Thursday, March 2, 2006

Are you sure it's not a prank?

L, C, and I are preparing to leave the office. It's around 6:45 p.m., and after the scheduled 4:30 p.m. meltdown, which today entailed rambling about names and inappropriate revelations about how not having the same last name as my mom when I was a teen irrevocably scarred me (or something), the phone rings.

"Hello?" L picks up the receiver after a few jangles.

"This is the copy editing department...are you referring to a specific document?"

She looks puzzled, but continues trying to engage the caller.

When she hangs up:

"That was someone in Mexico City. She wanted to know if I could get her some Post-It notes."

(Now, I know that I work in a global organization, and that someone in Mexico City could have seen the word "copy" and, not being incredibly familiar with English, conceivably could imagine that yeah, Post-It notes are kept in the room with the copy machine. It's a big leap from there to requesting office supplies from the firm's editorial department, but...)

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