Please Remove Sharp Objects From My Area

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Rumor got out that I am a pyromaniac. I am now not allowed to burn candles in my office under the guise of something silly called the "fire code".

The insert in my mail opener reads: Porkchop's preferred instrument of death and destruction.

I once informed our Vice President that I could kill someone with my bare hands. (Which, in theroy, I can, but have yet to actually prove it.)

Yesterday, I copied the back of a deposit slip and threw it in the trash. The back of the deposit slip only contains amounts of checks and abbreviated names of our companies. No bank account numbers or sensitive information. The owner walked back here and informed it it was unacceptable to throw away such sensitive information and in the future I should shred it.

Hmm. Where is my shredder?

However, my job involves working with allot of people's personal financial information. Social security numbers, bank accounts, and that sort of thing. I go through about a ream of paper a day in reports and data containing this information. I have never been instructed to destroy it. I simply throw it away, and our trash sits out back, where anyone can go through it at their own disposal.

I just recieved a memo instructing me to shred all sensitive company information, nothing about employee information. But either way, there is no way on earth I am spending half my day ripping papers up. I replied to the memo with another memo saying:

Maybe we could get a shredder? So we wouldn't have to rip up reams of paper with our bare hands?

I am fully expecting a memo in reply:

Use your safety scissors.

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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