Day: June 20, 2019

Fun With Paperwork (My Fun, Not Hers) AKA: What Is The Sound of Frustration?

Every year, the human female has to cross her heart and swear that she isn’t going to use her powers—or her drug-precursor chemicals—to whip up a quick and profitable batch of meth down in the basement.  There’s a specific form to fill out that assures compliance with all applicable DEA rules.  Ordering any of the chemicals on the naughty list assures that the vendor will be sending the blank form and asking for the completed document back.  The one from the Vendor Who’s Responsible looks like this.

VWR-Intended Use 2019

So it came this year.  The human female signed it, scanned it, and pdf’d it back.  She received another notice that she had to do it.  She huffed and replied that she HAD done it, and attached a copy.  She then got the email equivalent of a long-suffering sigh from the Vendor Who’s Responsible, pointing out that she had to have her manager or supervisor sign it.  See? There’s a spot right there at the bottom.  Never mind that she hadn’t had anyone authorize her last year.  That was then; this is now.

So she hunted up a boss and had him sign it.  She scanned it, pdf’d it, sent it back, muttered some under her breath, and counted herself good for the next year.

Fast forward a week or two, and she received yet another email notice that she needed to complete the form.  Once again, she pointed out that she HAD filed it–twice.  “See?” she said. “It is attached. right. here.”  There was quite a dramatic eye-roll involved.  She looked like one of those baby dolls whose eyes roll back in their sockets when you tip them.  There might even have been a faint “mama” whimper, but I can’t be sure.

The Vendor Who’s Responsible wrote back, pointing out what she had overlooked, that this request was for her, but under a different account number. Ehehehehe.  I wonder how that happened???

So she wrote the second account number on the form, right next to the first one, scanned it, pdf’d it, and sent it back.  Mentally, she filed the incident under completed business, uttered a few not-so-sotto-voce profanities, and prepared to forget about it for another year.

Until she got another notice that her DEA papers were about to expire.  She sent back a terse little email pointing out that they’d already had three different copies, with two different account numbers, with and without a supervisor’s official okey-dokey and “here it is attached again in case you numb-wits couldn’t read the previous iterations.”  This time, the whimper was more like the growwwlll that comes out of a dog just before it sinks its teeth into the meaty part of your calf.

Want to know the funniest part of all this?  It’s the possibility that she might purchase iodine crystals that triggers the DEA compliance paperwork.  She’s going to check the new, revised lab exercises and realize that she won’t actually be buying iodine anymore.  You’ll know when that happens–it’ll be just like the sound a desperate coyote makes as it chews off a leg in hopes of either escape or bleeding out into sweet oblivion.

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P. S.  Here’s a catchy little song about “No Iodine.”  I think I’ll get it stuck in her head for the next three days.

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