The soul-sucking properties of my job on this day were almost audible.   Really.  My job description, and my 20 years of experience, are in processing and interpreting relatively complicated data into concise maps. That's it in a nutshell. This last year I've spent more time in meetings and on the phone talking about data and maps, but still, data and maps are usually in the equation.

Today, and yesterday afternoon,  I spent hours making and printing banners and barely edited data flow charts from the 1980s.  Which, unfortunately, is when most of my group's programs were written.  The flow charts are especially ridiculous. OLD Clipart representations of antiquated hardware: Satellite to Antenae to monstrosity….The computers back then were HUGE. At first I tried to swap out some of the clip art for something more recognizable in today's world.  A computer smaller than my car….but no,

"Keep it!" Craig whinnied, "I liked them better back then. They were substantial. 500 meg was the most anyone ever needed…"

I stuck a swimming sperm in the corner of each data flow chart, swimming away from the Computer Terminal…toward its future off the corner of the chart…. Craig didn't notice, but it made me happy.  It's the little things.

Our base is hosting a huge tour of DC big whigs.  All the agencies put together displays, beginning weeks ago, of their New and Emerging Technologies.  My agency, i.e. Craig, acted like he'd just heard of it yesterday.

"Can you big me up something like this?" he asked, handing me a piece of paper on which the words, "RAWS WEATER" were written in dry erase marker.  "I need it to be about Yay big," he gestured a sliding dimension somewhere between 2 feet and 4, "And I want the word RAWS in red."

"How about the word, 'Weater'?"  I was picturing a dancing flaccid penis. "Pink? Red would look infected…"

"Huh?" He answered.  I pointed at his handmade example, WEATER.

"RAW WEATER," I clarified, "Let's drop the 'S'…it reads better."

"Don't be a smart ass.  You know what i mean," He said. "And use that one font that we used to use all the time. The official looking one."

It took me about 15 guesses, Ariel, Times New Roman, Default Sans Serif, before he produced a memo from 1984….

"This one! It's like a typewriter!"

The font he chose was Courier. REALLY!

And so I made his banners, and his charts, and printed them up and handed them to him in a neat little pile, with sperms in the corner and all the colors just slightly off. 
He loved them. 

"Get Terri to hang them," he told me, "She's better at precision work,"

"BUT DON'T WORRY: I'm giving you all the credit." he patted me on the shoulder.