Yes, at the beginning of the night’s work, I did explain to you that the reason we have to wear the stupid plastic wristbands is so that the scientists in the convention center can track our migration patterns. I say that to everyone who asks. It does not mean that I want to have a long term relationship with you.
Now, we have each been assigned our tasks for the night. Your task is to empty the trash cans in the little booths. My task is to try to vacuum a vast stretch of carpet in an area of the exhibit hall where there are no working electrical outlets.
Our supervisor had the option of either radioing maintenance and asking them to change a fuse or trip a breaker so I could have a place to plug in my vacuum cleaner, or assigning me to another area. He chose to do neither. So, I am stuck wandering around trying to find an electrical outlet in a place where my very long extension cord will reach to the area I am supposed to vacuum.
You are not helping me.
See, the outlets all have little lights in them that light up to tell you that there is power to the outlet. I mentioned this several times. Yet you continue to follow me around my area of the exhibit hall pointing out outlets whose little lights are not lit, asking, “Did you try this one?” or pointing out power strips and asking the same question, never mind the fact that the power strip in question is plugged into an outlet whose little light is not lit.
I asked you twice why you are following me around. You told me you are trying to help me. Because, you know, I don’t have two functional eyes in the front of my head that are connected to the fully functional optical center, located in the occipital lobe of my brain, which will perceive little lit lights in the power outlets and convey that information to the parts of my brain that process perceptual information, which will in turn relay said information to the areas of my cerebral cortex that control the motor nerves which will then stimulate the muscular activity necessary to get me over the outlet with the little lit light and plug in my vacuum cleaner.
You are following me around because you are trying to flirt with me. I am not in a mood to flirt. I am in a mood to find an outlet with a little lit light so I can plug in my vacuum cleaner and do my job, which is to vacuum the area of the exhibit hall where there are no working electrical outlets. Right now, my job is not getting done, but I hope that this will change soon, because some of our coworkers have finished vacuuming their areas and one of them may have a spare extension cord which I can use to plug into an outlet with a little lit light in one of the farther reaches of the exhibit hall.
Your job, which, as I stated earlier, is to empty the wastbaskets in the little booths, is also not getting done because you are pretending to try to help me in what is, trust me, a futile attempt to get my phone number.
Being as how our immediate supervisor warned us at the beginning of the night to spread out, he doesn’t want to see people clustered together socializing, and said supervisor is an asshat who enjoys finding excuses to bust people’s balls or ovarios, whichever the individual happens to have in his or her possession, your unhelpful help is putting me in danger of having my ovarios busted.
So, please, take your little mobile dumpster on wheels and wheel it down the aisles of the exhibit hall and empty the wastebaskets in the little booths, and leave me to search for an electrical outlet with a little lit light in peace.
