Flesh Machine

I wish I could just turn off certain parts of my brain, the ones that notice tedium, for instance, and grind through my work day like the efficient flesh machine of my bosses' dreams.

Some people believe that an administrative assistant should be like a smiling PDA, an extra brain that takes in all the stupid little details higher brains shouldn't be bothered with, synthesizes them, then acts on them with efficiency and grace.

Why, oh, why am I and administrative assistant?

One thing is, the really efficient, professional administrative assistants I have run into are not passive sponges who pliantly absorb any messy task put before them. They are careful screener and filers. They deflect as many tasks as they accept. They require their bosses to assign tasks in a certain order, at a specific time, and in a particular format. People sulk when they cut off stories about the best barbecue in the world or the cute thing the grandchild said. "Why can you just...(read my handwriting, fetch me a pencil, drop what you're doing now for me, listen to my travel adventure story that takes place somewhere you can never really afford to visit)?" People look down at these petty admins and their obsession with procedure and detail, but they should be respected.

I remind myself that I chose to be an administrative assistant and while I can't quit my job, there's no insurmountable barrier that prevents me from doing something else. That doesn't make me feel better yet, but it's true.