One of the college porters at Goldsmiths College in London, at which the spouse teaches, has been assigned the thankless task of walking around the two main designated outdoor smoking areas and sweeping up the various leavings strewn about by those too nicotine-fuddled to dispose of their burnt remnants in the conveniently-located containers provided by the college.
What this poor man did to deserve such a fate, I know not. But it gets worse. Oh my yes, it gets so much worse.
For as part of these said duties, he has been issued a vest to wear, upon which has been proudly emblazoned his job title for all to see:
A few years ago when I moved from tech support into a programming role my job title changed to “Development Analyst”. Nothing bad about that, except that when I got the new monthly edition of the company phonebook I was down as: Armilla (IT) Dev Anal.
Back in college at the radio station, my firend was the Assistant Music Director. I once referred to her in the minutes as the “Ass. M.D.” and sent the e-mail without thinking. She was referred to as “The proctologist” for quite a while thereafter!
I used to know a woman who worked for a small TV production outfit as a Production Assistant. She got very annoyed whenever anyone abbreviated her job title to Prod Ass, insisting that it be Prod Asst instead.
