I've no idea what she does, or how much money she must make. I've asked, she explained.

— Ah, so they pay you once a twelvemonth in charcoal briquets. How — unusual!

Something to do with some business or other, helping something realize itself. It's sort of like a magic trick.

It's a lot like my job, I think. I'm not sure what I'm doing. I'm doing something. And I'm the person that does that. People come to me and wait for something to get done, and it seems to get done. Things get done all day, and I'm doing them. Every so often I make a mistake, which then has to be fixed. An extra thing for me to do, or to get done.

I've met the people at her job. This one, that one, the woman who causes trouble.

Ah! The woman who...

That's right. Has a problem with...

...people doing things wrongly. Going to the bathroom, going to cofee-break, using the photocopier, declining to sign a petition proscribing incorrect photocopier use. Why didn't I think of that?

Labels: Hard Work