I think I've posted here before about the woman I call Goldie (short for Goldbrick). Goldie was bone idle, entitled as the day is long and as dumb as a box of rocks. She managed to go out on disability because she sprained her back lifting a box of records weighing a hefty 5 pounds.
On a rotating schedule, various Curatorial departments in the Museum would submit objects to Photography for documentation on 'Departmental Picture Day'. Goldie took a phone message confirming the appointment for an object to be photographed. She wrote down the name of the object as "The Psychotic Bull".
What was the object? It was a Cycladic bowl.
At the time of this message, Goldie had been working as a receptionist and typist for the department for at least ten years. Please tell me. How could you work with this stuff for ten years and not care or know anything about the objects in the collection?
On a rotating schedule, various Curatorial departments in the Museum would submit objects to Photography for documentation on 'Departmental Picture Day'. Goldie took a phone message confirming the appointment for an object to be photographed. She wrote down the name of the object as "The Psychotic Bull".
What was the object? It was a Cycladic bowl.
At the time of this message, Goldie had been working as a receptionist and typist for the department for at least ten years. Please tell me. How could you work with this stuff for ten years and not care or know anything about the objects in the collection?
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