Previously on...

This week in a Small Town Newsroom

After about two weeks of trying to track down an answer, I finally found out how to order our office supplies. The person who was the Purchaser of Pens and Paper left, so it’s now part of my job, but no one knew how to do it. Thankfully, we now have most of the stuff we were supposed to get. Also, I’m thinking about quitting and going into the office supply business, because $20 for four plastic binders seems like quite a profit margin.

Fergus is insistent that yellow legal pads are the only ones that will work, not white. I really wanted to order white, because I’m mean and petty like that, but did not.

I was out sick yesterday, and forgot that it was Election Day. On Election Day, we have to stay late so when the reporters call in the numbers from the different precincts, we can post them to the website. Boss did not mention anything about it on Wednesday, so I don’t feel too bad that I missed it. 

It’s really hard to talk on the phone when you can’t breathe. I answered the same as I always do, and one of the funeral homes I deal with regularly didn’t believe it was me for a minute. Even though I have a stuffy nose, I’m pretty sure I still sound more or less like myself. 

Farquad was on the phone this morning, talking to someone about our archives. Due to a computer error, they only go back to the early 90’s. The library had the older ones on microfiche. He’s insisting to the person on the phone that if he checks our archives, he can find what he’s looking for from the 60’s. I’m waving my arms to get his attention, and when it looks like I’m trying to land a plane, he finally turns to look. I explained to him that we don’t have them. He then does an about face on the phone, and acts like he’s said to check the library the entire time. 

Fergus finally explained to me his phone call system, and I no longer wonder why a great many people won’t deal with him anymore. He starts by calling every 10 minutes (At around 7:30 a.m., mind you) and does that about three times. Then every five minutes, then every three. Ugh. The more I work with him, the more I’m glad he doesn’t call me.

One of my coworker just told me she feels like she should tell me to go lay down, so I must not be holding up as well as I thought. This afternoon might find me snoozing on the couch in the ladies’ room. That’s right, we have a couch in the bathroom. We’re fancy like that. 

Finally, I leave you with an election night story from Neighboring Small Town where my parents and I live. Mom says they saw all sorts of people they knew when they went to vote, then were reminded to get a corndog for dinner on their way out.

I previously wrote this on the Friday August 3 open thread on Ask a Manager.