Thursday, April 14, 2005

Work Sucks

Yesterday was one of those days. At lunch, a co-worker and I sat and vented our frustrations with the office. We came back from lunch unsuspecting the impending doom before us. Was there a microphone at Jason's Deli? Could she have heard? Her door was shut and the whole office was laying low.

"We're having short staff meeting," The Boss announced as she made her way to everyone's offices. We wheeled our rolling chairs into her office and sat down, pens in hand. The long and short of it is that my boss told the office that she didn't appreciate our "playing around" or "excessive talking" and that those who continued in the behavior would be "terminated." None of us, however, have been able to figure out what type of playing around or excessive talking she is talking about. She won't give an example of a situation or tell who has been exhibiting these behaviors... no, that would be too easy. But she has designated "Talking Times". Yes my friends, apparently our office is so out of control that we must have supervised times to discuss our personal lives. These times are between 10:00-10:10 am and 3:30-3:40 pm. This is so stupid I think it needs no further comment.

So, this morning while creeping along 635E I wailed with Sammy Haggar and let Eddie soothe my soul with the sound of his fingers on the frets of his guitar. Upon arriving to work, I decided to put the band on my desktop in defiance of this tyrannical window-less bulwark of insignificance. I also derived much pleasure and satisfaction from a little sign I posted near my computer a few weeks ago. It all started when the ladies of the office decided to go to Jason's Deli for lunch. I decided while eating that I was in desperate need of one of their little metal number holders, so after asking the manager if he would mind if it disappeared, I took one. I printed a sign that says, "Back off dillweed." Aaaahhhhh.... sweet satisfaction. I hope my boss read it loud and clear as she squeezed my shoulders this morning when giving me a hug and telling me she loved me. Give me a break (and not one at 10:00 am or 3:30 pm, mind you.)

1 comment:

rambouillet said...

My boss hates guns... :)