They call her my buddy. She’s the one who always has more to do than anyone else, always knows a way I can do my job a little better, always gives a martyred sigh when asked to do her job at less than a full day’s notice…
Let me set the scene–I’m sitting in my office, which is a small room mostly full of file cabinets. All the file cabinets are piled high with papers. It’s an avalanche waiting to happen. I’m the registrar, and we’ve had nearly 900 kids register in the last two weeks. I’m a little snowed under. A little.
So this–buddy–borrows a student’s file. She has a right, it’s no problem. She mentions on the way out how she didn’t sign it out, she couldn’t find the sign-out book. I tell her where it is. She says well, as she’s the only one who ever signs files out anyway…and keeps walking. Fine. I grab a piece of paper, and jot down who she took.
Twenty minutes later, she’s back, handing me the file. “When you get a moment,” she says, “would you re-file this for me?”
I’m very proud of myself. I did not get myself arrested, I have not been charged with assault. I’m annoyed, however, that fighting the urge took so much of my energy, I was unable to tell her no, or give her a smart remark, or do anything other than meekly take the blasted file.
But I’m not in jail. It’s a good thing. And the folder is resting safely in its proper place–I didn’t file it somewhere it would have to be surgically removed.