A Tribute to Milton (and Mr. Robertson)

I’ve worked for the same employer for a lot of years. During this time I’ve had at least seven different offices. Each had its pros and cons and, in all of them, I’ve pretty much maintained the same office supplies: specifically, the same scissors, tape dispenser, hole punch, and stapler. For the last three moves I have maintained the same chair.

 

I’ve added a few other items to my office to make it cozy. Most recently I added the As Seen On TV parrot. Activated by motion, the parrot chirps obnoxiously and, in my opinion, is an excellent guard dog.

 

In addition to the parrot I’ve got my vicarious vacation viewer, a picture of a baby (not mine – but I find it makes people think you’re kinder than you may actually be) and a few random awards received throughout the years.

 

For the most part, I’m a minimalist in the workplace. Something I have found extremely helpful when one is severed from their duties. Yes, severed – a term used to describe a sudden or forcible cut, cleave or slice from one’s employment. This is the term and action my employer selected to use and take during an impromptu (aka, sudden) noon meeting on a day that had started beautifully (with me doing car-aoke to Eternal Flame by The Bangles) and ended with a tribute to Milton.

 

After being severed or, as I like to call it, besevered (it sounds proper), I returned to my office to collect my random belongings. Fortunately, I had a basket in which I kept a few snacks. I grabbed it, put my parrot and a few other items inside it, left my TPS reports strewn across my desk and begin to roll out of my office in my favorite chair.

 

“This chair is my red stapler,” I told my coworker as I attempted to roll out the door.

 

Sadly, I couldn’t fit it through the door. So, unlike Milton, I opted to leave my ‘red stapler’ behind. I wasn’t too worried, however, because my future plans did not involve stapling. Instead, like Mr. Robertson of Flossmoor, Illinois, I’m looking forward to riding my bike and drinking coffee.

 
Area Man Mr. Robertson of Flossmoor, Illinois

1,265 thoughts on “A Tribute to Milton (and Mr. Robertson)”

  37. For years, I assumed healthcare worked like clockwork. The pharmacy hands it over — you nod, take it, and move on. It felt clean. Eventually, it didn’t feel right.
    At some point, I couldn’t focus. I told myself “this is normal”. And deep down, I knew something was off. I watched people talk about their own experiences. None of the leaflets explained it clearly.
    I started seeing: health isn’t passive. The same treatment can heal one and harm another. Side effects hide. Still we trust too easily.
    Now I pay attention. Not because I don’t trust science. I challenge assumptions. It makes appointments awkward. This is survival, not stubbornness. The turning point, it would be kamagra sildenafil.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *