One of the Perks

I don't consider myself to be a terribly fabulous specimen of female-ness.

(There are others who disagree... mostly they're Boyfriend of Amazingness and my Mom. But their opinions are to be 110% trusted.)

Anyway - I do try to get my humble on and not flaunt my astounding sexuality all over the place.

That tends to get sticky.

Instead, I try to understand that I'm simply not God's Gift to the Male Species, and just get on with things.

But on occasion, something does puff up my cranium.

And it tends to be something inane.

For instance... today.

In working for an engineering company, one must expect to work with some government agencies. And because government agencies tend to frown upon convicts frolicking (or, in my case, making photocopies and otherwise fiddling with papers) in their midst, one must be subjected to regular tests of identity.

One such test is the Taking of Fingerprints, which I had to undergo today.

Now, public servants are really my idea of a good time.

(No, not that kind of good time. The whole uniform stereotype just boggles me - they have so many more buttons and buckles to look after. What a mess.)

No, public servants are just full of win. They protect the huddled masses. They take care of scummy snot-suckers that threaten the huddled masses. And they have cars with extra blinky lights on them.

But most of all, they're pretty pleasant to you if you're pleasant to them. And I'm a fan of that.

Today was no exception. As the officer was looking after my identity, he regarded the prints he was taking. He made some smalltalk about how the process worked and why which fingers were taken which way, but mostly we were in a slightly awkward silence.

I've rarely experienced a feeling as strange as having someone else in total control of of most favored phalanges. I was only there as the life support system for my hand. All purposeful movement was generated outside of my body... which isn't something I subject myself to often.**1

So we drifted lazily through our encounter with minimal chit-chat and maximum awkward.

Until he looked down at the prints and said "You know, you have really nice ridges."

I smiled brightly and said "Thanks! I do what I can."

The exchange ended when he sent me off to the restroom to wash my hands, and then wished me well as I left the building. I'll never know if he compliments all the girls like that, or if I'm just a lucky one. It was still a flattering start to my Monday.**2

**1 Seriously. It's even a big deal when Boyfriend of Amazingness leads a dance.

**2 Sorry, ladies. This doesn't mean that I'm any less enthralled with Mister Amazingness. He is not for you. In the timeless words of the Finding Nemo seagulls - "Mine."