Been out and about all day, and leaving to see Ghostbusters in a few, so this will have to be quick: I left OtherJob a bit early to join my wife and son at her work’s “Family Day” celebration, a sort of tacit admission that people who work where my wife works have families that have no idea what the hell it actually is that they do for a living and so they have a day every year to show them around. Upon entering the facility I was greeted with this sign, which I have cropped the hell out of to avoid anything especially identifying:
I have never in my life been asked to “proceed to the Accountability Area,” which is terrifying, and perhaps not quite as welcoming as they wanted it to be.
Photography was prohibited in most of the facility and I therefore had to stealth this second picture. But these signs were everywhere:
…so, yeah. My wife works in a super exciting place.
Speaking of my job, I had a great conversation at OtherJob this afternoon with a family that was turning in a flatly unholy number of prize tickets at our redemption counter. When I have several kids at once, I write down everyone’s names so I can keep them straight. Usually this proceeds without embarrassment. But there was this one particular girl whose name, for some reason, I found entirely impossible to keep straight. At first I thought her name was Harley, then found out it was Karli, then kept calling her Kayley for some reason. Then I met her three older brothers, who were Grant, Lincoln, and Jackson.
“All Presidents?” I said. “And they named you Kayley?” Well, no, dammit, her name was Karli, and I totally typed Harley just now and had to delete it.
“She’s the youngest of the girls in the family,” her mom said. “She has girl cousins named Madison and Kennedy.”
“So what I’m hearing is she should have been named Hillary,” I said.
It… uh… could have gone over a bit better. Fuck you I’m hilarious.
I apparently have yet to regain my jovial equanimity.
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