Another Monday, back at the glass palace. My day started in the usual way...opening my email and having about 300 of the same emails from boss#1. Ever since he sent me that one little email last week, I have been getting it every 3 minutes...for hours at a time and then it stops...and then it starts up again. After spending 5-10 minutes cleaning out my inbox, I decide, that's it, I've had it, I'm calling the Help Desk. I have been putting it off because calling the Help Desk usually involves me slapping my forehead or banging my head against the desk, and that is after I have spent forever on hold waiting for them. After being on hold for about 20 minutes, I gave up, I had crap to do. Speaking of crap, I noticed the fake rubber dog crap that someone left at my desk Thursday night (after the whole, dog crap in the bed story) was gone. I had kicked it over by the garbage can. Great, now the janitor is going to think I left a pile of dog crap for him/her to clean up. This is not going to win me a fresh trash bag every night.
As my day progresses, I'm not encountering any more bullsh*t than usual. It's holding at an even keel. I try the Help Desk again. After waiting for some time, I finally get through to Techy Bob and he gets my vitals. Techy Bob thinks my problem is kind of funny. He asks if I think my boss is messing with me. I told him I doubted my boss had that kind of time on his hands. I also told him that I was about ready to kill myself with these emails coming every three minutes all day. Techy Bob then said the most profound thing to me, "You know, what's happening is not that big of a deal. I mean, it's an annoyance at best." I sat there for a moment. Silence. After considering several responses, I put myself in check and said, "uh-huh." Techy Bob went on to tell me that I would know the problem is fixed when the e-mails stopped. Wow. Such clarity. He asked if there was anything else he could do for me. Gee, I think that about takes care of it...I can't imagine anything else you could possibly do other than FIX MY EFFING EMAIL! It was still doing it up until I left tonight. I'm thinking this email thing will repeat like a bad chili dog. Better bring some Rolaids tomorrow.
Not long after my life altering interaction with the Help Desk, my phone rings. I see it is my Mom's phone number. I answer with a certain amount of trepidation...never knowing for sure what I will be told is going on now. It's my sister. She is laughing. Good sign....I think. She informs me that Mom watched some show called the Anderson Cooper show, or something like that, and it was on women getting paid to date men. Now, Mom is on the website they talked about and she is creating a profile. I guess you put your profile up and then see who is willing to pay for a date with you. The guy pays one time and then if you want to see each other after that, then it is free...I guess. My sister is laughing hysterically. She said Mom isn't sure what to put on her profile and both of them felt like I would be a great choice to help Mom out. My sister puts Mom on the phone. I said, "Mom, are you kidding me with this? You stepping into the prostitution ring?" She informs me that on the TV show a lot of women did it and it was fine. No sex is involved, just dating. I asked her, "Was this an infomercial?" She assures me it is all fine and she is just curious, I mean, she just wants to put a profile out there to see what someone would be willing to pay for a date with her. I said, "Mom, I'm speechless...but I will tell you, I'm not a fan of this plan." She says, with what I could only assume is a straight face based on her tone, "well, the grief counselor said I needed to meet new people and make new friends...and some of these men are really rich." Mom, you're killing me. I continued to lecture her for a few moments and then had to let her go. It was a lot to digest. Clearly, I cannot leave my Mom and sister alone. I can just see the writing on the wall now....news reporters will be saying, "And none of these women thought it was weird they were being put in crates and loaded into a cargo ship...they thought they were going to dinner....instead, they were headed to the remote island of Jingo Jingo."
I think that that covers the highlights of my day. I did make it to the gym tonight and as I was walking down the long hallway, I couldn't help but think of the movie called The Shining. My brother had it on the TV at my Mom's house yesterday and this hallway was making me nervous. That movie is so creepy. Including picture below, you decide.
Anyway, that is all for tonight.
As my day progresses, I'm not encountering any more bullsh*t than usual. It's holding at an even keel. I try the Help Desk again. After waiting for some time, I finally get through to Techy Bob and he gets my vitals. Techy Bob thinks my problem is kind of funny. He asks if I think my boss is messing with me. I told him I doubted my boss had that kind of time on his hands. I also told him that I was about ready to kill myself with these emails coming every three minutes all day. Techy Bob then said the most profound thing to me, "You know, what's happening is not that big of a deal. I mean, it's an annoyance at best." I sat there for a moment. Silence. After considering several responses, I put myself in check and said, "uh-huh." Techy Bob went on to tell me that I would know the problem is fixed when the e-mails stopped. Wow. Such clarity. He asked if there was anything else he could do for me. Gee, I think that about takes care of it...I can't imagine anything else you could possibly do other than FIX MY EFFING EMAIL! It was still doing it up until I left tonight. I'm thinking this email thing will repeat like a bad chili dog. Better bring some Rolaids tomorrow.
Not long after my life altering interaction with the Help Desk, my phone rings. I see it is my Mom's phone number. I answer with a certain amount of trepidation...never knowing for sure what I will be told is going on now. It's my sister. She is laughing. Good sign....I think. She informs me that Mom watched some show called the Anderson Cooper show, or something like that, and it was on women getting paid to date men. Now, Mom is on the website they talked about and she is creating a profile. I guess you put your profile up and then see who is willing to pay for a date with you. The guy pays one time and then if you want to see each other after that, then it is free...I guess. My sister is laughing hysterically. She said Mom isn't sure what to put on her profile and both of them felt like I would be a great choice to help Mom out. My sister puts Mom on the phone. I said, "Mom, are you kidding me with this? You stepping into the prostitution ring?" She informs me that on the TV show a lot of women did it and it was fine. No sex is involved, just dating. I asked her, "Was this an infomercial?" She assures me it is all fine and she is just curious, I mean, she just wants to put a profile out there to see what someone would be willing to pay for a date with her. I said, "Mom, I'm speechless...but I will tell you, I'm not a fan of this plan." She says, with what I could only assume is a straight face based on her tone, "well, the grief counselor said I needed to meet new people and make new friends...and some of these men are really rich." Mom, you're killing me. I continued to lecture her for a few moments and then had to let her go. It was a lot to digest. Clearly, I cannot leave my Mom and sister alone. I can just see the writing on the wall now....news reporters will be saying, "And none of these women thought it was weird they were being put in crates and loaded into a cargo ship...they thought they were going to dinner....instead, they were headed to the remote island of Jingo Jingo."
I think that that covers the highlights of my day. I did make it to the gym tonight and as I was walking down the long hallway, I couldn't help but think of the movie called The Shining. My brother had it on the TV at my Mom's house yesterday and this hallway was making me nervous. That movie is so creepy. Including picture below, you decide.
No comments:
Post a Comment