I am Floor Warden. Hear me roar (and calmy proceed to the nearest emergency exit)

About two weeks ago, I volunteered myself to represent the third floor as the Emergency Warden. This is not a particulary thrilling position. No one else wanted to do it. Our secretary sent out an emotional plee for someone to please please pretty please take it because she already had too many office duties to her name. So I thought to myself, "Could this be any more embarrassing than karaoking Christina Aigulera's 'Beautiful'in front of 30 of my coworkers(which I had done the previous week)? I think not." So I said I would do it. What more dignity did I have to lose??? I'm still not really sure, but what I am sure of is that it's ALL gone now, gone with the fire extinguisher fumes . . . or the wind. Whatever.

I thought I might look dorkishly cool in the supposed emergency vest I was to wear during our fire drill. I had envisioned a heavy duty fabric (a la CalTrans workers) with reflective patterning and multiple pockets in which I could entrust important materials, like company rosters and gum wrappers, but was instead provided with what resembles am orange tarp with two holes (one would assume for the two arms, but the way this thing is put together, I'm really not quite sure). It's a shame that I have no good pitures of me attempting to not feel retarded walking down the emergency stairwell in my crinkled-up sorry exuse for an emergency jacket. But hey, everybody's got to take one for the team sometimes, and my turn just happend to come in flourescent orange. The flip-side - I did get a big dorkishly cool fake certificate of excellence presented to me. It's nice to be appreciated
(if you can't make it out - the writing underneath my name says, "Given in recognition of your outstanding effort and achievement, Official Floor Warden"