As time goes by, I find myself wishing I employed a live-in stenographer. There are many multitasking mornings that I can’t make time to take notes. Making coffee and drinking coffee. Grinding coffee and smelling coffee. Pouring coffee and steeping coffee. And that’s just involving coffee. I have a large container of teas as well.
What I need is someone to accompany me throughout the day, recording my best and worst quotes. Intellectual detours and random digressions. Then I can review at night while I clean the coffee maker and prepare for the next day.
My stenographer, let’s call him Sam, should be there at my beck and call. The former is essential. It’s standard for many note takers to focus on the call, but the beck? That’s far too often ignored by the most inveterate typists.
In this changing climate, I don’t want anything untoward ending up in cyberspace i.e. some idiot’s blog. That’s why “Sam” will use a vintage Olivetti and shred anything I deem shreddable. The last thing I need to see my incoherent ramblings end up coming out of the mouth of a TikTokker with a few million followers.
I’ve tried taking notes. I really have. But my handwriting has taken a turn and I never learned how to use a typewriter.
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