*****
No habla espanol?
Today was one of those days that I felt like EPOD and I come from different planets. We get like this when he's under a tremendous amount of stress - and since his brother started preparations for chemo today and he had to rush over to his house to rescue him from a panic attack, get him dressed and to the hospital to get his port put in, he came into work around 9 AM looking extremely rattled and pale.
He had asked me yesterday morning to coordinate a meeting with five other people at different firms for either Wednesday or Thursday. After polling four of the people, I figured that Wednesday was pretty much the day. Of course, until I got to Person Five who immediately fucked that all up by being out of town all day Wednesday. How lovely.
So everyone else was free on Thursday save for one person who claimed he had a meeting with EPOD at our office at 1 PM. EPOD did not remember scheduling a meeting with Stuart, so he told me not to schedule the meeting until he returned to the office and had a chance to call Stuart and figure out what he was supposed to meet with him about.
So I didn't. And when he got back to the office and I asked him if he'd gotten things resolved with Stuart so that I could schedule the meeting, he said, "You obviously weren't listening, I told you to go ahead and schedule the meeting."
That sound you hear? That's the sound of me beating my head against my desk repeatedly.
Get used to it, because after experiencing this last year when his mother was dying, I suspect that there will be many more instances over the coming months. I feel bad for him.
*****
Where's the plunger?
About five years ago when I worked in an office in the basement of our building, we had a "unisex" restroom that really only the guys used. It was the one that the guys used when they brought a newspaper and proceeded to drop the kids off at the pool, and then they would proudly strut back down the hallway to their offices.
We had this one guy, The Hole, that consistently stopped up the toilet to the point that it would overflow out into the hallway. Thankfully, he moved on to another company and I moved out to the jobsite where bathroom conditions were slightly less than desirable but still better than stepping over potty water every other week.
Now that I'm up on the executive floor, the men's and women's rooms are located a few doors down from my office...Chachi scored the bigger office of the two of us, but his is right across from the men's room door and personally I would rather die than have to smell the odors wafting across the hallway at least five times a day.
Well, today someone stopped up the men's room toilet and it flowed out into the hallway with a ferocious gush, leaving a trail behind it and actually eventually leaking down into the basement offices. Poor Amy ended up with potty water draining all over the top of her cubicle until she put a few trashcans up there to catch the flood. Blech.
Well, our man Chachi came to the rescue, busting out a shop vac and it brought back fond memories of his former shit-vacuuming days out at the jobsite. Good times, yo. But you know, anyone who is so eager to help with cleanup must bear some responsibility, don't you think?
*****
Scary pictures
You know how you get these funny e-mails that you chuckle over and end up deleting because they're really not that good? One made the office round of the females today that had me laughing so hard that I almost peed a little (not to mention I cried all of my mascara and eyeliner off from laughing).
See this guy? He looks like Napoleon, everyone's favorite superintendent and butcher of the English language.
And check out that dude next to him. Where do you get shorts like that, anyway? And so totally hot with the leather vest.
And this one? Looks like my company's former controller. Some people might not agree with me, but after the year that Glenn dressed up like a Blue M&M for Halloween, I can totally see this.
Oh, and you can see his little pee pee. *snicker*
4 comments:
Might be the time to do what you think EPOD wants instead of what he tells you, he'll never remember. Sorry things are rough!
I hope things get better soon.
Poor girl, what came to mind was the song "Its raining men (feces)"
Something about "little people" in mullets and leather that just makes ya want to laugh your ass off.
Damn you! I cannot get those images out of my head.
Would have been funnier if he had the blue neon outline of his junk.
Post a Comment