Friday, April 8

The Rusty Taste Of Failure.

Here’s a quick story about my current job.

On Tuesday afternoon at 4:30, I was locking up the front door to our office, and was all set to head home after a long day of work. I was looking forward to cleaning out the cat boxes, or whatever it is that people get to do when they’re finally done working for the day.

I was just getting ready to cross the street, when a courier stopped me.

“Oh no! Are you the receptionist?” She bit her pretty lower lip in frustration. She had been biking her little heart out through the horrid construction that had ripped apart the entire east side of Madison. Obviously she was running a bit late.

I was all set to launch into the story about how I was not the receptionist, and how I was just assuming the role until our real receptionist fully recovered from having her third child in 7 years. I was going to tell her how every time the phone rings, it’s as if someone’s slamming my testes in a sliding glass patio door. I was going to ask her to take me with her.

Instead, I said “yes”. I’m trying this new thing where I keep my fool mouth shut, and just appear cooler and sexy.

It’s not really doing the trick.

The courier desperately needed to drop a letter off to one of our employees, or her boss was going to murder her or something to that effect. I didn’t want to be held the least bit responsible for that, so I decided to unlock the door and let her back in.

“Thank you so much!” she said to me. “You’re so nice!”

“I AM nice.” I thought to myself. “Job well done.”

She handed the letter to me, I properly date stamped it, and set it on my desk. This particular employee was already gone for the day, so I planned on giving it to her the next morning. I then locked up for the final time and took off, leaving the letter sitting there by its lonesome.

The next morning, I arrived to find the letter right where I left it. I replayed the story of the night before in my head to remind myself of how it got there. I wondered how many couriers got hit by cars every year. I scooped up the envelope and took it to the office of the recipient.

“Thank you so much, Ryan!” she said to me. “I’ve been waiting for this!” She frantically tore it open, as I walked away, patting myself on the back for pulling off an incredibly mundane office task without a hitch.

A couple hours later, I saw the recipient again in the hallway, and she flagged me down.

“Thanks again for delivering that $27,000 check to me.”

My pants immediately became more urine-stained then they were the minute before. All I could think about was the fact that this check sat out in the open all night, being looked at by cleaning personnel, security guards and who knows who else. Had that check disappeared, I would have been instantly fired for my utter stupidity and carelessness. I probably would have had to pay it back.

“Hey, no problem!” I said to her, as I slunk away to my desk. Job well done, Ryan. Job well done.

This truly could only happen to you.
Allow me to ask a hypothetical question.

If YOU were waiting on a $27,000 check, and you knew a courier was going to be dropping it off at a specific time to the receptionist, wouldn't know...NOTIFY the receptionist? Just a thought.

Had the check disappeared, it wouldn't have been her ass on the line, no-sir-ee-bob. This is why I stopped talking about work several months ago.

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