Browned Rob Brains.

Minds are like onions: you cut into them and somebody's gonna cry.

Hmmm…wait. That's not quite right. Well, I think it is accurate, I’m just not sure that's what I wanted to say. Maybe I was gonna say something about sautéed minds with a touch of garlic?

More Brains!

That was an imitation of my 5th grade teacher. Oh you thought horror movie, living dead? Oh no. That's not what I meant either but that would be cool too.

What if we could hire the living dead to work for us. You know, set them up to do our jobs so that we could do more important things. What things? I haven't worked that far ahead, I'm still working out this whole working dead thing.

I mean it's possible. Some jobs don't require much it's all about punching keys. Since their brains are dead their mind wouldn't wander like bowled onions.

Maybe? No. That wasn't it either. Not mind bowling either….

But sure. They'd just work and amble. When they're hungry, you just point them to stinky Brad's cubicle. Nobody will miss Brad. We'll finally be able to take down the Glade force field surrounding his cubicle.

"The force is strong in this one.."

It has to be. Brad will reek up the office if you let him! The rest of the place has a pool on when he's taking his next bath. You're sitting in high clover with October 2009. The clover is a great deoderizor too. Good thinking. Then again, if you're running a pool, why didn't somebody just push him in?

Every office has something. Whether it's Stinky Brad, or it's Peering Janet who's nose dangles over your cubie wall. It's always something.

When you work at home, it's something else. You know what I learned from my conference call this week? If my fingers stop pressing keys for one minute, I'm not working. That's right. According to my boss, if I stop--for any reason--for more than one minute, I'm logged out of the system, and they don't consider it work. They expect 8 hours of key-punch per day. Wow. Now I know how Roman Oarsmen felt. I need little home-key chains and a dude with a drum to keep me moving.

Every minute? Wow!

I find that a weird way to gauge work. What if I'm doing research? Google keys don't count. Nor do hot keys, but that I understand. Let's face it, they don't want me researching porn. Can't get paid for that. Wow but that would be a job. No more Googling it for the articles…

I think that's part of why I'm a little disgruntled about my job. They really only care about 2 keys. "T" for talk, "S" for spot. I've been told it's no longer about the music. That's too many keys. No, it's more about when one station runs commercials.

See spot run. Run spot run.

Oh you thought that was bad? I was toying with "Out! Out damn spot!" yeah, that's just trading one bad spot for another, I know. That's ok, my employer isn't impressed either. They don't pay me to think, they pay me to 2 key.

I think too much. My mind wanders. I can't help it. My work suffers when I do that. "T" and "S" aren't enough. I need 24 more letters. I'm a language nut. You know what I can spell with "S" and "T?" That's right. Half a church name, a partial patriarch, or a couple of casual shirts. That's it.

But that's all they want. They want half words, and they don't want them half assed. I'd love to complain, but I can't. That’s part of my problem. It's their job, and they pay me to do what they need.

They think it's a speed issue. According their key type determinations, I finish my job in 3 hours. Yeah, I know. Those of you who know me can attest I spend more time than that, but the time clock is rigged in their favor.

I still disagree. It's not time, it's mind. I need a zombie to do my job. I may not have Brad to feed him, but I do have neighbor kids. Some of whom I don't think anybody would miss. See, I may not have the biggest onion in the store, but I do feel the need to use mine. That's it!

The mind is like an onion because if you let it, it will dry up one layer at a time. I can't let mine do that. I'm going to be refreshing my resume and see if somebody can use a fresh bulb.