blog the workday away

October 13, 2007

It’s been one of those days – stacks of other people’s bank records spilled all over my desk, five pages of notes detailing each account, a calculator clicking away as i try to figure out where the fuck this bastard hid $125,000, soggy mayo laced lettuce from taking my lunch break in the middle of the chaos. 

And now it’s quarter-to-three and my boss is twittering away in her office looking like she’ll be going energizer bunny styles until 5.  This on a day I was hoping to leave early.  Hey.  Lady.  It is Friday you know!

Every day this week she’s sauntered into the office after 11, only to take a lunch at 1 and then call in around 1:30 (presumably at her house or in the pedicure chair) to say she “doesn’t have any work to do” so she isn’t coming back. 

Yeah.  You don’t “have any work to do” because you just plopped it all into my in-box. 

I know.  I know.  It’s my job, you’re right.  But most of the shits she shat in my box are things she used to do herself but that I took over for her when she was swamped. 

Um.  It doesn’t look like she’s swamped of late.  Her nails look way too nice for someone so busy she has to write me a two page note instructing me to call her fiance and ask him to come by the office and check our air conditioner filter.  Hu?  You didn’t chip your polish writing the note so I doubt you’ll do any damage making the phone call.

This morning, with nothing pressing on the calendar, I was pretty confident I would have the good fortune of finding my ass at home in time for Oprah.  But now she’s twittering and I look really busy neck high in financial documents. 

Though, technically, I am getting paid to blog…so…


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