Now that Boss has been relegated to a mere “Feature Guest” role in the blogosphere (soon to be killed off, General Hospital style)…a new idiot has taken his place at the office, in pursuing the “ridiculous” and “mind-blowingly” stupid things for which he has become so beloved, by the yous.
…Not “beloved” in a “Happy Christmas morning” kind of way. More like “that stupid thing you did while drunk that one time, which turned into your best party story.”
Entertainment. That’s what we’re talking about. And there is a new kid in the “stupid” game.
…We will continue to call her the Gnome-Idiot. Because of both her pint-size and sheer innocent stupidity.
After two weeks, I’ve come to the conclusion that she REALLY can’t help it. It is not due to bad choices. Watching her for sixteen days…128 hours…I have used all of the (frankly considerable) study time, wisely. Mostly because I simply can not believe that a human being can make it to age 24 and be as seriously backwards and innocent in not only human interaction and communication (but, especially in THIS day and age) all tech and computer forms imaginable.
She has a High School Diploma, and got into College, without ever once using any form of Office Suite software, having to alphabetize, talk to adult human beings (or in complete sentences), nor realize the common sense kind of things that keep you out of being that 1% that every accident of all time happens to, because there is no warning label yet to TELL you NOT to stick a butter knife in a toaster, blow dry your hair in the shower, or cross a highway, on foot, and without looking both ways.
…Honestly. After the first week, I seriously doubted the validity of her stupidity. So I started sorta, allowing it to be put to the test. Here and there. Now and again. And without fail, she upheld her end, each and every time.
I mean, this girl is seriously. Seriously. SERIOUSLY, legitimately deficient in just plain common sense. Not even a little bit.
…This girl is the kind of idiot that you have to teach how to pour coffee grounds into a filter. Not “make coffee.” Just “pour in the grounds.”
…This girl is the kind of idiot, who continually forgets how to put a call on hold. Or take it off. She’s the kind of idiot that has screwed up one of the five separate file systems, at least once per day, since she has walked in the door. The kind of idiot who, no matter how much you train her, has YET to answer a single phone call, without passing them back to someone else for help…who forgets our phone number printed ON A SHEET IN FRONT OF HER, which I placed there, for that purpose, two weeks ago. She asks things like, “How do you heat this water for tea?” and “What do I do after scanning these?” When there is a post-it note on the stack of paper telling her point-by-point directions on what exactly to do.
…In fact…there have been A LOT of post-it notes. Three cubes worth so far. Everything in her inbox has to be labeled with step-by-step instructions, AND still are brought forward for interpretation when she finally gets to them. Common communication between us has included conversations like:
G-I: “So, when I’m done faxing these sheets, I do what with them?”
Me: “File them. Like it says.”
G-I: “Okay. Well cuz, um…I just wanted to make sure cuz, um…well…I just did this yesterday.”
Me: “With other papers. Yes.”
G-I: “Cuz like…I mean…it just seems like I do this a whole lot.”
Me: “Right. Because it’s your job. It’s what we do here. A lot of faxing. A lot of filing.”
…And…
Me: “Okay. So, you’ve filed these batches incorrectly again.”
G-I: “What do you mean?”
Me: “Remember? THIS stack is for ‘archives,’ and THIS stack is for ‘pending.’ ”
G-I: “It just gets really confusing…”
Me: “It’s okay. You just have to look at the dates, remember? You know because THIS stack has dates that are passed, they are for archiving. And THIS stack with dates that haven’t happened yet, are ‘pending.’ Also: the bins are labeled. See?”
G-I: “Ohhhhhh. Wow. I’m really glad you explained that.”
Me: “We had this same conversation yesterday.”
G-I: “Right but, I mean…there are really a lot of stacks of paper around here.”
…And…
Me: “…So then, I need you to just label these hang files with these titles please. On tabs.”
G-I: “Riiiiiight.”
Me: “Is there…what’s wrong.”
G-I: “Yeah. By hand or…?”
Me: “No, the computer deal didn’t work out so well the last time. Just by hand.”
G-I: “…And these marks?”
Me: “What marks?”
G-I: “These thingies. You want these thingies on the tabs too?”
Me: “The quote marks?”
G-I: “Yeah.”
Me: “No. No…you don’t need to put the quote marks in. That’s just what I want you to call them. Remember? You got a little confused the last time I just wrote titles down.”
G-I: “Riiiight….”
…This is REAL-talk, people. Actual conversations. With an idiot. And she’s not joking. She’s not pulling a leg. She’s actually, ACTUALLY just an innocent, actually, actually asking these questions. For real.
It’s real.
REAL.
I’ve tested the waters, and NO ONE is that good of an actor. She’s the GENUINE article. Either that, or she is in Witness Protection from the Mob, and her LIFE is at stake, here. Those are the ONLY two options.
…So, as I wait until the 15th, (the date when we are told Boss is to be canned and I can go and find a legitimate QUALIFIED office assistant), I bite my lip repeatedly, and attempt to keep from obliterating her to tears. Because every time we need to have these little conversations, it’s like I shot her dog or something. She is so very eager to make good. But so very incapable of achieving it.
…Which puts us at a dead lock for another week.
Dear lord. How will I even make it?
…If I have to hear one more sentence like, “Um…yeah, I think black is the darkest color we offer…”…I think I’m gonna explode.
…Yet every day, she seems to top the last, somehow.
It’s like: she’s a fucking magical Leprechaun of fairy-dom.
Totally unbelievable…despite all our wildest imaginings: yet, there she sits.
~D
