Sorting

What are they trying to accomplish?

I wish they could see themselves. Maybe they do see themselves but if only they could see how the view is from this side of the glass window.

Taking notes at meaningless meetings. Meetings with words that are nothing about everything. I don't dare view the notes they are taking but I am sure I would be astonished at what their notes would say. I know my forehead is wrinkled in question. Just what I need, more wrinkles. I am a note taker. Rare to find me without a note pad and if I am, be certain that I am recording a lot of what is going on and will put those thoughts or that moment into words. But at the meetings of late, I find nothing to write as nothing is really being said so I doodle which is so unlike me. Maybe in high school I would doodle but this is adulthood...right?

They sort papers then sort the papers they just sorted.

I was curious. This curious mode has been going on for days but up until this point I was unable to come up for air from my given tasks. So then, I asked, "can I help?"

"Yes, you can sort these papers," she said as she pointed toward the stacks among other stacks. I was unclear exactly what stack of papers she was referring specifically to but felt certain in the scheme of things, it didn't really matter. For a moment I thought a game might be fun and was going to point to a stack of papers and ask ..'you mean this stack or this stack,' but it seemed cruel somehow.

Hmmmm

There before me were two stacks of papers, still warm from the copier. Each stack held half of the pages to complete the book they were, I guess, attempting to put together. The pages were in random order. Some were turned over. I questioned the peculiar set up of jumbled pages as my forehead became permanently in wrinkle mode.

"That's how the copier shot them out."

In Pooh Bear fashion, I mouthed a quiet, "oh bother".

I joined their game. Seemed a way to kill a few hours by sorting papers then resorting - finding places to stack the masses then having to sort through the masses. Perhaps I neglected to read in my new job description that sorting stacks of paper was a required skill. I wondered if this is what madness feels like.

Maybe THEY get paid by the piece work that they handle.....