Today was a Monday that lived up to it's name. Just coming off of a fun getaway weekend and now reality was waiting to kick my ass. Mother. Trucker.
The day wasted no time sucking. I walked through the door at work and the "security" guard assaults me with questions about how I want to set up for our open house we are having this week. First of all, it's none of his freaking business. Second of all, he's an asshat. He thinks he's all large and in charge and really, he is a menace. I told him I would handle it myself, later. Get off me, you know? I get down to my desk and there, sitting right up front and center is a stack of packets and info that will be used for the open house this week. I made copies of all of these things last week. It took a lot of work, updating the packets and mostly fighting with the copier. I mean, we got intimate. There was yelling, there were tantrums, extra pages added to packets, folded pages in the packets, missing pages. I mean, shit got real. But, I got it done. This morning I walk in and there are post-its on the packets where it needs to be re-done. Meaning, I have to throw all those copies away and start over. I hadn't even taken my coat off or put my stuff down before marching in to the interim boss's office. I lost my mind. The good thing about interim boss, is that she seems unafraid of my rants. She just smiles back and blinks. How can I be mad at that? It would be like shooting a baby deer with a B.B. gun...like a Red Ryder gun. The kind you'll shoot your eye out with. There's no sport in that. Feeling like I needed to get a handle on things, I retreated to my desk.
I took my coat off and booted up my PC. Going through all my emails did not cheer me up. And then the instant messages started. "Do you have magnets?" "Do you have some batteries?" "Where are the envelopes? Does the return address go here in the corner?" "Hey CassAndra, can you have someone write this order?" "Hey, can we go over some stuff for the open house tomorrow?" "Our fax machine is out of toner..." "Hey, can we order a cake? How much would that be?" Sweet Jesus. I just wanted to get the damn packets done so I could get ready for our "Santa Party" at 1pm. Had to get ready for that. Totally forgot I had to put the damn Santa outfit on again today. I will remain calm. I will get this shit done and take care of all these needy people at the same time.
Fast forward to 1pm. There I am, laying in wait in the auditorium dressed as Santa. I sat there next to the tree and lights that I had put up listening to Christmas music. I was starting to pit out just a little and that freaking beard was itching my face. How did this happen to me? I don't know...no, I do know, interim boss. This is her doing. Oh well, I was going to spread Christmas cheer if it killed me...and possibly others.
Finally, the supervisors came in and saw the magic of the room and the very essence of the Christmas spirit (the angry part that you usually see at the mall, or some poor bastard ringing a bell for hours outside a store). Anyway, the name of the game was that everyone got to pick a gift, open it and then everyone says "oooo....aaahhhhh" and then the next person chooses a gift. The next person can take the first person's gift or get a new one from the tree. As luck would have it, I was included in the game. I was #3, which was cool because I knew what I wanted. I helped do the shopping (not realizing at the time I got to participate) and while all the gifts were good, there was one I wanted. Luckily, there it was, waiting for me at my turn. It was perfect, it was three different games. The games were, Smart Asses, Dirty Minds and Head Games. Squee! Merry Christmas to me. My joy would be short-lived. The next person up, D.I.K. (Daily Incident King), came and took my gift. Are you freaking kidding me? I was DRESSED AS SANTA!!! WHO STEALS FROM SANTA???!!! That dirtbag! It's like he just killed Christmas. I realize he was just playing by the rules of the game, but I was Santa...and I'm the admin...I'm dressed as fucking Santa for YOU PEOPLE and he steals my gift! A gift that I clearly wanted. I bet he would sell his kid's soul for a Kit Kat bar. I bet he doesn't leave Santa cookies on Christmas Eve. I bet he already told his kids that Santa isn't real. I bet he takes pocket change out of the Salvation Army kettle. I bet he wears Santa's elves as slippers. I bet he eats venison for Christmas dinner...and puts a shiny nose on it. I bet if Frosty the Snowman were in his yard, he'd get his blow torch out and watch him melt for fun...and make s'mores. I bet he gets giddy during the part of the Grinch that Stole Christmas where the Grinch steals everything. But you know what, DIK, you know what? Those little Who's are going to sing and they are going to melt your little heart, but it's going to be too late because Santa will have written you off FOREVER. You will be on the Naughty list for the REST OF YOUR LIFE. You can't outrun this travesty, this injustice to the human spirit, this ripple in time. You have angered not only Santa, but the Admin, which, frankly, is a far greater crime than any holiday stolen from the clutches of a hard working girl who just wanted a game called Smart Asses.
It is noteworthy to say that no one else stole anyone else's gift. That just goes to show you the cunning, killer instinct of this supervisor. He seems like the good guy, but he just single-handedly stole Christmas from an admin. An admin dressed as Santa. Just think about that. Let that set in. Feel it. It feels horrible, doesn't it?
Anyway, after the injustice of it all, I took off the Santa suit and my black tights were covered in red velvet fuzz. I looked like a cheap, washed-up showgirl. Today was not my day. At least a lint roller could take away the mark of good 'ol St. Nick. The pain of having Christmas stolen, it could take years. Thank God I have therapy this Thursday. I hope the Rug Doctor can help me through these tough times.
The day wasted no time sucking. I walked through the door at work and the "security" guard assaults me with questions about how I want to set up for our open house we are having this week. First of all, it's none of his freaking business. Second of all, he's an asshat. He thinks he's all large and in charge and really, he is a menace. I told him I would handle it myself, later. Get off me, you know? I get down to my desk and there, sitting right up front and center is a stack of packets and info that will be used for the open house this week. I made copies of all of these things last week. It took a lot of work, updating the packets and mostly fighting with the copier. I mean, we got intimate. There was yelling, there were tantrums, extra pages added to packets, folded pages in the packets, missing pages. I mean, shit got real. But, I got it done. This morning I walk in and there are post-its on the packets where it needs to be re-done. Meaning, I have to throw all those copies away and start over. I hadn't even taken my coat off or put my stuff down before marching in to the interim boss's office. I lost my mind. The good thing about interim boss, is that she seems unafraid of my rants. She just smiles back and blinks. How can I be mad at that? It would be like shooting a baby deer with a B.B. gun...like a Red Ryder gun. The kind you'll shoot your eye out with. There's no sport in that. Feeling like I needed to get a handle on things, I retreated to my desk.
I took my coat off and booted up my PC. Going through all my emails did not cheer me up. And then the instant messages started. "Do you have magnets?" "Do you have some batteries?" "Where are the envelopes? Does the return address go here in the corner?" "Hey CassAndra, can you have someone write this order?" "Hey, can we go over some stuff for the open house tomorrow?" "Our fax machine is out of toner..." "Hey, can we order a cake? How much would that be?" Sweet Jesus. I just wanted to get the damn packets done so I could get ready for our "Santa Party" at 1pm. Had to get ready for that. Totally forgot I had to put the damn Santa outfit on again today. I will remain calm. I will get this shit done and take care of all these needy people at the same time.
Fast forward to 1pm. There I am, laying in wait in the auditorium dressed as Santa. I sat there next to the tree and lights that I had put up listening to Christmas music. I was starting to pit out just a little and that freaking beard was itching my face. How did this happen to me? I don't know...no, I do know, interim boss. This is her doing. Oh well, I was going to spread Christmas cheer if it killed me...and possibly others.
Finally, the supervisors came in and saw the magic of the room and the very essence of the Christmas spirit (the angry part that you usually see at the mall, or some poor bastard ringing a bell for hours outside a store). Anyway, the name of the game was that everyone got to pick a gift, open it and then everyone says "oooo....aaahhhhh" and then the next person chooses a gift. The next person can take the first person's gift or get a new one from the tree. As luck would have it, I was included in the game. I was #3, which was cool because I knew what I wanted. I helped do the shopping (not realizing at the time I got to participate) and while all the gifts were good, there was one I wanted. Luckily, there it was, waiting for me at my turn. It was perfect, it was three different games. The games were, Smart Asses, Dirty Minds and Head Games. Squee! Merry Christmas to me. My joy would be short-lived. The next person up, D.I.K. (Daily Incident King), came and took my gift. Are you freaking kidding me? I was DRESSED AS SANTA!!! WHO STEALS FROM SANTA???!!! That dirtbag! It's like he just killed Christmas. I realize he was just playing by the rules of the game, but I was Santa...and I'm the admin...I'm dressed as fucking Santa for YOU PEOPLE and he steals my gift! A gift that I clearly wanted. I bet he would sell his kid's soul for a Kit Kat bar. I bet he doesn't leave Santa cookies on Christmas Eve. I bet he already told his kids that Santa isn't real. I bet he takes pocket change out of the Salvation Army kettle. I bet he wears Santa's elves as slippers. I bet he eats venison for Christmas dinner...and puts a shiny nose on it. I bet if Frosty the Snowman were in his yard, he'd get his blow torch out and watch him melt for fun...and make s'mores. I bet he gets giddy during the part of the Grinch that Stole Christmas where the Grinch steals everything. But you know what, DIK, you know what? Those little Who's are going to sing and they are going to melt your little heart, but it's going to be too late because Santa will have written you off FOREVER. You will be on the Naughty list for the REST OF YOUR LIFE. You can't outrun this travesty, this injustice to the human spirit, this ripple in time. You have angered not only Santa, but the Admin, which, frankly, is a far greater crime than any holiday stolen from the clutches of a hard working girl who just wanted a game called Smart Asses.
It is noteworthy to say that no one else stole anyone else's gift. That just goes to show you the cunning, killer instinct of this supervisor. He seems like the good guy, but he just single-handedly stole Christmas from an admin. An admin dressed as Santa. Just think about that. Let that set in. Feel it. It feels horrible, doesn't it?
Anyway, after the injustice of it all, I took off the Santa suit and my black tights were covered in red velvet fuzz. I looked like a cheap, washed-up showgirl. Today was not my day. At least a lint roller could take away the mark of good 'ol St. Nick. The pain of having Christmas stolen, it could take years. Thank God I have therapy this Thursday. I hope the Rug Doctor can help me through these tough times.
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