Over the lovely restful holiday weekend wherein I burnt myself to a crisp and generally did nothing I also got in a little football with The Brothers. In the process I sprained/jammed/broke/bruised/screwedup my middle finger. It was purpled and swollen. Stiff and useless.

Wanting to get all possible mileage out of this (and it did hurt, very, very badly) I found a splint and was able to garner more sympathy than I thought possible. With the splint on my finger, it made my finger stand up rather... straight. When typing. When talking with my hands. When writing.

Once everyone realized I wasn't flicking them off, persay. I was able to use it as a crutch. Cranky managers that I thought I was going to toss through the door. I'd casually start writing a memo, finger pointing heavenward with a mischievous glint in my eye. They weren't sure whether to falsely accuse me or fall for the innocent eyes. They would stand uncomfortably in front of my desk and scuttle out. Not sure whether to be incensed or to laugh.

If I've learned one thing at my job, it's to be subtle.