We Have Inches To Go Before We Sleep

"Inches," you say, "why, Roadchick, that's nothing. Quit whining already."

If it were a marathon or a crawl to the safety of a beach after being nearly drowned, the 'chick would agree with you.

The inches the 'chick is referring to is: Inches of paper. In a chart. That is made up of 3 four inch binders. That should've been completed DAYS ago.

This chart is truly in the realm of making War and Peace look like a little beach reading for a sunny afternoon. It's kicking the 'chick's ass.

In the course of her job, auditing charts is pretty interesting but it's amazing how many different writing styles there are - just within one company.

Most of the people working as case managers have college degrees. Four-year college degrees. Which should have, at some point, included at least ONE course in "How to Write So You Don't Look Like A Damn Fool - Oh, And Spelling, Too". Apparently this class was offered early in the morning at most universities and hungover students skipped a LOT.

There are plans that would make the mind reel. Thoughts not followed to conclusion. Choppy paragraph structure. Run-on sentences so long that they make the 'chick's brain explode and ooze from her ears. Plans that make the 'chick want to open a blank template and start revising immediately.

But.

In a tactful world, this cannot be done. People are amazingly possessive of what they write and are offended by the suggestion that it could be done better. Even though they've bitched the entire time they've been writing, they don't want a better looking end product, even if half the state is going to read it at some point.

And so, the 'chick turns another page, takes another drink of coffee, and shudders.

Only five inches to go.