The Day I Became a Notary (AND OTHER FUN THINGS)

Let me tell you about my job.

That wasn't a request.

I work in a law office, in an old farm house surrounded by Amish and the elderly. I'm a receptionist in name but Renaissance woman in practice: I run around the office adding language to documents and fetching files, greeting clients and changing lightbulbs. Some call me the office bitch. But I don't mind. When clients regularly deliver baked goods to my eager arms, sitting at the front desk stuffing envelopes doesn't seem so bad. Plus, then the mail is all sweet and powdered-sugary.

Today I learned how to be a notary, and as soon as I register my signature and the senator approves my appointment, I get my very own rubber stamp and can notarize any document in the state of Pennsylvania.

ANYTHING.

GIVE ME YOUR OATHS, YOUR PROTESTS, YOUR HUDDLED AFFIDAVITS YEARNING TO BE STAMPED AND RECORDED WITH THE REGISTER OF DEEDS.

At least, until I grow drunk with power and abuse my position by notarizing a fish, or a tree. The Association of Notaries takes that shit seriously. ONLY DOCUMENTS. A tree may have limbs, but it can't sign its name. It doesn't matter if what I notarize may someday be a contract that needs a certified copy - my rubber stamp would be confiscated, and they'd make me shred the tree.

You are ruining Arbor Day for us!

Now, here are some fun facts for you about notaries:

1. Notaries have seven powers. They actually use that word in the course. But I just turn to look over my shoulder with a conniving little grin and ask, "Only seven?" Then I guffaw stupidly because I've been spending all my time learning about notarizing instead of practicing any sort of evil laugh.
   
   
2. Notaries have to retake the education course every four years. If I'm still working at the law firm, I'll be twenty-six when I have to renew my certification. At that time, a new president will be waiting to be sworn in. I won't be able to use my parents' health insurance, but I will be able to rent a car. Each of my Mormon friends will have a litter of kids. By 2016, there may be a space colony on the moon, and all the different strains of root vegetables will probably have died out. Thinking about it all made me feel very wistful. "I suppose I have an old soul," I whispered somberly to the old woman in the waiting room who had fallen asleep. "This lady knows what I'm talking about." I said that last part to nobody.
   
   
3. The main duty of a notary is to identify the person who is signing the document or swearing the oath. Apparently, even if they don't have any identification, but you're with someone who knows both of you, that's good enough. For the law. But anyway, while I was taking the course, I thought, "Who is better than anyone else at recognizing things?" Robots with facial recognition software, that's who! Someday, I bet there will be robot notaries - a rotary notary for steampunk businesses - and then I will never have to take this stupid online course again. 

Nobody appreciates roboffice bitch.

Images via Zimbio, Thomasnet, Happy Worker.