I received a “certificate of completion” in the mail today. I’d attended a great “train the trainer” seminar sponsored by the folks at MoneyWi$e Consumer Action and Capital One. Not particularly noteworthy for blog purposes, except for the fact of one of the signatures on the certificate. A guy with a long-ish last name signed his name with his first-name initial, and then a mark which I suppose is to pass for his last-name initial.
I had to chuckle – he of the short scribbly signature and I share the same job title – Executive Director. And my signature isn’t any more decipherable, but I get points for at least attempting to spell out Clifford Kurt.
I’m not sure when my poor excuse for penmanship developed. Looking back at some high school work, I used a relatively neat writing style. I suppose my proper penmanship was the product of necessity, as my teachers had to read my writing. (Do teachers actually fully READ their students’ essays? I digress.)
At some point upon joining the work world, when cruddy penmanship was replaced by rampant typos, I no longer needed to rely on the ability to communicate visually. And penmanship became nothing more than mere nostalgia.
These days, the only time I use anything that can be argued as penmanship is when I scribble my name upon a document.
Now here’s the strange part. A few years ago, I came across some old report cards. Very funny. Things like, “Cliff is a very social boy. He would do better in his studies if he applied himself.” (Never mind the fact that I was a solid A student up until the year of my parent’s divorce.) The teacher comments were almost a mirror of some of the job performance reports I’ve received over the years.
But what struck me as most interesting was my father’s signature on the report cards. Back in the day, the student had to show the card to his or her parents, and the FATHER had to sign. Not the MOTHER – the FATHER. The school marms knew who were likely to be the disciplinarians in the homes.
My signature is almost identical to my father’s, including the very kurt way we sign our last name. Freaky, freaky stuff. This would imply to me that there is a penmanship gene in every person. I got my Dad’s.
Imagine if we could isolate that penmanship gene. And then perhaps splice it with what scientists are claiming is the God gene. Then we secretly inject what I now call “KGP Gene 0824” (K for Kurt, G for God, P for penmanship, 0824 for my birthday because I’m vain)… We secretly inject KGP Gene 0824 into all of our world leaders. This would cause them to only sign godly documents. No more declarations of war, no more orders of genocide. No more budgets that benefit the lobbyists at the expense of the people. No laws which violate godly principles. Ah, perchance to dream!
Hey, here’s an idea! I might even secretly inject KGP Gene 0824 into my boss. No more “Cliff is a social boy but one who needs to apply himself” garbage. I might could be onto something here.