Pleased that carbon paper and white out faded into yesteryear, Stick Chick so loved the personal computer in her office.
Even so, as any desk jockey working on a deadline can testify, prepping a proposal for a client often requires laser focus. The days immediately after delivery can be equally punishing. The resultant inattention to all other things wrecks havoc which is occasionally tragic but usually hilarious.
Although excellent at spelling, Stick Chick’s furiously fast typing and resulting questionable accuracy make automatic spell check a Godcessity*, more so when inventing new words.
That happens a lot.
Her dinky, putty colored monitor was in line for replacement, the latest technological outfitting slated during upcoming office renovations. One morning, after cajoling coworkers and vendors to provide vital information for a quickly approaching proposal meeting, she rushed to commit it to paper. Expeditiously tapping away on the keyboard, she eyeballed the handwritten notes on her desk.
A reminder interrupted.
Grabbing the mouse, she clicked OK.
Cartoon-like her fingers flew, keyboarding at bionic speed. Without immediate warning, a loud pop, smoke, and the distinct smell of electrical burn stymied her ability to continue. With a momentary scream, rapid successive thoughts flowed.
“Holy Hulk Hogan bobble head dolls, I blew up the monitor.”
“Where’s a fire extinguisher?”
“Do we have a fire extinguisher?”
“I should slow down.”
“Oh my God, I lost the proposal!”
“The keyboard and monitor have nothing to do with each other.”
“The files are in the tower, not the monitor.”
“I need a monitor.”
Her mental freak out exploded. With the authority of a doctor calling for a defibrillator, Stick Chick shrieked to anyone in earshot, “I need a monitor!”
“I need to get one hooked up. The customer will be here in less than an hour and I need to finish the proposal.”
“Heeeeeeeelp,” she cried just before she passed out.
Minutes later, awakened by smelling salts, she bolted upright and jumped to her feet, seizing the monitor from the hands of a concerned coworker. She placed it on the desk, crawled underneath it into Dust Bunny Nether Lands, disconnected the old monitor, connected the new, and frenetically flapped her palm on the spacebar.
27 minutes later the red speakerphone light blinked on and a friendly voice announced:
“Stick Chick, your client is here.”
Greeting the client who asked, “How are you,” Stick Chick replied, “It’s been a quiet morning. We will be borrowing someone else’s office. Mine smells like smoke for some reason.”
In case you wondered, Stick Chick nailed the proposal.
Godcessity (n) : A God-send and a necessity; generally easier to say and usually both anyway.