Exactly one year ago, a brand new boss arrived at the Glass Palace. She came in there, all sunshine and rainbows and I was like, oh, hell no. I'm not gonna be all perky. And, after a previous boss leaving and me being so sad about it, I decided I wasn't going to get attached. The good bosses never stay and the bad ones stay too long. Not getting attached. Her prior admin told me, "you will not be able to not like her. You will not be able to not get attached." I said, "Well, I'm not into that perky crap, I won't succumb."
Turns out, the boss, Four Feet of Fury, as I would come to name her, grew on me. I was powerless to stop it. I even spent the last week decorating the stupid Glass Palace with flowers and bees and butterflies and spring crap. Looks like Spring threw up in there. I did it all for Four Feet of Fury because I knew it would make her happy. Dang it if I didn't actually care. I wanted her to be happy so she would not want to leave.
Today, a year after her arrival at the Glass Palace, I found myself standing in her office along with the supervisors hearing her tell us that she was resigning. I stood there, sick to my stomach. I would not cry. I promised myself when this day came, and I knew it would, although, not quite so soon, that I would not cry. I'm just an employee and she is just a boss. Except, she wasn't just a boss, she was Four Feet of Fury. She made me smile when I didn't feel like it, she listened to me go on a bitch rant when I needed her to, she trusted me to do my job, she would get all riled up and cuss. She would be on a conference call with her headset on and come running out of her office, only to have her headset jerk her back in there. She made me laugh at least once everyday. I would miss her, a lot. I left her office after the announcement and I cried. Stupid girl emotions. Hate them. Stupid uterus and fucking hormones. And, what are those other things? Oh yeah, feelings. Ugh.
As if the day could not suck anymore, I had an appointment with Dr. B. Time to follow-up with her on my progress. Last time I saw her, she put me on some meds to help my weight loss get unstuck. I went there knowing that results would not be what I wanted them to be. I wore the lightest dress I owned, wore the lightest jewelry, thought about foregoing underwear, my watch and shoes, but then realized I probably needed those things. I went in there and I'm five pounds down from last time. A victory for some, but a harsh blow considering how I had been killing it in the gym and trying so hard. With the exception of the last week that I took off due to my hip/butt issue that is causing me grief. I was told to try harder and keep on going. She asked me how I was doing mentally. Not a good day for this question. Today, I wasn't feeling so great and I was disappointed in myself. I don't care if it was justified or not, it's how I felt, so get over it.
I left Dr. B and started driving back to work. I was mulling everything over in my head. Angry, sad, frustrated, scared, worried. And then, that's when "Fuck it" Pony chimed in. Fuck it Pony said, "Let's stop by the store, get a bunch of candy and drown our sorrows in chocolate." And then, I was like, "no, we can't do that. That is defeating, we can't do that." Well, Fuck it Pony made quite a convincing argument and so I found myself at Rite Aid in the Easter candy aisle. Look a 2 for $5 special. I loaded up my basket with chocolate, and one package of pretzel Goldfish, because correct me if I'm wrong, but Goldfish soak up any evils you put in your belly, and I was off to work. I walked in, stomped over to Sassy Pants desk and dumped all the chocolate there so that it wasn't at my desk. I was back five minutes later to get my cut of the loot.
Now I was settled back at my desk, surrounded by candy and I started to read all the messages on my computer. I was not amused, nor patient with some that chose to message me today. I sent back angry retorts to their stupid questions. I ate some more chocolate. My phone rang. It was from someone else that had an "emergency" and needed an answer now. You know what, I'm the boss of me now. Screw these people. They will get their answer when I decide they get it. No one bullies me today. I chose not to answer. That is what voice mail is for. Her message sounded desperate. Annoyed, I sent her an instant message. She didn't answer, so I copied the message and emailed it to her. There. Problem resolved.
Four Feet of Fury came out and stood at my desk. She said I couldn't come with her to her new job because I don't speak Cantonese. I told her that I spoke Bitchin-ese, which is universal. Apparently, that is not a recognized language. She said the opportunity just came to her, she didn't seek it out. I said, "I want an opportunity to come to me." She said I have to be open to it. What the hell does that mean? I'm open. I gave her the stink eye and she went away. Hmph. I started thinking about the situation more and more with each bite of chocolate. Why do the good bosses always leave me? She told me I couldn't leave her. She's leaving me. How come I'm not leaving these people in the dust? How come I'm not using my college degree? How come I don't have a career? How come I'm just a dumb admin with no future, no hope and a fat ass? How come?! How come I'm not open to opportunity? Apparently I'm only open for cellulite and debt. Now, I'm really mad. And now, I am sick to my stomach from all the chocolate. It's time to switch from missiles to guns, I got the Goldfish out. These crackers would make it better. Then, my good pal Ambular reminded me of my plan. The plan we have had all along. The plan is, we ride this pony till it breaks it's leg and then we find a new pony. That's always been the plan. Stick to the plan. But, if I stick to the plan, what happens to me inside? Am I bitter? Am I happy being an admin for the REST OF MY LIFE until I can't work here anymore and then I end up at freaking Walmart being a freaking greeter while I sit in my go-go electric chair with my inhaler and and IV drip hanging behind me? And then I hope someone helps me change my Depends in the restroom later? And then at 7pm the short bus with the ramp comes to pick me up and take me to the shelter where I live with a cot, one wool blanket with holes in it that the rats chewed and a copy of TV Guide from 1984 that has a crossword puzzle about the soap opera General Hospital, which I have to use a pencil on so I can erase the answers and then do it again later like it is a new puzzle, which I think it is, because I don't remember what happened ten minutes ago, let alone yesterday, but fucking-A, I remember when John Stamos was on General Hospital and Rick Springfield, too. Is this my destiny? Is this how it's all going to play out? All because I can't speak Cantonese? Or because I can't get motivated to lose weight or have a real career? What is the point of my life? And more importantly, is it time to walk over to Sassy Pants desk and get more of those mini-Twix bars because I think the Goldfish have settled my stomach down?
I sat there, feeling dejected and sad. Feeling like a big loser. I decided to open a couple of boxes the mail lady left on my desk. I had just ordered some more balloons for the Glass Palace. Four Feet of Fury loves balloons and fun. I opened them and there they are, the smiley face balloons I ordered. For her. Because I knew she would love them. Now I just wanted to blow them up and punch them all in the smiling mother trucking face. Then, I opened the package that had stars on them. They were latex with white stars. The first one I pull out is like a creamish-transparent color. Good Lord, it looked like a bag of condoms. The stars were raised off of the balloons. Ribbed...for her pleasure. Condom balloons. Really? Admin fail. I'm not even a good admin.
I sat there feeling dejected. I turned around and Valerina had left her stinky lunch at my desk, had destroyed my sarcasm magnet that had a pen attached to it. The pen kept jumping to it's death on the floor. Someone else had left their water bottle there. I had a box of open happy fucking balloons and chocolate wrappers everywhere. I caught a glance of myself in the mirror. My eyes were puffy, my hair had gone wonky and I had chocolate dots on my dress. I felt like maybe I was coming off some sort of cocaine overdose and was living in some alternate universe called Babysitting Land. I'm going to die here. I know it. Either here, or at Walmart...or at the shelter, under the holey wool blanket...with the TV Guide page stuck to my right cheek. I sat there for a moment coming off that image and then noticed the the blue, plastic peace bracelet Four Feet of Fury gave me. I think it was a consolation prize for surviving the day, I guess. I put it on. I didn't feel at peace. I got a defective bracelet. Mother Trucker. It figures.
As I was getting ready to leave, I told Four Feet of Fury that it had been one hell of a day and that I had to blog tonight. She said, "oh no, please don't blog about me." I'm like, you're not the boss of me anymore. I do what I want. And so, tonight's blog is a wrap.
Turns out, the boss, Four Feet of Fury, as I would come to name her, grew on me. I was powerless to stop it. I even spent the last week decorating the stupid Glass Palace with flowers and bees and butterflies and spring crap. Looks like Spring threw up in there. I did it all for Four Feet of Fury because I knew it would make her happy. Dang it if I didn't actually care. I wanted her to be happy so she would not want to leave.
Today, a year after her arrival at the Glass Palace, I found myself standing in her office along with the supervisors hearing her tell us that she was resigning. I stood there, sick to my stomach. I would not cry. I promised myself when this day came, and I knew it would, although, not quite so soon, that I would not cry. I'm just an employee and she is just a boss. Except, she wasn't just a boss, she was Four Feet of Fury. She made me smile when I didn't feel like it, she listened to me go on a bitch rant when I needed her to, she trusted me to do my job, she would get all riled up and cuss. She would be on a conference call with her headset on and come running out of her office, only to have her headset jerk her back in there. She made me laugh at least once everyday. I would miss her, a lot. I left her office after the announcement and I cried. Stupid girl emotions. Hate them. Stupid uterus and fucking hormones. And, what are those other things? Oh yeah, feelings. Ugh.
As if the day could not suck anymore, I had an appointment with Dr. B. Time to follow-up with her on my progress. Last time I saw her, she put me on some meds to help my weight loss get unstuck. I went there knowing that results would not be what I wanted them to be. I wore the lightest dress I owned, wore the lightest jewelry, thought about foregoing underwear, my watch and shoes, but then realized I probably needed those things. I went in there and I'm five pounds down from last time. A victory for some, but a harsh blow considering how I had been killing it in the gym and trying so hard. With the exception of the last week that I took off due to my hip/butt issue that is causing me grief. I was told to try harder and keep on going. She asked me how I was doing mentally. Not a good day for this question. Today, I wasn't feeling so great and I was disappointed in myself. I don't care if it was justified or not, it's how I felt, so get over it.
I left Dr. B and started driving back to work. I was mulling everything over in my head. Angry, sad, frustrated, scared, worried. And then, that's when "Fuck it" Pony chimed in. Fuck it Pony said, "Let's stop by the store, get a bunch of candy and drown our sorrows in chocolate." And then, I was like, "no, we can't do that. That is defeating, we can't do that." Well, Fuck it Pony made quite a convincing argument and so I found myself at Rite Aid in the Easter candy aisle. Look a 2 for $5 special. I loaded up my basket with chocolate, and one package of pretzel Goldfish, because correct me if I'm wrong, but Goldfish soak up any evils you put in your belly, and I was off to work. I walked in, stomped over to Sassy Pants desk and dumped all the chocolate there so that it wasn't at my desk. I was back five minutes later to get my cut of the loot.
Now I was settled back at my desk, surrounded by candy and I started to read all the messages on my computer. I was not amused, nor patient with some that chose to message me today. I sent back angry retorts to their stupid questions. I ate some more chocolate. My phone rang. It was from someone else that had an "emergency" and needed an answer now. You know what, I'm the boss of me now. Screw these people. They will get their answer when I decide they get it. No one bullies me today. I chose not to answer. That is what voice mail is for. Her message sounded desperate. Annoyed, I sent her an instant message. She didn't answer, so I copied the message and emailed it to her. There. Problem resolved.
Four Feet of Fury came out and stood at my desk. She said I couldn't come with her to her new job because I don't speak Cantonese. I told her that I spoke Bitchin-ese, which is universal. Apparently, that is not a recognized language. She said the opportunity just came to her, she didn't seek it out. I said, "I want an opportunity to come to me." She said I have to be open to it. What the hell does that mean? I'm open. I gave her the stink eye and she went away. Hmph. I started thinking about the situation more and more with each bite of chocolate. Why do the good bosses always leave me? She told me I couldn't leave her. She's leaving me. How come I'm not leaving these people in the dust? How come I'm not using my college degree? How come I don't have a career? How come I'm just a dumb admin with no future, no hope and a fat ass? How come?! How come I'm not open to opportunity? Apparently I'm only open for cellulite and debt. Now, I'm really mad. And now, I am sick to my stomach from all the chocolate. It's time to switch from missiles to guns, I got the Goldfish out. These crackers would make it better. Then, my good pal Ambular reminded me of my plan. The plan we have had all along. The plan is, we ride this pony till it breaks it's leg and then we find a new pony. That's always been the plan. Stick to the plan. But, if I stick to the plan, what happens to me inside? Am I bitter? Am I happy being an admin for the REST OF MY LIFE until I can't work here anymore and then I end up at freaking Walmart being a freaking greeter while I sit in my go-go electric chair with my inhaler and and IV drip hanging behind me? And then I hope someone helps me change my Depends in the restroom later? And then at 7pm the short bus with the ramp comes to pick me up and take me to the shelter where I live with a cot, one wool blanket with holes in it that the rats chewed and a copy of TV Guide from 1984 that has a crossword puzzle about the soap opera General Hospital, which I have to use a pencil on so I can erase the answers and then do it again later like it is a new puzzle, which I think it is, because I don't remember what happened ten minutes ago, let alone yesterday, but fucking-A, I remember when John Stamos was on General Hospital and Rick Springfield, too. Is this my destiny? Is this how it's all going to play out? All because I can't speak Cantonese? Or because I can't get motivated to lose weight or have a real career? What is the point of my life? And more importantly, is it time to walk over to Sassy Pants desk and get more of those mini-Twix bars because I think the Goldfish have settled my stomach down?
I sat there, feeling dejected and sad. Feeling like a big loser. I decided to open a couple of boxes the mail lady left on my desk. I had just ordered some more balloons for the Glass Palace. Four Feet of Fury loves balloons and fun. I opened them and there they are, the smiley face balloons I ordered. For her. Because I knew she would love them. Now I just wanted to blow them up and punch them all in the smiling mother trucking face. Then, I opened the package that had stars on them. They were latex with white stars. The first one I pull out is like a creamish-transparent color. Good Lord, it looked like a bag of condoms. The stars were raised off of the balloons. Ribbed...for her pleasure. Condom balloons. Really? Admin fail. I'm not even a good admin.
I sat there feeling dejected. I turned around and Valerina had left her stinky lunch at my desk, had destroyed my sarcasm magnet that had a pen attached to it. The pen kept jumping to it's death on the floor. Someone else had left their water bottle there. I had a box of open happy fucking balloons and chocolate wrappers everywhere. I caught a glance of myself in the mirror. My eyes were puffy, my hair had gone wonky and I had chocolate dots on my dress. I felt like maybe I was coming off some sort of cocaine overdose and was living in some alternate universe called Babysitting Land. I'm going to die here. I know it. Either here, or at Walmart...or at the shelter, under the holey wool blanket...with the TV Guide page stuck to my right cheek. I sat there for a moment coming off that image and then noticed the the blue, plastic peace bracelet Four Feet of Fury gave me. I think it was a consolation prize for surviving the day, I guess. I put it on. I didn't feel at peace. I got a defective bracelet. Mother Trucker. It figures.
As I was getting ready to leave, I told Four Feet of Fury that it had been one hell of a day and that I had to blog tonight. She said, "oh no, please don't blog about me." I'm like, you're not the boss of me anymore. I do what I want. And so, tonight's blog is a wrap.
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