I'm thinking of writing a children's story:
The Tale of the Beady Eyed Little Bastard
Once upon a time, a beady eyed little bastard lived in a crappy house with his wide-assed wife.
Every morning he would wake up and put his contacts into his beady little eyes.
Then he would put on his pants and pull them up to his armpits and cinch them really tight with a belt.
Most mornings, the beady eyed little bastard would drive his butt-ugly Subaru Brat to work.
He liked to wait until everyone else had been working for at least 3 hours.
He would get to the office then go to the store for cream.
He always bought the cream on his company credit card, but yelled at other people in the office if they used his cream.
Then he would come back to the office and spend an hour making the world's most complicated pot of coffee.
By the time he finished his first cup of coffee it would be time to have lunch with his frizzy haired mistress.
He would be pretty stressed out after his 2 hour lunch so he needed to wind down with a bike ride.
After his ride he needed to decompress and discuss his splits outside the office window for an hour.
Wow, is it time to go home already? Time sure flies at work. Now the beady eyed little bastard goes home to his wide-assed wife and delinquent children.
And they live happily ever after!
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Friday, June 13, 2008
Happy Days!
This has been brewing for a few weeks now, but I was hesitant to say anything until I knew it was actually going to happen. Now, I'm happy to report that it has happened. What is this news that has made my Friday the 13th a good day for me? Bucky is gone. That's right, gone. Fired.
It all started last week. Well, in reality, it started last fall when he first freaked out, yelled at everyone, quit, and stormed out. Unfortunately, his retirement didn't stick and he was back 2 hours later. I won't go into all the nasty details of the past 8 months; I'm saving that for my novel. Let's just say he was on my list long before he stole my hamburger.
Back to last week. Bucky was once again homeless and living in the office. He sleeps on the floor, gets up early the next morning, showers then heads out to a job interview. He knew his time here was fleeting so he was trying to stay a step ahead. While he is gone on his job interview, we bring in a potential replacement for an interview. Bucky comes back from his interview outraged that we would have the nerve to interview someone while he is still here. Excuse me?? We all know he is looking for another job, yet we aren't allowed to find a replacement? So Bucky pitches a huge fit that leads to him crying and calling Shaggy a liar. Apparently, Bucky still thinks Shaggy wrecked the prized bicycle. That was the final straw for Shaggy and he took it upon himself to fire Bucky in the Bossman's absence.
A firing at any functional office means you are fired, pack up your stuff, turn in your key, collect your final paycheck and hit the road. A firing at dysfunctional office means you can still work and live here for 2 1/2 weeks.
A couple of days ago, it comes to the attention of the Bossman that Bucky isn't producing any work. What's that you say Bossman? Someone who has been fired isn't producing? How strange. In most instances a fired employee is the highest producer. Bossman is outraged and demands Bucky gone. Two seconds later I have his final paycheck ready to go, but of course Bucky left at noon. First thing the next morning, Bucky collects his final check, gathers his clothes out of the closet, grabs his toiletries and is out the door.
Oh, but before he leaves he manages to leave a note on the bathroom mirror saying "We'll see whose cryin'?" and calls us all liars and cowards.
And another one bites the dust...
It all started last week. Well, in reality, it started last fall when he first freaked out, yelled at everyone, quit, and stormed out. Unfortunately, his retirement didn't stick and he was back 2 hours later. I won't go into all the nasty details of the past 8 months; I'm saving that for my novel. Let's just say he was on my list long before he stole my hamburger.
Back to last week. Bucky was once again homeless and living in the office. He sleeps on the floor, gets up early the next morning, showers then heads out to a job interview. He knew his time here was fleeting so he was trying to stay a step ahead. While he is gone on his job interview, we bring in a potential replacement for an interview. Bucky comes back from his interview outraged that we would have the nerve to interview someone while he is still here. Excuse me?? We all know he is looking for another job, yet we aren't allowed to find a replacement? So Bucky pitches a huge fit that leads to him crying and calling Shaggy a liar. Apparently, Bucky still thinks Shaggy wrecked the prized bicycle. That was the final straw for Shaggy and he took it upon himself to fire Bucky in the Bossman's absence.
A firing at any functional office means you are fired, pack up your stuff, turn in your key, collect your final paycheck and hit the road. A firing at dysfunctional office means you can still work and live here for 2 1/2 weeks.
A couple of days ago, it comes to the attention of the Bossman that Bucky isn't producing any work. What's that you say Bossman? Someone who has been fired isn't producing? How strange. In most instances a fired employee is the highest producer. Bossman is outraged and demands Bucky gone. Two seconds later I have his final paycheck ready to go, but of course Bucky left at noon. First thing the next morning, Bucky collects his final check, gathers his clothes out of the closet, grabs his toiletries and is out the door.
Oh, but before he leaves he manages to leave a note on the bathroom mirror saying "We'll see whose cryin'?" and calls us all liars and cowards.
And another one bites the dust...
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Maybe Wide Load Loves Me After All
The other day I was really really mad at the Bossman so I was in his office telling him exactly what I thought. I think the term "spineless doormat" was said more than once. Right in the middle of my tirade, Wide Load enters the room, walks right up to the Bossman and pukes on his feet. Just when I think that cat can't stand me, he goes and does something like this - and totally redeems himself!
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Guess What I'm Eating Right Now?
Yes! A Hudson's Hamburger! Is it from Bucky? No. It is from some drunk guy named Arnold who wandered in off the streets with a whole bag of them. I am not too proud (or cautious) to accept hamburgers from anyone. Paris is eating one too. If we go down, we go down together.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Good Bye Chicken Hawk
Maybe my posts tend to dwell on Bucky a bit too much. Sometimes I get so caught up that I forget about all the other crazies that work at Dysfunctional Office. I hadn't even had a chance to post about Chicken Hawk and now he is gone. Back to the slammer, the big house, prison, lock up, the rock. You get the idea. This is exactly where Chicken Hawk was when I first started working here almost 2 years ago. Come to think of it, this is where Chicken Hawk was 2 1/2 years ago when Idaho started working here. In fact, Chicken Hawk's imprisonment is the reason Idaho was hired. You may notice a pattern here; the Bossman does not have a spine when it comes to getting rid of people.
So, anyway, it was about a year ago that the Chicken Hawk wrote a letter to the judge on the Bossman's behalf. "All you have to do is sign your name" is what Chicken Hawk told Bossman. The letter was a humble plea to be freed on work release. The letter claimed that Chicken Hawk was "quite possibly the best employee Dysfunctional Office has ever had." Yes, because employees that wind up in the clink are often the finest of employees. I better delve into some illegal underworld before I hit the Bossman up for a raise.
Needless to say, Chicken Hawk was hired and became a functioning part of society for about 10 months. Then he becomes MIA. Doesn't show up at the job sites. Doesn't return phone calls. Oh, now might be the time to mention he is driving around in a company vehicle.
Last Friday we get the call. Chicken Hawk is back in the poke. I am the lucky one that gets to pick up the company truck from the probation office where Chicken Hawk was hauled off. The back window is broke out, there is garbage and rotting food all over the place. I gingerly climb in and start driving. I find out after the fact that it is still on the police's list of vehicles to watch out for. Lucky I managed to make it back to the office without joining the Chicken Hawk.
Paris and I have spent the last week cleaning up his personal files which contain a number of pictures, which took up 15 CD's, plus I have been fielding some pretty interesting calls on his cell phone. Paris has downloaded conversations he records on the company's Dictaphone. Oh, they are funny. For as much as it seems like hiring, re-hiring, re-hiring again, then re-hiring again an ex-con, when Chicken Hawk was on, he really was the best employee Dysfunctional-Office has ever had. I'm going to miss him. Goodbye Chicken Hawk. Until Bossman hires you again.....
So, anyway, it was about a year ago that the Chicken Hawk wrote a letter to the judge on the Bossman's behalf. "All you have to do is sign your name" is what Chicken Hawk told Bossman. The letter was a humble plea to be freed on work release. The letter claimed that Chicken Hawk was "quite possibly the best employee Dysfunctional Office has ever had." Yes, because employees that wind up in the clink are often the finest of employees. I better delve into some illegal underworld before I hit the Bossman up for a raise.
Needless to say, Chicken Hawk was hired and became a functioning part of society for about 10 months. Then he becomes MIA. Doesn't show up at the job sites. Doesn't return phone calls. Oh, now might be the time to mention he is driving around in a company vehicle.
Last Friday we get the call. Chicken Hawk is back in the poke. I am the lucky one that gets to pick up the company truck from the probation office where Chicken Hawk was hauled off. The back window is broke out, there is garbage and rotting food all over the place. I gingerly climb in and start driving. I find out after the fact that it is still on the police's list of vehicles to watch out for. Lucky I managed to make it back to the office without joining the Chicken Hawk.
Paris and I have spent the last week cleaning up his personal files which contain a number of pictures, which took up 15 CD's, plus I have been fielding some pretty interesting calls on his cell phone. Paris has downloaded conversations he records on the company's Dictaphone. Oh, they are funny. For as much as it seems like hiring, re-hiring, re-hiring again, then re-hiring again an ex-con, when Chicken Hawk was on, he really was the best employee Dysfunctional-Office has ever had. I'm going to miss him. Goodbye Chicken Hawk. Until Bossman hires you again.....
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Seriously??
OK, I know I just posted something a few hours ago. And, by posting again so soon, it may appear as though I do nothing at my job all day. But, some stories are just too important to let go without being told.
This morning, Bucky arrives at work and speaks to me. He hasn't spoken a word to me since he stole my hamburger. Oh, well, he did speak to me once a week or so ago when he tried to tell me that I have no business giving people a hard time for complaining about stuff when I am Dysfunctional Office's number one complainer. I told him I might dish it out, but at least I could take it. Unlike him. That shut him up fast and he hasn't spoken to me since. Until this morning.
This morning Bucky walks right up to me and wants to know what time Shaggy arrived at the office yesterday. As I arrive at 6 a.m., I'm usually the first one here. I told Bucky we both arrived at the same time. Then he wanted to know if I ACTUALLY saw Shaggy drive into the parking lot. I told Bucky I really wasn't paying attention. I had other things on my mind, such as my vacation countdown. So here is what happened:
Bucky bought a new road bike over the weekend. So, of course, the first thing anyone does when they buy a new bicycle is bring it into their office to store it. Bucky has his wages garnished and always has creditors calling here looking for him, but somehow he came up with the money to buy a new bike. As he told me this morning "You of all people know how serious I am about my ironman training." First off, I don't know how serious he is about it and secondly, I don't care. But, that is neither here nor there. Back to the facts.
He brings his brand new sparkling perfect $800 bike into the office to store. Monday was Cinco De Mayo so he goes out drinking after work and comes back to Dysfunctional Office at 8:00. Don't ask me why, but I'm starting to suspect he is living here again. That's right, I said again. Sometime between 8:00 Monday night and 6:00 Tuesday morning, someone took his precious bike for a joy ride and wrecked it.
Bucky suspects Shaggy and thinks he got to work around 5:30 am rode the bike, wrecked the bike, then sat in his car until I arrived so it looked like we got there at the same time and I would be his alibi.
Now, Bucky realizes there is nothing he can do at this point. His bike is wrecked and he is just going to have to accept that. All he asks is that Shaggy come clean about his crime. Just be a man and fess up already. I told Bucky I knew how important it was for someone to come clean why they have wronged another person in the office. Do you think Bucky took that opportunity to come clean with me? Do you? Do you really? No, of course he didn't. He has more important matters on his mind.
Now, he is trying really hard not to be paranoid about this but either Shaggy is to blame or someone broke into the office in the middle of the night and wrecked his bike. My theory is Bucky had a bit too much cerveza on Cinco De Mayo and wrecked it himself.
This morning, Bucky arrives at work and speaks to me. He hasn't spoken a word to me since he stole my hamburger. Oh, well, he did speak to me once a week or so ago when he tried to tell me that I have no business giving people a hard time for complaining about stuff when I am Dysfunctional Office's number one complainer. I told him I might dish it out, but at least I could take it. Unlike him. That shut him up fast and he hasn't spoken to me since. Until this morning.
This morning Bucky walks right up to me and wants to know what time Shaggy arrived at the office yesterday. As I arrive at 6 a.m., I'm usually the first one here. I told Bucky we both arrived at the same time. Then he wanted to know if I ACTUALLY saw Shaggy drive into the parking lot. I told Bucky I really wasn't paying attention. I had other things on my mind, such as my vacation countdown. So here is what happened:
Bucky bought a new road bike over the weekend. So, of course, the first thing anyone does when they buy a new bicycle is bring it into their office to store it. Bucky has his wages garnished and always has creditors calling here looking for him, but somehow he came up with the money to buy a new bike. As he told me this morning "You of all people know how serious I am about my ironman training." First off, I don't know how serious he is about it and secondly, I don't care. But, that is neither here nor there. Back to the facts.
He brings his brand new sparkling perfect $800 bike into the office to store. Monday was Cinco De Mayo so he goes out drinking after work and comes back to Dysfunctional Office at 8:00. Don't ask me why, but I'm starting to suspect he is living here again. That's right, I said again. Sometime between 8:00 Monday night and 6:00 Tuesday morning, someone took his precious bike for a joy ride and wrecked it.
Bucky suspects Shaggy and thinks he got to work around 5:30 am rode the bike, wrecked the bike, then sat in his car until I arrived so it looked like we got there at the same time and I would be his alibi.
Now, Bucky realizes there is nothing he can do at this point. His bike is wrecked and he is just going to have to accept that. All he asks is that Shaggy come clean about his crime. Just be a man and fess up already. I told Bucky I knew how important it was for someone to come clean why they have wronged another person in the office. Do you think Bucky took that opportunity to come clean with me? Do you? Do you really? No, of course he didn't. He has more important matters on his mind.
Now, he is trying really hard not to be paranoid about this but either Shaggy is to blame or someone broke into the office in the middle of the night and wrecked his bike. My theory is Bucky had a bit too much cerveza on Cinco De Mayo and wrecked it himself.
GD 15K
For anyone who watches The Office, perhaps the title of this post looks a bit familiar?
Sunday was the "big race" Bloomsday. For some godforsaken reason, this race is HUGE. 60,000 or so people show up to race this 15K (7.5 miles). I don't get what all the hubub is about (is this how hubub is spelled? I've said it, but never actually written it out before. I never had a reason until now.) Anywho, Dysfunctional Office sponsored two teams (10 people) for the race. If you have a corporate sponsor, you get to be up towards the front of the start line, right behind the Kenyans. That is the only thing that makes this race worthwhile to me. It requires getting up early, driving 20 minutes to the mall, then hopping a bus and riding for another 20 minutes to the start line. A whole lot of effort for a Sunday morning, if you ask me.
The day before was my birthday and Idaho and I had no intention of letting the GD 15K get in the way of my birthday party. We drank gin and tonics and ate nachos along with the rest of my family. So, when Sunday morning rolled around, the last thing I was in the mood for was Bloomsday.
We had some last minute subsitutions as Paris Hilton's mom had her finger bitten off by her dog and wasn't able to babysit Paris' baby. Mini-Idaho was able to jump in at the last minute. It was fun having Mini-Idaho there, but I was a bit disappointed that Paris and her secret training wouldn't be able to take down those in the office that treat a whimpy GD 15K like it is the Olympics and that there is actual prize money riding on this event.
As those of us that were having second thoughts about the whole event casually strolled to the start line, the dysfunctional competitors pushed there way up to the front to start with the always-favorite Kenyans and other speed demons.
The gun goes off and 60,000 people start pushing there way through the downtown streets. People are screaming and pumping their fists, while I'm thinking maybe those leftover nachos that sat on my kitchen counter all night weren't the best breakfast choice. Those with a point to prove were quickly separated from the rest of us. The Virgin and I stuck together. We had a game plan. We would stop at every aid station, we would listen to every band along the way, and if a cute girl happened to run past us, I would be sure to tell her that the Virgin was available. The only thing missing from our perfect plan was money for an ice cream bar and a beer along the way. This is something I will need to remember for next year.
So, in the end we all fared well. Those who pushed themselves to the limit ended up with the same exact t-shirt and slice of pizza as the rest of us, so I guess I don't see the point.
Then, we had Monday to look forward to. Where we knew we would have to listen to the annoying ones re-hash every step of the race, spew out there minutes per mile for each mile, and hobble around complaining about how sore they were from pushing their bodies to the brink and living to tell the tale.
I couldn't have picked a better time for a vacation. I'm ready to get away from Dysfunctional Office for a couple of weeks!
Sunday was the "big race" Bloomsday. For some godforsaken reason, this race is HUGE. 60,000 or so people show up to race this 15K (7.5 miles). I don't get what all the hubub is about (is this how hubub is spelled? I've said it, but never actually written it out before. I never had a reason until now.) Anywho, Dysfunctional Office sponsored two teams (10 people) for the race. If you have a corporate sponsor, you get to be up towards the front of the start line, right behind the Kenyans. That is the only thing that makes this race worthwhile to me. It requires getting up early, driving 20 minutes to the mall, then hopping a bus and riding for another 20 minutes to the start line. A whole lot of effort for a Sunday morning, if you ask me.
The day before was my birthday and Idaho and I had no intention of letting the GD 15K get in the way of my birthday party. We drank gin and tonics and ate nachos along with the rest of my family. So, when Sunday morning rolled around, the last thing I was in the mood for was Bloomsday.
We had some last minute subsitutions as Paris Hilton's mom had her finger bitten off by her dog and wasn't able to babysit Paris' baby. Mini-Idaho was able to jump in at the last minute. It was fun having Mini-Idaho there, but I was a bit disappointed that Paris and her secret training wouldn't be able to take down those in the office that treat a whimpy GD 15K like it is the Olympics and that there is actual prize money riding on this event.
As those of us that were having second thoughts about the whole event casually strolled to the start line, the dysfunctional competitors pushed there way up to the front to start with the always-favorite Kenyans and other speed demons.
The gun goes off and 60,000 people start pushing there way through the downtown streets. People are screaming and pumping their fists, while I'm thinking maybe those leftover nachos that sat on my kitchen counter all night weren't the best breakfast choice. Those with a point to prove were quickly separated from the rest of us. The Virgin and I stuck together. We had a game plan. We would stop at every aid station, we would listen to every band along the way, and if a cute girl happened to run past us, I would be sure to tell her that the Virgin was available. The only thing missing from our perfect plan was money for an ice cream bar and a beer along the way. This is something I will need to remember for next year.
So, in the end we all fared well. Those who pushed themselves to the limit ended up with the same exact t-shirt and slice of pizza as the rest of us, so I guess I don't see the point.
Then, we had Monday to look forward to. Where we knew we would have to listen to the annoying ones re-hash every step of the race, spew out there minutes per mile for each mile, and hobble around complaining about how sore they were from pushing their bodies to the brink and living to tell the tale.
I couldn't have picked a better time for a vacation. I'm ready to get away from Dysfunctional Office for a couple of weeks!
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