Before I begin, because I do have a theme today, I need to tell you this little story about my inevitable climb up the corporate ladder.
We have this feature at work called Teams, where there is no “i.” In Teams, we can chat, call each other, have large video meetings, etc. During meetings and calls, we can turn on our video camera or just use the photo of ourselves that we chose.
Teams is also tied to our email, so if we, for example, put down on the email calendar that we are out, everything on Teams will also know we’re out and offer a polite but brief message re our outness should anyone message us.
In other words, every method of communication we have at work is tied to Teams.
I offer this information because last week I had a series of migraines, which is how migraines usually work for me. If I get one on Monday, I will take a pill, feel better, then on Tuesday get another one. This usually lasts a few days till I (a) run out of pills or (b) reach the threshold of how many I’m allowed before overdosing like Karen Ann Quinlan or some other current overdoser or (c) take a pill but the pill no longer works.
No matter which of these I get to, eventually I have to give up and go to bed and be miserable for 12 to 24 hours.
I was in the go-to-bed part of my cycle last week when I got on Teams and said, “Hey, other copy editors, I am dying and need to go lie down for the rest of today.” Then I added the line I use often, because you know how I am when I get a line, about how if I could remove my own head and replace it with the corpse of Don Knotts’s, I would. Then to further drive my point home, I replaced my Teams picture with Don Knotts’s.
I adored myself for this added emphasis, and went to bed. The next day I returned to work and replaced that hilarious Don Knotts photo with one of, you know, myself.
I don’t even particularly like this picture of myself that much but it was on a folder on my desktop so I used it. My coworkers know what I look like so why does my Teams/email picture have to be lovely like one of the stars of Petticoat Junction or another current overdoser?
So today I got right to work. I had much to do, so I messaged a vice president of our company, and my boss, and even someone in HR. So furious was my exchange of work messages. See June work. Work, work, June. Oh! Oh, oh!
It was midmorning before The Poet said, “Wow! You really did have a head transplant, June!”
“…What?” I asked. At this point I’d also messaged several editors and project managers.
“Don Knotts! You really had your head replaced.”
“Don…WHAT IS MY PROFILE PIC?”
I saw me.
Me and my giant enormous bulbous nose, and if you loved me you’d get a group to chip in for a nose job for me.
But Poet did not see me. She saw Don Knotts.
I tried uploading my image again. Just when I finished I got a message about work from a creative director. “Love your avatar,” he said.
I WAS STILL DON KNOTTS!
My boss, the VP, HR, all the project managers and creative directors and GOD KNOWS WHO ELSE all got Don Knotts all of yesterday and this morning when they wrote me. Every time I sent a serious, worky message,
DON KNOTTS WAS SENDING THEM! And not even Mr. Furley Don Knotts. Goofy, bow-tied, purse-lipped Barney FIFE Don Knotts. With his one bullet and his passionate affair with Thelma Lou.
I shut Teams down and tried again. I restarted my computer.
“How about now?” I asked copy edit, a group that was over my shenanigans circa 2013.
“Still Don Knotts.”
Eventually, Don and his Knott had to contact IT, and I THINK we have it solved but I can’t be certain because I had to get some stuff done that involved me trying KNOTT to think of how every message I sent was sent by
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P.S. OH MY GOD I FORGOT THE THEME AGAIN. Doggoneit, Ange.