Don’t They Have Any of Their Own?
by Lynn Daniels on Thursday, August 30, 2007 at 11:48 am
The other night, I was helping SoundGuy update his resume.
Okay, I’m being kind. I wasn’t updating anything. I was trying to pull the damned thing together. From notes he’d scribbled down on scrap paper while at work.
(He’s not looking for a new job. This involves a friend and a side project, and I’m not even sure I understand the whole thing.)
Anyway, once I researched resume formatting (I haven’t done a resume in over a decade), I started deciphering his notes. Grouped accomplishments, experience and awards, then typed the whole thing out. After a while, SoudGuy got bored and left the room. I was later told he was having an in-depth soccer conversation with MiniMe.
There was one part of his notes I was putting off, simply because I couldn’t figure out what his shorthand meant. But when I finally finished inputting the other information, I was left with a bunch of stuff with cryptic abbreviations. AI, followed by a bunch of band names. AI followed by sound company names. AI followed by event titles.
What the hell was an AI?
I ran through all the remotely sound/music related words I could think of that started with those letters, trying to find a job title that fit. Amplifier Installer. A capella Improv. Accordian Interpretation. American Idol. None of them worked.
I could hear the murmur of SoundGuy talking in another room. Almost constant speech. After waiting a few minutes for him to return, or at least for a break in his talking so could holler that I needed him, my guesses became less generous.
Absolute Idiot. Amazingly Imbecilic. Abdicating Idealism.
SoundGuy still wasn’t returning, and my guesses became stupider and stupider.
Aardvark Interrogator. Acting Ichthyologist. Abbreviated Icicle. Aberrant Igloo.
Finally, Little Dude walked into the room. So I sent him on a mission.
“Go ask your father what AI means.”
He trotted off dutifully, and moments later, returned with an answer. “Artificial Intelligence,” he said proudly.
For a moment I just sat there. I wouldn’t be surprised if my jaw had hit the ground. Obviously, my husband had Abdicated Intelligence. I looked back down at his notes. And I started to laugh.
“Go ask your father how long he was Artificial Intelligence for Creed,” I said between snorts and snickers.
“Do I have to say that whole thing?” LittleDude nearly whined at me.
“Yes,” I said. “Just say, ‘Momma wants to know how long you were Artificial Intelligence for Creed.’”
LittleDude trotted off again, and moments later I heard SoundGuy’s tone of voice completely change and get progressively louder. He was finally returning to our office, and he was talking the whole way. Possibly to me. I couldn’t be sure, since I really couldn’t make out what he was saying.
“I thought it was something he’d just heard on TV,” SoundGuy explained when he was standing next to the desk.
“No. You’ve got AI all over these notes, and I don’t know what the hell that means.”
“It’s not AI,” he said, almost too patiently. “It’s A1. As in the guy in charge.”
“Oh,” I responded. “That makes a lot more sense than what I was coming up with.”
I looked back down at the notes, re-read them substituting A1 for AI, and everything really did make more sense. But I still couldn’t help saying Artificial Intelligence instead of A1, and that got me laughing so hard I had tears streaming down my face.
“What I want to know is what happened to Creed’s intelligence and why the hell were you hired to supply some of the artificial nature?” Saying it out loud sent me off in a fit of giggles.
My husband, being my husband, started giving me a detailed explanation of the A1 position and began naming more bands, in addition to the ones listed, he’d held that position for in the past. I partially tuned out the explanation part — I got it, but he didn’t realize it — and dutifully took note of the artist names he rattled off.
And snickered the whole time about Creed needing Artificial Intelligence. From my husband. 
I’m still laughing over this one.
And just to be clear, I did not put on my husband’s resume that he was Artificial Intelligence for Creed.
But it would have been funny if I had.
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6 Responses to “Don’t They Have Any of Their Own?”
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Oh, Lord. I’m glad he explained it. Still, I wish they’d change the abbreviation. It’s too close to the other, and I would’ve thought the same thing as you.
LOL! I can totally picture this scene.
Tess — Not hard to imagine, eh? A day in my life.
Tanya — I would agree, except for the fact that anybody in that industry would never make the mistake I made. They’d look at that and immediately know what it means. I, on the other hand, was guessing things like Afrolicious Intensity.
ROFLMBO…great story, Lynn!
Thanks, Heather. Glad you enjoyed it. I’m still teasing SoundGuy about supplying artificial intelligence.