My artistic expertise was called upon today.
My husband has moved into his new office, and wanted some help this afternoon hanging his numerous certificates, awards, recognition plaques in some reasoning of order and balance on the walls.
(This is just one other place where the male DNA dropped a link or two, along with color coordination, cleaning and ability to hold an intimate conversation with another human being that does not involve sports)
I admit to having an extremely critical eye when it comes to forms. One of my personal fetishes (NOTE: the definition #2 of fetish is an object, idea, or activity that somebody is irrationally obsessed with or attached to; the sexual one is #3, according to Encarta - so there, you pervert) is designing documents.
I go into a doctor's office for the first time, take one look at the "New Patient" questionnaire, ask for another copy (getting some strange looks from the front desk personnel).
Then I go home, I re-design it to be 1) easier to read and complete, 2) professional looking instead of something created by a word processor in 1973, and 3) logical and orderly.
And then I take one of original forms, put it in a sheet protector, and give it to the office staff. No charge.
Yes, I know, it's silly. I should begin a support help group.
So when confronted with governmental, horribly and poorly designed certificates and awards, stuck into cheap wooden frames, with names typed askew in a different font...
Well, I'm just grateful I had not had lunch.
But to take care of this problem, I am going to research whether President Obama's stimulus money can be used to create a position for me as National Certificate Designer, responsible for overseeing the design, creation, and maintenance of all awards, recognition, etc. by the new Department of Really Great Looking Government Certificates (DRGLFC).
Wanna ya think?
2 comments:
That is an awesome talent! Wish you could redo pretty much every form I've had to fill out with TriCare.
I have spent the last 6 months at work sneakily replacing all the forms I can get my freaking hands on. Then I pretend I don't know where they came from, because I don't want to be known as "little miss perfect form." It's a sickness.
But if the opportunity ever comes up to work in the office of National Certificate Designer, I will quit my job and possibly run away from my family. Together we will rid the world of evil, badly formatted forms!!!
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