Workin' on a Saturday Musing

Peep My Coworker

Aaron, the quiet guy who occupies the desk in front of mine, had a shocking confession today: He's never experienced the neon-colored joy of a Peep. Never. Not once. I almost cried, to think that a child in America in the 20th century could have grown up without having tasted the sugar-coated marshmallowy goodness of a Peep. So Deb and I immediately jumped up from our desks, made a run to KMart and bought Peeps of every color. And jelly beans. Aaron didn't display the amount of enthusiasm and ecstasy that I thought befitting one's first taste of a Peep, and he didn't eat more than two ... but he took the rest home, so there's hope. As far as I know, he doesn't have a dog he can feed them to; he might eat them all yet.

The Wonders of Stock Footage

In advertising, there's the modern wonder of stock photos and stock footage. This simply means that if you want to put together a professional-looking ad but don't have the budget to hire actors and camera crews and makeup artists and donut boys and the like, someone's already done that work for you, and you just have to pay for the right to use that photo (or, in this case, that footage). The embarassment comes when two different companies in two completely different industries use the same footage, and the commercials run almost back-to-back.

Take, for example, some footage recently seen in a Furniture Row ad: A happy, smiling mom, lifting her baby from its crib in a sunny, cheery room. Home is a place of comfort. It's happy, it's always filled with sunshine and shiny, happy people.

Two minutes later, that same shiny, happy mommy is a woman who was injured in a car accident ... the but the law firm that's now being advertised helped her sue to get the money she needed to get on with her life ... and to lift that baby out of its crib in the sunny, cheery room.

I'm an Idiot, Part II

When Deb told me last night that someone was coming to the door, I took it as a sign that I should meet that person at the door to let them in. So as I opened the door-to-the-door, I was quite surprised to see a man already standing inside the building ... and I screamed. Kinda loudly.

It was just Adam from the front office, but I think I startled him as much as he scared me. Except that he didn't scream. His eyes just got big and wide, and he got this look that said, "She's a nut. I already knew that, though." I hope he plans on coming back to work next week. It wasn't anything personal.

Easter Food Egg-Stravaganza

The food free-for all has dramatically scaled back this year; from the thirty-ish people we had last year to, I think, maybe six of us this year. It'll still be good, though. It's become tradition to serve Thanksgiving dinner at Easter, and the turkey, Amber assures me, is defrosted and dripping in her fridge this very moment. And she didn't drop it on her toe, which is always a good thing (see the Musing on holiday disasters past). Sweet potatoes, mashed potatotes, stuffing, pie ... ooof. Maybe I should go easy on the Peeps and the jelly beans ... maybe.