I had a wonderful visit with an old friend yesterday.
She and I first met when we worked together for the ORGANIZATION THAT DOES NOT HATE FREEDOM for a couple of years -- in the same small department of that large association. (We later ended up dating the same guy, who also worked with us. But not at the same time, so it is slightly less dysfunctional and incestuous than it could have been.) (She tells herself hopefully.)
Since we had not seen each other in many years, our reminiscence included going through a box of stuff that I had saved from those days. The usual stuff you accumulate when you work somewhere for five years: a crazy letter file (which, if I did not fear being sued, would be its own blog), a commemorative Charlton Heston Celebrity Shoot watch and photos with Joe Mantegna from the event, and a letter proposing marriage from a fellow exhibitor at a trade show. (Lest you think my ego might need a check -- let me remind you that the pool of single women at these events was not a large one. And that the male exhibitors stood a good chance of never being mistaken for Brad Pitt.)
We also remembered that during that time, one of our co-workers was working on developing a Hunter Safety brochure that, among other information, included details on how to handle any first aid emergencies that may arise when people were out in the field. Our co-worker had tasked the in-house graphics department with creating the illustrations for the brochure and was slightly unnerved when he received the following CPR graphic from the (approximately 90-year-old) illustrator: