My New Found Hatred for the Written Word
The email came in two days before my boss was to leave for Paris for a business trip/vacation, it peaked my interest but I didn't really consider it as something I'd like to do.
Professional Writing / Business Writing
Classes offered in the Midtown office building
$780.00 per individual will charged to your RC.
I didn't think I needed it and besides Boss-man would never pay that amount for a two day seminar... My thoughts were interrupted by boss-man bellowing my name across the corridor.
"-t-, did you see this course offering?"
I nodded my head indicating that I had.
"Well I was thinking, with so many of us gone to Paris for the seminar, it might be a good idea for you to take this class. It will keep you busy and you can brush up on your writing for presentations."
I was slightly hurt by this last statement, after all not only was my BA in English Writing, but that's what I do for a living, I create presentations and translate math into English. He is after all the man who signs my pay stubs and I wasn't going to fight him, so I emailed HR and told them to sign me up.
I walked into the conference room and surveyed my surroundings. Mostly mid/low level employees sitting in what can best be described as a U-shape classroom set up. In front of each person was a name plaque that they had written themselves in sharpie marker. The two women in their mid forties (who I presumed to be instructors) sat at the front of the room sharpening pencils. I blinked hoping I was somehow suffering a flashback from the acid I dropped in highschool! This was not indeed how I was to be spending the next ten hours. One of the instructors (a doppleganger for the mother in Six Feet Under) told us to open our course books and review pages one and two. I skimmed the material and my heart sank. Staring at me were instructions for determining a noun, adverb, adjective, ect... Things I learned as a second grader when my dad and I would play Mad Libs. This was going to be a very long day.
After two grueling days of what can best be described as, English writing for mildly retarded, English as a second language, professionals, I never want to deal with the written word again. Cheers to my company for sucking the pleasure out of one of my most secret indulgences. I'll get my passion back but first allow me to burn this copy of The Elements of Style in effigy.
Professional Writing / Business Writing
Classes offered in the Midtown office building
$780.00 per individual will charged to your RC.
I didn't think I needed it and besides Boss-man would never pay that amount for a two day seminar... My thoughts were interrupted by boss-man bellowing my name across the corridor.
"-t-, did you see this course offering?"
I nodded my head indicating that I had.
"Well I was thinking, with so many of us gone to Paris for the seminar, it might be a good idea for you to take this class. It will keep you busy and you can brush up on your writing for presentations."
I was slightly hurt by this last statement, after all not only was my BA in English Writing, but that's what I do for a living, I create presentations and translate math into English. He is after all the man who signs my pay stubs and I wasn't going to fight him, so I emailed HR and told them to sign me up.
I walked into the conference room and surveyed my surroundings. Mostly mid/low level employees sitting in what can best be described as a U-shape classroom set up. In front of each person was a name plaque that they had written themselves in sharpie marker. The two women in their mid forties (who I presumed to be instructors) sat at the front of the room sharpening pencils. I blinked hoping I was somehow suffering a flashback from the acid I dropped in highschool! This was not indeed how I was to be spending the next ten hours. One of the instructors (a doppleganger for the mother in Six Feet Under) told us to open our course books and review pages one and two. I skimmed the material and my heart sank. Staring at me were instructions for determining a noun, adverb, adjective, ect... Things I learned as a second grader when my dad and I would play Mad Libs. This was going to be a very long day.
After two grueling days of what can best be described as, English writing for mildly retarded, English as a second language, professionals, I never want to deal with the written word again. Cheers to my company for sucking the pleasure out of one of my most secret indulgences. I'll get my passion back but first allow me to burn this copy of The Elements of Style in effigy.
posted by selling my soul at 10:03 AM
1 Comments:
Wow.. is that really how much a 2nd grade class would cost these days if not required learning for the normal 7 yr old? That sucks.. sorry darlin..
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