#201 – Take Paw, Press “Send”

Most people know of the well-worn hypothesis that an infinite number of monkeys typing on an infinite number of keyboards would eventually produce the complete works of Shakespeare. Prometheus is no monkey, and I doubt he could generate even one of Shakespeare’s shorter sonnets. Nonetheless, as my wife discovered last night, while our puppy couldn’t type a proper sentence if his life depended on it, he’s already displayed a skill for sending e-mails.

Sophia left her laptop on the couch while we ate dinner yesterday. At the time, she was working on an e-mail to her boss. She returned to the couch just as Prometheus jumped up and paraded across the keyboard. Though she couldn’t tell which key or keys he’d pressed, she found her draft e-mail transferred to the “sent items” folder at the conclusion of his travels.

Our puppy’s demonstrated e-mail prowess may’ve cleared up the mystery nagging Sophia for the past month. Whenever she prepares an e-mail for work, she takes an aggressive approach in her initial effort. She almost never sends out a highly provocative message though. In the usual case, she tones down her transmission so much that her initial draft proves nearly unrecognizable. The greatest exception to date has been the draft she unwittingly and, until now, inexplicably sent her boss several weeks ago. Like last night, she’d typed up an initial version on her laptop and left the device sitting atop the couch while we ate dinner. Unlike last night, she didn’t see Prometheus promenade across her keyboard; and she’d assumed a computer glitch had caused the draft to transmit itself to her intended recipients.

The controversial e-mail was one her boss had asked her to prepare. He wanted Sophia’s take on year-end bonuses for her staff. Undoubtedly, she never would’ve sent the transmission in its original form. Rather, she would’ve significantly diluted its more volatile components before hitting “send.” But she never got the chance. Thanks to Prometheus, it seems, three of her underlings won’t receive any bonuses this year, and all of them blame Sophia. She understands their anger too, since her raw reviews gave her boss little choice in the matter. Here’s what she said, with the names changed to protect us from defamation suits:

    • Jim Doe – Jim put more effort into ordering lunch for the department than performing the tasks for which the company compensates him. My recommendation would be that Jim pay us a bonus just for keeping him on the payroll.
    • Susan Jones – Unless Susan bleeds twenty seven days a month, the time she took off due to menstrual issues vastly exceeded her legitimate needs. My recommendation: offer Susan a blood transfusion in lieu of a monetary bonus.
    • Dan Smith – If laziness were an Olympic sport, Dan would be a six-time gold medalist. I suggest placing his bonus check at the bottom of his inbox where it can and will remain undiscovered and uncashed until the next ice-age.
Apparently, monkeys can type Shakespeare, and Prometheus can send e-mails.

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