I am an Administrative Analyst—wherein the word anal resides like some etymological hemorrhoid deep within my seat. Keep telling myself Kafka had a day job, an effect with diminishing returns as the years roll by and I still haven’t turned into an insect. Part of my job, among various humiliating clerical tasks, is moderating our departmental “all” list-serve, to which I fancy sending didactic and somewhat passive-aggressive emails regarding the minutiae of the day. My co-workers, or (as I like to think of them) my “involuntary readership,” receives these messages with a mixture of confusion and dismay, as conveyed with lowered eyes in the hallway. Here are three examples of emails I sent:
I. Re: weird copier noise
Those of you within earshot will notice an ominous and aggressive sound coming from the copier, with just enough fluctuating frequencies to not be monotone, but still characterized as an “aggravating drone.” This sound has induced a kind of aural vertigo in this administrator, who is imagining a Corona commercial at this point in the day. The copier has been inspected, and the noise is not mechanical (i.e. jam, gears) but rather “virtual,” as it seems to be coming from within the copier, an attribute of its inherent embodiment, or dare I say, soul. Completely functional, it hasn’t been turned off. This, arguably, is an aesthetic issue: an idea of what a “sane decibel level” is. If and when the copier is turned off, please know it was in preservation of one’s sanity. The tech should arrive in the morrow, and a balm of silence, previously taken for granted, shall be observed.
II. Re: hole puncher tray
The hole-puncher is missing its lower plastic tray, such that the residual “physical holes” (i.e. confetti) propagate directly on the counter, a course destined for entropy if one were to lift the hole-puncher. Prior to this, the hole-puncher was missing for ~24 hrs., leading this administrator to suspect that the variables are related, as in: someone took the hole-puncher for their own intense use, an administrative tryst of sorts which incurred the stripping of critical plastic tray. Please, if you can, we won’t ask any questions. Just make the hole-puncher whole again.
III. Re: found fleece
A “Patagonia” fleece (Black, Men’s Medium) was found in the conference room this morning. In hopes of offering a more detailed description, this administrator has cautiously smelled it, and has come to this conclusion: the person with the missing fleece uses fabric softener redolent of “Bounce,” however masked in mild body odor (not unpleasant, but simply “human”; I do not judge) which may implicate that this person has worn said fleece ~3 – 4x without laundering it. There is also the faintest burnt smell, either from a malfunctioning dryer, or from falling asleep next to a bonfire. Let us assume this person is forgetful, and enjoys the outdoors.
No one ever replies to any of my emails (I consider reticence the best compliment). I rarely get laid, so owing to that logic, I doubt I’ll ever get laid off. When somebody does have something to say, it usually concerns the lunches I forget in the communal microwave. I tell them don’t worry, I’ll be there the next day, and the next, etc.