Organizational skills

It is very, very hot in Chicago. And very humid. Therefore, I can be found comfortably holed up in the refrigerated sanctuary of my home office, sipping an iced tea and munching some pretzels as I type, far far away from temperatures that would make me melt (in a bad way).

Today I'd like to talk a little bit about a couple of things that please me. First and foremost, it should be obvious, given my recommended reading material thus far, that I thoroughly enjoy those folks who can wrap their lips (or fingers, as the case may be) around a complete sentence. This is almost certainly more important to me than their undoubted ability to wrap their lips around other things, even when it comes to smut. I always enjoy someone who can turn a good phrase, and in my opinion, it's a good sign when a person takes the time to pay attention to their grammar, spelling and punctuation. It shows effort.

Also high up on my list are organizational skills. Those who know me best know that in my personal life, I'm pretty scatter-brained. I'm Mariel the perpetually tardy, Mariel the distracted. Mariel whose house is seldom completely clean, Mariel who is always losing her keys. I do strive very hard to make sure not to let down those closest to me when it comes to keeping appointments and remembering important dates and such. I do a pretty good job of it, too, but when it comes to my own daily life, things can get messy as I forget to fill up my gas tank or misplace my remote control in my sock drawer.

In my professional life, though, I'm a whole different story. I arrive for work fully half an hour early, if not more, most days. When I tell a client I will call them back, it usually only takes minutes. My store is always immaculate, and my supplies are always neatly organized and easily accessible. Appointments are documented and kept. Every item I'm working on is carefully catalogued in detail, both in my computer and on paper, as a precaution. Therefore, when somebody calls me to check on the status of some work, it takes me mere seconds to find the answer they're looking for, and I only need to look in one place.

Prior to my arrival, my store was not always such a tight ship. There is no better place to look for evidence of this than at my boss's other branch, a location I only visit on weekends. The store is a mess, cluttered from floor to ceiling with 20 years of accumulated junk. When work comes in, it is not recorded anywhere. The item is simply heaped onto the appropriate pile to wait its turn. Imagine how fun it is for me when a customer from that location calls me up on a weekend, asking me to check on the status of their item. The only way to do that for them is to physically sift through the piles of work, trying to find the right piece. Ridiculous, right? The conversation goes something like this: "Hi, I'm so-and-so, and I'd like to check on the status of my item." They proceed to describe their item. I say, "Oh, okay. Well, give me a little while, and I will look for it." They ask, "Well, don't you have it on a computer somewhere or something?" "No, I'm sorry, we don't." <crickets>

When I first started my job, I asked my boss how they keep track of things over there. His answer? "I don't know. We just do." When I volunteered to start keeping a detailed record of new work as it came in, my idea was rejected. "We've been doing it like this for 25 years, and it works. We just kind of know where things are. Do things how you want at your store." Fine. I won't rock the boat. You know what else I won't do, though? I won't spend all day searching for things for your clients anymore. If you guys just know off the top of your head where to find any given thing at any given time, then by all means, be my guest. Therefore, every Monday, my boss opens his shop to see a short, neatly hand-written list of items that his customers would like to check on. He does not complain to me about it. I guess we have an understanding.

On a more physical note, I'd like to sing my offbeat praises of hands and arms. Not just any hands and arms, but some - mostly those belonging to men. Don't get me wrong, girls have lovely, delicate paws, but I can't say I've ever experienced raw lust just from looking at them. Certain men, however, have just what it takes. I really, really enjoy touching and being touched in many different ways, and it is not a big stretch for me to imagine a pair of arms and hands that I like doing some serious feeling around.

I've found inspiration recently in the forelimbs of a fellow morning commuter. He's young, tall and lean, and is obviously trying his best to look more intimidating than he is. He's got long black hair, shinier and healthier than I've seen on most women. His eyes are large and brown, with long lashes and a sad, soulful expression that all but ruins the hardcore image he's obviously trying to pull off. He is up to his eyeballs in piercings, which I certainly appreciate, and even comes complete with a predictable pair of shit-kicking boots. Excellent.

I imagine that if we caught a glimpse of his forearms, we'd see numerous tattoos, maybe some scars, but what peeks out from beyond his cuffs is what catches my attention. My, my - what have we here? Studded leather bracelets and the palest of pale hands, large and masculine, with strong fingers tipped in meticulously painted black fingernails. I couldn't have dreamed it better myself.

I'm not exactly sure where it came from, but I've got quite a thing for rockstar hands. Show me your black nails, guitar-calloused fingertips and dark leather bracelets and I'll show you a puddle on my seat. Something about dark colors on pale flesh really does it for me, and this kid's got the works. A popular blogger who shall remain nameless recently dared me, upon hearing of this fancy of mine, to tell the boy what I think of his mitts. Crippling shyness has prevented me from doing so thus far, but if it happens, I'll be sure to keep everybody posted if I score some numbers while praising his digits.

There was going to be more to this, but barbecue calls and, well, a girl's got to have priorities.