Thank you, sir, may I have another?
Few things make me appreciate writing like my full-time job (FTJ).
For those who don't know, I'm the resident flack for the Naptown Express. Translation: I'm the public relations contact for a small transit system.
Being a civil servant is not about the warm and fuzzies. But the FTJ is necessary to pay the bills until writing makes me a gazillionaire...okay, I'll settle for a bazillionaire, but nothing less!
The cliche, "the customer is always right," is taken to extremes when you're a civil servant. It then becomes, I can heap as much abuse on you as I want because MY taxes pay YOUR salary.
So no matter what happens, no matter if the customer is totally wrong or if there is reasonable explanation for the thing they're spouting off about, it's my job to smile and do nothing, which is the same as having someone spit on you and your saying, "Thank you, sir, may I have another."
Last night we had a lynching, er, public hearing about the Naptown Express. And for two solid hours I was in "Thank you, sir" mode.
Audience: You guys suck!
Us: Thank you, sir, may I have another?
Audience: Your service blows chunks!
Us: Thank you, sir, may I have another?
Audience: Trained monkeys would be more competent than you guys.
Us: Thank you, sir, may I have another and another and another?!?!?!!?
Now, anyone who knows me, knows that:
1) My poker face sucks. When I pledged in college, my big sisters always gave me hell for rolling my eyes at them or giving them P's famous, "you're an idiot and I can't believe we breathe the same air" look. Trust, without a poker face, pledging is hella hard.
2) Not being able to respond is worse than shoving bamboo shoots under my nails. I'm a communicator, people! If I can't verbalize or write my thoughts you may as well be deprving me of air.
So last night was pretty much my version of hell. But two very important things came out of Hell Night...
I realized that I'm capable of facing a verbal firing squad without so much as flinching. Who knows when that little skill may come in handy.
And, writing is a piece of cake in comparison to being a cog in the municipal wheel. My love for writing has intensified times ten!!
Three-week turnaround for a novel.
Psshh...can do it blindfolded.
400-pages with editorial notes in the margins & a seven-page editorial letter.
Thank you, sir, may I have another?
I'm serious. And if I ever complain about the trials of being a writer, may someone shove bamboo shoots up my fingernails.
For those who don't know, I'm the resident flack for the Naptown Express. Translation: I'm the public relations contact for a small transit system.
Being a civil servant is not about the warm and fuzzies. But the FTJ is necessary to pay the bills until writing makes me a gazillionaire...okay, I'll settle for a bazillionaire, but nothing less!
The cliche, "the customer is always right," is taken to extremes when you're a civil servant. It then becomes, I can heap as much abuse on you as I want because MY taxes pay YOUR salary.
So no matter what happens, no matter if the customer is totally wrong or if there is reasonable explanation for the thing they're spouting off about, it's my job to smile and do nothing, which is the same as having someone spit on you and your saying, "Thank you, sir, may I have another."
Last night we had a lynching, er, public hearing about the Naptown Express. And for two solid hours I was in "Thank you, sir" mode.
Audience: You guys suck!
Us: Thank you, sir, may I have another?
Audience: Your service blows chunks!
Us: Thank you, sir, may I have another?
Audience: Trained monkeys would be more competent than you guys.
Us: Thank you, sir, may I have another and another and another?!?!?!!?
Now, anyone who knows me, knows that:
1) My poker face sucks. When I pledged in college, my big sisters always gave me hell for rolling my eyes at them or giving them P's famous, "you're an idiot and I can't believe we breathe the same air" look. Trust, without a poker face, pledging is hella hard.
2) Not being able to respond is worse than shoving bamboo shoots under my nails. I'm a communicator, people! If I can't verbalize or write my thoughts you may as well be deprving me of air.
So last night was pretty much my version of hell. But two very important things came out of Hell Night...
I realized that I'm capable of facing a verbal firing squad without so much as flinching. Who knows when that little skill may come in handy.
And, writing is a piece of cake in comparison to being a cog in the municipal wheel. My love for writing has intensified times ten!!
Three-week turnaround for a novel.
Psshh...can do it blindfolded.
400-pages with editorial notes in the margins & a seven-page editorial letter.
Thank you, sir, may I have another?
I'm serious. And if I ever complain about the trials of being a writer, may someone shove bamboo shoots up my fingernails.
posted by Paula at 4:28 PM
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