Are there really no stupid questions?

'Tis the season for semiannual reviews, one of my favorite times of the year. Every January and July we, the employees, get reviewed by our supervisors. (A brief aside. I started to type superior. Then I considered the full meaning of the word, and since I am under the mistaken impression that I am better than 99% of the people out there, I decided to use supervisor although warden was a close second.) The supervisors actually fill out the review paperwork about two months before the review, and having been on both sides of this process, I have to admit I would much rather been the reviewee than the reviewer. Anyway, today my supervisor asked one of the girls I work with, who we will call H, if she wanted to get her review. The only reason he asked is because her last day is on the 27th of this month and therefore, in the larger picture of her life, her review matters even less than it normally would. Those of us that heard this in the department then teased him for asking and her for saying yes. Even after this good natured ribbing, during which it was pointed out that it does not matter what gets said in the review, she asked my supervisor if she needed to take a pad in with her to take notes. We all looked at her, hoping her question had been chock full of the usual smart assery we engage in around the office. There was this dramatic pause where the sun broke through the clouds and in the same instant of illumination she realized what she had just asked and we realized she was serious. She went diving into the office before we started laughing.