I had a pretty wild weekend. I fought with allergies, I took a Benedryl, was rendered unconscious and upon rousing from my drug induced, drooling coma, I decided to go shooting with Will. Drugs and guns, why not? I said I would just watch, so I went along with Will and my sister. She had never shot a gun before, so I could at least mock her, right?
On the way to the middle of nowhere, where we would find the gravel pit of destruction, I think the Benedryl took an odd turn. I don't know what happened, the window came down and my sister and I ended up hanging our head out the window screaming "Weeeeee, Weeeeeeee, Weeeeee...." like that stupid pig on the Geico insurance commercials. ( in case you need to see it http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g9H3KwVH_dE). I don't know what was happening. Our heads were out the windows and we lost all sense of...well....sense. Will just shook his head, what else could he do?
Upon arriving at the pit of doom, we proceeded to shoot a lot of random objects. It was great fun. At one point, I had Will's .44 Magnum Carbine rifle in my hands and I screamed, "Yippe ki ya Mother F'er!" and shot the gun a few times. Will was like, "what in the hell are you doing?" At that moment I was John McClaine. I was the meanest SOB you ever wanted to cross. I got all crazy for a moment, I wanted to run around and shoot everything and scream like Rambo on crack. I wanted to be in camo and face paint. I wanted to walk out of the woods, a little ragged from battle, maybe some blood on my face, maybe some steam or smoke behind me. I wanted to be that badass. Will took the gun away and I returned to the "viewing" area and sat in my camo folding chair and sat quietly. Then, in a moment of brilliance, I grabbed my 30-30 and had my sister capture the moment on film. I walked behind a tree and posed, like a BAD ASS. In retrospect, looking at the picture now, I wook wike I am hunting wabbits. I wasn't going for Elmer Fudd, but that's what happened.
Anyway, we all lived to tell the tale. Someone looked at the picture today and said that I lost credibility since I was wearing capri pants. I didn't know I couldn't be bad ass in capri pants and Sketchers. I didn't know I was going to be that bad ass. I didn't know all that repressed glass palace aggression was going to come out. I mean, it doesn't come as big surprise, but still. I wasn't prepared. Next time, I'm wearing camo.
And so the day would finish. I went to bed tired and yet replenished, ready for Monday. Or, so I thought. I woke up this morning, took a shower and as I finished, there was knock at the door. Seems one of my sister's horses decided she had enough in the neighbors pasture and was headed home (about a quarter mile down the road). Apparently, she was headed there fast, like the Pony Express in Indian territory. Turns out she was in heat and was headed for the stallion. Who was I, in my pony pj's, to stop her. I rounded up the other horse and secured her. Upon realizing the horny pony was safe, I returned to my work preparedness plan. It was going to be one of those days.
I arrived at work and it seemed to be going okay. It was quiet, too quiet. I survived all day without incident. Something was not right. My spidey senses were keen. And then, it happened. My boss waited until there were were enough witnesses around and a desk between us and he was getting ready to leave and then he dropped the bomb. It was cute how he delivered it, like it was a question, like I had a choice, like it was up to me, but we both knew what was happening. I think they call it being "rail-roaded." He advised me that we needed a "point of contact" for the big move the call center needed to make. It made sense for me to be that person. A million thoughts went through my mind. I just gritted my teeth and allowed it to happen. I had no choice.
To put it in perspective, we have to move the whole south module of the building to the north module, where there is no call center. We are essentially starting from scratch. We have around 250 people in my department alone that are going to whine. It's going to take a lot of building areas and adding equipment and organizing. It's going to suck. People have since come forth and offered their sympathies and advised I need a hard hat, a bull horn, and a clip board. To all of you, I say no. If I learned anything over the weekend, what I need is a holster, some ammo and my 30-30 rifle. Someone has to keep the peace and it might as well be me. I have two choices, I can be the Geico pig, or I can be Rambo, the Terminator or Spartacus. I think you know where I'm going with this. That's right, time to go to Cabela's and get supplies.
Yippe Ki Ya Call Center...Yippie Ki ya.
On the way to the middle of nowhere, where we would find the gravel pit of destruction, I think the Benedryl took an odd turn. I don't know what happened, the window came down and my sister and I ended up hanging our head out the window screaming "Weeeeee, Weeeeeeee, Weeeeee...." like that stupid pig on the Geico insurance commercials. ( in case you need to see it http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g9H3KwVH_dE). I don't know what was happening. Our heads were out the windows and we lost all sense of...well....sense. Will just shook his head, what else could he do?
Upon arriving at the pit of doom, we proceeded to shoot a lot of random objects. It was great fun. At one point, I had Will's .44 Magnum Carbine rifle in my hands and I screamed, "Yippe ki ya Mother F'er!" and shot the gun a few times. Will was like, "what in the hell are you doing?" At that moment I was John McClaine. I was the meanest SOB you ever wanted to cross. I got all crazy for a moment, I wanted to run around and shoot everything and scream like Rambo on crack. I wanted to be in camo and face paint. I wanted to walk out of the woods, a little ragged from battle, maybe some blood on my face, maybe some steam or smoke behind me. I wanted to be that badass. Will took the gun away and I returned to the "viewing" area and sat in my camo folding chair and sat quietly. Then, in a moment of brilliance, I grabbed my 30-30 and had my sister capture the moment on film. I walked behind a tree and posed, like a BAD ASS. In retrospect, looking at the picture now, I wook wike I am hunting wabbits. I wasn't going for Elmer Fudd, but that's what happened.
Anyway, we all lived to tell the tale. Someone looked at the picture today and said that I lost credibility since I was wearing capri pants. I didn't know I couldn't be bad ass in capri pants and Sketchers. I didn't know I was going to be that bad ass. I didn't know all that repressed glass palace aggression was going to come out. I mean, it doesn't come as big surprise, but still. I wasn't prepared. Next time, I'm wearing camo.
And so the day would finish. I went to bed tired and yet replenished, ready for Monday. Or, so I thought. I woke up this morning, took a shower and as I finished, there was knock at the door. Seems one of my sister's horses decided she had enough in the neighbors pasture and was headed home (about a quarter mile down the road). Apparently, she was headed there fast, like the Pony Express in Indian territory. Turns out she was in heat and was headed for the stallion. Who was I, in my pony pj's, to stop her. I rounded up the other horse and secured her. Upon realizing the horny pony was safe, I returned to my work preparedness plan. It was going to be one of those days.
I arrived at work and it seemed to be going okay. It was quiet, too quiet. I survived all day without incident. Something was not right. My spidey senses were keen. And then, it happened. My boss waited until there were were enough witnesses around and a desk between us and he was getting ready to leave and then he dropped the bomb. It was cute how he delivered it, like it was a question, like I had a choice, like it was up to me, but we both knew what was happening. I think they call it being "rail-roaded." He advised me that we needed a "point of contact" for the big move the call center needed to make. It made sense for me to be that person. A million thoughts went through my mind. I just gritted my teeth and allowed it to happen. I had no choice.
To put it in perspective, we have to move the whole south module of the building to the north module, where there is no call center. We are essentially starting from scratch. We have around 250 people in my department alone that are going to whine. It's going to take a lot of building areas and adding equipment and organizing. It's going to suck. People have since come forth and offered their sympathies and advised I need a hard hat, a bull horn, and a clip board. To all of you, I say no. If I learned anything over the weekend, what I need is a holster, some ammo and my 30-30 rifle. Someone has to keep the peace and it might as well be me. I have two choices, I can be the Geico pig, or I can be Rambo, the Terminator or Spartacus. I think you know where I'm going with this. That's right, time to go to Cabela's and get supplies.
Yippe Ki Ya Call Center...Yippie Ki ya.
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