Lately, at work, it's my task to quality check stuff, mostly jewelry. This is a bit of a trip, sometimes, because some of this stuff is hideous, and by that I mean "really ugly and big and obnoxious, and if you're ordering this, you're either joking OR crazy OR have the MOST unfortunate taste."
To get this task done, it is necessary to first find the quality-checking paperwork for a given item, find the item, and then find the official sample. Getting these three things together is sometimes a time-consuming hassle of a disorganized nature that I would never bore anyone with, so I'll stop right there. The thing I'm writing blogger about is not the how, but the why.
Why am I doing this, when everytime I find a discrepancy between the sample and the product, oh, such as the number of stones on a given ugly ring, and my workleader dutifully sends an email asking The Authority what do about this, the The Authority always rules "send it anyway?" Shhhhh, maybe they won't notice a difference in the color or that it has a different number of stones. Maybe, when someone orders hideous jewelry, it's the thought that counts.
I often wonder who buys this stuff, and why, and it crossed my mind that I could picture Gwen Wright wearing some of it, and maybe she'd pull it off. She's one of the quartet on History Detectives, and she's smart and nice, and I like her. She doesn't always wear visible jewelry, but when she does, it's often something I find--distracting.
Sometimes, when I'm quality checking with another person, we have a little contest over who finds the ugliest ring, necklace, or bracelet. The ring competition is always the hardest to win, because there are so many. However, I came across a bracelet late in the day today that actually gave me the willies. It's hard to explain.
It's possible that the meaning of some of the rings is to imitate all that bling some celebrities wear.
That said, some of this jewelry--not much, but some--is actually pretty, especially the sterling silver and amythest ones.
And this job continues to be drama-free for me, so that's good. The youngest person back here is Tinkerbell, and she is very young, indeed. She's taking my old job, eventually. It will be even quieter back there when she's gone, because the radio won't need to be so loud, no one will be belching loudly for laughs, or running around saying, "Okay, Mr. Peebody, who does THIS song?" Or shouting our workleader's name out from across the room instead of just walking over and speaking to her. Or singing along with the refrain to My Sharona, aaaaaaaayeeeeeeeyaaayaaaaMYSHARONA!!!! If she doesn't know who does THAT song, I ain't tellin' her. Don't you, either.