Thursday, March 30, 2006

Eyes on the back of her head

Well folks here I am, all settled in the new office, after two weeks of complete chaos. I am thoroughly enjoying having my very own office, it's nice and quiet in here (until I start playing takcky Euro-pop on my computer), no one to overhear my conversations, and no piercing voice going right through me. At least mostly. I can still hear Jane but all I have to do is close my door and it's like she doesn't even exist. Ahhhhh. She doesn't even come bother me anymore. Her whole demeanor towards me has changed, and I know it's because I have an office. She approaches me with this whole strange fake-deference. But I could care less, because now I don't have to hear about who has upset her this time, or what she overheard someone say, etc.

That type of thing won't stop completely though, as you will soon see. A few days ago, I was in the kitchen, showing her where I had put the coffee cups, and MarketingGal was in there with us. I showed her the cabinet I put the cups in, and mentioned that I had moved one of the shelves up, so they would fit. She said "oh, that was a good idea." I promptly forgot about this conversation, but apparently it was earth-shatteringly important. Several hours later, when Jane and I were in the storage room looking for something, she brought it up out of nowhere.

Jane: Did I offend you earlier in the kitchen?

Me: Huh? No... when?

Jane: When I made the comment about the shelf.

Me: What do you mean?

Jane: When you showed me where you put the cups, and I said of course you moved the shelf up, did you think I was being sarcastic?

Me: No....

Jane: Oh. Well I could feel MarketingGal making faces, so I thought maybe I said something wrong.

Me: What?

Jane: I'm really sensitive. I can tell when people are making faces, even if I can't see them.

Me: Well I didn't see her. But you didn't offend me, I forgot about the whole conversation anyway.

Jane: Well I get hurt really easily because people don't think I know they're making faces about me, but I can tell. I don't even have to see them.

I wonder if she can see the face I'm making right now?

Friday, March 17, 2006

Five more days...

And I won't be sitting next to Jane anymore. I cannot wait. I seriously wanted to smack her yesterday morning, and I almost wish I had. See, she goes around telling everyone all the time that she "always says what's on her mind", which she thinks gives her license to blurt out stuff that she probably should keep to herself. Like exactly what she thinks of you.

Thursday morning, the chaos had only just begun (these last few days have been hell), it was early, and I was in the middle of working on something when she came over to ask me to write down how to change a password on our voice mail system, just in case she ever needed to know how to do it some day. I was already exasperated because AngrySally had just given me attitude, and I kind of sighed and said "You need to know this now?" But then I recovered myself and showed her how to do it, and she took notes. Afterward I apologized. Note: this was the polite thing to do. I didn't have to do it. Next time I won't.

Me: Sorry... AngrySally just really annoyed the heck out of me right before you came in here.

Jane: You know, I never know how to read you lately. You're jumpy. (pause) You ARE!

Me (staring at her in disbelief): Uhh... yeah.... well we're moving.

Jane: Everyone's moving you know, it's not just you SilentWitness.

Me (to her back as she walked away because I guess she thought she should have the last word): Yeah you're right. And everyone's jumpy. Well I was just apologizing, I guess I shouldn't have done that.

Bitch.

Who the *$&) does she think she is? I'm apologizing to you, acknowledging that I shouldn't have been snippy, and this is how you respond to that? Earth to Jane... moving is stressful. I'm not saying that gives me or anyone license to go around being a supreme c-word to everyone (see: AngrySally), but that's just human nature. Sometimes people snap at other people when they're stressed. It happens. And you should gracefully accept someone's apology- it's not as if I chopped off your pinky for crying out loud. And what I said wasn't even that bad. Believe me, it could have been a lot bitchier. Sorry I don't have a shiny happy plastic fake annoying-voice Pollyanna mask on all day everyday, you brazen hussy.

But things aren't all stress and cat-fights in BlogCompany-ville. Just this afternoon, as I walked down the hall I came upon MarketingGal, who was holding a bright orange plastic "dolly" that the crate company people had left so we could more easily maneuver our piles of packed crates. These are slightly more sophisticated than the typical four-boards-nailed-together-covered-with-carpet-with-wheels-attached type dollies that the movers use. At any rate, she and I looked at each other and I swear we both had the same idea at the same time. She put the dolly on the floor, I sat on it, and she put her hands on my shoulders and pushed me all the way down the hall, both of us giggling like schoolgirls. We sailed past the kitchen and heard bursts of laughter follow us past the doorway. At the end of the hall, breathless from running and giggling, MarketingGirl said "That was awesome!" I told her it was her turn- so she got on the dolly and I ran back down the hall, pushing her. I think we invented a new sport: office luge. The best part about this little foray into silliness is that it occurred to us that by Wednesday next week, all of the cubes will be broken down. We'll have a huge long open space, a stack of crates and dollies, and several admins milling around without much to do. This should be interesting.

Not even a half hour after that, PartnerInCrime and I were in the storage room, marveling at how much stuff the movers had taken out, and he got the brilliant idea to get on one of their dollies (the crappy carpet-covered kind) and start trying to move around in a circle. I grabbed the other one and did likewise, only I kept crashing into him. So we ended up having a good session of "bumper dollies". Ahh yes, the things you do to amuse yourself to keep from breaking your co-workers' necks.

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

My apologies to So-and-So

Recently, I started playing hockey with SilentHusband and his rag-tag band of weekend warriors. I knew I was hooked the day I went to watch them and stood in the 25* cold for an hour and a half and didn't care about the cold. (Stay with me, this will be work-related). So, I got myself some gear and I've been practicing and hope to be good enough for the "big weekend games" soon. Why do I mention this? Because my work world and my hockey world collided yesterday, and I feel a little disturbed by it. I thought my boss might get a chuckle out of seeing a few pictures one of my friends took of me and SilentHusband practicing, so I emailed them to her (and a whole bunch of other people), and couldn't resist adding a picture of my favorite player, who has become god-like in my eyes now that I really know how hard it is to do all that stuff that they make look so easy. I was in her office when she opened the email.

MyBoss: What's this from you, pictures?

Me: Yeah, it's me playing hockey.

MyBoss: Oh cool!!! (opens email, makes appropriately encouraging comments upon seeing my pictures, then sees the picture of the player) DAAA-AAAAMN! Who is THAT?

Me: Oh, that's So-and-So, my favorite player.

MyBoss: Wow. He's hot. Who knew hockey players could be so good looking?

At this point I was turing 18 shades of red, because I am aware that the man is attractive, but that is honestly not why he is my favorite. Of course she would never believe that and so my skin decides that's a good enough reason to turn red. Stupid Nordic pale skin.... Anyway.... she asked me his name, and since he is part of the European invasion of the NHL it's a funny-sounding name to us simple folk and she made me repeat it at least three times. Which made me turn redder. I thought that was pretty much the end of it, and went about the rest of my day. Later on I decided she needed a pick-me-up, so as I joke I sent her another picture of So-and-So. When I went into her office later, I noticed she had printed the pictures out, full size, on regular office letter size paper. Oh dear. I pointed it out and laughed and she started quizzing me.

MyBoss: How old is he?

Me: 22

MyBoss: Wow. Twentytwo?! Is he married?

Me: No but I hear he has a serious girlfriend.

MyBoss (waves the notion away): Eh, so what. Does he have an accent?

Me: Of course. He just came here last year.

MyBoss: Wow.... look at those eyes. I don't think I could have dinner with someone this good looking, I'd just drool all over my plate.

I was laughing, but started to feel a little creeped out. Then, leaning over her desk conspiratorially, she said...

MyBoss: In fact, I couldn't have sex with someone this perfect. I'd be way too nervous.

I drew two conclusions from this revelation:

1. MyBoss really needs to get laid.
2. I will never bring this up again, lest she start stalking the poor guy, or even worse, become one of those female hockey "fans" who give us all a bad name by going on about how "hot" this one or that one is. Ick. I feel a little dirty now.

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Swan song?

I know I’ve been lax in posting here lately, but this move is killing me. This might be the most screwed up move in the history of office moves- at least it will be until ChinaGirl’s office moves in April… then that will be the most screwed up. But ChinaGirl doesn’t have to follow behind and pick up the pieces the so-called “move project management” team hundreds of miles away is leaving behind (this might be because her company wouldn't bother with such a trivial detail. But I digress). I am ready to throw some people out the flipping window. So, good ol’ Silent hasn’t been in a very talkative mood lately. That combined with the fact that my co-workers have been mind-numbingly boring lately doesn’t yield very interesting posts, so I’ve been on the quiet side.

I’ve also been thinking that this might be the end of the blog. When we move, I will be sitting nowhere near the Three Musketeers, Nutjob, or Jane. I guess I’ll just have to see how it goes. This afternoon though, I think the Three Musketeers and I had our last hurrah. A few hours after a slight meltdown, I was feeling quite punchy. Apparently the Musketeers were, too. PartnerInCrime was wandering around, having completely lost all motivation after an hour and a half conference call consisting of complete pointlesness, and he pointed out that these were the last few days that I’d be near the Musketeers. There was lots of sarcasm back and forth between me and Musketeers #2 and #3, and then Musketeer #1 came back to his office after flirting with one of the admins. PartnerInCrime told him he better make the best of these last few days of us all being together after so many years (7 years in this place!!!). Musketeer #1 pretended to lament and go on about how boring it would be without me near them, then suddenly switched gears. My boss was in her office working on something, so she was well within earshot.

Musketeer #1: Hey, SW’s Boss! Can I have a hole in my wall going into Musketeer #2’s office?

PartnerInCrime: Huh huh huh… hole

Musketeer #1: C’mon, Boss. I want a hole in my wall!

I need to backtrack a bit and explain this “hole” thing. A few years ago, my boss and HeadHoncho decided it was too much work to get up and walk into each other’s office to talk (or, apparently, to pick up the phone), so they had a “window” cut in the wall between their offices, with sliding glass panes put in it. Everyone refers to it as the “hamburger window”, because it looks just like a drive-through window. HeadHoncho was so impressed with himself that he decided it would be a great idea to put similar windows in our new office space. There are three offices in a row: his, my boss’s and mine, and there are windows in each wall, so theoretically, HeadHoncho could yell through my boss’s office to me if he so desired. These windows have become a source of amusement to the entire office, and for some reason, in the new space they’re quite a bit larger than the one my boss and HeadHoncho have now. So… back to the “hole” conversation.

My Boss: It’s a little late for that now.

PartnerInCrime continues chortling Butthead-style and repeating the word “hole”.

Musketeer #1 (to me): You have a much bigger hole over there than you do here.

Me: Yes, it’s quite a bit bigger.

Musketeer #1: Are they going to put glass in it? That’s a big hole to leave gaping open like that.

Me: Yeah, there’s glass in there already.

Musketeer #1: Are there locks on it? Will you be able to lock your hole?

Me: No…

Musketeer #1: Well what’s the point then, if you lock your door, and your boss leaves hers open, someone could just go right through into your office. (pause, then slightly louder, for my boss’s benefit) I could crawl right through your boss’s hole to get to you!

PartnerInCrime practically had an aneurysm and I have to confess that at this point I was laughing pretty hard myself.

MyBoss: I heard that!

Musketeer #1 (also laughing now): Well what the hell, let’s keep going… Hey Boss, do you think I would fit through your hole?

MyBoss: I knew that was coming… No… I think you would get stuck.

Musketeer #1: I’d get stuck in your hole with just my feet sticking out!!!

I nearly choked on my coffee. I don’t know what happened to PartnerInCrime, he may have imploded. Jane had left early, which is the only reason we got away with any of this silliness. I don’t know, it doesn’t seem nearly as funny now as it did at the time, maybe I just needed a really good laugh. The movers start bringing crates in on Thursday, and we have to be all packed up by next Tuesday afternoon. There probably won’t be much time for posting, but I’m sure in the next week and a half something interesting is bound to happen. If I throw myself off the roof, I’ll give PartnerInCrime the password to this blog so he can post and let you all know when and where the funeral will be. (Hopefully I’ll remember to give it to him before I jump).

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

This thing is still here???

I thought it might have slunk off, feeling ignored and rejected. It's ok, little bloggy-wog. I'm done lavishing attention on Turino. Ah, now let's see what I can bring you all up to date on. Nothing incredibly funny or earthshattering has happened lately, except for Bruce and his big mouth (again). I know I mentioned HeadHoncho went on a hiring spree. Well one of the new brokers is a (fairly attractive, surprise surprise) female broker, brand spanking new to the business. Ooops. I probably shouldn't say "spanking".

Anyway... one day last week HeadHoncho called me and all the other females into his office separately, to explain that he'd heard some "rumblings" that Bruce was saying some inappropriate things, and that we should be sure to let him (HeadHoncho) know if he (Bruce) said anything offensive to or around us. My boss had a meeting with the administrative assistants to relay the same message, only she didn't reveal the culprit. So, you must be wondering what Bruce could have said that resulted in 5 brokers complaining to HeadHoncho in one week. I mean, what could be worse than what he's already said, right? Try this on for size: his cube is right next to NewFemaleBroker's cube. He *allegedly* described to her how he was "dry humping" his girlfriend until he reached a certain state of stickiness. (I am gagging just writing this, by the way). I say "allegedly" because the broker whose poor ears were singed didn't say anything directly to HeadHoncho, she mentioned it to some of the other brokers she works with. They in turn went to HeadHoncho. So, Bruce lucks out and doesn't get fired. Imagine that. Someone in my office not getting fired for saying/doing/looking at something incredibly inappropriate.

The big story on the horizon now is the coming snow storm. Just our luck, it's supposed to start just after morning rush hour and continue all day. I have already been *this close* to strangling Jane lately, mostly just for existing, but if I have to listen to her whine and fret and complain all day about how awful the roads look, she is going to get tossed out a window. I'll provide this blog as evidence in my trial. No jury in the world would convict me.