And I can sing the alphabet backwards
With the number of tours coming by my desk, I have had plenty of practice reciting the 19 second version of what I do. Unfortunately, in this case, practice has not led to perfection.
Otherwise, why would some tourists give me a blank look when I have finished?
All performers dread the blank look, and as I stand surrounded by unanswered letters, trying to explain what I do, I am no different.
So I add a few more amazing statistics and hints of harrowing interactions, but the blank look stays blank and the tour guide continues on. I sit back, dejected in my chair, trying to remember what else I do that might light a spark of interest.
And almost, just almost, I call out "And I can sing the alphabet backwards!"
But then there are those visitors, that blessed sort, that after my 19 seconds they lean in, resting their arms on my wall, and wonder how on earth I manage to do all I mentioned.
Oh, I could kiss them!
Instead, I rush to tell them that even though it may look like I am the only one in my department, there really are others and even though some letters and phone calls make me long for a hermit's cabin, they aren't all like that.
Only after they are assured that I am mortal do they continue the tour, perhaps running back moments later to ask for my card.
And gentle readers, even though I must disappoint them because I have no business card, I am content.
And I didn't even have to sing the alphabet backwards.
Otherwise, why would some tourists give me a blank look when I have finished?
All performers dread the blank look, and as I stand surrounded by unanswered letters, trying to explain what I do, I am no different.
So I add a few more amazing statistics and hints of harrowing interactions, but the blank look stays blank and the tour guide continues on. I sit back, dejected in my chair, trying to remember what else I do that might light a spark of interest.
And almost, just almost, I call out "And I can sing the alphabet backwards!"
But then there are those visitors, that blessed sort, that after my 19 seconds they lean in, resting their arms on my wall, and wonder how on earth I manage to do all I mentioned.
Oh, I could kiss them!
Instead, I rush to tell them that even though it may look like I am the only one in my department, there really are others and even though some letters and phone calls make me long for a hermit's cabin, they aren't all like that.
Only after they are assured that I am mortal do they continue the tour, perhaps running back moments later to ask for my card.
And gentle readers, even though I must disappoint them because I have no business card, I am content.
And I didn't even have to sing the alphabet backwards.
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