Ninjas of Jeopardy

While wandering around campus and staring off into space today I remembered that I am constantly surrounded by, what most people would consider, brilliant intelligence. No doubt. Some of the smartest people in the world reside in these giant brick monoliths that wreak of literature, mathematical equations, radioactive chemicals, and student activism. There is a lot to be said of people who attain their PhD and dedicate their lives to exercising their intellect.

...

And then there's something else to be said of these genius minds. The meaty arms of justice weigh fairly upon the rest of us poor saps who weren't necessarily blessed with book smarts by cursing the brilliant with a total lack of common sense. (Generally speaking - generalizations are ALWAYS the way to clarity...wait, or was it bullet points? Shoot...) Thankfully, for the Newtonians that inhabit this world there are administrative assistants to help guide them through their daily, mundane quests of making coffee, opening their mail, and even pointing out that their phone is on silent and THAT'S why their calls are going straight to voicemail. Oy vey.


This is the secret genius I wish to address - the administrative assistant. They tend to possess more random knowledge of this world than Ken Jennings. Ask them about that place that you ate at that one time that had that really good dip stuff and they'll know exactly what you're talking about. Or ask them to research, compare and debrief you on massage therapists in the area who specialize in hot meat Thai massage (or something) and they'll bust out an entire powerpoint presentation in twenty minutes. Or you could even ask them look into purchasing pharmaceuticals without an actual prescription and they could probably get it done (please see the next paragraph). They may not know the difference between hyperplasia and dysplasia (I never paid attention to latin roots in high school...), or remember anything about scientific notation, or be able tell you that John Keats died composing a Spenserian sonnet - not a Shakespearean sonnet (I don't even think that's right). But they can, at any given time of the day, tell you where the nearest hardware supply store is (corporate or privately owned), which aisle heavy angle L-brackets are located in; the name of the sales person working that aisle, their birthday, preferred breakfast pastry, type of car they drive, and their long-term boyfriend's name (yes, the sales person is gay so don't offend him); directions to the hardware store, sales specials that will be running through Labor Day at said hardware store, and whether or not the for-hire day workers are still running that tasty hot dog cart with bacon-wrapped weiners.

...

I think you get my point. Administrative assistants (for the most part...again, speaking in generalizations here) are like treasure troves of useful information. I have had about 5+ years of assistant work under my belt (stop your smirking, I'm working on it) and the amount of ridiculous information I have accrued in this time is out. Of. Control. Aside from the menial day-to-day administrative tasks (a.k.a. taking command of the computer program starship that IS Microsoft Office), I have been asked to clean personal closet space, rearrange oversized family photos on a living room wall, grade college essays in place of the professor, give consultation on plastic surgery, offer advice to people's children about schooling (I don't know why they asked me when their parents are professors...), research the difference between Sirius and XM satellite radio, fix a French coffee press (what the heck is that spring there for anyway?); purchase approximately $2,000 worth of food and beverage from Costco then convince the cashier, bagger, and store manager to allow me to use an American Express card that isn't mine to pay for all the loot; host a giant book launching party in a house that (again) isn't mine for a New Age writer who tried to tell me that rainbows are the gateway to your soul; wrangle bats out of said house-that-isn't-mine during said book launching party (true story). I've had to purchase train tickets (what?) for someone's twelve-year-old kid and then physcially put them on the train; argue with a lady named Trixie in a small town court in Georgia to get somebody out on bail, play marriage counselor / mediator through a divorce settlement, figure out how to get Amazon.com to recognize expired gift certificates (that was a tough one), attend a guitar lesson in place of a parent whose child had Turret's, ADHD, and a slight form of Autism, clean out the desk of a well-respected man who had unwrapped Christmas gift baskets from 2004 rotting underneath his desk, argue with Verizon and AT&T as to why they don't have an International Calling Plan that makes sense, and my all time favorite - research how to acquire Valtrex through a Mexican pharmacy without a prescription. For those of you who aren't familiar, Valtrex is medication for genital herpes.

I may not know how to shoot lasers at both poles to measure whether or not the earth is spinning at its normal rate, or tell you what the metabolic rate of a rat is when exposed to radioactive material, or even tell you how to do long division (eff long division, I hate that crap). But by golly I could tell you all of the presidents of the 20th century in chronological order, how to file your taxes, and which plants will survive in Southern California soil (not Rhododendrons, that's for darn sure). There are approximately 4.1 million administrative assistants in the United States today not only serving their superiors coffee and those crsipy little Pims crackers, but also enlightening MDs / PhDs / Lawyers / Insert whatever other professional occupation here on how to complete the daily tasks that make this world turn. No one ever suspects our po' man's wisdom but it's there, waiting to be utilized the next time you have to talk your way out of a parking ticket / post doctoral student lecture / exorbitant phone bill. We are, in a sense, the ninjas of jeopardy. Generally speaking of course.



- Libby