Just My Type(13)

Tell me about your most interesting transcription job. (*COUGH* ME *COUGH) Entertain me. I’m bored.

Baker “I Don’t Wear Stretched Out Tank Tops To Show Off My Guns”

To: [email protected] From: Ember Hastings Subject: Re: Shit Mouth Transcription Did you really think sending me a picture of someone in a prison cell would set my mind at ease that you are not, in fact, emailing me from prison? It was a nice touch sending me a stock photo with the words Stock Photo stamped all over it. Unless that was your plan all along to throw me off track. Maybe that really is a picture of you in a prison cell, and you photoshopped the words Stock Photo on it. Do people have access to Photoshop in prison? That doesn’t really seem fair. I’ve never murdered anyone (allegedly), and I don’t have access to Photoshop. But, I’m fairly confident this is not you. While the elderly, grandma-looking woman behind bars holding a cane with needlepoint in her lap is quite lovely, I’ve heard your voice. And unless Thug Grandma 4 Life has a deep, raspy, manly voice, the jig is up.

Instead of a photo, you could always tell me your last name. I promise I won’t google you. (That’s a lie) And I swear I won’t tell anyone. (There’s a 134% chance I’ll tell my best friend, so she too can google you). It seems only fair, since you know my full name and you’ve probably already googled me, which isn’t creepy at all. (Totally creepy) I’m really sorry you’re not feeling this whole interview thing. I’m not saying it has something to do with Skanky Giggler and her refusal to ask you anything even remotely interesting, but it has something to do with Skanky Giggler and her refusal to ask you anything even remotely interesting. (SHRUG) It sucks doing something you don’t want to do. You’re right; you really aren’t anything special. What’s another word for really, really below average?

(That was me, saying something really awful about you to boost your spirits. I’m pretty sure I didn’t get your instructions wrong.) But seriously, I’m sorry. I know you said this interview wasn’t your idea, but it was someone’s. So, someone thinks you’re something special. (Hint: It’s not me). I wish I could help you out more with this, but see above re: Skanky Giggler. I don’t know anything about you, aside from trivial things. I can’t give you any advice when I don’t know why. Why were you asked to do this interview? Why did you say yes to it? Why do woodpeckers peck, and more importantly, why do they call the little candy bars “fun size”? Shut up. These aren’t trivial questions. It brings no one joy to eat less chocolate. #fact OMG, no one hurt me at a gym.

Unless you count every single, solitary time I have ever stepped foot in a gym in my entire life, then yes. Yes I have been hurt. Have you seen people’s exercise faces? It’s not pretty. No one is pretty at a gym, and yet, someone always wants to chitchat or flirt when you can’t breathe, you’re sweating like a pig, and you’re now questioning why you sped the treadmill up just because the woman running next to you made it look so easy, and if you so much as blink, you’re going to become one of those gifs of a woman face-planting on the treadmill and flying off the end of it. Maybe the woman crying while she’s speed walking doesn’t want to go for coffee. Maybe you should just leave her alone to sweat and cry in peace, because she’s been through some shit, man, and she doesn’t have time for you to flex your chest muscles all up-and-down so they look like creepy, muscly, man boobs jiggling, because you think it’s going to turn her on. And don’t even get me started on the people fake working out, who just go there in a full face of makeup to take Instagram pictures, hogging a treadmill for fifteen minutes while they get the perfect over-the-head angle of themselves not fucking working out. And it wasn’t a Zumba class—it was Jazzercise, and that bitch had it coming, being so happy that early on a Saturday morning. I like your confidence when you said you pictured a woman at that Zumba class and you’re absolutely certain you aren’t talking to a dude right now. Don’t worry; I’m attaching a photo of myself so you can sleep easier at night.

I’m judging you for your spray tan. But it’s your lucky day! Tell him what he’s won, Bob. Since you did it for family, and I would also turn myself orange for my loved ones, this will go on my list Reasons Why He’s Probably Not a Serial Killer. Things are really looking up for you, Baker.

My most interesting transcription job? I’d have to say it was one I did a few months ago. It was a recording of an employee review. It started off like your typical employee review, going over the last quarter’s stats, if she was happy in her current role, etc., etc. The whole review lasted about fifteen minutes. And then, I would assume they forgot the review was being recorded. But there was a lot of noise initially. Maybe they smacked around for the Off button and assumed they hit their target. Which they didn’t. And everything was recorded, and then sent to me to transcribe.

Anyway, let’s just say that employee should probably get a promotion to CEO. She was very enthusiastic. Probably not about her job. More than likely about the banging she received on the desk. It was super fun to transcribe every “Oh my God, Yes!”, and one head-scratching “That’s not where it goes!” Always listen to your voice recordings before sending them anywhere, kids.

Ember “Don’t You Dare Fucking Google Me” Hastings





CHAPTER 6