I'm plenty pale, but
I am not that pale, people.

Just one considerate person could have helped me out. ONE PERSON could have just said:

"Hey, you got white-out on your face."


Thanks for nothing, bitches!

Next time I see one of my moron coworkers with a giant "KICK ME" sign on their back, I'm not saying a word. Not a word! Granted, I probably put it there. But... that's not the point. The point is I'm not telling anyone anything to be considerate. Because I freaking had white-out all over my face for almost 4 1/2 hours and people were probably thinking, "Oh god, Jenny's got white shit on her face. I hope that's white-out" and "Aww, I didn't think they let 'special' people play with white-out. That's sweet."

Please, folks, next time you see some clueless girl who obviously does not realize her fly is undone, her hair is going in 14 different directions, she's got an entire piece of pie in her front teeth, OR she's got white-out all over her face... please please please, for the love of god, pull her aside and quietly make her aware of her social retardation.

8 comments:

tiffany said...

i should probably leave you a funny comment, but i can't because i'm too busy crying about airplanes.

Angela at Pets Best said...

For the love of God and all that is holy!! Damn if I haven't been there at least a million and one times myself. Go girl!

Skittles said...

I even tell people when the tags on their tops are hanging out :)

Mikala said...

I tell people all kinds of things - when there's a bat in the cave, when they're barn door is open, when they have lipstick on their teeth, when they have white-out on their face, and even when they have broccoli or spinach in their teeth! I only do it because I'd appreciate if everyone would return the favor once in a while. I know what you mean Jen, no one has any balls anymore. :0)

Echo Jones said...

LOL! Jen, I would have told you. It would have probably would have screamed, "HEY! RETARD! YES! YOU JEN! WHATS ON YOUR FACE?"

Linlee said...

Omg! You poor thing. I would have told ya.

Reba said...

I hate when that happens.

If you want a good laugh go up to someone and tell them they have something on their chin, but rub your forehead at the same time. Almost always the person will check their forehead and not their chin. I think this is hilarious. Then again I am easily amused.

joshua said...

jen, this is a good time to tell you about that piece of parsely stuck in your teeth. uh, it's been there for a while, but I didn't think you'd want to know.