Jillian and Amelia. Last week, I was scrolling my Facebook feed when this update came through. It was my friend Jillian and her daughter, and the caption under the picture read: "Amelia says she's having a bad day so she made this, lol!"
The photo garnered the usual comments—"That's a riot," "I love you Miss Amelia," et cetera—but nobody was commenting on what was clearly obvious from this one innocent photo:
Jillian's daughter was a genius.
The photo garnered the usual comments—"That's a riot," "I love you Miss Amelia," et cetera—but nobody was commenting on what was clearly obvious from this one innocent photo:
Jillian's daughter was a genius.
Looks natural, right? It was so simple, yet seemed like the perfect solution. I often have bad days. Why not tape a smiley-face mask to my face? It seemed brilliant, yet I did wonder if I could get away with it. Maybe I should just smile more.
But then, the very next morning when I went to work, I discovered that the staff cafeteria would no longer be carrying Rain Forest Nut coffee. My favorite flavor. My caffeine would now be delivered in less pleasing, less tasty varieties.
Emergency measures were in order. I got out the paper, the scissors, and a marker.
But then, the very next morning when I went to work, I discovered that the staff cafeteria would no longer be carrying Rain Forest Nut coffee. My favorite flavor. My caffeine would now be delivered in less pleasing, less tasty varieties.
Emergency measures were in order. I got out the paper, the scissors, and a marker.
(In case you can't tell, Jeremy has a pretty good sense of humor.) Okay, I had my smiley face. But could I really get away with this? Would anyone notice?
If you couldn't tell from the previous photo, we each have our own cubicles at work. It's isolating, and reduces social interaction. Truly the ideal setup for an introvert like me. My coworkers started rolling in. As they mumbled their morning greetings, nobody seemed to notice my mask.
All was going well until Jeremy, one of the senior designers, had a question about superscripting ordinals (answer: don't do it, folks). It required a face-to-mask conversation. Would Jeremy realize I'd taken my social cues from a preschooler?
Thankfully, the answer was "Nope." (Jeremy, by the way, was also upset about the Rain Forest Nut debacle, and hadn't had nearly enough coffee that morning.)
If you couldn't tell from the previous photo, we each have our own cubicles at work. It's isolating, and reduces social interaction. Truly the ideal setup for an introvert like me. My coworkers started rolling in. As they mumbled their morning greetings, nobody seemed to notice my mask.
All was going well until Jeremy, one of the senior designers, had a question about superscripting ordinals (answer: don't do it, folks). It required a face-to-mask conversation. Would Jeremy realize I'd taken my social cues from a preschooler?
Thankfully, the answer was "Nope." (Jeremy, by the way, was also upset about the Rain Forest Nut debacle, and hadn't had nearly enough coffee that morning.)
Spell check doesn't even recognize "velociraptor" as a word, people! I made it through the first smiley-face day with no major incidents. This mask thing was a godsend. I didn't have to talk to anyone, and I did overhear a few people remark that I seemed to be in a good mood that day. But the next day would be the real test.
See, I was scheduled to give a major presentation on business writing the next morning. I was prepared, but this was a whole different ballgame: now I'd have to give the whole thing without my Rain Forest Nut coffee. It was sure to be disastrous. There was only one thing I could do.
That's how I found myself, Friday at 9 AM, talking about the importance of style guides and consistency throughout a document and actually using a dictionary instead of trusting spell check. With a paper smiley face taped to my face.
I couldn't possibly get away with this, right? I mean—surely, somebody would say something. Right? Right?
Ha! I'd forgotten the golden rule of business meetings: show up and immediately tune out. I'm pretty sure not one person at the presentation will bother to crack a dictionary after my hour-long lecture. This was starting to get a little disheartening.
Then, just as everyone was shuffling out of the conference room, one guy stopped. He said nothing. But he gave me a thumbs-up.
So thank you, Jillian and Amelia. At least this one guy approves.
See, I was scheduled to give a major presentation on business writing the next morning. I was prepared, but this was a whole different ballgame: now I'd have to give the whole thing without my Rain Forest Nut coffee. It was sure to be disastrous. There was only one thing I could do.
That's how I found myself, Friday at 9 AM, talking about the importance of style guides and consistency throughout a document and actually using a dictionary instead of trusting spell check. With a paper smiley face taped to my face.
I couldn't possibly get away with this, right? I mean—surely, somebody would say something. Right? Right?
Ha! I'd forgotten the golden rule of business meetings: show up and immediately tune out. I'm pretty sure not one person at the presentation will bother to crack a dictionary after my hour-long lecture. This was starting to get a little disheartening.
Then, just as everyone was shuffling out of the conference room, one guy stopped. He said nothing. But he gave me a thumbs-up.
So thank you, Jillian and Amelia. At least this one guy approves.
And he looked so happy!
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