Friday, when I got in the door at work, I couldn't find my badge. Unbeknownst to me (until later) it had fallen between the seat and the brake in the car. We have a process to get a temporary badge, and I went to the guards' desk to sign in. The guard-du-jour was busy on the phone, and I stood there waiting with, at least to my knowledge, absolutely no look of urgency about me whatsoever. After a few minutes, he told the person on the other end of the phone he had to go, then validated my id and photo with some exaggerated keyboard pounding. When he was done, he handed me the temporary badge and told me, "Enjoy the hell out of your badge!"
Short story, I did. I told Mean Mr. Mustard and Erik about my hella-cool badge. And, at several moments during the day when I was feeling mopey, I looked down at my pictureless, generic id and got a big smile thinking about whether I was enjoying it as much as the guard felt I should be - was I really enjoying the hell out of it? I'm sure my reaction was absolutely not what he wanted, but I owe him a thank you for providing an amusing start to my day.
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