Tuesday, July 24, 2007

So, I guess Bound Manual is a story about a young mexican sex slave worker?

Mr. Jack trained us shlubs about six months ago on How To Do Our Jobs in the New System.

He printed and handed out many printed handouts. He used big shiny alligator clips to keep the different sections together, and separate from each other. We ooohed and ahhhed appropriately.

Well, at least I did. The other two knuckleheads whined about not having a binder to put it all in.

Ungrateful bastards. They should have been rejoicing in the fact that we had handouts. With pictures! What more could a lowly confused office drone hope for?

Then came the Other Trainers. Those trainers that would train me in the Art Of Buying Shit. They would have to really shine to outdo Mr. Jack's training.

And boy did they shine.

Well, if only in the Grand Offerings department. These Other Trainers came to us with preassembled gifts from the gods. Bound Manuals. On purple paper!

Mr. Jack suffered from Manual Envy.

But he was not to be outdone.

On no, not he! Not the Training God amongst the mightiest of gods!

Because you see, as it turns out, The Powers That Be had decided earlier to actually, in fact, delay the inevitable. We were given time to redo all of our last minute preparations, because if hectic last minute crunch time preparations are fun the first time around, they're certainly more enjoyable/insightful/helpful/life fulfilling the second time around.

"Oh joy!" shouted my fellow employees from across the land. "More prep time after years of prepping!"

And with more prep time came the need for more training. Refresher training if you will. Because most of the stuff we learned 6 months ago had quietly and secretly oozed from our memory retention cells.

Enter stage left: the awesome Mr. Jack, Training God to the Stars. And with him all three inches of nothing less than ambrosia from the gods themselves.

I am now the proud owner of a three inch binder full of reference material on How To Do My Job. My sweet lil office Man-u-well has color coded alphabetical dividers for easy access. And it has three, count them three different Table of Contents!

I love my Manual. He makes my life so much easier, now that we've entered The Final Stage on our road to Tartarus. The Big Change is just around the corner. The day we've been preparing for, and crying over, for months - nay years! - is just around the corner. But I've got Manual to keep me company, to keep me safe.

I love you Office Manual.


1 comment:

  1. :->

    Well, what can I say... I did it all for YOU!

    However, two nitpicky points:

    1. alligator clips are usually used in other circumstances with other, gasp, substances, usually not office materials. although the truth is you could always try to smoke my previous reference materials. wouldn't be too much fun though. what they were bound with is BINDER clips. which can also be used for nipp*e pl... um, nevermind (although I daresay I have demonstrated their uses to the goddess, only during sexual-harassment blackout periods)(just because I am the ultimate pigfuc***) (expletive deleted).

    2. Three inches? that's six full inches of Manuel. Or Manual. (heh, typical male measurement issues....)

    Have fun! Remember, it's all about you! Now, write more about me....