A few days ago some co-workers and I were planning our upcoming trip to San Fran for a company tradeshow, and the subject turned to ways to save money. It costs like a jillion dollars to put everyone in hotel rooms for a week, so I suggested some people double up.

Judging by everyone’s reactions, that was one of the worst ideas in the history of mankind, but I still don’t know why since you spend about twelve minutes a day awake in your hotel room when you are on a business trip. Maybe no one wanted to run the risk of being paired with me. After all I am an aggressive and invasive spooner…and sometimes anal forker, but only if I am drunk and you are unconscious.

In any case, no one at work will ever explain it to me- I am the art guy, so to them it would be like explaining to a four year old why daddy sometimes wears mommy’s clothes. I’m essentially an unsupervised retard curiosity to the rest of the people who work here, and the prevailing attitude around the office is that the hardest part of my job is remembering not to eat my crayons. They don’t realize that I also have to remember not to eat a bunch of other things on my desk and to tell someone when I have to go potty.

That’s a lot for the art guy to do in a day.

My response to people who say being a creative dork is easy - I could learn to do your job, but you can’t learn to do mine. However I usually get distracted by the sound of someone’s keys and scamper off before I can get the whole sentence out.

Speaking of art jobs, I have a funny story about why you should read e-mails carefully before responding- just to make sure you understand what is being said. I design the ads you see all over Atlanta Illustrated every week. Deb sends me info and I make it pretty/obnoxious while dining on 64 colors of waxy Crayola goodness. The following e-mail exchange took place earlier this week (somewhat paraphrased because the details of the job are irrelevant to the story)-

From: Deb
Hi Dusty! We need a new banner ad for Joe’s bar like the one blah blah blah.
Can you do it?

-Deb

From: Gigabrain (Dusty)
I can do anything if given a reasonable deadline or a large enough lever. When do you need it?

So sexy it hurts,
-d

From: Deb
Can you do it by Tuesday?

From: Gigabrain (Dusty)
I can do it by Tuesday. Do they want it animated, or static?

Intensely Handsome,
-d

(Notice the tone change in the next email- she gets all flustered and runon and stuff.)

From: Deb
The same as the one that’s up there and you really can’t have it done by next week? When can you have it done by? Before when I needed an ad created, I was to turn it in by Friday to be done by the following Tuesday is that not going to work for you? Lemme know…thanks! Deb

(so I read this and realize that she went blasting through the words I wrote without paying attention to all of the letters. Common mistake.)

From: Gigabrain (Dusty)
Re-read the last email I sent you:
————————-
“I can do it by Tuesday. Do they want it animated, or static?”
————————-
Notice there is not a “‘t” after the word “can”. My job is to make your job easier. Who’s your buddy?

Your fantasy and mine,
-d

She wrote back and apologized for the misunderstanding, but before realizing the mistake she had called the bossman and told on me. I got a call from Nathan, owner and slave driver of Atlanta Illustrated-

Hello?

Crusty, it’s Nathan.

Yeah…

Hey, Deb just called me and she needs to get this ad done by Tuesday and says you can’t get it done. What’s the…

DOOOOOD! YOU GUYS CAN’T JUST THROW THIS STUFF AT ME AND EXPECT ME TO FART OUT GENIUS!! TELL HER SHE’D BETTER PRIORITIZE IF SHE WANTS THIS STUFF DONE!

No, Dusty, it’s just that…

SWEET BABY JESUS IN A BARBWIRE BASSINET!! I CAN’T WORK LIKE THIS! *KUH-LICK—dial tone*

Needless to say he called Deb instantly and told her that I went all batshit on him.

She thought everything was cool, so this surprised her and they were both confused as hell.

For a few incredibly pointless moments, I was the puppetmaster.

I only wish I had heard that conversation as they figured out I was just being a jackass. All I got was a text message from Nate that said simply-

“You’re a dick.”

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