Sometime during your working life, you’ve probably had a boring job or two. I’m not talking about run-of-the-mill mundane jobs – no, I’m talking about those jobs that are boring beyond all comprehension, jobs so mind-numbing that you spend your 8 hours desperately searching for the button that will inflate the emergency chute and let you slide to freedom.
Years ago, I had one of those jobs and were it not for an unlikely heroine, I would only have lasted a week or so. This blog post is dedicated to her and to coworkers everywhere who somehow manage to make even the bleakest jobs marginally tolerable.
The setting: An insurance company, way back in the Paleolithic era when each piece of paper had to be hand-fed into a microfiche machine. The job, part 1: sorting mountains of insurance claims and preparing them to be microfiched by removing all staples and paper clips. The job, part 2: the stacks of papers, having been duly microfiched, were returned for restapling. O-M-G.
The heroine: a young woman named Connie, 20 years old, round face, upturned nose, blonde Farah Fawcettish hairstyle – thus the Miss Piggy label. Connie made that excruciatingly boring job tolerable by regaling her coworkers with tales of her domestic adventures with her live-in boyfriend, Greg. While I’ve forgotten most of them, one story has stuck with me all these years. Connie, laughing and snorting so hard she could barely speak, told us how Greg liked to saunter naked through their apartment, his wristwatch dangling from a body part that was clearly not his wrist, announcing, “Hey, look what time it is!” At the end of each workday, Greg would pull into the parking lot in his pickup truck with gigantic tires. Connie, her movement constricted by a tight little skirt, would struggle to lift her foot high enough to reach the running board, but she always managed to heave herself into the truck, not gracefully, mind you, but with her own special flair.
Miss Piggy, aka Connie, wherever you (and Greg) are today, I thank you for helping me forget that I was temporarily wasting my expensive college education unstapling and restapling for 10 cents above minimum wage. To all the Miss Piggys of the working world, I salute you. You will never know how many lives you touched, how many coworkers were able to hang on to their last shred of sanity because of you. Finally, I wish a Miss Piggy for each of you currently enduring one of those agonizingly boring jobs.