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Viv at work . . . though you’ll notice that coffee is also mentioned. Surprise!
Viv came in early the next morning, as awake as half a pot of mocha roast could make her and relatively cheerful about it. Several projects had been put on hold while everyone dealt with the software upgrade, and she didn’t want to play catch-up any longer than she had to.
And as HR had decided that she didn’t rate a door or solid walls that touched the ceiling, they could deal with her coming in early enough to avoid the noise of her co-workers for an hour or so—and their complaints about her habit of humming the last song she’d heard on the radio as she pulled into the parking lot.
She highlighted a particularly obtuse sentence with a marker, scribbled a margin note to look up paramagnetic, and shoved the pencil into place behind her ear.
If she kept this up—or if the authors had kept assuming all of their readers were also genius biophysicists—the whole study would be colored orange and the glossary would outweigh it.
She heard keys and the squeak of a door handle. “Morning, boss,” she called.
“Morning,” Stan said.
I’m not a technical writer or a professional editor, but one of my good friends is a freelance editor and she hooked me up with a fantastic study for Viv to grumble over. I myself understand about one sentence in eight of the real paper, but that’s not the fault of the authors or the actual editors.
That pencil thing? That’s all me. My record is five behind one ear, I think—I didn’t notice until I unknowingly tried for six and lost two of them down the back of my wrap. It helps to have an earring stud way up at the top of the curve.
I love Stan, by the way. I have lovely plans for Stan . . .