This story appears in the anthology “Not Your Mother’s Book…On Working for a Living.”
I thought I’d won the golden ticket to Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. Thirty-something and single, just hired by the sheriff’s office, I envisioned uniformed men stumbling over themselves, catering to my every whim. Little did I know the experience would turn out to be more like a minefield than a candy store.
Selected for my expertise in information technology, a unique skill in the late 1980s, I found myself answering the call of frustrated tech-challenged co-workers on a daily basis. One morning, I spotted a gaggle of testosterone-loaded colleagues hunched over the monitor of the deputy in the cubicle across the aisle from mine. Before long, my curiosity got the best of me. “You need some help over there?”
“Danno can’t get out of Excel,” came the baritone reply from an onlooker.
This won’t take long
View original post 1,093 more words