I feel like I’m in need of mystic advice. I don’t really like to take advice from anyone…not since the incident in which the SatNav told me to drive into a bus shelter and I chose to do so, destroying a prize pumpkin and causing a kitten to have a heart attack that ruined his career in the show ring. That was a dark time in my life, and you can understand why I might not want to revisit it so soon. Still, while I’m done taking orders from technology, the mystical ways are still open to me. At least they don’t give me mental images of disappointed kittens with broken hearts, watching from the sidelines while their peers win awards.
Really, I just love to answer calls. I used to work for a call answering service around Sydney, and I’m thinking of getting back into the game. That doesn’t change the fact that live call answering has advanced far beyond my understanding. I hear you can even get answering machines that pass a call onto an entirely different agency, so they deal with the overflow while you blissfully chat to whoever it is you’re chatting to. It’s a way of getting more business done, and everyone says I should use my skills as a verbal communicator to answer phones because SO many people just hate the thought of talking on the phone and I get where they’re coming from. I’m a great communicator. But I’d be surrounding myself with technology, and not only that, it’s technology that could potentially do my job.
Maybe I should go back to ruining the dreams of innocent kittens and sometimes hopeful pumpkin farmers. But call answering services are here to stay. I could work with them, or against them.
My crystal ball is clouded, possibly by dust. Please come back later. – Joanna
I struggle at work, constantly. See, my short-term memory isn’t all that it used to be. I think that emu racing accident really did something to my mind, which would also explain the dizzy spells and desire to eat spinach for every meal. Spinach, really? I suppose it IS full of iron, so maybe that’s my body telling me that I need to eat more healthy meals. Wholemeal bread is just…
Well, anyway. I’m bad with names. As in, awfully, terribly, soul-crushingly bad with names. I’ve been campaigning for corporate name badges, but it doesn’t really seem to be working all that well so far. It’s like everyone in the office just remembers each other’s names! Which is probably what happens. None of them have had tragic emu-related accidents like I have, so that must be it. Whereas I’m here, struggling to remember the name of the guy sitting next to me right now, and I’ve known him for three years! It’s Jeremy, or Jimmy, or…Pierre? Samuel…you see my problem.
The only people in this building who have name tags are the receptionists, and they’re too small for me to recognise from a distance. Basically, I’m reduced to going right up to them (and by that time I’ve already said hello) and trying to read their name tag while engaging them in small talk. I’m terrible at small talk at the best of times, but trying to do so while scanning their name tags is just distracting. Come to think of it, I may also be struggling with multitasking a little bit more than I used to. Sometimes I just have to stop walking, because I’ve stopped breathing. Sometimes doing those two at the same time is really hard, y’know?
So, uh…oh yes, name tags! Surely some local Australia name badges will suit my needs. I just need a good way to introduce them without revealing my mental instability.
The stars predict that regular Lindy-Hop lessons will open your eyes! Beware of those who believe Jason Bourne is superior to James Bond. Your lucky number is C3-P0. – Joanne