Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Finding an intern

“Assistant”


    Raise your hand if you want to add years to your life? -- Looks like all but about four of you. – Okay, then, write this down. -- “Remember where you put stuff.” -- That’s it. Now off with you.

Seriously, do you have any idea how many years of your life you’ve spent looking for your car keys, watch, pen, phone, left shoe, hammer…? A lot.

    If you could win back all of that time, you could use it to get a degree in chemical engineering, learn to play the xylophone, and study the migratory habits of the Punan in Borneo. And, you’d still have a time left over for some serious napping.
   
    Over my short lifetime, I’ve probably spent something like eight months just looking for my car keys. About ten years ago it hit me. Bonk! Why not make it a habit to put my keys in a bowl on the counter by the backdoor?

    You’re not going to believe this, but it works. I haven’t lost my keys in 2 weeks. There are still a few kinks. Regardless, I was so impressed that I’ve been trying it with my wallet. While bills keep mysteriously disappearing from my wallet, I haven’t lost the wallet itself. It’s miraculous. 

We would probably all agree that the most sought after item is the TV remote. Yesterday, I caught Kay going upstairs with ours. When a TV remote leaves the realm of the living room, the places it can hide increase exponentially. Einstein proved that… at least to my satisfaction.

Truth is, you want your remote on the coffee table in the living room. You need it on that table! But, there goes Kay upstairs with it in her hand. Not a clue.

“Pay attention.” That’s the key. Pay attention... or else hire an assistant. That’s what I’d really like to do: hire somebody to remember stuff for me. It’s not that I’m incapable of remembering, I apparently just don’t give it a high enough priority.

If I hired somebody, it would be his job to remember for me. If you’re getting paid to do a particular thing, you’ll remember better. If you mess up, you get yelled at or fired. What more incentive would you need?

“Mr. Hayter, are you ready to watch TV? You’re wife put the remote in the towel cabinet before bedtime, but I retrieved it for you. I also located your glasses on the top of the fridge. And, here’s the phone. Someone left it on the porch railing.”

Once my assistant became proficient with his In House duties, I’d take him out with me so he could help with names. There are people I have met over ten times, but their names will not stick  I’ve played the name game in my head. – His name is Bill and he’s got lips like a duck. Great. Next time I see him, all I can think of is “Wally.” 

If I had an assistant keeping step with me, I’d never make a fool of myself.  Say I’m in Kroger -- “Psst. Mr. Hayter, you’re supposed to know the guy approaching in the blue shirt. His name is Frank. He appears to have lost weight, and he is deathly afraid of bats.” – “Hey, Frank, you musta dropped a ton? Whoa, what’s that black furry thing on your shoulder? No, I’m just joking. I’m going to put you down now.”

I’d definitely take the assistant with me during my doctor checkups. Invariably I get asked easy questions the answers of which are remote. I don’t know if you’re aware, but part of your checkup has to do with how dumb you act. An assistant could help me circumvent that test.

During my last visit, the doctor asked what the dosage was on the most recent medication he had prescribed. He’s asking me! He’s got his laptop in his hand looking at my medical record, and he wants to know how much Fdlzkitrex I’m taking.

I don’t know what I’m taking. I just take it. Twenty mgs or 2000. I take what’s in the bottle. Just like any sane person would.

My assistant could straighten all that out. “He’s taking 300 mgs of the Fdlzkitrex, but it’s been making him quack like a duck in the late evenings. I’m sorry, Mr. Hayter, but it does.” -- “Oh, yeah. Wally’s name is Bill.” – Thus, I ace the mental portion of my checkup.

I’ve been almost serious up to now, but next week I may go to Lone Star College and see if I can find an intern. They’re bound to have a program that deals with this kind of stuff. Hotel Management or Communications. Psychotherapy, possibly. I’ll let you know. Oh, yeah, we’re onto something here. 

end

You can reach Mark at mark@rooftopwriter.com

4 comments:

  1. I had no idea that when I became a mother my title was actually "assistant" because you just described what I do every. single. day. HA! ;) Thanks for the laugh Mr. Hayter.

    ReplyDelete
  2. No, Amanda, thank you for taking time to comment. I was after your laugh, and you gave it to me. Thanks, Kiddo.

    ReplyDelete
  3. You made me laugh too, Moke. Good article. --jilly--

    ReplyDelete
  4. Hey, thanks, Jill. I accomplished a two laugher! You're more like me, I think, in that we both identify more with the one needing an assistant, while Amanda identifies with the assistant. Not only does she have to remember stuff for herself, but also for her other people. I can't even imagine.

    ReplyDelete