Tag: Work

Telephone & Saxophone

~ Christine Goodnough ~ 2 Comments

THE NEW FILING CLERK

One of the first things Sam noticed when he walked into the CEO’s office was a young girl at a desk, off to one side. She looked up briefly then went back to filing her long fingernails.

Approaching the main receptionist, an efficient-looking woman, Sam gave his name and informed her that he had an appointment with Mr Winsett.

“Oh, yes. Follow me, sir.” Shooting an annoyed glance in the nail-filer’s direction, she led him into the CEO’s office.

“Hey, Sam,” His friend Vic rose and shook his hand. “Glad to see you. Sit down. I have the reports and data I wanted to show you right here.”

“Great.” Same took a chair. “Say, I see you have a second office worker now.” He kept the remark lightly curious, watching for Vic’s reaction. It wasn’t like his friend to hire superfluous staff, especially if they so obviously look bored. Also, her dress didn’t look like the kind of professional business attire Vic expected of his secretaries.

“You mean Melody.” Bill grinned. “She’s our filing clerk – when there’s something to file.”

“She’s doing a good job on her nails right now.”

Vic shrugged. “Guess you’d call it a sinecure. She’s my brother’s niece and needs a job – or rather, needs the paycheque – for the summer. Doesn’t have much idea about office work, but filing and some follow-up calls she can handle. Evenings and weekends she plays in a band, whenever they can get a gig.”

Sam pictured the young lady strumming a guitar. “With those nails? What instrument does she play?”

“Saxophone, if you can believe it.”

“Ah.”

“So here she is, until university starts again in fall. I’ll talk to her again about office protocol. Now about these reports…”

The Ragtag Daily Prompt for today is SINECURE. A new word for me.

According to M-W, this word has an interesting meaning and goes way back.A SINECURE is a job or position more-or-less in name only. That is, you get paid for barely working. Great position for an in-law or someone the boss wants to have around without expecting much productivity.

This word is derived from sine cura, meaning “without cure.” Apparently the non-cure pertained to souls. From M-W: “The original sinecure was a church position that didn’t involve the spiritual care or instruction of church members. These days the positions are more likely to be board or academic appointments that require no teaching.

The Thistle of Favoritism

~ Christine Goodnough ~ 11 Comments

Today’s prompt at the Napowrimo site: Write a “The ___ of ___” verse

Begin by reading Bernadette Mayer’s poem “The Lobelias of Fear.” (Okay, I did, and it made very little sense to me, but you might want to check it out here. It may be clearer — or at least more poetic — to you.)

Now write a verse where the first blank is a very particular kind of plant or animal, and the second blank is an abstract noun. The poem should contain at least one simile that plays on double meanings or otherwise doesn’t quite make “sense,” and describe things or beings from very different times or places as co-existing in the same space. So…

The Thistle of Favoritism

Resume in hand I came
eminently qualified —
decades of experience —
to take a seat beside another
hopeful applicant,
a young chick with her resume
one single sheet
held casually in her hand.

“Can’t have much
experience at this job,”
I mused, feeling smug I’ll admit.
Looking her over I decided,
the employer wouldn’t find
much to recommend her.
Granted, a curvy thing, and lovely
young hair, no wisps of grey. But
my skill and experience will count.

Curious, I opened conversation,
probed a bit. “So, how many years
have you done this type of work?”
She looked me up and down,
noted my thicker resume.
“Six months,” she replied.

I’m sure she noticed my smirk
sensed my “You haven’t a chance.”
Her nose tipped skyward.
“My sister encouraged me to apply.
She’s the manager’s wife.”

Relationships are thistles
apt to scratch your chances
if you’re not of the right blood.
My skill and experience
notwithstanding,
she got the job.

The Job Applicant

~ Christine Goodnough ~ 4 Comments

A quick verse in response to today’s 2023 April PAD Challenge.:
“Some folks are nervous; others have some nerve; still others seem to get on everyone’s nerves. For today’s prompt, write a nerve poem.”

The Job Applicant

HR officer interviews
another hopeful applicant.
Articulate, poised,
twisting a bracelet.
Dressed to the nines;
nails bitten to the quick.

Sea Shanty

~ Christine Goodnough ~ 11 Comments

The prompt at NaPoWriMo this morning is to write a sea shanty, which is to be “strongly rhymed and rhythmic, that sailors might sing while hauling on ropes and performing other sea-going labors.” The most famous being What Shall We Do With A Drunken Sailor?

I see the prompt at Writer’s Digest for Day 10 is to start your poem with How —. (You fill in the blank.) For example: “How do I love thee?” or “How many miles to Babylon?” or “How sweet the answer echo makes to music in the night.” A lot of potential in this prompt!

So here’s my sea shanty, starting with How, and somewhat hampered by the fact that I’ve never been a sailor. 🙂

How can you sail in a wind so adverse?
How can you keep this ship on course
when wind and seas are doing their best
to dash you on the shore now?
How do you sail when the waves are crashin'?
You haul up sail and secure the lashin'
you batten the hatch against the bashin'
and pray to reach the shore now.
How do you sail when she’s in the doldrums
With nary a breeze to fill her sails some,
the sea’s all glass and sun bakes you brown?
You sigh to be on shore now.
How can we fill the lonely gloamin’
when on strange dark seas we’re roamin’?
Our merry tunes will bring us homin'
until we see our shore now.

Discreet Issues

~ Christine Goodnough ~ 10 Comments

The Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning is DELETE. My response will be this little tale of persnickety spelling. (With thanks to Alexas Fotos and Pixabay for this image.)

Adamson had some reservations about the newly hired secretary. He paused a few paces back from her desk to observe her as she typed up his letter to a client. She was pleasant enough to chat with, and definitely attractive. Perhaps that was her biggest appeal to Fotheringill, who’d hired her. Adamson felt their manager tried to cater to certain clients who had an appreciative eye for pretty smiles and youthful curves.

Observing Miss Secretary at her work, he wondered if this girl had the spelling smarts to do a competent job. Red lines popped up frequently on her screen, indicating that SpellCheck wasn’t happy, and she seemed to hit the DELETE key so often. When he saw the words “a discrete inquiry into the matter” appear on the screen, he gritted his teeth.

Stepping close to her desk, he pointed to the error on her screen. “You have the wrong word there. It’s supposed to be D-I-S-C-R-E-E-T.”

She looked up at him. “Does it matter?”

“Definitely. Look the word up in the dictionary.”

Half an hour later she entered his office with a self-satisfied smile and laid the letter on his desk. He looked at it and his eye automatically went to the needed correction. He shook his head as he read, “We’ve made a discreet inquiry into the matter and found that the concreet was delivered at 9am on May 3rd.”

He pointed to the offending word. “Did SpellCheck not tell you this word was wrong?”

“It was underlined, but I figured, if it’s DISCREET, then it will be CONCREET. It’s your report and you know how to spell,” she replied, sounding rather huffy.

Further down in the letter he spotted another error: “This clause in the contract will be deleeted…”

He slapped his hand to his forehead. “One size fits all,” he muttered.

He handed her the letter. “If you wish to keep this job, Miss Secretary, I recommend that you join a remedial spelling class ASAP. I understand there’s one held every Thursday at the community college for those who made it through school without learning how to spell.”

She bristled, grabbed the report and walked out of his office with her head held high.

He’d have a word with Fotheringill about the basic requisites for secretaries but he doubted it would have much effect. Thank God for the faithful Mrs Taylor, employed to scan and correct all correspondence before it left the office.

As he passed through the office area later, he overheard Miss Secretary complaining to one of the other staff about Mr Adamson being so difficult. “Don’t know why he’s so hard to please. He actually told me to join a spelling class! I mean, does it really matter if it’s EET or ETE? As long as the customer gets the idea.” She sniffed. “They probably don’t spell perfectly, either.”

“He’s always been that way,” the other secretary answered. “Mr Fotheringill never fusses about spelling.” She giggled. “He cares a lot more about how we look. Not to worry. Just send it to Mrs Taylor – she deals with the spelling stuff.”

Adamson rolled his eyes. Oh, well. Five more years and he’d take early retirement. Then he’d write his memoirs!

Power Out That Grease!

~ Christine Goodnough ~ Leave a comment

Today’s Bloganuary challenge asks What chore do you find the most challenging to do?

My super-quick answer: Clean the oven.

The answer springs readily to mind, having nagged at me for over a week now. A rather juicy casserole ran over in my oven last week and I haven’t gotten around to cleaning it yet. Shame on me! The grease by now is thoroughly baked on — and this oven is an old one, not one of the self-cleaning sorts. Needs serious elbow grease.

Another blogger, Louis Carreras, writes that the most challenging part of a task is getting started. I can agree with that. Few chores are as hard to execute as they are to keep dodging around. As stated in my last blog post. (See Edgar Guest’s poem It Couldn’t Be Done. )