After about a month, the Head Hancho sat me down and asked me what my intentions were with his daughter (company). It was so weird, because I'd just been used to making fun of this super, super silly place. Writing down wacky things the old people were saying... taking pictures of them when they weren't looking... making sure I was documenting some of the work they were having me do... such as when Dick's partner in crime, a great-grandmother who is OBSESSED with David Boreanaz, asked me to file some of her recent work.
Evidence:
(I LOST THIS PICTURE. IT WAS A BUNCH OF SHIT IN A PILE. THERE WERE NAPKINS, MAGAZINES, AND POST-ITS WITH SCRATCHES ON THEM, AS IN SOMEONE WAS OBVIOUSLY TRYING TO TEST A PEN'S INK OUT. I UNDERSTAND THAT THIS POST IS NEITHER FUNNY, NOR INTERESTING BC I LOST THIS PICTURE. BUT I BELIEVE IT AN IMPORTANT STORY TO BE REMEMBERED. MOSTLY FOR THE HUMAN RACE.)
What, did she want me to make a file folder labeled "used napkins?" "Scribbles?" "Extremely old hair magazines that I don't know what you do with because you don't have any hair?"
Ay-yi-yi.
In conclusion, this is a good example of the "work" I was doing at this place. I.E. try to sift through chaos. At first it's funny, but then it's just terribly sad. It would be so incredibly hard to be in the work force right now as an older person. Everything you know about life has been changed instantly. I just feel so bad that I try my best to help, and try not to sound patronizing. And by trying my best to help, I mean I take pictures of them and make fun of them on The Internet.
But it's okay, because, like a 9th grade English paper, I end of whole bunch of shit with one empathetic comment, and somehow that makes everything slightly okay.
I feel so, so bad for them.
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