NotaNuffian
This does spark joy.
- Joined
- Nov 26, 2019
- Messages
- 5,314
- Points
- 233
For context, I was doing my clerical work, which sounded like I am a cleric, something cool and also disturbing, but I am just a plainass clerk doing paper counting.
So earlier on when I ran out of water for my thumb and index to count the stack, I decided to rub them on my forehead for some moisture to better count the paper. It happened to be a reflex action as I am the only one in office who can still sweat like a pig even in winter or icebox and I got the job done and proper.
Problem came when I had to deal with another stack and my manager who was watching at the side walked up to my cubicle and complained how disgusting it was that I used my sweat and should stop it. Then I asked whether I could get a cold drink (for the precipitate) or a cup of water to wet my fingers, no was my reply as he walked off. So then I decided to suck my fingers and started counting. He immediately rushed back and told me to stop that.
I gave him an ultimatum, either I go get something wet or I would use the damp spot on my crotch for wetting. I now got hold of a table cloth that is wet though.
Ps. While typing and yawning, I think I have a fourth option in tears, but I don't want to stick my fingers with moldy smell thanks to the aged paper into my oculars, so no.
So earlier on when I ran out of water for my thumb and index to count the stack, I decided to rub them on my forehead for some moisture to better count the paper. It happened to be a reflex action as I am the only one in office who can still sweat like a pig even in winter or icebox and I got the job done and proper.
Problem came when I had to deal with another stack and my manager who was watching at the side walked up to my cubicle and complained how disgusting it was that I used my sweat and should stop it. Then I asked whether I could get a cold drink (for the precipitate) or a cup of water to wet my fingers, no was my reply as he walked off. So then I decided to suck my fingers and started counting. He immediately rushed back and told me to stop that.
I gave him an ultimatum, either I go get something wet or I would use the damp spot on my crotch for wetting. I now got hold of a table cloth that is wet though.
Ps. While typing and yawning, I think I have a fourth option in tears, but I don't want to stick my fingers with moldy smell thanks to the aged paper into my oculars, so no.