In an effort to keep La Mondaine away from any kind of computerised system, we've been desperately trying to come up with menial grunt-work that requires no brain power and has no serious repercussions when she inevitably gets it wrong.
(And yes, it almost certainly would be easier all round to just not have her come in anymore, but that's The Invertebrate's call and, well, you know by now how well that goes...)
We're scraping the bottom of the drudgery barrel at the moment, and thought that having her remove sticky labels from some plastic storage cases before returning them to their original owners would be simple enough. Don't ask how much she's being paid to do this - just accept that by anyone's standards it's way too much.
It's a vain hope, of course, and as it quickly turns out that even this is enough to paralyse her with indecision, creating a panic vortex that quickly expands to suck in The Invertebrate and the Stress Fiend. So at least there are some pleasant karmic overtones to the whole thing.
"But what should I do with the labels?"
"Just take them off!" "Just leave them on!" urge the Stress Fiend and The Invertebrate simultaneously, before the latter hastily changes his mind to agree with the Stress Fiend.
"Take them off," he confirms.
"But they're on the cases!"
"Yes, that's why we're taking them off."
(I'm briefly tempted to inflict gratuitous pedantry on them all by pointing out that their being on the case in the first place is the only thing allowing this entire conversation to even exist in the first place, but then hurriedly think better of it.)
"But they're not our cases!"
"Exactly."
"But won't they get cross if we go around removing the labels from their cases?"
"No, because they're our labels."
"Then shouldn't we take the labels off before we give the cases back?"
... and it just kind of continues from there for several more minutes in an ever-tightening spiral of madness that I won't even attempt to record.
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