With Able Assistance I was Mastering Photoshop (fm:one-on-one, 2893 words)
|Author: Little tommy D.|
|Added: Apr 21 2013||Views / Reads: 2836 / 2123 [75%]||Story vote: 9.06 (32 votes)|
|Chad owns a commercial graphics lab. A client blew a nude photo shoot and needed repairs. Chad was working alone when an attorney's assistant came in and offered help in the form of real body parts instead of photo'ed ones. The assistance did more than th|
I own and operate the Chad Browning Commercial Gaphics Lab, LLC, located on the second floor of a downtown building whose only other occupant is a less than honorable ambulance-chasing sleaze ball attorney. I bring him up because he has an employee, Suzanne Mayer, or as she calls herself, 'Sweet Sue,' that when she has no work to keep her busy, has the habit of stopping here and chatting endlessly about her social contacts on every social network you ever heard about and some that you haven't. The only beneficial offering is that her body is a thing a beauty and it offsets the lack of a brain. She stands five-six barefooted; one-eighteen and nary an ounce of fat, boobs are minimum 36-C, a waist of 32, and two cheeks she sits on that rock the chair automatically when it feels those cheeks hit the chair pad.
My staff, two others, both middle-aged, and I, have been trying to learn to master Adobe's Photoshop program so that we can make adjustments, additions, and corrections to the work brought in by photographer's, artists, architect's, advertisement companies, and various others in need of changes to whatever they're using for whatever purpose. We accommodate a growing number of clients and as we grow, we needed more options ala Photoshop. Sweet Sue was a distraction to us, but being compatible people we allowed her to stick around because her employer was a slave driver and she didn't linger too long as she needed the job and heeded his tyranny. We mostly tuned-out her patter about [censored], her tweets, and her Face Book postings. A few caught our attention but most were inane and went in one ear and out the other as mostly hot air.
Today was a dreary, cloudy and drizzly, bummer of a day compounded by the call-in of my two employees, one with a dead car that had to be hauled to the garage and the other with doctor's orders to stay off her feet until her bunion surgery could be tested for infection. It wasn't a disaster, but it could have been worse had the weather not been bad. I had taken a job from a so called glamour and nude photo artist who had done a shoot in the mountain canyons that had turned sour with his nude studies. There were shadows where there shouldn't be, cacti in awkward places, and sunbeams that glared from mica spread over the hillside. I questioned, to myself of course, why he didn't see all that shit through his lens and decided that he was focused on her naked
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