So I’m doing some work for a client that requires me to learn about the latest forensic technology. Cool, no?
In an effort to better understand some of the equipment, I went on a tour today. To demonstrate the equipment, my fingerprints were taken.
And. They. Suck.
“What are you, a bricklayer?” the technician asked. “These are horrible!”
She might as well have announced I had bad breath.
I mean, my prints weren’t matching up with any criminal activity, so good points for that, right? How else could a fingerprint be “bad?”
But I learned something new. Good prints are those with well-defined ridges and minimal scarring and scratches. Bad prints, like mine, are those where the ridges are worn down, so the print is less discernible.
Still, the pads of my fingers couldn’t be THAT bad. “How bad are they?” I asked. “What grade would you give them?”
“Probably about a D-minus.”
A D-minus!! So in addition to wrinkles and flabby knees and all the vanity crap I worry about, I also have horrendous finger pads. What next?
Well. CLEARLY, I’ve been working too hard. That’s what I was told. No worries. The prescription is plenty of rest, my friend. No more scrubbing down the counters and washing pots and pans. Those harsh chemicals I use to clean the shower? No more. Yard work? Fuhgeddaboutit. And cooking. That has to have something to do with my D-minus, although I haven’t quite put my finger on it. (Pun intended).
So, that’s it. I’m off duty.
It will be hard, but I’m nothing if not a beacon of self-improvement.