As she approached her cubicle, now turned into an office thanks to the large poly-carbonate sheets acting as walls, and the black and white curtain, for a door, Miss Pegg remembered how she got to be in charge of editing every single error, for every single article at the regional newspaper. A few years ago, she had interned for the editor-in-chief, and left a lasting impression (mostly because of her loud steps) that pay back after grad school. After finishing her thesis, “Tea, what is it good for?”, she went straight back to her old boss’ office. When he couldn't find a job that sounded sufficiently important, he created one: ‘Corrections’ editor”. It sounded pretty judicial to her, but it sure was a prime title in the third, sometimes fourth, most-read newspaper in the area.
Fast forward five and a half years, she was still in the same cubicle, with the same chair, and the same hair style. Her stationary geographical position was partly due to the inability of the administration to channel extra money to rearrange the office instead of keeping a top-notch free-snack room, but also, because on her 85th day on the job, she spilled chai tea on the grey carpet, and she covered the stain with a turkish rug that looked old from the very beginning. She was not going to move cubicles, and explain that the rug with ‘lots and lots of character!’ was not an spontaneous act of expression, but a meditated attempt to cover up an error. She was convinced that her job was important and necessary, even though, after five and a half years, only three readers had complained about an error.
A double negative here, an unintended sexual innuendo over there, and the third, sometimes fourth, most-read newspaper in the area, would lose its impeccable reputation.
After a few months, tracing everybody’s steps to identify minuscule mistakes, can surely turn someone into an utterly perfect being; if she was in charge of perfection, she had to embody it, and that’s why she arranged her vegetables by color, and her plants by leaf size.
As a way of dealing with the overwhelming task of fixing everybody’s stupidity, she secretly illustrated the most relevant corrections she made, hoping that, one day, her drawings will clearly illustrate to the future Correction’s editor, the type of mistakes one has to catch in order to keep the Earth spinning.
Miss Pegg worked until 10 pm every day, and left her office/cubicle with a smile on her face, a dictionary on her desk, and a stain of ink on her hand, wishing for the sun to come up again and continue keeping the order in the Universe.
Fast forward five and a half years, she was still in the same cubicle, with the same chair, and the same hair style. Her stationary geographical position was partly due to the inability of the administration to channel extra money to rearrange the office instead of keeping a top-notch free-snack room, but also, because on her 85th day on the job, she spilled chai tea on the grey carpet, and she covered the stain with a turkish rug that looked old from the very beginning. She was not going to move cubicles, and explain that the rug with ‘lots and lots of character!’ was not an spontaneous act of expression, but a meditated attempt to cover up an error. She was convinced that her job was important and necessary, even though, after five and a half years, only three readers had complained about an error.
A double negative here, an unintended sexual innuendo over there, and the third, sometimes fourth, most-read newspaper in the area, would lose its impeccable reputation.
After a few months, tracing everybody’s steps to identify minuscule mistakes, can surely turn someone into an utterly perfect being; if she was in charge of perfection, she had to embody it, and that’s why she arranged her vegetables by color, and her plants by leaf size.
As a way of dealing with the overwhelming task of fixing everybody’s stupidity, she secretly illustrated the most relevant corrections she made, hoping that, one day, her drawings will clearly illustrate to the future Correction’s editor, the type of mistakes one has to catch in order to keep the Earth spinning.
Miss Pegg worked until 10 pm every day, and left her office/cubicle with a smile on her face, a dictionary on her desk, and a stain of ink on her hand, wishing for the sun to come up again and continue keeping the order in the Universe.
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