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Vasaris, the Fuzzy Dragon
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March 2014
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Vasaris, the Fuzzy Dragon [userpic]

One of the greatest fears in the business I am in is the loss of files.

Physical files.

That isn't to say that it wouldn't be getting up close and personal with King Kong's Gonads if the digital stuff were to go the way of the dodo, but Customs is very clear on the 'THOU SHALT HAVE REAL PAPER FILES OF EVERYTHING FOR FIVE YEARS (3 in some cases and, like, 90 days for packing lists) UNLESS YOU HAVE TEH SUUUPERSPECIAL PERMISSIONS AND SH*T, BECAUSE WE BELIEVE IN A WORLD WHERE WE USE LESS PAPER.'

No, we don't get it either. But they're Customs and the Absolute Wrathful God, a being of such strictness that we pray to our intercessors (OH, HAIL THE GRAND AND GLORIOUS YODAS, WE ♥ YOU!) to in the hopes of avoiding smitings. Smitings are baaaaaad.

Anyway, I've been trying to find a file. It's been missing and taunting me with it's absence -- you know, brief phone calls, the occasional text, post-its stuck to my car windows with mocking smilies, that sort of thing. So today, as it's been whispers slow I was determined to figure out where the squirrley little jerk was hiding. I mean, really, post it's on my window? That file totally needs a lesson -- next time it needs to get Alan Rickman to call me and read me the phone book. Heck, I'd settle for Awesome Voice Dude from Sunshine-colored Carrier and a McDonald's menu.

Well, maybe not McDonald's.

*sighs wistfully*

Right. I was talking about my missing file. I searched, telling M-san that I was really confused by the texts and phone calls and post its and she said "Do you mean file X? I've been getting taunting emails. Seriously, where could it be?"

I kept looking, and when I found it, I discovered that Bosslady had put it in disguise! She'd painted it with gobs of dark eyeliner and black lipstick and coached it to look like a Goth hiding in a dark corner. And she'd done this for no discernable reason whatsoever. It was very disturbing, because, dude -- The Awesome and All-Powerful Customs (blessed be it's Saints, the small, big-eared green puppets) -- really frowns on runaway files, raining smites and high-speed bowling balls on those who cannot keep track of their many and profiligate cellulose children.

So, remember folks -- dousing a file in black ink, changing it's name and calling it Shirley is just the road to smiting. Or, at the very least, a note on your desk that says... "Ummmm, WTF?"

Current Mood: amusedamused
Current Music: I'd like to forget the 'Forget You' guy. Dude, let her go and shut up about it.