Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Three days... three days until my vacation

It's been an interesting day. Besides my boss's brush with certain death in the form of a harmless spider, I have been treated to two, yes TWO, "too much information" conversations with Bruce, and heard Jane tell the story of her visit to the eye doctor to get her tear ducts unplugged WORD FOR WORD the same way at least five times. Not only that, but now Musketeer #1 has taken to calling me "Mistress".

Oh, what... you want me to elaborate? Yeah, I guess I can't leave you hanging like that. It's become a running joke between us now, thanks to Mr. Misogyny, as to who should make the morning coffee, the first male to get here or the first female. This morning I was wrapped up in the important task of counting out Holiday Cards and didn't have a chance to make it. When Musketeer #1 got here, he asked if I'd like some, and I accepted, and told him how nice it was of him to make coffee for me. Later, around lunch time, he asked me what time this afternoon I'd like him to brew the afternoon coffee. I told him around 3 p.m. would be good. Silly me, I should have known. Not long ago he stopped by my cube and said "Mistress SilentWitness, your coffee is brewing". Good lord, what next in this place? So, not wanting to make him feel like he did all that hard work for nothing, I just went into the kitchen to help myself to a cup of lifeblood. Remember that stupid whiteboard I bought, that everyone had a grand time with for the first week it was up? Well, now it says: "Coffee was brewed at: 3:10 p.m. For SilentWitness ONLY". Wow, I get a whole pot to myself!

Just as I was erasing the disclaimer on the board, Bruce came in.

Bruce: Oh, hey, I meant to ask you before....

My brain: uh oh.... this ought to be good....

Bruce: We're pretty close in age. What do you think of the beard I've got going?

Me: I think it looks nice. It's a different look for you.

Bruce: I think I'm going to keep it this length. Any longer and it would be a beard. Besides, I'm not sure if the girls will like it.

I didn't take that bait, but he went on anyway.

Bruce: I mean... it might not be good for kissing.... and..... other things.

Me: Well I guess it depends on the person. (backing slowly out of the kitchen and RUNNING BACK TO MY CUBE)

I'm going to install my own coffee maker and put my own fridge under my desk. I've had enough of being cornered in the kitchen with this cretin.

Post Script

When I called her back and asked if she'd killed it, she said yes, as a matter of fact it's smeared all over the window. She said spiders really freak her out with their "transluscent legs" and "squishy heads". Well, yeah, it's head is squishy now...

The spider strikes again

Just got this voicemail from my boss:

"Sorry I missed your call, I was busy trying to find the meter on our new copy - OH GOD! A spider!!!! Callmebackbye!" (the phone slams down).

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Please stand clear of the doors

Nutjob has been up at the reception desk on phone duty. She left her cell phone at her desk, and it's been ringing roughly every five minutes. That's annoying enough, but even more annoying is the fact that she has her ringer set to sound like the tone that sounds just before the subway doors close. This is only one of many she's had. It's only slightly less annoying than the wave sound, which we all referred to as the toilet flushing, and Ave Maria, which we all got an immense kick out of, considering she's Jewish. (Did you know she's Jewish? I'm not sure if I've mentioned that. She's kosher you know. Only when it's convenient though.)

Evidently the subway-door sound bothered MarketingGal (she really needs a better name than that) enough to come out and see what was going on.

MarketingGal: What is that noise?

Musketeer #3: The subway has just arrived.

MarketingGal: Is that her phone? How do you....

Musketeer #3: How do I put up with it? Is that what you were going to ask?

MarketingGal: Yeah.

Musketeer #3: Oh, I do a lot of drugs... sniff some rubber cement now and then.

MarketingGal: What was that other sound she had?

Musketeer #3: Oh there are a lot of noises coming from over there.

MarketingGal: That's annoying. That's why I keep mine on vibrate.

Wow, the door was wide open there, but Musketeer #3 didn't walk through it. Maybe because those are two words that just shouldn't be anywhere near each other in one's brain: "Nutjob" and "vibrate".

Monday, November 28, 2005


Well, either or several of the following things could be true:

1. I make mountains out of molehills.

2. All of my co-workers are oblivious.

3. None of my co-workers give a rat's ass what kind of jewlery I wear.

4. They think it's just a charming pretty necklace (if they noticed it at all) and maybe will wonder what's up when they see me wearing it every day.

5. I suffer from delusions of grandeur and think that everyone is always paying a lot of attention to me.

I'll go with 6: all of the above. I am relieved that I didn't have to answer any questions today, especially from Mr Really Catholic, who I respect and would be upset if he was the kind who would think less of me because of this. But, if he would, then c'est la vie, right? The bottom line is I am very happy and comfortable and am glad not to be hiding anymore.

Now, on to the funny stuff. Oh right, there wasn't any today. Either that or I was too insanely busy to notice it. There's always tomorrow....

Sunday, November 27, 2005

If you're not careful, I might turn you into a newt

I've mentioned before in this blog that I'm Pagan, and that I don't talk much about my beliefs at work nor wear Pagan jewelry. That has always bothered me a bit- if others can wear crosses and stars of David, I should be able to be comfortable wearing a pentacle. I'm not talking about some big obnoxious flashy thing, or loading myself down with them- that would be as annoying as Nutjob running around reminding everyone she's Jewish every three seconds. I'm talking about a small, tasteful symbol of my religious beliefs. Still, I felt it better not to rock the boat.

Well, all of that has changed. I've been going through a major reawakening of my religious beliefs lately, and as part of my "rebirth" I feel the desire to wear the star on a pretty much daily basis. I already had one that I received as a gift from somone on the same path some time ago, however, it was quite large and mounted on a piece of obsidian, making it not only flashy but noisy as well, as it would clink against the stone whenever I moved. Not office material. So, I decided to purchase a small silver pentacle pendant that I could wear without feeling like I was standing up with a megaphone yelling "Hey everyone! Look at me! I'm Pagan!!!" Interestingly enough, I found (was lead to?) a silver frog pendant with a pentacle carved on it's back. If you could see my cube at work, you'd know why my boss's kid calls me The Frog Lady. It was perfect, so I ordered it, and it just recently arrived. Tomorrow will be the first day I will wear it in the office, and while I am confident that there will be no negative repercussions, I know there will be a few questions, which I am prepared to answer and actually welcome. The more people know about something the less they can make assumptions about it and fear it.

So, boys and girls, wish me luck tomorrow. Perhaps this will work in my favor and the brokers will be afraid to piss me off.

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Holiday cheer

You know how, when you go shopping around this time of year, you are bombarded with Christmas carols? And you know how, by the third time you hear Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, you're ready to kill someone? Yeah. Well, you'd think you'd be safe from that in your office. Not when you sit next to Jane! I thought I'd experienced every aspect of her annoying personality, but I guess she was saving this up for me. She is singing. Not only is she singing, she's singing Christmas carols. And not just any Christmas carol, oh no, she's singing "Walking in a Winter Wonderland".

That in itself is bad enough, considering how easy it is to get that song stuck in your head. But when you're sick and twisted like me, you don't get the normal version of that song stuck in your head, you get the parody version "Walking 'Round in Women's Underwear" stuck in your head. Which, in light of yesterday's post, seems strangely appropriate. Since ChinaGirl is about to come to my office and do me bodily harm if I keep IM'ing her the lyrics (hey, misery loves company), I'm subjecting all of you to the torture. Happy holidays!

Lacy things -- the wife is missin',
Didn't ask -- her permission,
I'm wearin' her clothes,
Her silk pantyhose,
Walkin' 'round in women's underwear.

In the store -- there's a teddy,
Little straps -- like spaghetti,
It holds me so tight,
Like handcuffs at night,
Walkin' 'round in women's underwear.

In the office there's a guy named Melvin,
He pretends that I am Murphy Brown.

He'll say, "Are you ready?" I'll say,"Whoa, Man!"
"Let's wait until our wives are out of town!"

Later on, if you wanna,
We can dress -- like Madonna,
Put on some eyeshade,
And join the parade,
Walkin' 'round in women's underwear!

Lacy things... missin',
Didn't ask... permission,
Wearin' her clothes,
Her silk pantyhose,
Walkin' 'round in women's underwear.

Walkin' 'round in women's underwear,
Walkin' 'round in women's underwear!

The office cop

Yesterday was quite the stressful day. The Three Musketeers didn't help, with their needling until I snapped at them. Which I never do. I lost my cool and put them in their place and I have to say it felt good. It was interesting to see their reactions to my display of my true feelings. Musketeer #2, who was primarily the person I was pissed at, put up his hands and started backpedalling all over the place. "Oh no, that's not what I meant, no no... I didn't mean..." I talked right over him. Musketeer #1 just sat there and laughed with that "you're cute when you're mad" amused look guys sometimes get, which just infuriates us women even more. Musketeer #3 tried to jump in the middle. I make it sound worse than it was. I wasn't yelling, I just wasn't the smiley agreeable person they have all become used to. (For those of you who know me offline... you can stop laughing now. Yes, at work I am primarily smiley and agreeable- it's easiest to just smile and nod and not rock the boat).

So, I was not in the most jovial of moods later on in the evening, at "closing time". Nutjob had gone into the ladies room to get changed into her workout clothes, and then came back into the office for some bizarre reason. Oh yeah, to get attention. I forgot. She was wearing a pair of sweatpants that said HAWAII (what else?) across the butt.

Musketeer #1: Hey great way to assure that everyone will look at your butt.

Nutjob (all fake-innocent): What????

Musketeer #1: I didn't know your butt had a name. Hawaii. (laughing) The twin peaks have a name! Hey Musketeer #3, look at that, the twin peaks-

Me: Hey now!

Musketeer #1 (smirking at me): What?

Me: Take it easy over there.

Musketeer #1: Oooooh, slapped down by SilentWitness!

I would have been pissed off at him for that comment if he hadn't changed the subject and mercifully talked about something else. How about that. Maybe he learned his lesson from the porn fiasco. (See December 2004).

Tuesday, November 22, 2005


From: MyBoss
To: Me
Subject: FW: 499 UpYours Blvd.

FYI.... see original message below:

From: Head Corportate Beancounter
To: SW's Boss, HeadHoncho
Subject: 499 UpYours Blvd.

After three days of ignoring your email, I have finally approved the method in which you are processing this deal, which is the most convoluted, screwed-up, hairiest deal SilentWitness has ever processed and the only one that has actually caused her to get pissy with the Three Musketeers and speak to them curtly and walk out of the room without waiting for an answer.

From: Me
To: MyBoss
Subject: FW: 499 UpYours Blvd.

*SilentWitness does the happy-dance*

From: MyBoss
To: Me
Subject: FW 499 UpYours Blvd.


From: Me
To: MyBoss
Subject: FW: 499 UpYours Blvd.

Of course! I told you the Three Musketeers and I kissed and made up.

Friday, November 18, 2005

I love the smell of nutjob in the morning

Today is Musketeer #3's birthday. He was out for the morning, presumably on business, and Musketeers #2 and #1 were speculating as to his age. When he finally arrived, they asked him, and he replied that he was 34 today. The General just happened to be ambling up to the group and joined in the obligatory conversation about how 34 was a great age, hey you can't remember yesterday how can you remember 34, blah blah blah. Then it got interesting. (Side note: Musketeer #2 is a Vietnam vet).

The General: Well at that age Musketeer #2 was smoking dope in the jungle.

Musketeer #2: Nah, that was after that.

(laughter all around at the implied admission to smoking dope later on)

The General: So what did you do when everyone else was getting high? Breathing in napalm?

Musketeer #2: Just kept my head down. Literally.

The conversation ambled off into political directions, namely how Cheney is getting on Muskteer #2's nerves becuase he had five deferrments, so who is he to comment on someone's service or lack of it. (I have no idea what he's referencing here).

But.... speaking of napalm..... We had a meeting for the whole office today, and besides the fact that several brokers bitched that there was no lunch provided, it was basically uneventful. Except that Nutjob sat next to me. From the looks of her, I'd guess she hasn't showered in days. From the smell of her.... well I'm glad I was sitting next to the garbage can, just in case. Honestly... she gave off an aroma of "I've been laying in bed for four days straight". And I was sitting at least three feet away from her, so it wasn't like I was crammed in next to her. This lovely aroma wafted it's way over to me for the entire hour. And it got even worse when she laughed, and I was enveloped in a fog of stink that could be a weapon of mass destruction in the right concentration. I think I'd rather sit next to the walking ashtray (AngrySally) that sit next to that again.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

More coffee immaturity

Of course, the fun couldn't be contained to just one day! First off, I found out that I missed the best part of the "Doesn't anyone make decaf" comment. Someone wrote underneath it: "Make your own decaf, girly-man". I guess they wrote that after I saw the original comment, because I missed it.


"10:35:44 a.m., Yesterday"

another lament about the lack of decaf, and then:

"decaf is for homos"


"4pm, with a used filter I dug out of the trash can"

Who knew a simple $4 whiteboard would provide a full day of entertainment?

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Another post about coffee

I swear, I don't care this much about coffee. But apparently my office does. Because we have a fancy "airpot" system, instead of your classic glass pots that sit on burners all day and get sludgy, it's not always easy to tell if the coffee in the pot on the counter is fresh or several hours (or 12 hours) old. Because I was tired of hearing people ask "Is this coffee fresh?" in the morning, or worse, assuming safe is better than sorry and dumping the whole pot, I devised a little plan. I bought a small whiteboard and affixed it to the cabinet above the counter where we keep the coffee pots. I wrote "Coffee was brewed" across the top, and "2pm" underneath, since it was 2pm and I had just brewed a pot of coffee.

Now, I know better. This system is begging to be abused. So far the following things have been written on the board:

1:14.69 P.M. (guess who wrote that one. here's a hint: oral + hand)


a turkey, made from the outline of someone's hand

and my personal favorite "doesn't anyone around here brew decaf?!"

I seriously wanted to write "whoever wants it" underneath that, but I am starting to feel like I'm sitting in a bathroom stall in middle school, reading the messages people have left for each other.

Maybe tomorrow I'll write "For a good time call x5514". Extension 5514, naturally, is Nutjob's extension.

Monday, November 14, 2005

Karate kid

I love this place. I just received the following email from Bruce. It was sent only to the administrative assistants and the marketing department (primarily females).

As many of you know I actively compete in Full Contact Kickboxing and successfully defended my regional "StudMan" title recently.

I have been invited to compete in two "shows" in 2006. The first in [some month] (Exact Date and Arena to be announced ) and the second on Friday night, [some other date, exact location given]. The fights will be a professional setting with a ring, timed rounds, referee etc... (atmosphere similar to pro boxing).

In the past we have had many families attend as we have kids as young as 10-11 years old competing. I do not recommend guests under 9-10 yrs old for obvious reasons. We anticipate 10+ bouts over a 3-4 hour time frame.

I will be sending out more detailed information and ticket sales info as the event nears.

These events are fun, action packed events and can give you an opportunity to see what I do to relieve the stress built up during the day as a broker, win lose or draw.

If you are interested in attending either, or both shows please let me know so I can try to reserve tickets.

Thanks for your support!

I am seriously considering attending one or both of these events, albeit in disguise, so I can fully inform you all of the grandeur that is Bruce defending his StudMan title. And maybe I'll be lucky and get a glimpse of that fantastic 6-pack he's always bragging about, as well as all those sexy martial arts tattoos on his back. What a tool. This guy has no idea how much fun we are all having with this email.

Friday, November 11, 2005

It's a wonder I don't go (completely) insane

Jane has a tendency to talk on the phone VERY LOUDLY, so that everyone can hear her business. PartnerInCrime, who works in an office with a door, can hear her on the phone and loves to email me saying "Keep it down out there!!!". Ha ha ha. Just now, SilentHusband called to boast about the fact that it's a beautiful day and he's not at work. During the course of our phone conversation, Jane decided to make a phone call of her own. Keep in mind, she is a cube partition away from me.

Jane: HELLO?

SilentHusband: Is that your boss?

Me: No.


SilentHusband: Hi Jane...

(SilentHusband and I continue talking)


SilentHusband: Yes, actually. This is a bad time.


SilentHusband: Oh yes, the red onions! They're very good. Give you gas though.


SilentHusband: How do you put up with that all day?

By knowing that I can come home and bitch to you about it my dear. Aren't you lucky?

Thursday, November 10, 2005

Following the trail

1. Nutjob was "out sick" on Tuesday.

2. Nutjob came in on Wednesday, and left early because she was "sick".

3. Nutjob came in today (Thursday), all gussied up. She only does that when there's something important going on outside of work.

4. Nutjob has next Monday and Tuesday off, because she's taking a long weekend to go to Florida.

5. Nutjob was never "sick" this week. Exhibit A:

RunOnSentence: So you're meeting up with Fiance in Florida this weekend?

Nutjob: Oh no, he's here. We're going down together.

RunOnSentence: Really? When did he come up here?

Nutjob: Oh! Um. He just got here today.

Manipulative twat. Oh, and for the record, in case you all needed another reason to hate her (and this may be what I hate her most for), she is a little concerned because some of the girls in her bridal party are "a little hippy". I hope her face swells up and she's covered with hives from head to toe on her wedding day.

And you thought I was exaggerating

I was going to post this morning when Nutjob came in, to mention that she was apparently feeling better today because she had washed AND styled her hair. I know I've mentioned in the past that she is a little lax in the hair-hygiene department but now I offer proof.

Jane: Oh, Nutjob your hair looks so nice today!

Nutjob: Thanks! I took a shower today!


Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Hellooooooooo Frisco!

Musketeer #1 likes to loudly proclaim his masculinity by putting down sports, saying they're all gay. Really, he says, any sport where you run around in tight outfits and chase balls is pretty gay. (I pointed out that in hockey they don't wear tight outfits or chase balls, but he said it's still gay. I mean come on, did you ever see those guys hug each other after they score a goal? G-A-Y! ) Of course, the "sport" he practiced in college is certainly not gay. No, there's nothing gay about fencing. Nothing gay about prancing around in a tight outfit jabbing your swords at each other. Nah, not at all.

So, with all the pronoucnements of what is gay and what isn't, coupled with his dead-on gaydar, I'm wondering if the wife and four kids are all just expensive beards. Today, I had left my desk for a moment, and when I came back he was standing next to Musketeer #3's cube complaining about how whenever you go into a place where there's gay guys, they hit on you immediately.

Me: What? Are you going to gay bars now?

Musketeer #1: No! I'm just saying when you go someplace, or at least with me, they're all over me.

Me: Where are you going that there's all these gay guys?

Musketeer #1: Well, like when I get my hair cut. There's a gay guy there. And he's always ready to jump on me.

Me: You know, Musketeer #1, you should really work on your confidence. It must suck to have such low self-esteem.

He laughed and walked into his office. Two minutes later I got an email from him. He forwarded this message from a colleague:

To: SW
From: Musketeer #1
Subject: FW: Updated Info

See!!! Another example!!!!

To: Musketeer #1
From: RandomGayGuy
Subject: Updated Info

Below please find new professional contact info; let me know if you will be in the {insert city here} area for either work or pleasure - would love to catch up.


I wanted to respond and tell him to ask the guy if he wanted to have a sword fight when he was in town next... but I figured that would get me in a bit of trouble if BigBrother ever saw that email.

That damn flu shot

Wow, there must be some powerful stuff in that shot. Nutjob came in today, but just asked if she could leave because she's still "under the weather". She said she did all her work for her guys, so everything's taken care of. She must have been planning this, because the minute I told her it was ok she picked up her purse and left. Her computer must already have been shut off.

Now... I'm sure I could have told her to stay, she didn't seem that sick. But then we'd see a performance worthy of an Academy Award, complete with slumping in the chair, grabbing onto walls as if she would fall, and constant complaining about how sick she is, but "we" wouldn't let her go home. And all the guys would come to me and tell me to let her go. But honestly, it's not really my responsibility, technically it's my boss's. And she gives the word "lax" new meaning when it comes to paid time off. I suppose it's to foster good morale. I think it just fosters laziness, but that's just my icy nordic efficiency talking.

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

Ack, I'm trendy

For most of my alcohol-driking life I've admittedly been a beer snob. My philosophy is, you should like the way it tastes, not force down cheap piss-flavored water solely so you can act stupid and puke on someone's rug. I'm aware this is not a common philosohpy of alcohol-drinking, but I can live with that. Now that I'm over 30, the "old fart" switch in my brain must have tripped because I'm suddenly becoming quite enamored with wine. It might have something to do with the fact that I'm turning into my mom, and my mom always has a glass of wine while she's cooking dinner, which is exactly what I've started to do.

Anyway... Musketeer #2 is the office wine connoisseur. I've been keeping him updated of the wines I've tried and which ones I've liked and haven't liked. Recently, SilentHusband and I tried a bottle of Pino Noir, which I took to immediately. He nodded knowingly and said something about how popular it is because of the movie "Sideways", which I'm vaguely aware of as being a trendy popular movie involving wine, but that's about all I could tell you. Musketeer #2 brought me up to cultural speed and told me about the movie, and said the two main characters decided Pino Noir is the best kind of wine. Figures. So now if I tell anyone I like Pino Noir they'll all think I'm some kind of follower who drinks what movies tell her to drink. My non-conformist senses are offended.


Ok, I want to know who's idea this was. This had to have come from someone higher up than HeadHoncho or I would have heard about it before now, before I heard JerseyGirl call my name, and turned around and had a flash go off in my face. Apparently, someone thought it would be a great idea to have candid shots of everyone in the office for this pep rally of a regional meeting we're having soon. Yay. The only good thing about this whoever dreamed up this idea knew better than to ask me to take the pictures, which allows me to relish hearing everyone swear at JerseyGirl after their picture is snapped. If you happen to be at my regional meeting and see whatever cheesey collage they make with these pictures, I'm the one scowling at the camera. Oh wait... that would be just about everyone in this office.

I saw this coming from a mile away

It's flu shot season again. Instead of panicking over not having enough serum, this year we get to flip out about having the wrong serum, because our regular flu shots won't protect us from the coming pandemic, THE KILLER BIRD FLU!!!!!!!

Ahem. Sorry, I must be watching too much network TV. Yesterday Nutjob was running around the office telling everyone she was getting a flu shot after work, and asking everyone if they ever got sick from the flu shot because she heard that happens sometimes, did that ever happen to you? I didn't need to put my Karnak hat on to know I'd come in to a pitifully fake, melodramatic voicemail about how sick she feels, so she won't be coming in. I think we should send her a get-well-pigeon.

Friday, November 04, 2005

You know it's time to worry when...

Musketeer #1 yells out of his office: Hey! Anyone know how to spell 'arsenal'?

Pray for me.

Back to (ab)normal

For the last two weeks, one of the brokers has been relentlessly chasing a commission payment. He started hounding me to hound them when the check was two weeks late. (In this world, paying two weeks late is paying early). I made calls, reported back to him step by step, etc. He called me at least twice a day and stopped by my cube at least once a day to bitch and moan about the fact that the check was "five years late". (We did the deal 5 years ago. The payment schedule was structured so that most of the commission came in then, and the final payment comes in now. This was the deal he made. He knew the schedule at the time, has known it all along). Finally, to my utter relief, the check came in this morning. I called and told him about it, then got my butt to the bank to deposit it and get rid of it once and for all.

After I prepared the paperwork for the payment, I brought it to my boss- who is back in the office, part time- for her signature. I laid it on her desk and said, very quietly but with great purpose:

Me: Broker X has been up my ass for two weeks about this check. Here's the paperwork for you to sign.

My boss: So that's what that curly hair sticking out is. I thought you needed a trim, and its just Broker X's curly head peeking out.

Man, I missed her.

Thursday, November 03, 2005

More reasons to laugh

Musketeer #2 to Musketeer #1: "So help me God, if you do a deal with Mr. X I will come back from my grave and kick your ass."

Seen in a magazine, the ad next to ours:
SUCKERS BY THE ZILLIONS!!! [then in very small type] for packaging and printing

best response to "how are you", ever:

Me: Hey MiddleAgedHippie, how ya doing?

MAH: If I was doing any better I'd be getting arrested for something indecent. That's how good I'm doing.

They're good for something at least

I'm sitting here working on collecting money on some aged receivables, simultaneously trying to distract my mind and fend off a panic attack. I called one of the brokers to follow up on an extremely past due commission.

Me: Hi... I just wanted to touch base--

Broker: Joe Schmo?

Me: Yeah, how'd you guess.

Broker(exasperated sigh): I have gotten nowhere with that cocksucker.

Laughter may very well be pretty darn close to the best medicine. What will be even better is my boss's reaction when I put that in my notes on the deal.

It's an epidemic

You may recall that Nutjob fried a new computer with her frequent visits to Hawaiian websites and constant downloading of incredibly important things like cute cursors, clip art, and adorable screensavers. Her computer needed to be rebuilt- twice. Well, it looks like the virus has spread to JerseyGirl. Her computer was so loaded with spyware and viruses that it also needed a little bit more help than I could give it. RegionalITGuy came in yesterday to take a look at it. (When I saw him sitting at her desk, I told him that if he was going to sit there, he had to have at least 2 IM conversations going). It turned out that it needed to be rebuilt, but was usable until then, so he scheduled another day to come out and take care of it. I left at 5pm and he was still fiddling around with it, and when I came in this morning I had these two emails from him.

To: SW
From: RegionalITGuy
Time: 7:55 p.m.

I hate JerseyGirl's PC.


Sent from my Wireless Handheld

To: SW
From: RegionalITGuy
Time: 9:02 p.m.
Subject: JerseyGirl's is up again

What a pain in the .......

There might be some small things that need doing, IM, more printers, IM, Adobe writer, IM, etc.

PC popped and I had to do a major repair.

If she had local files, they will probably be under C:(blah blah blah)/my documents. I put her personal folder back.

Let me know if there are any problems.


Sent from my Wireless Handheld

Needless to say, I uninstalled IM from my computer this morning. This will last all of about three days before I say "oh screw it, the whole office has it" and reinstall it. Of course, the bigger problem is probably the lovely trail I'm leaving in my hard drive, visiting this damn site as much as I do.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

My Long Dong rears its ugly head

Almost two years ago, my boss and I were staying late working and were quite punchy. The name of an Asian company we were working with seemed awfully close to sounding like "my long dong". We found this quite amusing, and were fond of asking each other "have you seen MyLongDong?" or "what did you do with MyLongDong?", or the ever hilarious, "Wait, let me give you MyLongDong..." As you can imagine, we got quite a bit of mileage out of this. Eventually we closed the file and the humor faded.

Fast-forward to late this afternoon, when Dick and Dork approached me at the end of a very harried day.

Dork: We need some information.

Me: Ok, you've come to the right place.

Dork: In.... 1984, about a year and a half ago, we did a sale....

Me: In 1984?

Dork: Yeah. About a year and a half ago.

I looked at Dick for some help. He had a very amused smile on his face.

Dick: Dork, 1984???

Dork: Yeah! Oh! No, 2004! What was I thinking, 1984?

Me: Ok... you did a sale in 2004... which one?

Dork started to walk away. He does this all the time.

Me: Hey, Dork! You're walking away. I can't help you if you walk away.

Dork came back.

Dork: Well the seller was Galeras, and the buyer... it was something like YangTse.

Me (fingers poised over the keyboard of Mission Control): Ok, what do you need to know?

Dork: The buyer.

Me: Um.... didn't you just say the buyer was YangTse?

Dork: Well that wasn't really the name. It was under another name.

I searched on "Galeras" and got nothing.

Again I appealed to Dick.

Me: Do you have a street address?

Dick: Yeah.... it was, I think 401 something-or-other.

Me: Ok.

I typed in 401 in the street number field and Dick's name in the salesperson field and got nothing on my search.

Me: I'm not coming up with anything for you at 401 anywhere.

Dork: Oh, maybe I can go look something up.

Me: Well, wait a second, there's another way I can approach this.

They both walked away. However, being the curious and determined person I am, once I have a question I have to find the answer. So I ran a different kind of search and the first deal that popped onto my screen was indeed a sale, with the seller listed as Galeras (don't ask me why that didn't come up in my first search), at 411 Main Street. The buyer? MyLongDong. I called Dork's office.

Dork: Yeah?

Me: It's MyLongDong. (Only I said the real name. Not my boss's and my little pet name for the deal).

Dork: Yeah, we knew that. We figured it out.

Me: Well when were you planning on telling me that?

Dick: Sorry, Silent. We thought you knew already.

I can't wait to tell my boss that MyLongDong is back.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

Nutjob on board

Nutjob's driving ability (or lack thereof) is widely known throughout BlogCompany. It's the reason why no one will park next to her in the parking lot- because she's dangerous enough driving forward, her backing out of a parking spot is even more frightening. Apparently this weekend on her way to see her long-distance fiance (I choke on that word), she had a little mishap. According to her, she was "trying to merge", and a delivery truck "sideswiped" her. She asked me for the name of the body shop I went to when the drug addict in a stolen SUV driving on the wrong side of the road being chased by 8, yes 8 police cars sideswiped me. Crap. I digressed again. So, because she said she didn't stop, and continued driving a few hundred more miles, I figured it was pretty mild. Then I walked past her car outside.

First off, the damage is on the right side of the car. Merging? What, from the shoulder into the left lane? Secondly, it looks like someone took a large can-opener to the side of her car. There is a huge gouge going from the door post between the back and front doors to the fender. The rearview mirror is dangling off, and the fender is wrenched off and sticking out about a foot and a half straight out from the side of her car. She didn't stop. She "thought she heard a scraping noise". She drove the rest of the way to Fiance'sCity with a mirror dangling off her car and her fender half torn off and threatening to puncture the tire of anyone who rode in the lane next to her. I'm almost tempted to reveal my location so you all can stay off the roads and out of her way.

If you're the FBI, don't read this

One of the many things I had sitting on my desk waiting for me today was a very interesting phone bill, from a phone company in another part of the country, for the amount of $1,352.81. Upon further investigation, I realized the bill was specifically for a line in our office which we don't use to make outgoing calls, it's used by Dick and Dork solely for the purpose of voice mail. When someone sees one of their signs, they call this number and leave a message. That way Dick and/or Dork doesn't actually have to talk to the person, they can tell one of their lackeys to call them back. And they get the commission of course. But I digress. It's not so much the fact that the phone bill was over $1300. The really unsettling part was the fact that the originating number on all the calls was not our number, it was a number in Miami. And the calls from this number were going to the following countries:

Sri Lanka

My first thought was that Dick and/or Dork had given someone the go-ahead to bill their calls to our line. But something told me to call the phone company before confronting them. When I did, the person on the other end of the phone said they were indeed 3rd party collect calls billed to our number. When I asked if there was anything else she could tell me about them, she said "Oh, yes, they're fraudlent charges. You don't have to pay that bill". Well, thanks for being so forthcoming! You mean some terrorist is using our phone line and we don't have to pay for it? Cool!

And now, because I listed all those countries in one post, I'm sure this blog is being watched. Hi, Rummy!

You're going to see me on the news some day

I had a lovely, peaceful day off yesterday. Good thing I enjoyed it because I'm paying for it today. It seems I missed quite a bit yesterday. Let's start with the heat. Apparently, the baseboard heaters were stuck on all day, bringing the temperature in the office to a nice cozy 88*F. How do I know exactly what the temperature was? I'm glad you asked. We have a little monitor that records the temperature with a red line (not unlike a seismograph!) on a piece of paper. We have this little monitor because the management got so sick of us calling and bitching about the heat, that they decided to see for themselves just how hot it really got in here. BlogCompany: 1 Building Management: 0.

Anyway, apparently HeadHoncho came into the office, stayed for about 10 minutes, and then decided it was too hot for him here, so instead of calling management and doing something about it, he told his stand-in admin (Jane was at the dentist) that he was leaving for the other office because it was too damn hot in here. Who was his stand-in admin? Nutjob! So you'll hardly be surprised to know that she sent an email to the whole office:

Just wanted to let you know that HeadHoncho will be in the other office today due to the fact that there
is a heat problem in our office.

Thank you.

Of course, you can imagine how well that went over. So this morning when I got in, I was treated to a 5-minute diatribe by Musketeer #1 about what a baby HH is for leaving, etc. To top it off, even though I left the maintenance guy's pager number at the front desk, Nutjob thought it might be a good idea to call the guy who leases this space and tell him it was too hot. Naturally that didn't get anything done, so several hours later Musketeer #1, thinking she'd called the building manager and been ignored, called the head of the company to complain about the situation. I got a nice little phone call from the building manager this morning wanting to know why no one called him first. What can I tell you, buddy. I left your number, that's all I can do. So, I sent an email with his phone and pager numbers to all the admins so they don't actually have to walk up to the front desk to find his phone number should this ever happen again.

Stay tuned for more stories of Nutjob's stupidity and terrorists using our phone lines.