I tend to consider myself a multi-tasker in that I can do many different things but not necessarily all at the same time. And if you know me just from what I write about here, you may be somewhat surprised with what it is I can do without any difficulty.
For example, did you know I am a somewhat decent calligrapher? Yes, I have all sorts of nibs, India inks, pens, etc. in my art box should the need ever arise. I even have a steel brush nib in case, for some reason, somebody needs something written in calligraphy in a ridiculously huge size. I have the tools to do it; it’s just not something the average person knows how to do.
Here’s another one. I’m also pretty hard to top when it comes to color correcting. Having worked in photo labs for years, I became rather good at correcting for accurate flesh tones and background (depending on what was more important to the customer). I was so good at it that a few professional photographers wanted me to print their stuff regularly. This didn’t sit well with a certain female coworker who insisted that women had a better eye for color, something I debated when she showed me the set she printed vs. mine. This was when one of the pros decided they wanted me to print their work: my prints were superior to my coworker’s prints but her ego wouldn’t allow her to admit it. In your face, lady.
Despite those and so many more wonderful things I’m capable of doing, there’s one office task that kills me every time and I mean every time: copying.
There was a time when all I had to do was open the top, slip my original face-down on the glass, and let it rip. BANG! I had my copy and I skipped away from the copier with what I needed.
But as technology progressed, things got complicated: collating, stapling, 11×14 paper, color, black-and-white, two-sided, etc. There are now so many options on the average copier that I’m simply lost when I do it.
In fact I prefer to not do any copying at the office because I know that, no matter how hard I try to set the copier to print a single-sided black copy of two sheets, I will end up with 20 of the fucking things, all collated, stapled, two-sided and in color – on 11×14 paper and enlarged accordingly to the size.
Look, I swear I’m not stupid. I really do know my stuff. But when it comes to copiers, it’s safe to say that we just don’t get along and probably never will.
But then again, I could never Magic Eye, either.