Praise Whore

MWN, beware, because I am a total praise whore. I think this story will make you giggle a little bit anyway.

So, I am sitting home, in the Sauce-ment, for that is where the computer lives, reading an old Preacher graphic novel I found, and remembering how damned good that comic was. I'm half paying attention to an old CSI on the Tee Vee, and keeping one eye on my inbox, for Mr. Baltimore and I are playing the ol' email game. (He earned bonus points last night for not only knowing WHAT mock duck is, but also liking very much the only Vietnamese restaurant in this town that carries Mock Duck Springrolls, but I digress) Evil is also competing for my attention, with a demanding "REAAAAH!!" (translated:"pet me, or I will pee on your stuff") every few seconds.

In short, I'm multi-tasking at a bunch of things that generally comprise an evening at my house. Especially an evening when the sun goes down at 2:15PM and it's colder than (complete with your favorite temperature simile here) outside.

At 9:00 the phone rings. (Mind you, I did go in to work yesterday, the roads were fine by the time I left around.) It is Bosslady. I know I didn't leave anything major undone when I left, so I'm wondering "The Hell?" as I pick up the phone.

after pleasantries are exchaged I get..."How do I change the paper from 8.5 inches wide to 11.5 inches wide in word?"
I explain it, and walk her through it. She was doing this, but it seems the copy of word on her daughter's laptop is a trial version, and for whatever reason wouldn't cooperate. They decide to switch programs, and I think they've solved everything. Not the strangest question I've ever been asked, but it was kinda funny.

I bid her adieu, and go back to multi-tasking.

(Ok, doing nothing, really.)

9:15 the phone rings again.
I check the caller ID. It's bosslady again. After the initial pleasantries...
"I know this is the equivalent of tearing down ceiling tile (for we had just had the discussion that afternoon about the stupid things I did for the little nonprofit that could [make you want to die]) BUT, I'm trying to figure out this project for my daughter, and it's due tomorrow" complete with daughter whining in the background, because her mom (according to daughter) doesn't understand the project. Daughter won't talk to me though, makes her mom repeat it all to me.

Long explanation short, they needed to make a poster, illustrating points of good web research, incorporating vocabulary words and so forth. I suggested screen shots of representative websites, with arrows pointing at the appropriate terms/items being defined, and a text box with the definition in it. Boss has difficulty visualizing it, and I have difficulty explainging it, so I, being the good employee that I am, offer to do 2 sample screenshots, and show the layout I mean, and email them to her.

It takes me 5 minutes, and I email it off, call her to tell her it's on its way, and all is well.

I go back to goofing around.

9:40 the phone rings again.
Bosslady.
Again.

I'm contemplating, at this point, just going over and doing the damn project, but it is colder than ass outside, and I am not leaving the house. But, since i'm no longer in school, and have no children, I think I kinda get a pass on that kinda crap.

Pleasantries are exchanged again, apologies offered, and she can't figure out how to make the screenshots bigger. After walking her through it, it still doesn't work on her mac, so, in order to not have to answer the phone anymore, I end offering to do them for her. Which I do. And email them. And Call her.

She loves 'em, but is confused about how to make the text boxes. I contemplate tearing out my hair, but decide that patchy baldness wouldn't work with my cheekbones. (plus bleeding scalp. eww.) I explain the text boxes shold be from a separate document and she should draw the arrows on by hand, and everything should be fine.

I didn't get any more calls last night, but I AM hoping that I get an "A" on that project. Y'know, cause the 7th grade is my bitch and all.

Maybe it's not as funny as it was at the time. I mean, would your boss call you at home to ask you how to do his/her kid's English project?

I leave you with this.

It's 106 miles to Chicago. We have a full tank of gas and a half a pack of cigarettes. It's dark outside, and we're wearing sunglasses.