Co-Workers For Pele

You don't have to be nuts to work here...

2006-06-22T16:50:00.000-04:00

It's late in the afternoon. I'm punchy because I have tomorrow off (yay!). PartnerInCrime is punchy because his brain is fried and he's drinking wine. (Which he got from me, which is in my file cabinet because my boss and I bought some small bottles of Sutter Home one day when we couldn't take it anymore. We only drink the classy stuff). We'd been having a pretty decent "therapy session", when one of the brokers stopped by. This guy is an older gent, pretty distinguished, and a major pain in the ass most of the time. But he's one of those older distinguished gents who has a stealth sense of humor.

Gent: So.... where's the committee headed to?

Me: The committee is headed to the nuthouse.

PartnerInCrime: I'm not part of any committee.

Gent: The nuthouse? It's only 4:30. Hey..... We should open a bar/restaurant and call it "The Nuthouse".

Me: Hey that's a great idea.

Gent: We can throw elephant nuts all over the floor...

Me: Elephant nuts?

Gent: Yeah, you know, like at the baseball games.

Me: "Elephant nuts"??? Don't you mean peanuts?

Gent: Oh yeah...

Me: I don't think you want elephant nuts on the floor of your restaurant.

Gent looks at me for a minute, then what I'm saying suddenly dawns on him and he starts laughing.

Gent: SilentWitness, I'm surprised at you!!! You have a dirty mind!

He starts to walk away, then sticks his head back in the door and says...

Gent: You know, Silent, that was a pretty ballsy thing to say.

Poor PartnerInCrime got wine on his shirt.

Did I mention he's obsessed with Nazis?

2006-06-13T17:05:00.000-04:00

Musketeer #1 got a wild hair up his ass last year (or it could have just been a midlife crisis, sometimes they're hard to tell apart) and got a motorcycle license... and a motorcycle. I know less about motorcycles than I do about microbiology, so all I can say is that it's a very snazzy looking bike, and it's a BMW. Definitely not "low ego emissions" material.

Today he wandered into my office to chat, and offhandedly mentioned that someone, he's assuming it was the General, turned the hand-warmers on just to mess with him, and he didn't figure out until he got home why his hands were burning. I must have looked at him strangely because he supplied an explanation.

Musketeer #1: It has a switch you can turn on to warm the handles so your hands don't freeze. Like seat warmers in a car. Those Germans think of everything. Especially if it has to do with heat... and ovens.

There wasn't much I could say to that. Ironically enough, one of the compressors on the air conditioning unit that cools our office broke today. The Germans have to be involved somehow, since it's like an oven in here now.

PS- Show of hands: who thinks it would be a bad idea to go for a ride with Musketeer #1?

Bring me a shrubbery

2006-06-02T10:40:00.000-04:00

My boss has been working with the plant service, to get some more plants in the office and pretty it up a little. We had several plants in the old space, but this space is bigger (and more corporate) and needs more plants. For some reason she is insisting on an orange tree for the balcony outside her window. Nevermind that an orange tree won't survive the winter... she'll just bring it inside!

The other day, one of the property managers (who uses the same plant service for the buildings they manage) was in her office and they were discussing what plants should go where. I was minding my own business, but remember there is a window in the wall between our offices, so we can communicate.

blah blah blah, plant conversation... then suddenly:

MyBoss: SilentWitness needs a bush!!!

Me: Excuse me?!

PropertyManager (rolling her eyes): Ok, a shrub. Why does everyone have a dirty mind?

MyBoss: Bush, shrub, same thing.

PropertyManager: Actually they're different but I always have to say "shrub" because everyone has the same reaction you do.

...and off they went back to their boring plant conversation. Fast forward a day or two, when I was feeling punchy.

Me: So... why exactly do I need a bush?

MyBoss (smirking): Because I heard you don't have one.

And I think I'll leave that right there. But I just had to share.

Guten Morgen, mein Herr

2006-06-01T09:17:00.000-04:00

Musketeer #1 is obsessed with Nazis. I am sure this goes back to his childhood, when his father (of German descent) just up and left the family. Any person from Germany or of German descent is therefore automatically a Nazi. Still, he has a sort of love/hate thing going on with his German heritage, because he randomly put an umlaut (those two funny dots, for those of you who don't know) over one of the vowels in his very German last name, and everyone thinks that's how it's spelled. I only recently found out myself that it doesn't really "belong" there, he just put it there because he felt like it.

He does a lot of work with European companies, so every once in a while he'll run across some Germans, and because he knows I majored in German, he always mentions it. This morning, we were both at the coffee maker at the same time (me for my 2nd cup, and I'd only been here for an hour), and he told me he had to show me this card he got from "a Nazi".

Me: A Nazi?

Him: Yeah. I met these two Nazis yesterday, right off the boat. Come on, let me show you this.

Me (following him): Are you sure they were actually Nazis?

Him: Of course. They were German.

When we got to his office he handed me two business cards, both of which were double sided, with the information in German on one side and English on the other.

Him: Look at the German side. Look at this guy's title. What the hell is that?!

It said "Geschäftsführer". It didn't hit me at first.

Me: Ok... it means "managing director".

Him: Why does it say "Führer"?!?!

Me: Oh! Well that's really just a regular word. It means "leader".

Him: Oh, ok. Well, I don't think he should be handing those cards out over here! I expected him to come goose-stepping into my office.

Well, since all Germans are Nazis, why wouldn't he?

Simple minds

2006-05-24T10:29:00.000-04:00

My boss has redeemed herself (somewhat). After telling me yesterday afternoon around 4pm that corporate needs a specific report and needs it today, I was less than thrilled with her time management skills- especially after seeing the email she forwarded me was originally sent to her two weeks ago. So, I’ve been a little grumbly. However, the phone calls I just had with her have wiped the slate almost clean.

Me: Hello, this is SilentWitness.

My boss: I am so bored!!!

Me: Um… where are you? Hi, by the way.

My boss: I’m in the middle of nowhere in an empty industrial building.

Me: What are you doing in an empty industrial building?

My boss: I’m working an open house with CheapSkate and OtherBroker. I have to greet the brokers when they arrive, and walk them down this long maze to bring them into the open house.

Me: Oooh, sounds like fun.

My boss: I’ve been watching this bug crawling around on the floor…

Me: Wow, you must be bored.

My boss: I’m thinking of getting some hoops or something and training it to do tricks.

Me: Put something in front of it and see if it climbs over it.

My boss: Oooh! Here comes some brokers! Gotta go!

I resumed working on the report she threw at me last night, and a few minutes later the phone rang again.

Me: Hello, this is SilentWitness.

My boss: I stepped on it!!!!

Me: What?

My boss: I stepped on the bug by accident! I knew that was going to happen!

Me: Oh no!

My boss: I was leading the brokers down the hall and when I stepped I heard *crunch*… and I thought that can’t be good.

Me: Now what are you going to do, that was your only friend! (I love to egg her on) You have to find another bug!

My boss: I’ve been looking for one!!! (I should have known) All I found was a dead moth with one wing. So now there’s a dead moth and a dead bug in here. [pause] I think I’ll go outside. There has to be something out there.

Me: Yeah, find a caterpillar or something.

My boss: Oh yeah!!! They’re out now! Maybe I can find one of those big fuzzy ones. Bye!

And I’m still sitting here working on this report. What’s wrong with this picture???

"I'm not dead yet!"

2006-05-09T08:49:00.000-04:00

I've resolved to keep this thing going. It'll require some work on my part, as the biggest group of lunatics is completely on the other side of the office. But it's been too much fun writing this blog to just let it die. So. This morning I wandered down to Musketeer #1's office to say hello, as I noticed he was an early bird this morning like I was. I asked him, half jokingly, if he was able to watch the parking lot for hot chicks from this window, as he was from his office in the old building. I should have known better.

Musketeer #1: Oh yeah! There's this hot brunette in a black Jeep.... her waist is about this big... I always call PartnerInCrime when she gets here. And then there's a smokin' blonde in a white Camry that parks over there... All the hot ones come in around quarter to nine.

Me: So do you have a favorite?

Musketeer #1: Yeah, there's this little bitty thing, she's about this tall [holds hand not quite up to his shoulder], she looks like she's about 18. Actually she kinda looks like you.

#1 At 5'7" (without heels, which I normally wear at work) I don't think I qualify as a "little bitty thing".
#2 I look significantly older than 18.
#3 Knock it off already, pervert.

Busted

2006-04-26T22:29:00.000-04:00

A little while ago, I happened to be at the front desk when the UPS man came to pick up our outgoing packages. I thought it a little odd that he said to me "Wow, you look so conservative!", but I didn't think much of it. (Didn't think much of it other than to IM ChinaGirl immediately and say I'm in a corporate environment, wearing a regular business suit type outfit- how is that conservative? It's the norm.) Anyway... this afternoon as I was walking past the front desk from dropping something off at MarketingGal's cube, the same UPS guy was standing there, chatting with the receptionist while waiting for someone to finsih a package. I stopped and asked him if he'd be back at 5:30 (our normal pickup time) and he said he wouldn't but someone else would be. Then he added:

UPS Guy: I just can't get over how conservative you look now.

Me (stopping dead in my tracks and turning around): What are you talking about?

UPS Guy: Well you used to look all goth and everything, now you look so conservative.

Me: Do I know you from somewhere other than here?

(Immediately the receptionist's and RunOnSentence's ears pricked up... I could see them thinking "ooooh this could get interesting!")

UPS Guy: No... I've been doing your pickups for like four years. And you used to look really goth.

Me (genuinely puzzled): But I don't dress any different now than I did 4 years ago. Oh! (it hit me) I used to have really long hair, that's probably it.

UPS Guy: Oh yeah! That's what's different! You just look so conservative now.

Dude. The jacket and pants I'm wearing, I've had for a few years. Nothing about me is different except for the haircut. So stop making the girls at the front desk think I walked around here in flowing black gossamer dresses, fishnets and combat boots. Because I stopped dressing like that on a regular basis about ten years ago.

D'oh.

I can't even think of a title for this

2006-04-26T08:37:00.000-04:00

Things most people usually don't talk about with their bosses:

anal beads

I don't know why but my boss continues to surprise me with the things she reveals. She had the day off on Monday, and yesterday was quite chipper and refreshed. I commented that the day off had done her some good, and she replied it could only have been better if she'd had sex. Which after a moment, she amended. "Well.... I did have sex. Just not with a person." This of course launched her into telling me about her friend's sex toy party this weekend, which is how the anal beads came up. If HR has a bug in her office, we're so screwed. Erm.... in trouble.

Knucklehead lives up to his name

2006-04-20T16:42:00.000-04:00

Since Knucklehead downloaded a virus from God-knows-where and destroyed his computer, he had to get a new one. I was at his desk configuring it to the network and installing software, and he was gone for most of the time, but he came back before I finished, and we had to make conversation. You’ll recall this is the guy who tried to tell me he witnessed a bench-clearing brawl at a hockey game, and though he professes to be a fan of a certain team, really doesn’t know squat about them, as I have demonstrated to him on more than one occasion. So here we are, about to start the most exciting part of hockey, the “second season”, the playoffs, and I couldn’t be more pumped. Too bad he opened his mouth.

Knucklehead: So… I bet you’re sad that hockey season is over.

Me: No…. I’m not sad, because MyTeam is in the playoffs. This is when things get really good. Actually… they’re playing YourTeam in the first round. I’m surprised you didn’t know that…

Knucklehead: Uh… yeah. So, are you going to any games?

(MyTeam is not a local team. Hence, I have to endure a lot of trash-talking from the fans of HisTeam, which getting even more fun now that the two teams ended up facing each other in the first round of the playoffs)

Me: No, the tickets are too expensive.

Knucklehead (puffs himself up): Well…. I could probably get you some tickets.

Me: Really? That would be cool.

Knucklehead: Two of the people I train have season tickets. Sometimes they give me tickets instead of paying me.

Me: I highly doubt they’re going to be giving these tickets away. This is a really big deal.

Knucklehead: Well.. I’ll see. You never know.

Me: Well thanks, that would be really nice.

Now… if he does manage to get the tickets, since he professes to be a fan of this local team, I guess that kind of means I have to go WITH him, since he was nice enough to get the tickets. Oh the sacrifices we make to see our team in the playoffs... I'm sure I don't even have to worry about it though. The chances of season ticket holders giving up tickets to a playoff game are slim. Of course, they are fans of ThatTeam. They can't be all that smart. *smirk*

More spidey-talk

2006-04-12T14:03:00.000-04:00

Bruce came into the copy room while I was in there, and I decided to have a little fun.

Bruce: Hi Silent, what's going on?

Me: Not much. How's your spider?

Bruce (lauging): I haven't looked at him in days.

Me (taking a cue from Mr. RingofFire): You know..... you should have the spider and the scorpion fight each other.

Bruce: I've thought of that, actually. But it wouldn't be much of a fight.

Me: Why?

Bruce: Well the scorpion has armor, claws AND a stinger. The spider doesn't have armor. It's fangs wouldn't be able to pierce the scorpion's armor- the scorpion would kill it instantly... and then eat it.

Me: Your spider's a wuss.

Show me your spider

2006-04-11T10:09:00.000-04:00

I was going to write about how RunOnSentence came into the office through the wrong door this morning and then wondered why the alarm was going off and what to do about it (despite my giving everyone the alarm codes only days ago), but something more entertaining presented itself. In our snazzy new office, we have a fancy hallway leading from the reception area to the rest of the office. It has nice wallcovering and soft lighting and eventually will have art hanging on the walls. This morning though, the only thing on the walls was a big brown spider. The building maintenance man happened to be walking in my direction, so I pointed it out in jest, as if it was something he should take care of.

Me: Check it out, Bob. A spider.

Bob (crouching to examine it): Ahh yeah, we have tons of those.

Tons? In an office building? This should be interesting. For some reason I found this amusing and was grinning about it as I walked to the coffee machine, where Bruce was lying in wait. I mean, already there making coffee for himself.

Bruce: What are you grinning about?

Me: Oh… there was a spider up front.

Bruce: That’s funny?

Me: For some reason, yeah.

He asked if it was a big spider and when I said no, he launched into at least two stories of HUGE spiders he’d seen in offices at other jobs. His description of one of them really gave me the willies.

Bruce: It was huge. And hairy. It looked like a mini-tarantula. I have no idea where it came from.

Me: Maybe it was someone’s pet that got loose.

Bruce: Hey… have you seen my tarantula?

(Oh dear… here we go…)

Me: I saw it’s dead carcass on your desk in the old space.

Bruce: That wasn’t a carcass, it was it’s shell! They molt!

Me: Ah…. I was wondering why you’d have a dead spider at your desk. I thought maybe it died and you didn’t want to part with it.

Bruce (shoving his picture-phone in my face): Here. That what he looks like.

Ack. I’m not especially frightened of spiders, but I don’t really like them all that much, especially giant hairy meaty ones. Besides, once you’ve seen one tarantula you’ve seen them all, really. Of course I didn’t tell him that, I wouldn’t want to bruise his fragile ego. While I was recovering from the case of the heebie-jeebies the picture gave me, he was scrolling through his phone looking for something else. I know he has a bird, so I assumed that’s what he was looking for. Nope. Another picture in my face. Of a scorpion. The guy has a pet tarantula and a pet scorpion. No wonder he’s single.

What a tool

2006-04-06T12:57:00.000-04:00

HeadHoncho took time out of his busy day to forward that "add up a bunch of numbers... now think of a color and a tool... if you said 'red hammer' you have a normal brain like 98% of people, if not you're weird" email. Since I'd already received this email from a friend, I knew I'd already pigeonholed myself in the "weirdo" crowd by thinking of a pink drill. I emailed him back and said "surprise surprise, I'm in the 2% with the abnormal brains". Here is the email conversation that followed:

From: HeadHoncho
To: SilentWitnes
Re: 98%

What was your answer? The rest we already know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From: SilentWitness
To: HeadHoncho
Re: 98%

A pink drill.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From: HeadHoncho
To: SilentWitness
Re: 98%

A pink drill? Oh my god!

I think you and I need to call HR about this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From: SilentWitness
To: HeadHoncho
Re: 98%

I think YOU need to call HR and ask them to help you get your mind out of the gutter. ;)

Thar she blows

2006-04-05T15:40:00.000-04:00

It's been a really insane week so far, and yes I'm aware it's only Wednesday. All day I've been looking forward to our hockey game this evening, but I think an even better stress reliever is being on the phone with your boss, who suddenly reveals that this weekend while her boyfriend was sleeping, she wrote "my name is Moby" in fine point rollerball pen on a very delicate part of his anatomy. Even funnier was hearing her describe how he discovered her message, when he went into the bathroom in the morning and she heard "Hey! Did you write on my cock?! [laughter] What the hell does this say???? 'My ... name... is...... MOBY?!?!' " [side-splitting laughter].

Who needs therapy when you have a boss like this?

Eyes on the back of her head

2006-03-30T10:48:00.000-05:00

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?

Five more days...

2006-03-17T22:22:00.000-05:00

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.

My apologies to So-and-So

2006-03-15T22:32:00.000-05:00

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.

Swan song?

2006-03-14T21:55:00.000-05:00

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).

This thing is still here???

2006-03-01T23:18:00.000-05:00

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.

Fatherly advice

2006-02-13T13:25:00.000-05:00

There's a broker in the office who I rarely mention here, because he's actually sane and so doesn't end up in many of my stories. He's a really nice person, a "real" person, which is rare to find in this industry, and consequently, he doesn't make any money. But he's genuinely concerned about people, and for some reason has kind of taken me under his wing. I'll call him DearOldDad, since he's sort of like a father figure in a way. (Not that my own father is absent or lacking, but he doesn't work here in the office. Naturally.)

Anyway, at the office holiday party, DearOldDad and I were chatting up a nice friendly storm, one of those conversations that for people like me, who are petrified of talking to people and hate small talk, was going much easier with the aid of a glass of wine. When I have a slight buzz I get very talkative. Very, very talkative. Not that I divulge secrets, just that you really can't shut me up. Somehow we got onto the topic of things we'd always wanted to do, and when I mentioned I would love to be a goalie, he just about fell off his chair in surprise, and asked me several times if I was serious. I think he thought I was too dainty to want to do something that crazy (or sweaty). But I told him I was serious, and he asked why I didn't go for it, and I proceded to give him a long list of reasons (excuses) why I "couldn't" do it.

I've been thinking about that conversation for a long time. This weekend I decided to tell my inner ninny to shut the hell up, and SilentHusband and I went out and bought a bunch of satisfyingly scruffy, used goalie gear. I love it. I can't wait to start learning, start practicing. Even just getting out and skating will be fun, I've had my ass parked in the house for too long. (Naturally this weekend we got buried under 8 feet of snow, and I wasn't able to go out and play. So I strapped all my gear on and SilentHusband threw pucks at me in the living room.)

I felt I had to share this information with DearOldDad, so I stopped by his office for a chat. His first concern was for my safety.

DOD: You have to make sure you're well protected. (Ok, now he REALLY sounds like a dad).

Me: Oh, I'm all set except for the helmet, which I'm getting soon. I've got the leg pads, chest protector, blocker and glove. It's great!

DOD: Well you really ought to think about getting a cup.

Me- (look of disbelief... did he really just SAY that?)

DOD: Seriously... you need some kind of protection for.... that area.

Me: You know I was actually wondering about that myself.

DOD: Even if you don't get a cup, get a jock and stuff some socks in it. You don't want to have the decision of having kids or not be made for you. The puck doesn't care if you're a girl or a guy.

I didn't have the heart to tell him I'd decided long ago not to have kids, besides, that wasn't the point. I was partially touched by his concern and partially incredibly amused that of all the things he could say when I told him I decided to go after what I wanted, he told me to get a cup. Or stuff socks in my pants. Man, I love this place.

Great, now there's 2 of them

2006-02-09T17:12:00.000-05:00

We've been on a hiring binge lately. I guess there weren't enough loonies in the office, we had to go out and find some more. What better place to look than in Bruce's little black book? HeadHoncho had a brainfart and hired one of Bruce's bodybuilding buddies. This guy is a total knucklehead, so that is what he shall be called from here on in. I had to get his computer all set up on the network, and in the process had to download and install a service pack for his version of Windows, and install Adobe... all of which is quite time consuming. So I got to hear a lot about the bodybuilding business and how 70% of the guys in it are gay. (You trying to tell me something, buddy?) While I was patiently enduring the testosterone onslaught, MiddleAgedHippie walked by, saw me sitting there, and did what every other somewhat sports-conscious guy has done in the last day or so: asked me what I thought about the Tocchet Betting Debacle. Which has now become the Gretzky Betting Debacle because everyone is salivating at the thought of knocking the Great One off his pedestal.

Knucklehead took this opportunity to try to impress me.

Knucklehead: You know, I was at a hockey game last week. It was the BlahBlahs versus the BlahBlahs. There was a bench-clearing brawl. It was awesome.

Me: Reeeeeally? A bench-clearing brawl, huh?

Knucklehead (puffing up): Yep. They all jumped onto the ice and started beating each other.

Me: Hmmm. That's interesting, I'm sure I would have heard about that.

Knucklehead is perplexed.

Me: I mean, a guy so much as thinks about jumping over the boards to join a fight and he's suspended for a week. (ok, exaggeration there, so what).

Knucklehead: Well. Ahhh, maybe they didn't jump off the bench. Maybe it was the guys who were already on the ice. Yeah. They were just going nuts though.

Dude. Ask SilentHusband, ChinaGirl or Mr Ring of Fire- I am the Geek Queen of Hockey Fans. Need to know how many Finnish goalies are in the NHL? Ask me. (There are 9, in case you're curious). I went to a hockey game on my honeymoon. I will run hockey circles around you in my Geek Queendom. Putz.

Ease on down the road

2006-02-03T09:12:00.000-05:00

Well folks, it's official. BlogCompany is moving. Where? Across the street and down two buildings. Seems like if we're going to go through all the hassle we should at least move 10 miles away. However, as my boss says, "it is what it is" and we've been awash in planning for the last few months. The space is in the process of being built out, and I went over yesterday and took a gander at the hot Russian construction workers. Whoops! I meant my new office. Yes ladies and gentlemen, SilentWitness will no longer be a citizen of Cubeville. Also, now that the offices and cubes have been assigned, I also know that I will be nowhere near the Three Musketeers, and a little bit further away from Nutjob than I am now.

But fret not, dear readers, for right outside my door will be AngrySally, the queen of irate phone calls, and another person who hasn't made it in here yet because she's on the other end of the office and I haven't had much chance to witness firsthand if she is as obnoxious as people say she is. So this is by no means the end of the road for this blog. Not only that, but moving itself is bound to be an endless source of blogworthy stories. It already has been, insofar as Jane has already had a hissy fit about her "area" (not quite an office, not quite a cube), but that will come later. For now, just be content to know that I will still be surrounded by plenty of candidates for volcanic sacrifice.

Bruce shows his class (again)

2006-01-31T22:43:00.000-05:00

Time to introduce a new cast member! *insert fanfare here* I shall call her "HotBroker". We have very few female brokers, and this one is in her 40's (I'm guessing) but doesn't look it. She dresses very "young", but not embarassingly so- she can pull it off. She has a body that won't quit, a cute face and an outgoing (but not annoying) personality. Obviously, she's well liked by the males in the office. (I feel a little bad for her though... she's not liked for who she is, she's liked for what she looks like. But that's a whole other topic for a whole other post).

Today I wandered into the kitchen to refill my cup of coffee and she happened to be in there with one of the gals from the other department. I caught the tail end of a conversation.

HotBroker: ...it really sucked to hear that, so here I am in here eating chocolate.

Gal: Yeah that is pretty harsh.

I was going to tactfully stay out of whatever I'd just walked into, but she's not shy. She turned to me to fill me in.

HotBroker: SilentWitness, you'll never believe what Bruce said to me.

Me (wryly): Try me.

HotBroker: He actually looked at me and said "You know, if only you were 20 years younger...." If only? Then what? And 20 years?! Ouch!

Me: What an asshat. Don't take it personally, he has no class whatsoever.

And I related the "Mexican hairless" comment regarding my latest haircut. Then Nutjob spoiled the Bruce-bashing, chocolate-eating bonding session by running in to tell us there was chocolate in here. Um, not anymore there's not.

Going.... Up?

2006-01-30T10:02:00.000-05:00

The quality of this building has become a joke in these parts. The owners don't seem to care about silly things like having soap in the bathroom, or or toilets that flush (or stop flushing). Today it's the elevator. Oh, but just one of them at least. This morning in my Monday morning fog as I made my coffee, Bruce asked me which elevator I'd taken this morning.

Me: What? I don't know.

Bruce: Well I took the one on the left, and I swear I thought I was going to die! It made this awful gridnding sound. I really didn't think it was going to make it up here.

Me: Well I obviously didn't take that one. That's screwed up, I'll call BuildingManager.

At that moment, Jane burst into the kitchen, coat and sunglasses still on.

Jane: Oh my God! Did you take that elevator?! That was the most terrifying ride of my life! I was asking forgiveness for my sins.... (at this point I tuned her out).

It's not that I have no sympathy for them, I'm sure I'd have been freaked out to ride in that elevator too. But I'm pissy today and Jane's habit of telling everyone the same story, word for word, is making me want to strangle her. Can't you vary it just slightly? Ok, ok, so you were asking forgiveness for your sins. As for forgiveness for mine, too because I'm about to commit one.

My mood combined with the morning's elevator-centric talk has called to mind a creepy set of lyrics. It'll really help matters to have this stuck in my head all day:

"My flavor's a plunging elevator
a millisecond before it hits the cellar.
A cellar with mutated rats.
Old - very old - lost teeth.
Abortions. Garbage. So pungent it hums
out of key (slightly).
Just enough to annoy you."

The Tear Garden - "Empathy for the Devil"

Not dead

2006-01-25T16:07:00.000-05:00

Lest you think my co-workers actually threw me into a volcano, I am posting to let you all know I am still alive and somewhat well. It frustrates me to no end that I have nothing to report, but there you go. They must all be on their medication these days.

(The purpose of this post is two-fold. One, as already stated, and the other in hopes that Murphy's Law will apply and now that I've said I have nothing to report, something unbelievably blogworthy will happen and I can get this thing rolling again.)

PS- The spirit of SilentKitty visited me on my commute home from work last week and told me it was ok to adopt another kitty to keep OtherSilentKitty (aka Stink-Butt) company. And to keep me company. So I adopted another cat... and with predictable obsessiveness, named him after one of my favorite hockey players. Welcome to the pack, Bulin. Please allow OSK to think he is alpha-cat. Things will go much easier for you.

The proper care and feeding of SilentWitness

2006-01-20T14:26:00.000-05:00

1. Do not get between SilentWitness and her hockey.

2. If SilentWitness hasn’t eaten and her blood sugar is in the basement, stay the fuck out of her way and don’t ask her any goddamn stupid fucking questions. Also, please take her seriously when she tells you (“you” being the IT department) that she is getting locked out of her account every day, several times a day, regardless of what computer she uses, and has resorted to amusing herself by writing her passwords down on her notepad (because who can remember 3 passwords a day) in Cyrillic on the outside chance that anyone might see it and think it would be good idea to try to fuck with her network account and try to log in as her.

Thank you, that is all.

R.I.P. SilentKitty

2006-01-17T09:42:00.000-05:00

Hi-de-ho SilentReaders. I haven't had much to say lately, as I've not been in a very upbeat mood, and my co-workers aren't complying with their normal antics to distract me. Unfortunately, I had to put one of my cats to sleep last week. He was very old, very frail, and quite sick, so it was the best thing for him, but I still miss the little guy.

In office related news, Nutjob just got back from a week-long cruise and even though she got off the boat on Saturday claims she still has "sea legs". Never having been on a cruise in my life, I have no idea if this is another attention ploy or if that phenomenon does indeed last for days.

Jane has been sick with the flu for the last week, and has been coming in. She's hacking up all kinds of lovely-sounding things over on the other side of that cube wall. Some of them are rather juicy. If I end up with what she has I will be supremely peeved.

I didn't tell too many people in the office about SilentKitty, because a) it's none of their business and b) I didn't want to have to talk about it all week. I did tell Musketeer #3 though, because he and I always ask after each other's cats and share what silly antics they're up to. He expressed appropriate sympathy, and I actually didn't cry. (Imagine!). The next day, I seriously thought he might be the biggest dick on the planet.

Musketeer #3: How's your cat?

Me (stunned silence, staring at him)

Musketeer #3: The other one!!! How's he taking it?

Whew. OtherSilentKitty is ok, a little clingy, and will get a brother or sister at some point in the future but not for a while.

So that's the news, from Lake BlogCompany, where all the co-workers are imbiciles, all the brokers are cheating scumbags, and all the admins are good-looking.

2 more things of note

2006-01-03T16:24:00.000-05:00

1. - I realized at some point during the day, that I had a dream last night that Jane had a blog where she recorded all of the things I said and/or did that ticked her off. Guily conscience much?

2. - This afternoon our intranet slowed down to the pace of continental drift. I called our tech support, even though I was sure every other office was calling at the same time. Because you know the one time I don't call, the problem will be local to our office and tech support won't even know about it. Anyway... Here was my incredibly satisfying conversation:

Me: Hi, its SilentWitness in BlogOffice. Are we having intranet troubles?

TechChick: Yeah, it's just really slow.

Me: Oh... Ok. It's taking about 5 mintues to send a print job to my printer.

TechChick: It's a firewall thing.

Me: Ok... is there any estimate-

TechChick: We're working on it.

Well, ok, I'm sure she was tired of answering the phone and saying "yes our connection is slow". And it's obvious you guys have no idea what the problem actually is. But sheesh, at least make up an entertaining explanation, like the time you told me "don't tell anyone but the real problem is someone tripped over the power cord".

No wonder he's single

2006-01-03T09:25:00.000-05:00

Well I think it's safe to say I'm going through some sort of midlife crisis. On Friday I decided to get all my hair chopped off. Well, most of it. So I have this chic little pixie type cut and I actually feel quite good about it. It makes me feel more perky, don't ask me why. So, naturally, everyone in the office is doing a double-take when they see me, since I went from lots of curls to practically nothing. Most people are polite and say it looks nice, even if they think I look like a boy now, but there's always Bruce. Mr. Social Skills.

Bruce: Wow! You went from poodle perm to Mexican hairless!

Me: "Mexican hairless?" Wow, that's... flattering.

Bruce: ha ha ha... no, it looks good.

Gee, thanks. Hate to break it to you but I didn't do it to impress you, Mr. Wonderful.

Oh yes, and Happy New Year everyone! (even though I think it's a stupid holiday)

Serenity Now!!!

2005-12-29T13:44:00.000-05:00

My patience is wearing thin. It is year-end, so that in itself is a big handful. Add to that the fact that my boss doesn't seem to grasp the meaning of year-end deadlines and I'm already pulling my hair out. What I do not need is someone running over to me every five minutes (I seriously am not just using that as an expression) to give me an update on her stationery supply situation. (The "situation" is that we had to order all new stationery, because our logo changed. Apparently this is a hugely complex task, because I have to keep hearing about what to do with the old stuff, who's cards didn't arrive, or maybe they did, where are they, isn't that odd that they would just disappear, she's going to re-order with a rush order, by the way she's not going to fight them on the rush charge, isn't it a good thing she covered her butt by saving copies of everyone's responses to her email, etc etc etc etc etc etc).

Hey Jane, newsflash: I don't care about the stationery. If something's missing, re-order it, you have my permission. Now leave me alone.

Another Oscar-winning performance

2005-12-28T21:56:00.000-05:00

I knew something was up when Nutjob arrived with not only washed but styled hair, and makeup. When she said "good morning" to me she sounded awful. I said as much.

Nutjob: Oh yeah... I'm not feeling so good. I don't know long I'll last today.

She went up front to answer phones. Jane came rushing over to tell me that it was obvious that she was setting up for an early day, because her hair was done. No shit, Sherlock. I played into it.

Me: Yeah, but she doesn't sound so good.

Jane: Yeah well she was faking yesterday too. [Jane stalks away]

No, really? You think she might be faking? Nah, I don't think so. Not when she has tomorrow and Friday as vacation days....

PS- The "alive" gift from my boss was neither alive furry nor alive leafy. It was alive amphibious. Yes, a frog. Thankfully, she decided after learning about what kind of care it would need, that it was too much work to give as a gift. Hi here's your gift! Now you can keep your eye on it all the time in your freezing cold house to make sure the water's warm enough, keep it in a place the cats can't get to it, and oh yeah, feed it crickets. Merry Christmas! Good call on that one, BossLady. I love frogs, but not that much.

Dear Jane,

2005-12-28T09:01:00.000-05:00

Please remove the stick from your ass. It's only 9:00. If I have to deal with this kind of attitude all day I might string you up next to the Dreidl of Death.

Tactfully yours,
SilentWitness

This is the life

2005-12-27T17:15:00.000-05:00

I had the day off today. Supposedly I was driving back from my grandmother's, but we came back last night. Shhhh, don't tell. Miracle of miracles, my cell phone didn't ring. Good thing, because the only thing better than having a day off work is having a day off work and discovering that your cable hockey package is showing the World Junior Championships in the middle of the afternoon, and watching 18 & 19 yr old US kids whoop some 18 & 19 year old Norwegian ass was quite delightful. Even though I'm a total chick and started to feel bad for the poor Norwegian goalie. (Final score: 11-2).

(No comments about 18 & 19 year old Norwegian ass please).

Back to the salt mines tomorrow. Hope all your holidays were merry.

Merry/Happy Christmas, Hanukkah, Yule, Diwali, Kwanza, Orthodox Christmas and anything else I forgot

2005-12-23T10:44:00.000-05:00

Quick update because I'm trying to process revenue and get out of here:

1. My boss told me she didn't bring my gift yesterday because it's something alive. And she didn't think it would survive the cold sitting in my car during the party. Oh dear.

2. Someone is wandering around the office singing "White Christmas". Wow, that's daring. That's 2 PC demerits against him: "white" and "Christmas".

3. Musketeer #3 told Musketeer #1 (who wasn't at the party) that I got wild at the party yesterday. He said "You know the stupid pet tricks they do on Letterman? Well... I didn't think humans could do stuff like this". Ha ha ha. I told him I thought I'd sworn him to secrecy and now I'm going to take my sweet time processing his czechs. Oops. I mean checks. Sorry, hockey on the brain.

Seriously... happy whatever you celebrate, and if you don't celebrate anything, have a nice fun secular day off.

Thanks a lot

2005-12-22T23:17:00.000-05:00

I just typed a whole long entry about the party, and my freaking cat walked across the keyboard and stepped on all the wrong keys and erased the whole damn thing.

Tune in tomorrow when PartnerInCrime and I settle our bet over how many Fuzzy Navels Nutjob had. I said she'd have 4, he said 3. When I left she was sucking down her second one. Tomorrow when I go in I'll ask her how many she had, and she'll proudly tell me. Prepare to pay up, PartnerInCrime.

Do you really have THAT much work to do?

2005-12-22T12:14:00.000-05:00

Quickly, before I have to leave for the party. This morning I went to the ladies room and found a blue pen resting on top of the toilet paper dispenser. I thought that was odd, until I just made a return visit, and found a black pen resting nicely next to the blue pen on top of the same dispenser.

1. Who is bringing paperwork into the bathroom stall?
2. Why would you leave your pen behind?
3. I sure hope they don't come back to pick their pens up, then absentmindedly chew on them at some time in the future.

PS Nutjob is wearing silver shoes to match her silver Christmas bow.

PPS AngrySally is wearing leather pants. Yikes.

It's starting...

2005-12-22T09:21:00.000-05:00

1. Nutjob has a silver bow in her hair. Not a pretty hair bow. One of those stick-on bows you put on a present.

2. Jane has told anyone who walks by her cube (including me) that she is wearing a size 8 suit that she couldn't even put on last year. She is sooooo excited. She's 57 years old and wearing a size 8. Isn't that terrific? She even twirled around so I could see her from all angles. Gee, thanks. She interrupted herself to excitedly say she had to call her husband to tell him she was wearing a size 8.

Stay tuned.

Tumbleweeds in BlogLand

2005-12-21T21:11:00.000-05:00

Is this thing on?

Yes, I realize it's been quiet in here lately. Unfortunately between my frenzied preparation for year-end and my co-workers slacking like crazy, there hasn't been much to report. Here is the only scrap of humor I've come across in the last few days. Hopefully things will change tomorrow, with our holiday party with open bar. Ahhhh, yes.

Anyway, hopefully this will tide you over. StonerBoy recently had surgery on his shoulder, which he injured in an accident about a year ago. (Don't ask. I don't know why he waited so long either).

Me: Hey, how's your shoulder doing?

StonerBoy: It's ok. Doing better.

Me: Are you still taking painkillers?

StonerBoy: Nah.... only when it hurts.

Yes, he is called StonerBoy for a reason.

Words you shouldn't hear unless you're in a doctor's office:

2005-12-16T12:33:00.000-05:00

"Hymen" and "foreskin".

Now that I have your attention... It occurred to me that I completely forgot to related this lovely little tidbit yesterday. Because we here at BlogCompany are a serious business, we get a copy of the Wall Street Journal. Not too many people pay attention to it, with the exception of Musketeer #2, who likes to take it into the bathroom with him for his 3:00 dump. (Come to think of it... that might be why no one else touches it). Yesterday afternoon, he walked into Musketeer #1's office yelling about an article he read in the Journal. Yes, yelling.

Musketeer #2: Holy crap, Musketeer #1 this article is right up your alley.

Musketeer #1: Huh?

Musketeer #2: I was reading the Journal, and look at this! (shakes the paper in his face). A woman had hymen replacement surgery! I didn't even know they could do that! It cost $5,000, what is she thinking!

Musketeer #1: Now wait a minute. If she can do that, I want my foreskin back. (takes the paper and reads the article). It says here she's in her 40's and she did it for an anniversary present for her husband! Nice!

Musketeer #2: You should show it to Mrs. Musketeer #1.

Musketeer #1: Are you kidding? She'd tell me to fuck off.

...and so on.

Later on, Musketeer #2 mentioned the article to my boss.

Musketeer #2: That's ok, you should have seen the article I found in the Wall Street Journal. (looks at me) Do you know about it?

Me: How could I not.

Musketeer #2: Oh. You heard us talking?

Me: Talking? More like yelling. And yes, I heard you.

MyBoss: What? What is it about?

...and the whole thing started all over again.

Bringing down the dreidl

2005-12-16T07:55:00.000-05:00

Yesterday afternoon, the Three Musketeers got punchy and decided (while Nutjob was not at her desk) to try to shoot down the Dreidl of Death with long strings of rubberbands attached to each other. No luck. She has it cemented up there with I don't even want to know what. Probably boogers that she collects throughout the year.

Let's see. It's Friday. It's pouring rain and cold. HeadHoncho is "scheduled" to be in the office. I'll bet Nutjob's booger-laden dreidl he decides not to come in today. Thanks to SilentHusband's germs, I feel like ass. So I'm going to be cranky all day, and I'm allowed to be, dammit. Especially when I've spent the morning listening to the Musketeers vehemently bitching about a woman broker who is using the office digital camera. I don't know what their problem is but suddenly she's a "fucking bitch" and is "probably taking pictures of chocolate" (no, that would be me, with my mountains of Ghiradelli at home. ahhhhh.... ). Points I wanted to make to them but am too drugged out to give a crap right now:

1. Get your own damn digital camera. Between the three of you, you can surely afford one.

2. If this was a male broker, not only would there not be any references to chocolate, but you wouldn't be swearing a blue streak over it. You'd say "what a dick" and move on.

Also, in wonderful Freudian style, I had a dream about this place the other night. Specifically, that I was screaming at Musketeer #1 to never touch me again (in the dream he had touched me on the waist, ack, ew, get away from me) and the whole office ended up thinking that we'd had an affair and I ended it and that's why I was yelling at him. I need to go take a very long very soapy shower now.

Deck the halls

2005-12-14T16:26:00.000-05:00

It's rare, but it does happen. Once in a while, I actually *gasp* make a mistake. I don't even have anything fun to blame it on this time, but somehow I completely forgot to order poinsettias for our office. Usually, our plant company sends me a contract to sign in October, and I fax it back to them and that's that. For some reason I totally spaced out on it and completely forgot to sign it and fax it back. Even worse, I forgot that I forgot. On Monday when I came back to the office, I noticed the pretty white poinsettias in our lobby and thought about how nice they looked. When I got upstairs to our office, the lack of festive flowers was glaringly obvious. So, I called the plant company to find out when they'd arrive. Um, well, never, since you didn't order any. Ack! I asked them to send us whatever they could, just so we had something. To their credit, they showed up two days later with all of the plants and the wreath we usually order.

Now for the last few days I'd been feeling pretty smug, since no one was complaining about the lack of poinsettias in the office. I figured I'd gotten away with it and no one would be any the wiser. I should have known better. My boss called me from the other office today.

MyBoss: Why don't we have poinsettias up there?

Me: We do, they just arrived today.

MyBoss: Oh. Why so late?

Me: Well, I'm not sure what happened. I thought I'd sent them the contract but they didn't have it, so they thought we didn't order any. I got them to bring some by anyway though.

MyBoss: Oh, ok. Because PartnerInCrime was bitching to the receptionist down here about it.

Me: What? Why would he care?

MyBoss: I don't know, he was going on about how festive it was down here and how you guys had nothing up there. Hey! Do you have the Christmas tree up?

Me: No.... we didn't put it up last year and no one noticed, so it hasn't been put up this year. Besides, it looks really cheesy.

MyBoss: Oh. Well if it looks bad.... But we have to have a Christmas tree. We have to have one because it's, you know, Catholic. (MyBoss is Catholic. You wouldn't know it.)

Me: Uh, ok, I'll put it up.

MyBoss: No! Wait we can't put it up if we don't have a menorah.

Me: I think we have one, somehwere in the back. Didn't we have one once?

MyBoss: Oh, ok.

Me: Do you want me to put the tree up?

MyBoss: No, not if we have a menorah up, we need both.

Me: We don't have a menorah up.

MyBoss: You just said we did!

Me: I said we have one somewhere.. it's not up front on display.

MyBoss: Oh. Ok. I have to think about this. I'll call you back.

Well I'm glad someone's tackling the important problems.

Why me?

2005-12-14T09:55:00.000-05:00

I must be a good listener. That's the only thing I can think of. People in this office have told me some pretty detailed personal things. There was one broker's description of his gout, at least three brokers with their detailed recollection of their colonoscopies, RunOnSentence's revelation about her breast cysts and her daughter's "feminine" problems... and on and on.

She got me again today. RunOnSentence, that is. She came over to tell me about how sick she was on her days off (the last two days), how she thought she had bronchitis but the doctor said her lungs are totally clear but it feels heavy in her chest not in her head so she doesn't get how it could be upper respiratory.... etc. Somehow in the course of the monologue (you really can't call it a conversation if all I'm saying is "mmm hmm") she decided to tell me that while she was at the doctor she asked him about this weird rash she has on her stomach. And proceded to lift up her shirt and show me.

RunOnSentence: Look! Isn't that weird? It started with this one (points to one near her navel) and now look (points to more on her ribcage).

She even pushed the waist of her pants down a little to show me some under her navel, and proceeded to explain she'd had them once on her breast (what's with the breasts!?) and the doctor said it was some kind of fungus. I almost choked on my coffee. What the hell do you say to that? Gee, I hope your rash goes away soon? Don't touch anything in my cube? Get away from me you freak?

Anyone have any leftover plastic wrap and duct tape? I need to secure my work area from biological hazards.

Another non-event

2005-12-13T15:37:00.000-05:00

If this keeps up I'm going to lose my readership.... even loyal Mr Ring of Fire might pick up and take his witty insights elsewhere. Alas, the "film crew" that HeadHoncho made such a big deal about turned out to be a few people with a camcorder, wanting to interview key people in the office. I didn't even have to make use of my SilentWitness mask, because as luck would have it, when HeadHoncho was rounding up my boss to go sit for the interview, I just so happened to be on the phone. I mouthed "sorry!" to HeadHoncho and he went on to hassle my boss. PartnerInCrime saved the day- it was he who was on the phone, calling from another office to complain about how boring the event was that he drove two hours to attend.

However, I do have one mildly interesting morsel for you. Someone commented on my necklace today- my boss. I was about to leave her office and she apparently just noticed it.

MyBoss: Oooh! I like your necklace!

A second look.

MyBoss: Wait... let me see?

I leaned closer to show her.

Me: Isn't it cool?

MyBoss (hesitating): How... cute. I like that frog. That's... cute.

Me: Thanks!

Note to MyBoss- you can ask me about it. For crying out loud you know I read tarot cards, you can't be that surprised. I won't bite you. (Much to SilentHusband's chagrin...)

Letdown

2005-12-13T10:44:00.000-05:00

No camera crew yet. Nutjob showered and washed her hair for nothing.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot

2005-12-12T22:11:00.000-05:00

Remember a while back I mentioned that JerseyGirl was running around the office with a digital camera, collecting pictures of everyone for our queer regional meeting? I guess that wasn't enough. Some genius decided to send film crews to our offices, and that we may be "a part of certain scenes, intentionally, or unintentionally", according to HeadHoncho. Well isn't that special. I responded to his email and said I wouldn't be in tomorrow, since I have to take my cat for his yearly bath at the groomer's.

This can only result in loads of entertainment value. Then again, I could bribe them with mountains of Ghiradelli chocolate so they'll stay the hell away from me.

I'm back... and so is the Dreidl of Death

2005-12-12T16:43:00.000-05:00

I did end up hearing from my boss twice more during the week, but didn't feel like posting about it. Now I'm back, and I see the Dreidl of Death has once again assumed it's rightful place over Nutjob's head. It just wasn't Christmukkah last year without it.

Naturally, I returned to find my desk fairly buried under piles of paperwork and files, but to my utter surprise, I also found a huge box, with the Wine Country Gift Basket logo on the side. I figured one of the clients had sent it to the office and it ended up on my desk. Imagine my surprise when I opened it and found a note from CheapSkate and another broker in our other office, thanking me for all my hard work. Imagine my further suprise when I found that it was a huge basket, loaded with nothing but chocolate. Lots of chocolate. Tons of chocolate! Allow me to gloat for a moment. Here is what it contains:

Liberal helpings of Ghirardelli mint chocolate, milk chocolate with caramel squares and bar, milk chocolate drops, dark chocolate with mint, milk chocolate with almonds Ghirardelli squares and bar, double chocolate hot cocoa, chocolate mint and chocolate raspberry Ghirardelli coffee, milk and white chocolate truffles, milk chocolate squares, milk chocolate bar and more fill this large burgundy basket. Two candy dishes are included to serve all of these rich chocolate treasures.

Serve these rich chocolate treasures? Are you insane? Oh no... they will be safely transported to my house, where they will be summarily devoured. Mmmmmmmm.... chocoloate.....

My umbillical attachment

2005-12-05T13:22:00.000-05:00

Hi! Yes, it's Monday, and yes, I'm off this week. Why am I posting? Because it's 1:23 p.m. and I just got off the phone with my boss. So, I'm going to keep a running tally of phone calls. I'll come back and edit this post each time I get a call. I'm not surprised in the least that she called, but I am a little surprised that it was today. Normally she tries to go at least one day before she calls me. So, here's the list so far:

12/5/05 1:02 p.m.

My boss called and asked me what I was doing on the computer. I thought that was rather odd, since I'm not signed into Messenger and she doesn't even have it. I asked her how she knew I was on the computer. "Because you sent an email to Mr Corporate Accountant telling him we're expecting a wire. [pause] OH! That's from Friday! Nevermind!"

She went on to tell me about something she was working on for a broker and her phone rang and she put me on hold. For a good five minutes. When she came back she was all flustered, because he'd asked her to make a change in the system that she didn't know how to make. How convenient, I'm already on the phone. I walked her through it, and while she was waiting for it to post she asked if I was getting a lot done. I nearly blurted "I was" but bit my tongue. It's going to be a fun week.

12/5/05 2:24 p.m.

My Boss: FormerBroker called and wants to know why he's $5,000 short on the settlement money for that lawsuit.

Me: I sent him a check on Thursday.

My Boss: Oh! Great, I'll just email him that then. Do you know... I might not get a car!...

and on to a conversation about finance rates. I'm not answering the phone any more today.

12/5/05 4:12 p.m.

I know, I said I wasn't going to answer the phone.... but I thought it might be SilentHusband. Yeah, gotta start making use of the answering machine and screening calls. She wanted to know if we could put a broker's cell phone number on a sign. How the hell do I know? We've never done it before, isn't that the type of thing you should be deciding? Argh....

12/6/05 1:45 p.m.

I did really well. All morning I let the machine get the phone but after 3 times of it actually being a call I wanted to take and having to wait for the machine to stop playing and turn it off while trying to talk to the person, this last time the phone rang I just snatched it up. Of course, you know who it was. I'm not even going to bother explaining what she was asking about. And I already know she's going to call me tomorrow, because a check came in for a screwed-up deal. She swears this only happens when I'm away. What she doesn't realize is that it happens when I'm there, she just doesn't know about it because I do it.

Ok, off to get some coffee and head up to ChinaGirl's house to watch some hot Russian construction workers- I mean, hang out and chat.

Pele Speaks

2005-12-03T13:21:00.000-05:00

Any time you hear the words "incredible fire hose display" referring to a volcano, you just have to pay attention. I wonder how Nutjob will take to hearing that her beloved Hawaii just lost 44 acres of coastline.

More photos here. (My personal favorites are from 18-20 November, the "skylights" in the lava tubes. Wow. Just wow.)

Too bad I won't be in the office on Monday to see if she's even heard about it, since I'm on vacation!!!

PS- This post made possible by Mr Ever Vigilant Seismically Aware Ring of Magmatic Fire. Thanks also go to SharksFan, for pointing me in the direction of the fantastic pictures at USGS. The author would also like to thank Yutte Hermsgervordenbrotborda, without whom the moose training would have been impossible.

Totally not work related, but still damn funny

2005-12-02T09:01:00.000-05:00

Let me preface this by saying I love my husband. We do things very differently sometimes, and I have to remember that just because he does something differently than the way I would do it, that doesn't make it wrong. However, that doesn't mean it has no entertainment value.

I arrived at work to see that I had a voicemail. Figuring JerseyGirl couldn't be calling out sick because she already had the day off, I wondered who had come down with a mysterious Friday Ailment. No one, as it turned out. It was a message from SilentHusband, telling me he was at the mechanic's because of a very minor problem (so stressed because the last time he left me a message simply telling me he had bad news, I flipped out on him and said never to leave a message like that again, since I am Queen of the Worst Case Scenario). I called him back to find out what this "very minor problem" was.

Me: What's up?

SilentHusband: Well... on my way in to work, I ran over a box.

Me: You ran over a box?

SilentHusband: Yeah.

Me: Okayyy.....

SilentHusband: And then I drove over a bunch of potholes trying to dislodge it-

Me: You did what?!

SilentHusband: I was trying to dislodge it. So I did dislodge it. And also some kind of metal plate off the bottom of my car.

Me: Wait. Didn't you pull over?

SilentHusband: Well yeah, to pick up the plate.

Me: But before that, didn't you [the "we do things differently light" in my brain started flashing] - nevermind. Ok, well how much is it going to cost?

SilentHusband: Oh, it can't be much, it's just some metal plate.

Yeah. Some of those metal plates are pretty important. So we'll see.

PS- Thank you SilentHusband for being a trooper and saying it was ok for me to post this.

Three days... three days until my vacation

2005-11-30T15:45:00.000-05:00

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

2005-11-30T12:23:00.000-05:00

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

2005-11-30T11:22:00.000-05:00

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).

Please stand clear of the doors

2005-11-29T09:59:00.000-05:00

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".

Update

2005-11-28T20:38:00.000-05:00

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....

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

2005-11-27T16:28:00.000-05:00

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.

Holiday cheer

2005-11-23T10:01:00.000-05:00

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

2005-11-23T06:59:00.000-05:00

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).

e-trail

2005-11-22T17:05:00.000-05:00

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.

Naked?

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

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

I love the smell of nutjob in the morning

2005-11-18T13:55:00.000-05:00

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.

More coffee immaturity

2005-11-17T19:16:00.000-05:00

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.

Today:

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

another lament about the lack of decaf, and then:

"decaf is for homos"

later:

"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?

Another post about coffee

2005-11-16T22:26:00.000-05:00

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)

1964

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.

Karate kid

2005-11-14T11:38:00.000-05:00

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.

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

2005-11-11T13:04:00.000-05:00

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.

Jane: HI! IT'S JANE FROM BLOGCOMPANY!!!

SilentHusband: Hi Jane...

(SilentHusband and I continue talking)

Jane: OH! DO YOU WANT ME TO CALL YOU BACK AFTER LUNCH HOUR?!

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

Jane: OK, WELL I JUST WANTED TO ASK YOU TO ADD SOME MORE BAGELS, AND SOME TOMATOES AND ONIONS..... (pause) THE RED ONIONS!

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

Jane: OK, THANKKEWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

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?

Following the trail

2005-11-10T16:56:00.000-05:00

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

2005-11-10T13:04:00.000-05:00

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!

*shudder*

Hellooooooooo Frisco!

2005-11-09T16:44:00.000-05:00

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.

Best,
RGG

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

2005-11-09T11:51:00.000-05:00

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.

Ack, I'm trendy

2005-11-08T15:16:00.000-05:00

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.

Cheese(y)

2005-11-08T14:35:00.000-05:00

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

2005-11-08T09:07:00.000-05:00

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.

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

2005-11-04T19:16:00.000-05:00

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

Pray for me.

Back to (ab)normal

2005-11-04T14:55:00.000-05:00

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.

More reasons to laugh

2005-11-03T18:52:00.000-05:00

Overheard:
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

2005-11-03T14:22:00.000-05:00

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

2005-11-03T08:56:00.000-05:00

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.

My Long Dong rears its ugly head

2005-11-02T20:33:00.000-05:00

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.

Nutjob on board

2005-11-01T21:48:00.000-05:00

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

2005-11-01T21:33:00.000-05:00

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:

Pakistan
Iran
Egypt
Philipines
Sri Lanka
Ukraine

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

2005-11-01T13:00:00.000-05:00

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.

What a surprise

2005-10-28T09:16:00.000-04:00

It's open enrollment time at BlogCompany, so yours truly gets to chase everyone around like a mother hen to make sure they remember to make changes or re-enroll. Personally, since the benefits department sends about 6,000 emails to remind us to do this, I don't think this should be my job. But my boss does this every year, and she asked me to handle it for her, and being the good employee that I am, hand-holding has now been added to my list of duties. When I checked with Musketeer #1 yesterday to make sure he'd taken care of his enrollment, he said he needed to make changes but didn't know what to do and could I help him tomorrow? Sure, no problem.

This morning, he called me into his office to help him with the enrollment, and I saw he had the webpage up on his screen.

Musketeer #1: Ok, what do I do?

Me: Well first you need to log in. Have you ever used this site before? (we use the same site for payroll and other information).

Musketeer #1: Nope.

Me: Ok, well your user name is your ID number, and your password is your birthday.

Musketeer #1 types the information in, and hits submit. It tells him he has the wrong password.

Me: Are you sure you never used this before? Because they make you change your password the first time you use it.

Musketeer #1: No... Maybe I typed it wrong, let me try again.

Same result. I suggested he click the "forgot password" link at the bottom of the screen. He did, and the following message appeared:

You selected the following phrase to remind you of your password:

oral + hand "

Me: You've obviously been here before.

Musketeer #1 (laughing): Well, I guess so!

The kicker? Even with that eloquent password hint phrase, he still diddn't remember what it was.

What's that smell?

2005-10-27T13:51:00.000-04:00

That's how it started, about two hours ago. People catching whiffs of a faint chemical smell, like nail polish remover or something. Then it got stronger, and more easily identifiable as paint fumes. Apparently, they are painting the building next door, and because our HVAC system is as high-quality as it is, all the fumes are getting sucked into our building. It's a faint smell, it's nothing that's going to harm anyone. It's annoying, yes, it's giving a few of us headaches, yes, but we will survive.

But to hear Jane tell it, we're all halfway to the hospital. She WILL NOT STOP. Every minute or so she tells me about how awful the smell is outside, and that must be why her eyes are burning, and her mouth is burning, and her lungs hurt, and she has a headache, and it's making us all sick, and isn't hysterical, the ladies from the 3rd floor were saying they were all going to fall off their chairs and lay on the floor and yell "lawsuit!", and oh my god, what an awful smell, do you smell that, can you believe it.... SHUT UP!!!!

Is hostility to your co-workers a side effect of paint fumes? Maybe I'm succumbing too. I guess I should just fall off my chair and yell "lawsuit" and see how far it gets me.

No fair

2005-10-26T09:00:00.000-04:00

MiddleAgedHippie and a bunch of the smarmier sales guys (hmm, rather redundant) are going to a hockey game tonight. The local team, which I don't like, is playing an out of state team, which happens to be my 2nd favorite team. Bastards.

"Yes, M'Lady"

2005-10-25T16:05:00.000-04:00

I'm having an embarrassing girl moment. (No, not THAT kind of girl moment). In preparation for the coming "superstorm", I wore a long skirt and tall boots, thinking heels would just suck if I had to wade through a lake to get to my car. Unfortunately, I have never worn this skirt with these boots before, and just as unfortunately, I didn't notice until I got to work and walked in from the parking lot that the little metal eyelets at the tops of my boots keep snagging the hem of my skirt. The only way I could think to remedy this, short of actually taking a pair of scissors and cutting my skirt shorter, is to walk around holding the skirt up a little, so my boots don't tangle in it and trip me. Which would probably be quite amusing to everyone else. So all day I've been walking around like I'm about to curtsy, with my skirt held up in one hand. I've gotten a few odd looks. Just now I walked past Musketeer #1's office.

Musketeer #1: Hey SilentWitness! Is it hard to walk in that dress or something?

Me: (exasperated sigh) No, it just keeps getting all caught up in my boots.

Musketeer #1: You look like you're walking around in your prom dress.

Thanks. I chose to ignore the ribald prom dress comments as I continued down the hall. Stupid rain. Stupid boots. Stupid skirt hem.

On your marks...

2005-10-25T09:02:00.000-04:00

Start placing your bets now- when will my co-workers start whining about the storm and the fact that we should let them go early? (Keep in mind that the day my boss had her accident, the police called and told us our town was declared a state of emergency.)

Update

2005-10-22T11:45:00.000-04:00

In case anyone was wondering, my boss's surgery went well and she's home recuperating. She says she'll be in the office on Wednesday. I think she's nuts. But then again, that's nothing new. Ha ha ha.

A sign

2005-10-21T13:08:00.000-04:00

This morning when I went to the front desk to retrieve my overnight package, there was a fax laying on top of it. One of those totally unsolicited faxes (which are, by the way, now illegal), trying to entice you to buy something? Huh, look at that. It's from the local NHL team, advertising ticket packages for businesses. And hey... how about that, I'm working on budgets. Coincidence??? I bet HeadHoncho wouldn't even notice if I put a line item in for tickets. Too bad Slice-and-Dice Corporate would hack them out of there quicker than.... the Islanders can score on Kevin Weekes.

The Bug is Back

2005-10-20T10:08:00.000-04:00

After years of being a victim of Musketeer #1's 4th-grade schoolyard sense of humor, I finally got him back this morning, albeit totally unintentionally. Musketeer #1 loves to hide plastic or rubber bugs on my desk and listen for the yelp when I find it. Under my phone handset.... in a desk drawer.... under the stamp I use all the time, you get the idea. Fortunately I know what he's up to, and he's always disappointed in my failure to yelp or scream like a girly girl. Perhaps this is why he hasn't stopped trying.

This morning, I came in to find a piece of paperwork on my desk that I had literally been bugging him for MONTHS about. We are required to keep current copies of the guys' auto insurance on file, to prove they're insured and save our asses if they ever get in an accident with a client in the car. Musketeer #1's policy renewed in June. I have cajoled, I have emailed, I have nagged. I even left notes on his breifcase so he wouldn't forget. I threatened to call his wife and ask her to send me what I need, which actually would probably have gotten me the paperwork in about a week, instead of 4 months. I should probably just go straight to her next time. So, when I found the copy of his insurance on my desk, I picked it up and walked to his office and said "Ok this is the first sign of the Apocalypse." He jumped about 3 feet into the air, causing me to burst out laughing.

Musketeer #1: You know not to talk to me before 9:00!

(Um, no I don't. I talk to you before 9:00 all the time. But whatever.)

Me: Ha! That's payback for all the flies and spiders and decapitated Peeps you leave on my desk!

Musketeer #1: Great, now I have to come up with something really good...

Of course, this reminded him about his plastic bug collection, and he decided to initiate Marketing Gal. Several minutes later, she came over to his office bitching him out, because she had picked up the phone, dialed it, and didn't notice the bug until the other party picked up the line. She screamed and slammed down the phone.

MarketingGal: Now I have to wait until later to call them back!

I think it's time for Mr. Giant Hairy Spider With Glowing Red Eyes to come back to the office and be introduced to some of the new people. Mwah ha ha ha ha.

Warning- irreverent humor

2005-10-18T10:16:00.000-04:00

Musketeer #3: Is today suck-us?

Nutjob: Sukkot

Musketeer #3: Cirucs? Cirque du Soleil?

Nutjob: Sukkot!

Musketeer #3: Suck-it?

Me: Hey, watch your language over there.

Nutjob (giggles)

Musketeer #3: It's wash-your-toches day.

Me: I hope that's every day.

Musketeer #3: So are lots of people going to be out today?

Nutjob (mystified look)

Musketeer #3: I'm just trying to figure out if it's worth it to even try and call people.

Nutjob: Well... if they're Orthodox they won't be in.

Musketeer #3: Ok. So basically don't bother calling anyone in the 555 area code.

Nutjob: Yeah, probably. They build shelters.

CheapSkate

2005-10-16T23:17:00.000-04:00

Well, the budget got done (somehow). Apparently we didn't fuck it up royally either, which is always a good thing. My boss is going to need surgery- it turns out her collarbone is broken worse than they thought, and she has broken ribs too. (The surgery is just for the collarbone).

And CheapSkate lives up to his name yet again. On Friday morning, I called our florist and had a big arrangement of fall flowers sent to her house from our office. A few hours later I got a call from the other office, saying CheapSkate had a great idea- instead of sending her flowers, they thought it would be nice to take up a collection and get some meals delivered for a few nights, since she obviously won't be able to cook right away. I thought that was a fantastic idea, and told her as much, and told her to put me in for a contribution. The reason for her call though, wasn't to ask if I wanted to be a part of it, but to basically turn it over to me and Jane to orchestrate, even though it was their idea. It started out as "we can't think of a place that will deliver"... (what about the three zillion Italian restaurants in the area? what about delis?)... and snowballed from that into "Jane gets to coordinate the whole thing". Jane also ended up putting it all on her credit card. After she found a place, CheapSkate refused to put it on his card. "Absolutely not", were his exact words.

Ok, asshole.
#1 this was your idea.
#2 this is for someone you've worked with FOR 15 YEARS.
#3 you are in the office with everyone who is contributing money, not Jane. It will be a hell of a lot easier for you to collect money than it will be for her.
#4. You have made A MILLION DOLLARS this year, and have another nice fat half a million on it's way to you by the end of the year. You can't put $400 on your credit card, when you're going to be reimbursed anyway? What a fucking dick.

Excuse my potty mouth. But when someone mistreats one of my friends I get pissed off like a mother bear.

Makes ya wonder

2005-10-13T21:52:00.000-04:00

My boss got into a serious accident today. She somehow not only survived, but managed to escape with a collarbone broken in two places and dislocated shoulder, and despite the amount of glass flying around inside her vehicle, not a single scratch. She was on her way to our office from the other office, when her SUV hydroplaned (it's been incredibly rainy here lately), spun around, hitting another car and then slamming into the cement divider head-on, then flipping over three or four times (she lost count). She somehow survived all that and crawled out of the window. Her briefcase and everything was all over the highway but somehow she managed to borrow someone's phone and call us at work. She was hysterical and it was nearly impossible to understand her and we had no idea where she was or where they were taking her. For an hour I frantically refreshed traffic reports (she told us what highway she was on but we didn't know exactly where) trying to get an idea of where she was. Finally after calling the state police they directed me to the hospital they thought she'd been taken to, and when I called there they said yes, we have her in the ER. They transferred me there, and all the nurse could tell me was that she was there, and that the doctor hadn't even seen her yet and she hadn't been officially admitted. At that point I realized she must not be too bad off, if she had the presence of mind to call us and the doctor hadn't said "Holy shit this woman is dying, I must see her right away!!!". I asked the nurse if she had any idea how badly she was hurt... she must have heard the concern in my voice because she said "Oh honey, she's ok, she's over there joking around with the driver".

Yep. That's my boss. Of course as soon as I hung up the phone I lost it. All I had known up to that point was that she'd flipped over and was on the way to the hospital. I hate being a girl and having pesky emotions. Naturally, our budgets are due tomorrow, and she is the one who works on the budgets. Just as naturally, when her boss and I called corporate to explain and ask for a few extra days, they said no. Assholes. You have zillions of other offices around the country and you NEED our budget tomorrow? So her boss and I stayed late working on the budget- neither of us had a clue what we were doing. Thankfully she'd already had most of it done and there wasn't a lot to do. Do you believe she called us from the ER sobbing, apologizing about the budgets. I'm going to smack her when I see her. Lightly, so as not to jar her shattered collarbone too much.

So, Whoever or Whatever is out there watching over my boss and making sure she didn't end up like the pancake her SUV currently is, thank you.

So tempted

2005-10-12T10:54:00.000-04:00

I'm a pretty tolerant person as far as religion goes, but I really hate it when people get obnoxious about it and use their religion for a sense of entitlement or special treatment. Or are just plain really in your face about it. The way I see it, it's a pretty personal matter and doesn't really need to be broadcast on bumperstickers or made a big deal out of for the purpose of getting attention.

So, right there, you know that Nutjob really gets on my nerves in this regard. You also know that last week she sent an email out to the office with a big obnoxious subject line for Rosh Hashannah, explaining in case we forgot that it was a Jewish holiday. Today she is leaving early for Yom Kippur and sent a similar email, only this time it had clip-art in it. I normally keep my religion close to the vest at work, not because I'm ashamed of it, just because I don't feel it belongs there and I don't feel like getting into all of the discussions it would invariably bring (I'm pagan). As it happens, I am taking Halloween off. Technically it's not for religious reasons, considering I won't be actually observing the holiday until the following weekend, but one could make the case for it if one wanted to be obnoxious. I am so tempted to send out an email (if only just to Nutjob) with the subject line "SAMHAIN - PAGAN HOLIDAY" and piously remind everyone that I will be out of the office observing a religious holiday and include little clip-art pictures of tables set with an empty place or a candle burning in front of a deceased loved one's picture. Somehow, I think this would cause a lot more trouble than it's worth.

Bite me, OLN

2005-10-11T11:17:00.000-04:00

We hockey fans are mighty sick of getting shafted.

Addendum

2005-10-07T13:51:00.000-04:00

Of course, there's more. Here is the email I sent:

"I will be out of the office on Monday. If there is anything you need handled before then, please see me as soon as possible today.

Thanks!"

Here is Musketeer #1's reply to me:

"Handled?"

Ew.

What would they do without me?

2005-10-07T13:11:00.000-04:00

Nutjob's been out for a few days for Rosh Hashannah, and when she emailed the people she works for to let them know, the subject line of her email said (no lie, mispelling included): "Nutjob -- out of office -- JEWISH HOLIDAY -- Rosh Hashana". So today I emailed all the guys to let them know I'll be taking a day off on Monday, as I have to do when I am going to be out because they invariably panic when they come in and see that I'm not here. After all, who will pay them? I guess my not broadcasting the reason for my absence made everyone curious, because PartnerInCrime emailed me saying "Hey you didn't tell us why you'll be out!" and I got a lovely heartfelt message from MiddleAgedHippie and his talking George Bush doll:

"SW, where ya gonna be on Monday? You know there's no reason for me to come in if you're not going to be here, so I guess I'll take Monday off too. Anyway little George here is extremely upset. We will miss you, have a fabulous day off.

(George says) I understand small business growth. I was one!

(MAH comes back on the line) Enjoy!"

I think I will tell the next head hunter that calls me that unless they can guarantee I'll be working with loonies like this, I'm not going anywhere.

Wake-up call

2005-10-06T12:09:00.000-04:00

I think Jane is competing with Nutjob for attention. This morning she tried to kill us all. All the coffee drinkers, anyway. After stumbling into the office, bleary eyed after a night of incredible hockey excitement (15 games in one night! has that ever happened before?), I got myself a nice hot cup of joe. Ahhhh. As I sat at my desk sipping it, I noticed it had a peculiar smell and taste. It kind of reminded me of dirty diapers. That's real appealing in your morning cup of coffee. I made a comment about the coffee tasting funny, knowing Jane would hear.

Jane: Do you have it in a cup?

Me: Um..... yes. [pause] As opposed to what?

Jane (laughing): Oh SilentWitness, you know what I meant. Do you have it in a ceramic cup?

Me: Yes.

Jane: Maybe the detergent didn't get all rinsed out of it?

Me: Could be. I'll try using a styrofoam cup. [I'm sorry, Mother Earth!]

Nope. No dice. The coffee in the styrofoam cup gave off the same baby-shit odor.

Me: I still think it tastes funny.

Jane: Huh. I don't notice it.

I decided not to drink it, and since I was headed out to the bank anyway, I figured I'd get myself a proper cup of coffee, I.e., Dunkin Donuts (toasted almond flavor.... mmmmm....). When I got back to the office, Musketeer #3 was loitering outside the building, which is odd, because he doesn't smoke. I have no idea what he was doing there.

Musketeer #3: Where are you coming back from?

Me: The bank. I stopped to get some coffee because ours tastes like baby poop today.

Musketeer #3: Wonderful!

Apparently while I was gone, the mystery had been solved. Jane came rushing up to me and told me Bruce had noticed the funny taste too, and thought it might be that the carafe hadn't been rinsed fully after using the cleaning solution. Ever the brave soul, he put a bit of cleaning solution on his tongue and declared that that indeed was what he tasted in his coffee. Jane evidently flipped out when he did this, until he pointed to the place on the bottle that said "non-toxic". She was not mollified, however. When she came over to tell me what had happened, she asked me several times if I thought everyone would get sick from it. I told her not if it says "non-toxic", and even so, it's not like we all drank mouthfuls of it. She wasn't satisfied with this reasoning though and ran around the office telling everyone to dump their coffee and going through the whole story about what was wrong with it and why and how she was afraid she was going to give everyone diarrhea. (Her words).

I think I might bring in my own little coffee maker and make my own coffee from now on. Either that or stop at Dunkin Donuts on the way in everyday. Yum.

Also of note: This morning there was a pair of pants folded neatly on one of the conference room chairs. I don't even want to know.

Engaged White Female

2005-10-05T09:08:00.000-04:00

I have not lost my sanity yet because Nutjob is out of the office this week for the Jewish holiday (yesterday and today) and just for the hell of it (the rest of the week). However, Monday morning gave me a glimpse of what the future holds. All morning long- and I am not exaggerating, this went until 11:30- she was making personal calls. Now, I understand that it's exciting when you get engaged and you want to tell the world, but generally you don't wait until you get into the office to do it... do you? And generally, you call people you know and care about, not former co-workers and other distant acquaintances you haven't spoken to in months, if not years. The bulk of Nutjob's phone calls went something like this:

Hello Marge? It's Nutjob...

HI! Yeah I know it's been a while. How are you?...

I'm good... I just wanted to let you know that I got engaged...

Oh, thank you. Yeah, I'm really happy... (and launches into the story of how he proposed)

Normally I can filter her out. Monday morning I was really losing it, and planning on bringing in headphones so I can drown her out with stompy industrial music. However, it's been nice and quiet with her gone, so I don't have to resort to that just yet.

But there is something sort of creepy about all this. I was quite surprised when I saw her engagement ring, because it is a rather unusual ring. It has diamonds and emeralds. Huh. My ring has diamonds and emeralds. SilentHusband wanted me to have something a little different (which I love, thank you sweetie!!!). No big deal there, really. ChinaGirl predicted next thing I know, she'll be planning a fall/Halloween wedding. I pooh-poohed that idea, knowing Nutjob could care less about Halloween. What do you know... I found out yesterday that she wants a fall wedding. "Because SilentWitness's was so pretty!" (Yes she was at my wedding. Don't ask.)

If she books the same place I got married I am going to be seriously creeped out.

Satan called- Apparently hell has frozen over

2005-10-03T09:30:00.000-04:00

Nutjob got engaged.

How...endearing

2005-09-30T10:45:00.000-04:00

Well I think it's safe to say that RotoRooter is good for at least one interesting comment whenever I talk to him. This morning I was wasting time hanging out in PartnerInCrime's office, and RotoRooter walked by. He stuck his head in and wished me a belated happy birthday. I thanked him, and then he asked how old I am.

Me: 31

RotoRooter: Wow! You're puppy chow!

Me: Puppy chow?!

RotoRooter: Come on, I have underwear that's older than you! [walks away laughing]

I'm not sure what's more disturbing, picturing myself as "puppy chow", or imagining a 31-year old pair of underwear. Ew.

Old age is fun

2005-09-29T11:11:00.000-04:00

Well it's my birthday today. And because birthdays are such a big deal in this office, everyone knows it. I thought I'd be let off the hook by Nutjob's long-awaited return, but there isn't as much hoopla surrounding her as I thought there'd be. I've never been very hung up on age, so the fact that I'm turning 31 today (well, not until 5:30, as my mom reminded me when she called today) doesn't phase me. I really don't care one way or the other. Jane, however, is for some reason very pleased about this. If anyone comes by and wishes me a happy birthday, if she is in the vicinity, she crows "She's 31!!! She's an old bag now!". Um, thanks. I think. Being 31 doesn't bother me. Being called an "old bag" by a 50-something woman is just plain bizarre.

So yes, Nutjob is back today, and picked up right where she left off- on my nerves. The only good thing about her return is seeing Jane get increasingly pissed off by the attention Nutjob is getting. She keeps telling me "I can't stand it. I'm sick of it already." Basically, people are stopping by and asking how she's feeling. In my book, that's the polite thing to do when someone's been out for two weeks. I'm not sure what Jane expects people to do, ignore her completely? And to her credit, Nutjob isn't even pouring it on as thick as I expected. Of course, it is only 11:00. There's a whole day yet to work up the drama.

Thanks..

2005-09-26T22:31:00.000-04:00

For all the responses to my pole. Um, poll. (Shut up, Beavis!) Strangely enough, the thought hadn't occurred to me that he'd been "overemphasizing" the reaction of the people he asked. If he even asked anyone at all. Because who was it who supposedly offended people by asking them for money? FuckingLyingScumbag, that's who. So, I think that pretty much says it all right there.

And for the record, I highly doubt the people he asked were affected by Katrina in any way. I don't think even he is that crass.

Did you have any doubt...

2005-09-26T22:25:00.000-04:00

...that Nutjob would milk this for all it's worth? Today, she called Jane to tell her that she was going to call me and my boss tomorrow to tell us that her doctor said she had to stay home until Thursday, not Wednesday as previously thought. So... if she called Jane, why couldn't she just call my boss and give her the message directly?

Maybe it has something to do with the walks she's taking. AngrySally told me today that she was driving through Nutjob's town this weekend and saw Nutjob walking down the street with a bunch of friends. She pulled over to talk to Nutjob, who promptly imformed her that she was outside "because my doctor told me to get some air because my back is hurting me." Um... ok. On what planet does that make sense?