"oh boy, now I'm a WRITER..."

Way back in 1989 I started a job with the marketing department of a local hospital. Cool, I thought, I will get to do some "real" writing. Previously, I had been doing copywriting for a retail company which was horrifyingly boring:
"Mockneck, long-sleeve ribbed pullover. S,M,L 19.00"
Woo-hoo. So, anyway, I was really excited about this new job where I could write about "important" stuff. I had my own office, my own computer, desk--the works. I got DRESSED UP to come to this job.

So, one of the guys in the office needed help with a brochure. I thought, "Great, I'm up for this. Wonder what it is?" He came in with a brochure that needed to be redone and said he needed it spruced up--you know, make it sound better.

It was a BARIUM ENEMA patient education brochure.

Uh. My cheerful little balloon didn't deflate; it was rudely blasted with a shotgun.

BARIUM ENEMA? How do I make THIS sound good? After reading the procedure, I just wanted to write, "Listen, this is going to be the most humiliating hour of your life. They're going to stick a garden hose up your ass, inflate a stopper so it won't pop out, pump you full of radioactive stuff that looks like caulk and make you squirm around so they can see the goop rumbling around in your intestines. Then you're going to run like hell to the bathroom and poop this stuff out. YOU ARE GOING TO EXPLODE. It will be LOUD and you will hear people snickering through the airvents."

But, I didn't. I tried to write the steps out at clearly as possible--as if I were writing it for my mother and I turned the copy in. I neither asked to see the finished printed product, nor did I ask if my writing had fit the bill. I just didn't want to know.