I totally smacked my elbow on a cart only moments ago.... In fact, it almost resemble a xylophone as my elbow ran the length of the metal rack.
Agony!
The New Guy was playing footsies with me today in the plant meeting. I was particularly horrified.
He had been in the production managers meeting this morning, attaching himself to me like a carbuncle. Immediately after the production managers meeting was the plant meeting, the carbuncle was at my side the entire time.
He had tricked me at first, I initially believed I had made my escape when he wandered off by the pop machine. Taking a seat next to the Christmas tree, I hid from the view of the pop machine, hoping he would not see where I had disappeared off too.
It didn't work. He LOOKED for me, then sat right next to me.
So, there I was, through the entire plant meeting, sitting next to The New Guy, who incidentally moves nonstop, watching the room as people like GQ and My Partner in Crime stare at me, and laugh in a couple of cases.
Near the end of the meeting the real horrors began. Trying to not pay attention to how utterly and physically annoying The New Guy was, I had focused my attention on the 18 barrettes that Hedda Hopper was wearing in her hair.
That was when it happened.
I felt him hit my foot with his own. Immediately thinking my foot had been in the way of one of his epileptic fits, I slide my feet back beneath my chair. His foot hit my foot again. This time, I knew it was on purpose. Glancing over at him, I see him smiling down at me, sliding his foot back in my direction.
I wanted to die.
What does a person do in a situation like this? I was absolutely clueless! I didn't want to reciprocate, good lord, I may end up finding him peeking at me through my windows one night. Or, what if someone happened to see this little episode?
Needless to say, I stared in horror and watched him quickly pull his foot back.
I could almost feel my leg shriveling up, it'll undoubtedly drop off by the end of the day.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
The Alcove
The maintenance guys have begun to erect a 'high tech foyer' entrance way into the plant.
It is a complete embarrassment.
Carpenters everywhere would be lifting their hats and scratching their heads in disbelief of what they see. I can almost hear my husband and Sophia's husband stating, in unison, 'What the Fuck is that supposed to be??'
All morning the guys have been working, we now have 6 2X4's held together in a rickety L-shaped form.
Add this scene to the fact that MIOSHA will be in house today for an audit and evaluation of our work practices.
NICE!
This ought to be a good one.
It is a complete embarrassment.
Carpenters everywhere would be lifting their hats and scratching their heads in disbelief of what they see. I can almost hear my husband and Sophia's husband stating, in unison, 'What the Fuck is that supposed to be??'
All morning the guys have been working, we now have 6 2X4's held together in a rickety L-shaped form.
Add this scene to the fact that MIOSHA will be in house today for an audit and evaluation of our work practices.
NICE!
This ought to be a good one.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Back to work....
Nothing like a 4 day holiday weekend to rest, relax, forget about the production floor problems of the day!
But, like all impossibly wonderful dreams, it has to come to an end. And, here we are again, another day on the production floor.
Crazy Office Supply Jody is wearing a black micro mini skirt today, it looks as if someone has literally painted it on. To top it off, no hose. Bare legs.
I happened across Crazy Office Supply Jody while I was out and about returning suspect material to one of the floor people, Jody was sitting in a chair, legs facing the production cell. Her skirt, nearly invisible. If I hadn't been standing, I'm certain I would have been able to look right in and see her panties.
Absolutely not the way I wanted to start my day.
Moments after I had arrived on 'official' work business, Julie had received a page from the front office. Because I respect other peoples privacy, and would hate to violate any trust I would have with her, I listened to every word spoken and pretended not to hear a thing, just waiting for my chance to tell Sophia how Jody had been reprimanded on the phone by the Director of Operations for
a) not actually working while she is supposed to be. She is the executive secretary, after all.
b)being on the production floor to begin with, her duties have nothing at all to do with production.
c)her choice of clothing for the day.
It was only a matter of seconds before she hung up the phone and clicked away back up to the front office. If my guess is correct, I have a feeling the cell manager placed a call to the Director of Operations and informed him of the situation.
But, like all impossibly wonderful dreams, it has to come to an end. And, here we are again, another day on the production floor.
Crazy Office Supply Jody is wearing a black micro mini skirt today, it looks as if someone has literally painted it on. To top it off, no hose. Bare legs.
I happened across Crazy Office Supply Jody while I was out and about returning suspect material to one of the floor people, Jody was sitting in a chair, legs facing the production cell. Her skirt, nearly invisible. If I hadn't been standing, I'm certain I would have been able to look right in and see her panties.
Absolutely not the way I wanted to start my day.
Moments after I had arrived on 'official' work business, Julie had received a page from the front office. Because I respect other peoples privacy, and would hate to violate any trust I would have with her, I listened to every word spoken and pretended not to hear a thing, just waiting for my chance to tell Sophia how Jody had been reprimanded on the phone by the Director of Operations for
a) not actually working while she is supposed to be. She is the executive secretary, after all.
b)being on the production floor to begin with, her duties have nothing at all to do with production.
c)her choice of clothing for the day.
It was only a matter of seconds before she hung up the phone and clicked away back up to the front office. If my guess is correct, I have a feeling the cell manager placed a call to the Director of Operations and informed him of the situation.
All in all, it has been a pretty quiet day today. The production managers had limited discussions in the meeting to weekend festivities, The New Guy is not speaking to me, and Hedda Hopper is currently occupied with informing anyone she can about her new van.
Although it has not yet been talked about, I do see a scandal happening in the near future. As I had mentioned, my Partner in Crime has put in his 2 weeks notice. For the production floor, this means all out war. Anyone and everyone will be battling to the death to acquire his fiefdom. While the position has yet to be posted, I do know Allison has her watery little eyes all over it. She's just DYING to become a full fledged production manager. I also know the previous production manager has put in a bid to regain his kingdom as well.
Only time will tell, and, it'll be quite a show.
If I were to lay odds, Allison will be the one to get the job. She's sneaky, back stabbing, and ass kissing material to the core.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
The Debacle
Hedda Hopper has once again found a way to work the system. It ticks me off.
2 weekends ago Hedda had spun herself into a snowbank while driving home from work one day. If you have ever had the chance to see how Hedda drives, you would know this to be common place.
Having the towing company on her speed dial, Hedda immediately places a call to have her car removed from the snowbank in which she was wedged. Somehow, in the midst of the action, the tow truck driver had damaged the back end of Hedda's car.
Start debacle here....
Hedda comes in bright and early the next day and begins to tell everyone she sees about her problem. Her appearance is appalling, unkempt hair and clothes that are mere rags, she is laying her poverty thing on thick, assuredly in hopes to gain sympathy, and, perhaps, another donation of 50/50 money.
As the course of the day goes on, we come to find out that Hedda has been driving without car insurance, and is now suddenly going to be without dependable transportation. She will need to rely on the drunk bum who lives with her, the drunk bum who she affectionately refers to as "my future son-in-law".
Ok, now, at this point I'm peeved. Just that morning she had showed me a new Johnny Cash CD she picked up at the store the prior evening, and, that had also been the day she whipped up her smock to show The New Guy her new top.
Perhaps, instead of wasting her money on crap she could have invested it in CAR INSURANCE??
As the days pass, she begins to inform everyone, little by little, that she had been able to secure her insurance once again, and the towing company would be paying to get her car fixed. Suddenly we see the return of her 'undrivable' car in the parking lot. Imagine that! Suddenly, it's drivable!
Fast forward to today. I arrive at work to see a mini van parked in Hedda's usual handicap parking spot. (Point of clarification - Hedda is NOT handicapped, she is merely using her obese son's handicap tag so she doesn't have to walk up to the building.) I enter the building to find Hedda excitedly gabbing about how she is using the insurance money they gave her to fix her car to buy this mini van. The car? Well, her son is suddenly in need of a different vehicle, so, he will now be driving the car.
What the hell??
Isn't that insurance fraud or something? Could this be the reason why our insurance prices are so frigging high?
2 weekends ago Hedda had spun herself into a snowbank while driving home from work one day. If you have ever had the chance to see how Hedda drives, you would know this to be common place.
Having the towing company on her speed dial, Hedda immediately places a call to have her car removed from the snowbank in which she was wedged. Somehow, in the midst of the action, the tow truck driver had damaged the back end of Hedda's car.
Start debacle here....
Hedda comes in bright and early the next day and begins to tell everyone she sees about her problem. Her appearance is appalling, unkempt hair and clothes that are mere rags, she is laying her poverty thing on thick, assuredly in hopes to gain sympathy, and, perhaps, another donation of 50/50 money.
As the course of the day goes on, we come to find out that Hedda has been driving without car insurance, and is now suddenly going to be without dependable transportation. She will need to rely on the drunk bum who lives with her, the drunk bum who she affectionately refers to as "my future son-in-law".
Ok, now, at this point I'm peeved. Just that morning she had showed me a new Johnny Cash CD she picked up at the store the prior evening, and, that had also been the day she whipped up her smock to show The New Guy her new top.
Perhaps, instead of wasting her money on crap she could have invested it in CAR INSURANCE??
As the days pass, she begins to inform everyone, little by little, that she had been able to secure her insurance once again, and the towing company would be paying to get her car fixed. Suddenly we see the return of her 'undrivable' car in the parking lot. Imagine that! Suddenly, it's drivable!
Fast forward to today. I arrive at work to see a mini van parked in Hedda's usual handicap parking spot. (Point of clarification - Hedda is NOT handicapped, she is merely using her obese son's handicap tag so she doesn't have to walk up to the building.) I enter the building to find Hedda excitedly gabbing about how she is using the insurance money they gave her to fix her car to buy this mini van. The car? Well, her son is suddenly in need of a different vehicle, so, he will now be driving the car.
What the hell??
Isn't that insurance fraud or something? Could this be the reason why our insurance prices are so frigging high?
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
"Get off it Mr. Brownstar! We're all doing stuff for everyone else!"
I can't believe I actually said this to Mr. Brownstar in the production managers meeting. I felt like kicking his ass.
All morning he has been getting on my case about some crappy fucking boards the supplier sent us, junk boards, basically. The planner had apparently asked Mr. Brownstar when he would be done repairing them, she needed them. He, in turn, calls me and tells me he doesn't have time to work on MY BOARDS, he has very little support for non production items.
First, THEY AREN'T MY FUCKING BOARDS! This is a supplier quality issue! This is GQ's project!! How did I get embroiled in this whole mess!
Second, what an ass! After the 3rd time of saying something, it's time to RETIRE the subject! I don't give a shit what you think or where I am, I AM going to tell you what I think!
Yeah, it's been one of those days. A day where I would like to just totally come unglued and obliterate the next person who happens to get on my last fucking nerve. Which, I would say, should be happening at any moment now.
Oh, speak of the devil, here comes said individual.....
All morning he has been getting on my case about some crappy fucking boards the supplier sent us, junk boards, basically. The planner had apparently asked Mr. Brownstar when he would be done repairing them, she needed them. He, in turn, calls me and tells me he doesn't have time to work on MY BOARDS, he has very little support for non production items.
First, THEY AREN'T MY FUCKING BOARDS! This is a supplier quality issue! This is GQ's project!! How did I get embroiled in this whole mess!
Second, what an ass! After the 3rd time of saying something, it's time to RETIRE the subject! I don't give a shit what you think or where I am, I AM going to tell you what I think!
Yeah, it's been one of those days. A day where I would like to just totally come unglued and obliterate the next person who happens to get on my last fucking nerve. Which, I would say, should be happening at any moment now.
Oh, speak of the devil, here comes said individual.....
Monday, November 20, 2006
And you thought your day was bad....
Mr. Brownstar spilled an entire cup of scalding hot coffee into his lap today. I could see the steam rising from his leg as I stared down in disbelief. (That would be the 30 second window of concerned coworker before I became evil coworker and laughed hysterically, moving my chair a little more toward obsessive compulsive Ted.)
The papers before Mr. Brownstar, totally ruined. His appearance, definitely bladder control issues. Whether or not he can still have kids, in question.
This is a good question for the male readers out there, just what exactly does it feel like to spill an entire cup of scalding hot coffee onto your crotch? This very same question was asked of Mr. Brownstar by me, I did not receive an answer.
Instead he has decided to create a brand new game of his ordeal, an interactive game. The name of it will be 'In the Hot Seat'. Everyone participating is required to pour scalding hot coffee onto their crotch, the last remaining participant who can still get it up is the winner.
As you can imagine, not too many people have expressed interest in this new game.
I have also put my plan in place to exact revenge on My Partner in Crime. Knowing My Partner in Crime's secret fear is snakes, I have taken it upon myself to purchase 8 fake snakes from the store. They currently reside in the top right hand drawer of my desk, but the instant My Partner in Crime vacates his desk today, they will be strategically placed in 8 different spots around his desk, partially hidden from view, just to make things interesting.
I can't wait to see what happens.
The papers before Mr. Brownstar, totally ruined. His appearance, definitely bladder control issues. Whether or not he can still have kids, in question.
This is a good question for the male readers out there, just what exactly does it feel like to spill an entire cup of scalding hot coffee onto your crotch? This very same question was asked of Mr. Brownstar by me, I did not receive an answer.
Instead he has decided to create a brand new game of his ordeal, an interactive game. The name of it will be 'In the Hot Seat'. Everyone participating is required to pour scalding hot coffee onto their crotch, the last remaining participant who can still get it up is the winner.
As you can imagine, not too many people have expressed interest in this new game.
I have also put my plan in place to exact revenge on My Partner in Crime. Knowing My Partner in Crime's secret fear is snakes, I have taken it upon myself to purchase 8 fake snakes from the store. They currently reside in the top right hand drawer of my desk, but the instant My Partner in Crime vacates his desk today, they will be strategically placed in 8 different spots around his desk, partially hidden from view, just to make things interesting.
I can't wait to see what happens.
Friday, November 17, 2006
Beware the Restrooms
As in any facility that employs 250+ people, the restrooms become somewhat of a biohazzard by days end. Toxic smells, mysterious smears and splatters, drips on the floor at your feet scream out at you, calling you to beware.
Unfortunately nature has it's way of not caring.
Nature could give a rats ass whether or not you cringe at the sight of the pubic hair that has found itself attached to the toilet seat when you enter the stall. Nor does it care that the person in the next stall has let one rip so loudly your ears are ringing.
Today seems to have been a day where everything has come to a head in the ladies restroom. 2 toilets are out of commission (shit floating in water that is precariously teetering the brink of overflow), a stench that could scare buzzards from a meat wagon, and near cat fights over the 2 remaining 'usable' toilets have left the women on the production floor down right nasty.
I am disgusted.
This by-far outranks the disgust I feel over the dead mosquito that has been stuck to the wall in the last stall for 2 years. In fact, when they painted the bathroom last summer, they painted right over the mosquito carcass.
Lord have mercy on my over worked, under paid, miserable little soul.
Unfortunately nature has it's way of not caring.
Nature could give a rats ass whether or not you cringe at the sight of the pubic hair that has found itself attached to the toilet seat when you enter the stall. Nor does it care that the person in the next stall has let one rip so loudly your ears are ringing.
Today seems to have been a day where everything has come to a head in the ladies restroom. 2 toilets are out of commission (shit floating in water that is precariously teetering the brink of overflow), a stench that could scare buzzards from a meat wagon, and near cat fights over the 2 remaining 'usable' toilets have left the women on the production floor down right nasty.
I am disgusted.
This by-far outranks the disgust I feel over the dead mosquito that has been stuck to the wall in the last stall for 2 years. In fact, when they painted the bathroom last summer, they painted right over the mosquito carcass.
Lord have mercy on my over worked, under paid, miserable little soul.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Sophia Strikes Again
Sophia is undoubtedly the closest friend I have on the production floor, which is a very good thing, our desks are back to back, meaning, we face each other all day every day we are at work. To be honest, it is never a dull moment, ever.
Sophia, Hedda, and I are all grouped around Sophia's desk whispering about gossip that had been heard earlier in the day, when ESD Matt shows up, smiling.
"I should come back here more often, it's much prettier back here," ESD Matt says, giving us a cheesy smile.
Sophia, Hedda, and I all look up at ESD Matt, somewhat stunned. This was not his usual character.
"I came back to get with Sophia for a moment, you wouldn't happen to have the Geiger counter, would you?" he is staring down at Sophia.
"Um, no, I haven't seen it, maybe you should check with Richard." Sophia has the deer in the head lights look going on. Winking at Sophia from over his shoulder, ESD Matt turns and leaves the area, leaving us all in his wake to laugh and talk about what had just happened.
"I'm not asking that guy for anything ever again! If I need help, I'm getting Richard," determination in her voice, Sophia is stunned into silence.
"Hmmmm..... Looks like Sophia has a new friend," I laugh.
I feel I must give you some background, now, on ESD Matt. ESD Matt is a nerd, pure and simple. From the tape on his enormous prescription eye glasses all the way to his black velcro tennis shoes, you just know it was a miracle he ever found a woman to marry him and bare his children. It is nothing for him to stand next to you, reeking of onions, passing the most ungodly obnoxious gas in the loudest possible manner, all the while still talking as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening. Space is your friend when it comes to ESD Matt.
Sophia and I had come to know ESD Matt when my ESD coordinator had lost his job. In the aftermath, I was tasked to assign someone the coordinator's responsibilities and that person would in turn train with ESD Matt.
Sophia had volunteered, she was new to the area at the time and really wanted to make a good impression of herself. Little did she know what she had in store for her. Her first ESD meeting soon filled her in, however. Sophia would turn out to be the only woman in a whole room full of electronics geeks and safety nerds.
I'm certain Sophia will never agian volunteer for something without first thinking twice.
On a different note, today is crazy hair day on the production floor. I'm disappointed to see that not very many people participated today.
My Partner in Crime is sporting a very crispy yet attractive mohawk. GQ has gone green. Hedda Hopper is inspiring in her Dr. Seus pipe cleaner up-do. Myself, I've returned back to the 80's and Sophia is a red hot afro from the 70's.
Not even Spicegirl participated. She, of everyone, would have had the best opportunity to create some crazy hair. She must not be feeling herself these days, her usual sequined costumes and flashy leopard prints haven't seen the light of production floor day in a while.
Oh, well, as Sophia would say:
New Day, New Action
Sophia, Hedda, and I are all grouped around Sophia's desk whispering about gossip that had been heard earlier in the day, when ESD Matt shows up, smiling.
"I should come back here more often, it's much prettier back here," ESD Matt says, giving us a cheesy smile.
Sophia, Hedda, and I all look up at ESD Matt, somewhat stunned. This was not his usual character.
"I came back to get with Sophia for a moment, you wouldn't happen to have the Geiger counter, would you?" he is staring down at Sophia.
"Um, no, I haven't seen it, maybe you should check with Richard." Sophia has the deer in the head lights look going on. Winking at Sophia from over his shoulder, ESD Matt turns and leaves the area, leaving us all in his wake to laugh and talk about what had just happened.
"I'm not asking that guy for anything ever again! If I need help, I'm getting Richard," determination in her voice, Sophia is stunned into silence.
"Hmmmm..... Looks like Sophia has a new friend," I laugh.
I feel I must give you some background, now, on ESD Matt. ESD Matt is a nerd, pure and simple. From the tape on his enormous prescription eye glasses all the way to his black velcro tennis shoes, you just know it was a miracle he ever found a woman to marry him and bare his children. It is nothing for him to stand next to you, reeking of onions, passing the most ungodly obnoxious gas in the loudest possible manner, all the while still talking as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening. Space is your friend when it comes to ESD Matt.
Sophia and I had come to know ESD Matt when my ESD coordinator had lost his job. In the aftermath, I was tasked to assign someone the coordinator's responsibilities and that person would in turn train with ESD Matt.
Sophia had volunteered, she was new to the area at the time and really wanted to make a good impression of herself. Little did she know what she had in store for her. Her first ESD meeting soon filled her in, however. Sophia would turn out to be the only woman in a whole room full of electronics geeks and safety nerds.
I'm certain Sophia will never agian volunteer for something without first thinking twice.
On a different note, today is crazy hair day on the production floor. I'm disappointed to see that not very many people participated today.
My Partner in Crime is sporting a very crispy yet attractive mohawk. GQ has gone green. Hedda Hopper is inspiring in her Dr. Seus pipe cleaner up-do. Myself, I've returned back to the 80's and Sophia is a red hot afro from the 70's.
Not even Spicegirl participated. She, of everyone, would have had the best opportunity to create some crazy hair. She must not be feeling herself these days, her usual sequined costumes and flashy leopard prints haven't seen the light of production floor day in a while.
Oh, well, as Sophia would say:
New Day, New Action
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Wednesday on the Production Floor
The production floor is completely decimated today because of opening day of rifle season. I'm surprised by the number of people who actually do hunt deer. To be honest, it's just not something that interests me.
Now, if there were a season for, let's say, shoe shopping, I'd be all over it. I'd be prepared months in advance, actually. Staking out the perfect shoe, watching it, making plans for what I would wear when I actually did get that perfect shoe.
I digress.... No such season exists.
Thankfully, a few of the production managers, beside myself, did show up for work today. I was greeted bright and early this morning by Mr. Brownstar, grinning from ear to ear, asking me to check out his new screensaver. It was Hedda Hopper in her pimp hat that she wore for hat day yesterday. I couldn't help but laugh.
My Partner in Crime, who affectionately calls me Slacker Girl, has been nicer then nice to me today. I'm wondering if it has anything to do with the exchange that happened between us yesterday afternoon. I had paged him to ask a question and he never responded. So, I moved on until I found someone who could. 15 minutes later I see him coming in from outside, probably the smoking hut, with Allison. He stops at my desk to see what it is that I needed.
With a smile on my face, ice in my voice, I state to him "You ignored me, so, no, I don't need your help anymore." I admit, I did feel instantly guilty when I seen the look on his face. It went from a smile to embarrassment in about 2 seconds flat.
"Oh, ok," he replied and quickly exited the area.
I should be nicer, I know I should, but why change after this many years.
The topic of vacation time amongst managers had been brought up in the production managers meeting this morning. A discussion has spurned about who would or would not be here the first week of January, our training coordinator needed to know. Ted had lifted my hand for me and said "She'll be here, she never goes on vacation. As far as I know, this place is a vacation to her."
I look at everyone, laugh, and state "I don't think so. I can think of a lot of other places I would rather be then here."
By now, everyone in the conference room is staring at me.
"I hear Phoebe has skinny dipping finals in Wisconsin that week, I don't think she'll be in," Mr. Brownstar is laughing at his comment, grabbing a few chips from my Pringle can.
I could have killed him. I look to my right and see 2 of the managers who don't regularly attend the meeting smiling and whispering, one is clarifying the comment to the other. I look to my left and see all 3 members of our human resources department looking at me.
He had CLEARLY forgot about the Vegas rule!
The New Guy is not here today, thank God! I grow irritated by him just at the sight of his oafish form lumbering in the distance.
He had been tasked to train with Acetone Girl yesterday, Acetone Girl chewed him up and spit him out.
The New Guy had shown up at her desk ill prepared and completely oblivious to what he was supposed to be doing.
"Oh, you're here," Acetone Girl sneers at him, taking her foot and kicking an empty chair out from her desk about 5 foot. "Have a seat, let's get started. So, tell me, what process are we going to use to map this?"
"I don't know. I just really wanted to get some information on a BGA that has been an issue," The New Guy is stammering, flipping through a notebook he was carrying.
"Ok, what is the part number?" Acetone Girl is annoyed, she doesn't even bother to mask her irritation in her voice.
"It's this," he points to an assembly number that he has scratched onto the notebook.
"Oh, no, no, no, that's an assembly number. You need a specific component number. What is the reference designator?" Acetone Girl is giving him the look. You know 'the look', it's the look you received when you've officially gotten on somebody's last nerve, the look of complete and utter irritation, the look of death.
"I don't have one, but I know it's...." Acetone Girl doesn't even give The New Guy a chance to finish his thought.
"Ok, look, if you're going to do this job, you'd better get it together. Either you're going to do the work and be prepared or you're going to have to delegate your work to everyone else and take credit for their work." Looking away in disgust, Acetone Girl completely dismisses The New Guy and turns back to her desk.
Now, I'm certain she was being completely sarcastic, and, in no way was she intentionally telling The New Guy that he should be taking credit for everyone else's work, but, take a guess at what vital piece of information The New Guy was able to glean from this 3 minute conversation.
So, GQ appears this morning to give Sophia and I the scoop from yesterday afternoon. Apparently, after he had been raked over the coals by Acetone Girl, The New Guy had commented to GQ that his only job was to delegate his responsibilities to other people and go forth from there, this would be what he would do from now on and he expected GQ, from that day forward, to supply him with MRB data and any reports he felt were necessary to review.
The New Guy is going to find himself without a job if this keeps going on.
Now, if there were a season for, let's say, shoe shopping, I'd be all over it. I'd be prepared months in advance, actually. Staking out the perfect shoe, watching it, making plans for what I would wear when I actually did get that perfect shoe.
I digress.... No such season exists.
Thankfully, a few of the production managers, beside myself, did show up for work today. I was greeted bright and early this morning by Mr. Brownstar, grinning from ear to ear, asking me to check out his new screensaver. It was Hedda Hopper in her pimp hat that she wore for hat day yesterday. I couldn't help but laugh.
My Partner in Crime, who affectionately calls me Slacker Girl, has been nicer then nice to me today. I'm wondering if it has anything to do with the exchange that happened between us yesterday afternoon. I had paged him to ask a question and he never responded. So, I moved on until I found someone who could. 15 minutes later I see him coming in from outside, probably the smoking hut, with Allison. He stops at my desk to see what it is that I needed.
With a smile on my face, ice in my voice, I state to him "You ignored me, so, no, I don't need your help anymore." I admit, I did feel instantly guilty when I seen the look on his face. It went from a smile to embarrassment in about 2 seconds flat.
"Oh, ok," he replied and quickly exited the area.
I should be nicer, I know I should, but why change after this many years.
The topic of vacation time amongst managers had been brought up in the production managers meeting this morning. A discussion has spurned about who would or would not be here the first week of January, our training coordinator needed to know. Ted had lifted my hand for me and said "She'll be here, she never goes on vacation. As far as I know, this place is a vacation to her."
I look at everyone, laugh, and state "I don't think so. I can think of a lot of other places I would rather be then here."
By now, everyone in the conference room is staring at me.
"I hear Phoebe has skinny dipping finals in Wisconsin that week, I don't think she'll be in," Mr. Brownstar is laughing at his comment, grabbing a few chips from my Pringle can.
I could have killed him. I look to my right and see 2 of the managers who don't regularly attend the meeting smiling and whispering, one is clarifying the comment to the other. I look to my left and see all 3 members of our human resources department looking at me.
He had CLEARLY forgot about the Vegas rule!
The New Guy is not here today, thank God! I grow irritated by him just at the sight of his oafish form lumbering in the distance.
He had been tasked to train with Acetone Girl yesterday, Acetone Girl chewed him up and spit him out.
The New Guy had shown up at her desk ill prepared and completely oblivious to what he was supposed to be doing.
"Oh, you're here," Acetone Girl sneers at him, taking her foot and kicking an empty chair out from her desk about 5 foot. "Have a seat, let's get started. So, tell me, what process are we going to use to map this?"
"I don't know. I just really wanted to get some information on a BGA that has been an issue," The New Guy is stammering, flipping through a notebook he was carrying.
"Ok, what is the part number?" Acetone Girl is annoyed, she doesn't even bother to mask her irritation in her voice.
"It's this," he points to an assembly number that he has scratched onto the notebook.
"Oh, no, no, no, that's an assembly number. You need a specific component number. What is the reference designator?" Acetone Girl is giving him the look. You know 'the look', it's the look you received when you've officially gotten on somebody's last nerve, the look of complete and utter irritation, the look of death.
"I don't have one, but I know it's...." Acetone Girl doesn't even give The New Guy a chance to finish his thought.
"Ok, look, if you're going to do this job, you'd better get it together. Either you're going to do the work and be prepared or you're going to have to delegate your work to everyone else and take credit for their work." Looking away in disgust, Acetone Girl completely dismisses The New Guy and turns back to her desk.
Now, I'm certain she was being completely sarcastic, and, in no way was she intentionally telling The New Guy that he should be taking credit for everyone else's work, but, take a guess at what vital piece of information The New Guy was able to glean from this 3 minute conversation.
So, GQ appears this morning to give Sophia and I the scoop from yesterday afternoon. Apparently, after he had been raked over the coals by Acetone Girl, The New Guy had commented to GQ that his only job was to delegate his responsibilities to other people and go forth from there, this would be what he would do from now on and he expected GQ, from that day forward, to supply him with MRB data and any reports he felt were necessary to review.
The New Guy is going to find himself without a job if this keeps going on.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Today in the Production Managers Meeting
We were completely out of control. (That is no exaggeration, either.)
Because the morale amongst the floor people had slipped to an all time low, it was decided by the upper crust that we would do a 'Spirit Week' this week, each day dressing up in some off-the-wall way.
Today is hat day.
As the production managers all assembled in the conference room, we immediately began discussing everyone's hat choices. Mr. Brownstar had shown up late, as usual, and tripped into the conference room, spilling his coffee on the table beside me as he pulled out his chair. As is the custom, within the first few moments of his arrival, he had stolen my pen while I wasn't looking, anxiously awaiting my discovery that my pen was missing.
"Mr. Brownstar, give me back my pen," I announced, giving him my stern look, then laughing at his mock surprised look.
"What pen, you mean you had it today?" he smiles, pretending innocence.
"Just a tip, if you plan to steal something, it's usually not a good idea to leave a coffee trail in it's wake," I said, pointing to the stream of coffee leading from my pens original resting place all the way to the side of Mr. Brownstar's notebook.
"Damn," he says, laughing. "Hey, we really need to get a production managers get-together going, and soon. I think we could have some fun."
"So, whatcha got in mind," My Partner in Crime asks.
"Oh, you know, maybe bowling, or something, perhaps a game of naked twister...." his eyes alight with mischief.
Everyone laughs, even obsessive compulsive Ted, who, by the way, offers to bring in the baby oil.
"Oh my God Ted! I'm shocked!" I laugh, his face is completely crimson while he tries to cover his laughing smile with his hand.
"What, I just opened the door, you know yall were thinking about it," Ted is waving his hands around in the air as he talks.
"My twister game comes with special dots, you place them on body parts instead of a big plastic mat, I find it's much more fun," Mr. Brownstar is offering to bring in his 'special' Twister if Ted will bring in the baby oil.
I have to admit, this would be quite a game of Twister. I'm not so sure I would ever be able to look at everyone the same way again, however.
Sophia and I were disappointed to see The New Guy bright and early this morning. I was certain when he had disappeared after lunch yesterday, a lunch that he had told everyone he would be spending at the gun range to sight in his hunting rifle, that he had undoubtedly shot himself.
Damn, I hate it when I'm wrong.
Apparently, at some point in one of his meaningless conversations that I had only partially listened to, I had mentioned that I wanted to read a book of his, a biography about Katherine Hepburn. So, here he was, with the biography wrapped up in a brown paper bag, his signature in the front cover dated July 2003.
Now I've gotta read the damn thing!
Point of Interest:
GQ showed up at my desk yesterday looking for The New Guy. He MISSED him, I couldn't believe I heard him correctly! My secret belief is that he has a crush on The New Guy.
Special RockDog segment - The Girls
Because the morale amongst the floor people had slipped to an all time low, it was decided by the upper crust that we would do a 'Spirit Week' this week, each day dressing up in some off-the-wall way.
Today is hat day.
As the production managers all assembled in the conference room, we immediately began discussing everyone's hat choices. Mr. Brownstar had shown up late, as usual, and tripped into the conference room, spilling his coffee on the table beside me as he pulled out his chair. As is the custom, within the first few moments of his arrival, he had stolen my pen while I wasn't looking, anxiously awaiting my discovery that my pen was missing.
"Mr. Brownstar, give me back my pen," I announced, giving him my stern look, then laughing at his mock surprised look.
"What pen, you mean you had it today?" he smiles, pretending innocence.
"Just a tip, if you plan to steal something, it's usually not a good idea to leave a coffee trail in it's wake," I said, pointing to the stream of coffee leading from my pens original resting place all the way to the side of Mr. Brownstar's notebook.
"Damn," he says, laughing. "Hey, we really need to get a production managers get-together going, and soon. I think we could have some fun."
"So, whatcha got in mind," My Partner in Crime asks.
"Oh, you know, maybe bowling, or something, perhaps a game of naked twister...." his eyes alight with mischief.
Everyone laughs, even obsessive compulsive Ted, who, by the way, offers to bring in the baby oil.
"Oh my God Ted! I'm shocked!" I laugh, his face is completely crimson while he tries to cover his laughing smile with his hand.
"What, I just opened the door, you know yall were thinking about it," Ted is waving his hands around in the air as he talks.
"My twister game comes with special dots, you place them on body parts instead of a big plastic mat, I find it's much more fun," Mr. Brownstar is offering to bring in his 'special' Twister if Ted will bring in the baby oil.
I have to admit, this would be quite a game of Twister. I'm not so sure I would ever be able to look at everyone the same way again, however.
Sophia and I were disappointed to see The New Guy bright and early this morning. I was certain when he had disappeared after lunch yesterday, a lunch that he had told everyone he would be spending at the gun range to sight in his hunting rifle, that he had undoubtedly shot himself.
Damn, I hate it when I'm wrong.
Apparently, at some point in one of his meaningless conversations that I had only partially listened to, I had mentioned that I wanted to read a book of his, a biography about Katherine Hepburn. So, here he was, with the biography wrapped up in a brown paper bag, his signature in the front cover dated July 2003.
Now I've gotta read the damn thing!
Point of Interest:
GQ showed up at my desk yesterday looking for The New Guy. He MISSED him, I couldn't believe I heard him correctly! My secret belief is that he has a crush on The New Guy.
Special RockDog segment - The Girls
- Crazy Office Supply Jody has died her hair red again. So far, she has claimed to be a 'natural ' blond and a 'natural' red head. I'll bet the carpet doesn't match either of those shades of drapes.
- Spicegirl DID NOT wear a hat today. The woman who has a derby hat for every day of the year did not wear one today, this day of all days! I have to say, the way her hair looks today, she definitely could have used a hat. Bed head and frizz, not very attractive on a quality manager.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Death to The New Guy
I have recently found out that, even though he is pretending to be a friend to my face, The New Guy has been spying and compiling information on me and my areas behind my back. I left work yesterday in rare form, if I had been allowed, I would have kicked his fucking ass all the way back down to his desk. The purple lipped freak!
Sophia had been concerned about me, actually, when I left last night. I had seen The New Guy walking back to, presumably, my desk, so I hurriedly threw on my coat and wished everyone a good evening. I didn't even stick around long enough for them to reply back. I left before The New Guy even had a chance to say a word to me.
Fast forward to today, if you will. Today rolls around and Spicegirl tells me we have a mandatory information meeting we must all attend in the lunch room.
I enter the lunch room first and pick a seat at an empty table. People begin to filing into the lunchroom, Spicegirl is the first to sit at my table. She sit's directly to my right and asks if we can postpone my weekly meeting for after the informational get together.
My Partner in Crime is the next to appear, pulling out the chair that is directly to the left of me.
"Is this seat saved for The New Guy?" he says, wicked smile lighting up his face, sarcasm in his voice.
"No, oh my God, please sit down, I don't want to end up sitting next to The New Guy," I'm laughing and looking at Spicegirl.
"You know, there is only so much you can see in the interview process, I swear, if I had known," she is laughing out of embarrasment, she also can not stand The New Guy.
"It's not your fault, people can appear to be totally different when you haven't had the opportunity to see what the hell they are REALLY like," I was defending Spicegirl. "I'm sure he had an excellent interview, some people just interview well."
"Yeah," Spicegirl is smiling, feeling a bit more at ease. My Partner in Crime is sarcasticly laughing next to me.
As we continue to discuss The New Guy and how irritating he is, I see him enter the lunch room, heading directly to our table. By this time Sophia has sat down next to Spicegirl and one of the business managers is sitting on the end of the table near Sophia.
"Don't sit here, don't sit here, don't sit here...." Spicegirl is chanting in a whisper next to me, he sits across from My Partner in Crime anyway.
The table has grown silent, nobody wants to talk to him.
"So, did you watch?" The New Guy is looking directly at me. Of course I know exactly what he is talking about, 'Grey's Anatomy'.
"Yeah," I'm trying to act like I don't want to strangle the life right out of him. I am in the presence of my boss, after all.
"So, tell me what happened in the last 10 minutes. You know..." he finishes the sentence with fake snoring, indicating he had fallen asleep.
Everyone at the table is silent as I quickly recap the last 10 minutes. I can't believe he has the nerve to even talk to me.
For the life of me, I can't understand what I have done to deserve such punishment.
Sophia had been concerned about me, actually, when I left last night. I had seen The New Guy walking back to, presumably, my desk, so I hurriedly threw on my coat and wished everyone a good evening. I didn't even stick around long enough for them to reply back. I left before The New Guy even had a chance to say a word to me.
Fast forward to today, if you will. Today rolls around and Spicegirl tells me we have a mandatory information meeting we must all attend in the lunch room.
I enter the lunch room first and pick a seat at an empty table. People begin to filing into the lunchroom, Spicegirl is the first to sit at my table. She sit's directly to my right and asks if we can postpone my weekly meeting for after the informational get together.
My Partner in Crime is the next to appear, pulling out the chair that is directly to the left of me.
"Is this seat saved for The New Guy?" he says, wicked smile lighting up his face, sarcasm in his voice.
"No, oh my God, please sit down, I don't want to end up sitting next to The New Guy," I'm laughing and looking at Spicegirl.
"You know, there is only so much you can see in the interview process, I swear, if I had known," she is laughing out of embarrasment, she also can not stand The New Guy.
"It's not your fault, people can appear to be totally different when you haven't had the opportunity to see what the hell they are REALLY like," I was defending Spicegirl. "I'm sure he had an excellent interview, some people just interview well."
"Yeah," Spicegirl is smiling, feeling a bit more at ease. My Partner in Crime is sarcasticly laughing next to me.
As we continue to discuss The New Guy and how irritating he is, I see him enter the lunch room, heading directly to our table. By this time Sophia has sat down next to Spicegirl and one of the business managers is sitting on the end of the table near Sophia.
"Don't sit here, don't sit here, don't sit here...." Spicegirl is chanting in a whisper next to me, he sits across from My Partner in Crime anyway.
The table has grown silent, nobody wants to talk to him.
"So, did you watch?" The New Guy is looking directly at me. Of course I know exactly what he is talking about, 'Grey's Anatomy'.
"Yeah," I'm trying to act like I don't want to strangle the life right out of him. I am in the presence of my boss, after all.
"So, tell me what happened in the last 10 minutes. You know..." he finishes the sentence with fake snoring, indicating he had fallen asleep.
Everyone at the table is silent as I quickly recap the last 10 minutes. I can't believe he has the nerve to even talk to me.
For the life of me, I can't understand what I have done to deserve such punishment.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Hedda Hopper and the Hot Speakers
I have so much to say today, this may end up being a very long post. I can guarantee, it'll be worth your time if you chose to read it in it's entirety.
For two days I have been traipsing around work with naked fingernails, my Acetone Friend could stand it no longer, and brought back a bottle of polish.
"Oh My God Phoebe, you've gotta hear this!" she says as she cruises up to my desk and deposits a bottle of pink nail polish before me.
"What's up?" I'm staring up at her, curiosity piqued.
"Those speakers I gave Hedda, I found them in the tool crib out there on my line. I asked everyone if they knew who they belonged to, and nobody claimed them. So, I gave them to Hedda, she didn't have any speakers, she needed some." Acetone friend is speaking in a whisper so Hedda will not hear.
"Ok, so, what happened?" Sophia has turned from her computer, looking up at Acetone Friend as well.
"Well, Carolyn approached me this morning and asked me if I had found a 'cute little pair of speakers' in the tool crib when I cleaned it out!" forgetting she's whispering, Acetone Friend raises her voice, her arms are flailing.
"Oh My God! What did you do?" I'm shocked. She had told us all when she brought them back here that she had brought them in from home.
"I lied! I told her I didn't come across any!" All three of us turn to look in Hedda's direction. "I can't take them back, Hedda was so excited when I gave them to her!" A few moments of awkward silence go by.
"Just don't say a thing," Sophia had finally broke the silence.
Hedda would have been heartbroken if she had taken them back, I'm certain.
As I had arrived at work this morning Hedda had singled me out to tell me about her bad week that she was having this week. Callous as this may sound, I don't feel a bit sorry for her, and, kind of feel like maybe this is the kind of stuff that should happen to her once in a while.
People like Hedda are scavengers, living off of other people and expecting them to take pity on her. I don't take pity. Just this morning I discovered the trash can liners, the BRAND NEW roll that had been given to me 2 weeks ago, has disappeared. And, when I loudly exclaimed "What happened to the trash can liners!" she looked right at me, face pale, guilty.
So, Hedda had approached me this morning to tell me how unfair it was that the parole board was keeping her son in prison one more year. He was a good boy, he didn't need anger management training and psychiatric evaluation. She would look after him.
She then went on to tell me how the insurance company was being unfair to her. They were telling her they would not be covering anything on the accident she had gotten into on Tuesday because they claimed her insurance was lapsed, swearing up and down she had sent out the check last Friday and the accident was Tuesday.
On top of all that, she had complained that the diabetic shoes she had gotten for free from the welfare people were giving her feet a blister. 'They were very expensive shoes, why are they giving me a blister?' I could have choked her.
But, alas, I don't want to end up in the same prison as her son.
Then there is The New Guy. I have done an excellent job of avoiding him the past two days, I've barely even seen him.
But, like most production floors, rumor travels like wild fire. I have discovered he has had his management responsibilities removed, imagine the humiliation. So much fun to sit back and watch the action unfold, Sophia and I anxiously await the next scenario to unfold in this ongoing saga.
My Partner in Crime has returned to his antics, once again. I was deep in thought studying a work instruction for changes when he throws a cricket on my desk, bouncing from my thumb and landing on the phone. Immediately I scream, scooching back as far from the creature as I could. Thank God for Sophia, she grabs a Kleenex and heads for my ringing phone to grab the cricket. From the corner of my eye I see Mr. Brownstar pushing a cart across the opening to my area to block any escape I may try as I scream in horror at the disgusting little creature.
Naturally, it was My Partner in crime on the phone! I could have killed him! Sophia and I have vowed revenge against him, his stunt will look like a kindergarten prank compared to ours.
Then there is Betty. It appears that Betty's brother-in-law has gotten himself arrested for molestation and delinquent child support charges. Now, why on earth would you tell people where you work about stuff like this??
For two days I have been traipsing around work with naked fingernails, my Acetone Friend could stand it no longer, and brought back a bottle of polish.
"Oh My God Phoebe, you've gotta hear this!" she says as she cruises up to my desk and deposits a bottle of pink nail polish before me.
"What's up?" I'm staring up at her, curiosity piqued.
"Those speakers I gave Hedda, I found them in the tool crib out there on my line. I asked everyone if they knew who they belonged to, and nobody claimed them. So, I gave them to Hedda, she didn't have any speakers, she needed some." Acetone friend is speaking in a whisper so Hedda will not hear.
"Ok, so, what happened?" Sophia has turned from her computer, looking up at Acetone Friend as well.
"Well, Carolyn approached me this morning and asked me if I had found a 'cute little pair of speakers' in the tool crib when I cleaned it out!" forgetting she's whispering, Acetone Friend raises her voice, her arms are flailing.
"Oh My God! What did you do?" I'm shocked. She had told us all when she brought them back here that she had brought them in from home.
"I lied! I told her I didn't come across any!" All three of us turn to look in Hedda's direction. "I can't take them back, Hedda was so excited when I gave them to her!" A few moments of awkward silence go by.
"Just don't say a thing," Sophia had finally broke the silence.
Hedda would have been heartbroken if she had taken them back, I'm certain.
As I had arrived at work this morning Hedda had singled me out to tell me about her bad week that she was having this week. Callous as this may sound, I don't feel a bit sorry for her, and, kind of feel like maybe this is the kind of stuff that should happen to her once in a while.
People like Hedda are scavengers, living off of other people and expecting them to take pity on her. I don't take pity. Just this morning I discovered the trash can liners, the BRAND NEW roll that had been given to me 2 weeks ago, has disappeared. And, when I loudly exclaimed "What happened to the trash can liners!" she looked right at me, face pale, guilty.
So, Hedda had approached me this morning to tell me how unfair it was that the parole board was keeping her son in prison one more year. He was a good boy, he didn't need anger management training and psychiatric evaluation. She would look after him.
She then went on to tell me how the insurance company was being unfair to her. They were telling her they would not be covering anything on the accident she had gotten into on Tuesday because they claimed her insurance was lapsed, swearing up and down she had sent out the check last Friday and the accident was Tuesday.
On top of all that, she had complained that the diabetic shoes she had gotten for free from the welfare people were giving her feet a blister. 'They were very expensive shoes, why are they giving me a blister?' I could have choked her.
But, alas, I don't want to end up in the same prison as her son.
Then there is The New Guy. I have done an excellent job of avoiding him the past two days, I've barely even seen him.
But, like most production floors, rumor travels like wild fire. I have discovered he has had his management responsibilities removed, imagine the humiliation. So much fun to sit back and watch the action unfold, Sophia and I anxiously await the next scenario to unfold in this ongoing saga.
My Partner in Crime has returned to his antics, once again. I was deep in thought studying a work instruction for changes when he throws a cricket on my desk, bouncing from my thumb and landing on the phone. Immediately I scream, scooching back as far from the creature as I could. Thank God for Sophia, she grabs a Kleenex and heads for my ringing phone to grab the cricket. From the corner of my eye I see Mr. Brownstar pushing a cart across the opening to my area to block any escape I may try as I scream in horror at the disgusting little creature.
Naturally, it was My Partner in crime on the phone! I could have killed him! Sophia and I have vowed revenge against him, his stunt will look like a kindergarten prank compared to ours.
Then there is Betty. It appears that Betty's brother-in-law has gotten himself arrested for molestation and delinquent child support charges. Now, why on earth would you tell people where you work about stuff like this??
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
The Bearded Woman
Every production floor has one, the woman so butch she has actually grown a beard and covered her body with tattoos, the woman who walks, talks, acts, and thinks like a man, the woman who makes you cringe just at the thought of getting near her.
On the production floor where I work our bearded woman has befriend me, in fact, I think she may be in love with me. I avoid her whenever possible, talking to her only when necessary, but with the acquisition of the new guy, everything is out of control.
The New Guy shows up at my desk yesterday, 3:00 as usual, to chit chat. From off in the distance I hear the bearded woman shout out my name and ask what I'm doing.
'Thank God!' I think to myself, someone to pull me away from The New Guy. Excusing myself from the conversation, I tell The New Guy I should really see what is up out there, they need my help. Walking over to where she and one of the receiving girls are standing, I wait until he picks up his notebook and walks away.
"You know, you should be thanking my ass for saving you, yet again!" The Bearded Lady's laughter boomed out across the receiving area.
"I know, Oh My God, what is wrong with that guy!" I'm relieved, yet, somewhat uneasy. I've been boxed into a corner between the rollers and The Bearded Woman.
"You know what I should do, I need to just go up to Asshole and tell him, hey, if I can't have her, no one else is gonna have her either, then give him a threatening glare," I stare at the receiving girl for a second, unable to believe what I just heard. The Bearded Woman slaps her hand down on my back and booms with laughter. I laugh off the comment and quickly make my way out of there.
If it wasn't bad enough that The New Guy had attached himself to my hip like a Siamese twin, I now had The Bearded Woman fighting with him over me.
Yah, just what I always wanted in a work environment.
With only a few more minutes to finish out the day, I quickly wrapped up what I was doing and planned to slip out undetected by anyone.
Plan went up in flames.
In the smoking hut located right outside my exit door sat The Bearded Woman and my acetone bearing friend talking about The New Guy.
"Hey, Phoebe, that's a cute purse! I love distressed leather," reaching out her hand, I hand it to her to take a closer look.
"Yah, that's right up my alley," The Bearded Woman takes my purse and slings it over her shoulder placing one hand on her crotch, like a man who is cupping his package.
"Oh My God, I can't believe you did that!" I'm in shock. I'm laughing, but I'm in shock. Using the hand that was just between her legs she hands me my purse. "Oh My God, you touched my purse with your hand."
"Oh yah," she says, taking my purse and rubbing it between her legs. Words can not describe what coursed through my mind at that very moment.
Needless to say, one purse seriously doused with lysol later, I'm still considering buying a new purse. I have yet to make skin on purse contact.
On the production floor where I work our bearded woman has befriend me, in fact, I think she may be in love with me. I avoid her whenever possible, talking to her only when necessary, but with the acquisition of the new guy, everything is out of control.
The New Guy shows up at my desk yesterday, 3:00 as usual, to chit chat. From off in the distance I hear the bearded woman shout out my name and ask what I'm doing.
'Thank God!' I think to myself, someone to pull me away from The New Guy. Excusing myself from the conversation, I tell The New Guy I should really see what is up out there, they need my help. Walking over to where she and one of the receiving girls are standing, I wait until he picks up his notebook and walks away.
"You know, you should be thanking my ass for saving you, yet again!" The Bearded Lady's laughter boomed out across the receiving area.
"I know, Oh My God, what is wrong with that guy!" I'm relieved, yet, somewhat uneasy. I've been boxed into a corner between the rollers and The Bearded Woman.
"You know what I should do, I need to just go up to Asshole and tell him, hey, if I can't have her, no one else is gonna have her either, then give him a threatening glare," I stare at the receiving girl for a second, unable to believe what I just heard. The Bearded Woman slaps her hand down on my back and booms with laughter. I laugh off the comment and quickly make my way out of there.
If it wasn't bad enough that The New Guy had attached himself to my hip like a Siamese twin, I now had The Bearded Woman fighting with him over me.
Yah, just what I always wanted in a work environment.
With only a few more minutes to finish out the day, I quickly wrapped up what I was doing and planned to slip out undetected by anyone.
Plan went up in flames.
In the smoking hut located right outside my exit door sat The Bearded Woman and my acetone bearing friend talking about The New Guy.
"Hey, Phoebe, that's a cute purse! I love distressed leather," reaching out her hand, I hand it to her to take a closer look.
"Yah, that's right up my alley," The Bearded Woman takes my purse and slings it over her shoulder placing one hand on her crotch, like a man who is cupping his package.
"Oh My God, I can't believe you did that!" I'm in shock. I'm laughing, but I'm in shock. Using the hand that was just between her legs she hands me my purse. "Oh My God, you touched my purse with your hand."
"Oh yah," she says, taking my purse and rubbing it between her legs. Words can not describe what coursed through my mind at that very moment.
Needless to say, one purse seriously doused with lysol later, I'm still considering buying a new purse. I have yet to make skin on purse contact.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Did you know?
Acetone will dissolve a styrofoam cup quicker then you can count to ten?
I know that, now.
Staring at my nails as I arrive at my desk, I am once again berating myself for not removing the remnants of my last weeks manicure. Chipped and partially missing, the nail polish was beyond hideous. Thinking fast, I send a quick email to one of my former employees asking her to steal some acetone from the conformal coat room so I can remove my polish.
It pays to have friends amongst the production floor.
A few minutes go by and I see her coming, paper cup in hand, acetone dripping through the bottom.
"Oh My God Phoebe! You'll never believe what happened! I have to tell you the story!" she is laughing like crazy, I can't help but laugh along with her even though I have no idea what she is laughing about.
"Oh My God! What happened?" In my mind I'm fully aware that we sound like teenagers, but, I can't help it, I'm lost in the moment. I grab some paper towel from the roll in our supply cabinet and set the leaking cup upon it, going right to work on removing the old polish.
"Ok, so, I grabbed a styrofoam cup from the front office and I sneak into the conformal coat room. I pour the acetone into the cup but it spilled a little, and I didn't want to wreck my nails, I only turned for a second to grab a paper towel, when I turned back the cup was gone!" her eyes were huge, we were both staring at her nails to make sure the polish was still ok.
"Oh My God! No way! Where did it go?" I couldn't stop laughing, I'm certain you could hear me all over the production floor.
"It dissolved into a big marshmellowy mess! I couldn't believe my eyes! I just left it there!" with this last confession, we both broke out in fresh peels of laughter.
"I've gotta wash my hands, look at my nails!" my fingertips were white, the skin dried out like old parchment paper.
It's never a dull moment when you are a production manager working on the production floor. It is moments like these that make the work day worth working.
The New Guy experienced Hedda Hopper at her best this morning. Sophia and I were sitting at our desks when he appeared, exclaiming something about his eyes and how they were burning. I look over to find a smiling Hedda Hopper and The New Guy covering his eyes in horror. He then proceeds to tell me his story.
Apparently Hedda had decided to show The New Guy her patriotic outfit she was sporting today. Reaching down, she grabs the bottom of her smock and yanks it up above her head. Shocking the hell out of The New Guy, who thought Hedda was actually going to flash him her boobies, his jaw dropped and he began covering his eyes. At this point, Sophia and I have looked over to see Hedda with her smock above her head, showing off her flag t-shirt.
I should warn you, this is a sight that will forever remain burned into your corneas if you have not prepared yourself before hand. Much like watching a solar eclipse, it is recommended you be wearing eye protection at all times and that you only take short glances in that general direction.
So, there stands Hedda, one camel toe in all it's glory with The New Guy yelling "my eyes, my eyes."
I know that, now.
Staring at my nails as I arrive at my desk, I am once again berating myself for not removing the remnants of my last weeks manicure. Chipped and partially missing, the nail polish was beyond hideous. Thinking fast, I send a quick email to one of my former employees asking her to steal some acetone from the conformal coat room so I can remove my polish.
It pays to have friends amongst the production floor.
A few minutes go by and I see her coming, paper cup in hand, acetone dripping through the bottom.
"Oh My God Phoebe! You'll never believe what happened! I have to tell you the story!" she is laughing like crazy, I can't help but laugh along with her even though I have no idea what she is laughing about.
"Oh My God! What happened?" In my mind I'm fully aware that we sound like teenagers, but, I can't help it, I'm lost in the moment. I grab some paper towel from the roll in our supply cabinet and set the leaking cup upon it, going right to work on removing the old polish.
"Ok, so, I grabbed a styrofoam cup from the front office and I sneak into the conformal coat room. I pour the acetone into the cup but it spilled a little, and I didn't want to wreck my nails, I only turned for a second to grab a paper towel, when I turned back the cup was gone!" her eyes were huge, we were both staring at her nails to make sure the polish was still ok.
"Oh My God! No way! Where did it go?" I couldn't stop laughing, I'm certain you could hear me all over the production floor.
"It dissolved into a big marshmellowy mess! I couldn't believe my eyes! I just left it there!" with this last confession, we both broke out in fresh peels of laughter.
"I've gotta wash my hands, look at my nails!" my fingertips were white, the skin dried out like old parchment paper.
It's never a dull moment when you are a production manager working on the production floor. It is moments like these that make the work day worth working.
The New Guy experienced Hedda Hopper at her best this morning. Sophia and I were sitting at our desks when he appeared, exclaiming something about his eyes and how they were burning. I look over to find a smiling Hedda Hopper and The New Guy covering his eyes in horror. He then proceeds to tell me his story.
Apparently Hedda had decided to show The New Guy her patriotic outfit she was sporting today. Reaching down, she grabs the bottom of her smock and yanks it up above her head. Shocking the hell out of The New Guy, who thought Hedda was actually going to flash him her boobies, his jaw dropped and he began covering his eyes. At this point, Sophia and I have looked over to see Hedda with her smock above her head, showing off her flag t-shirt.
I should warn you, this is a sight that will forever remain burned into your corneas if you have not prepared yourself before hand. Much like watching a solar eclipse, it is recommended you be wearing eye protection at all times and that you only take short glances in that general direction.
So, there stands Hedda, one camel toe in all it's glory with The New Guy yelling "my eyes, my eyes."
Monday, November 06, 2006
What Lies Beneath
Deep inside each and every one of us lays a hidden personality, one that only appears when the situation is just right.
Within me lays a smart ass jokester. Sarcastic, mean spirited, an all around trouble making secret side that, when provoked, I unleash upon unsuspecting, unknowing people. My partner in crime knows this side all too well having been on the receiving end of week old dead fish tucked away in his desk drawers and remote control snakes crawling out from beneath his desk. I happen to like this side, however, my most memorable experiences have always happened when the Evil Phoebe was allowed to come out and play.
For Sophia it is her sultry side that stays tucked away, lying in wait for The Water Boy to make his appearance. On Monday's and Friday's he comes, to test the water quality, giving Sophia her weekly dose of eye candy to re-charge her senses. With a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye she'll slowly turn in his direction as he passes by, waving, timing it just right to strike up her usual conversation with the muscle bound hunk as he happens by.
For the receiving girls it's the truckers that get their juices flowing. You can always tell when there is a trucker in their midst, suddenly their voices are near scream levels and competition is thick. Each one trying to outdo the next just to be noticed by the strange man in their territory.
"Hey, wimp, hoist that box up here, will ya?" one receiver yells to the other, flashing a look at Casanova.
"You better watch yourself, I'll punch you in the mouth!" the other receiver yells back.
Casanova just stands there, arm resting on the pallet jack, smile on his lips, knowing full well the show is just for him.
Sophia and I, at times, will sit and watch from our desks as the receiving girls put on the production. The entertainment value is priceless. Not only do we get a first hand view of everyone fighting over physical labor, we learn a few trucker terms to boot.
Just a few weeks ago I heard "you cum guzzling gutter slut" for the first time. Now, you would think the recipient of this fine phrase would have been insulted, but nope! She merely thanked her for noticing.
I'm certain those truckers absolutely love the attention, some more then others. Like, Casanova. The self-proclaimed gift to woman kind, Casanova struts like he's a cock in the hen house, flashing his smile and smooth personality.
On another note: Tommy Lee had to walk out an employee for the first time this morning. Lucky for me, my desk has the perfect vantage point to see who is coming, and who is going. Nothing like a ring side seat for the action. My secret side was hoping to see a little disgruntled employee action, but, nothing happened. She emptied out her desk, put on her coat, and vacated the premises.
The New Guy showed up this morning to chat about last nights episode of 'Desperate Housewives'. His teeth were absolutely caked with food, I was grossed right out. He looked like he had eaten a white bread sandwich only moments before entering my area. I had to divert my attention away from his teeth just to keep myself from growing ill.
My Partner in Crime is having a REALLY bad hair day today. Either he was running really late, or, he had too much fun this morning before work.
Note to the Partner in Crime - It takes more then hairspray to cover up a hair disaster that severe! (Too bad he doesn't read this!)
Within me lays a smart ass jokester. Sarcastic, mean spirited, an all around trouble making secret side that, when provoked, I unleash upon unsuspecting, unknowing people. My partner in crime knows this side all too well having been on the receiving end of week old dead fish tucked away in his desk drawers and remote control snakes crawling out from beneath his desk. I happen to like this side, however, my most memorable experiences have always happened when the Evil Phoebe was allowed to come out and play.
For Sophia it is her sultry side that stays tucked away, lying in wait for The Water Boy to make his appearance. On Monday's and Friday's he comes, to test the water quality, giving Sophia her weekly dose of eye candy to re-charge her senses. With a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye she'll slowly turn in his direction as he passes by, waving, timing it just right to strike up her usual conversation with the muscle bound hunk as he happens by.
For the receiving girls it's the truckers that get their juices flowing. You can always tell when there is a trucker in their midst, suddenly their voices are near scream levels and competition is thick. Each one trying to outdo the next just to be noticed by the strange man in their territory.
"Hey, wimp, hoist that box up here, will ya?" one receiver yells to the other, flashing a look at Casanova.
"You better watch yourself, I'll punch you in the mouth!" the other receiver yells back.
Casanova just stands there, arm resting on the pallet jack, smile on his lips, knowing full well the show is just for him.
Sophia and I, at times, will sit and watch from our desks as the receiving girls put on the production. The entertainment value is priceless. Not only do we get a first hand view of everyone fighting over physical labor, we learn a few trucker terms to boot.
Just a few weeks ago I heard "you cum guzzling gutter slut" for the first time. Now, you would think the recipient of this fine phrase would have been insulted, but nope! She merely thanked her for noticing.
I'm certain those truckers absolutely love the attention, some more then others. Like, Casanova. The self-proclaimed gift to woman kind, Casanova struts like he's a cock in the hen house, flashing his smile and smooth personality.
On another note: Tommy Lee had to walk out an employee for the first time this morning. Lucky for me, my desk has the perfect vantage point to see who is coming, and who is going. Nothing like a ring side seat for the action. My secret side was hoping to see a little disgruntled employee action, but, nothing happened. She emptied out her desk, put on her coat, and vacated the premises.
The New Guy showed up this morning to chat about last nights episode of 'Desperate Housewives'. His teeth were absolutely caked with food, I was grossed right out. He looked like he had eaten a white bread sandwich only moments before entering my area. I had to divert my attention away from his teeth just to keep myself from growing ill.
My Partner in Crime is having a REALLY bad hair day today. Either he was running really late, or, he had too much fun this morning before work.
Note to the Partner in Crime - It takes more then hairspray to cover up a hair disaster that severe! (Too bad he doesn't read this!)
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Friday on the production floor.....
Yes, I realize it is in fact Saturday, but the events of Friday must not go unchronicled. (From here on out, I will be writing this post as if it is still Friday.)
Anyone who has ever had the misfortune of working for any type of quality department knows the horror that surrounds a quarterly QSR. You're mind will beg for mercy from the hours of mind numbing pointless facts that are thrust upon you and the 20 other people who sit around the conference table and listen upon speaker phone from their facilities half way across the country from us. Escaping with your sanity is a universal goal we all strive to achieve, some will, some find themselves curled into a ball rambling in the corner. So far, I have been among the lucky ones.
Somehow managing to make it through the meeting without crawling out of my skin, I make my way back to my desk with the absolute worst headache. My head is throbbing with each heartbeat, my eyes literally feel as though they are bulging from my sockets.
"Hey, girlfriend, how'd the meeting go?" Sophia is cheerful, I'm wondering if the Water Boy came in today to test the water.
"Oh My God! I didn't think I would make it out alive. My head is still killing me," rubbing the back of my neck, I just want to die.
"Here, I've got half a vicodin, it'll take the edge off that headache. You can have it," thank the lord, there IS a Santa Claus, I think to myself. Sophia holds out her arm, half a pill is laying in the center of her outstretched hand. Placing my TV dinner lunch in the microwave, I run to the water fountain to gladly take the pill.
30 minutes later the headache was gone, but The New Guy was out of class and standing by my desk asking me if I'd watched 'Grey's Anatomy'. Am I crazy, or, is he the only man alive that watches these kinds of shows?
As the conversation had progressed, so had the topic. The next thing I know, The New Guy is talking about his dog sleeping in his bedroom, jumping up and down on his bed, and Sophia is standing behind him, mouthing the words "He probably has sex with his dogs".
I couldn't stop myself from laughing, and he had no clue what I was laughing about. The look on his face was priceless. He knew I was laughing at him, yet he stuck around anyway. I just don't get the guy.
That's probably a good thing.
Anyone who has ever had the misfortune of working for any type of quality department knows the horror that surrounds a quarterly QSR. You're mind will beg for mercy from the hours of mind numbing pointless facts that are thrust upon you and the 20 other people who sit around the conference table and listen upon speaker phone from their facilities half way across the country from us. Escaping with your sanity is a universal goal we all strive to achieve, some will, some find themselves curled into a ball rambling in the corner. So far, I have been among the lucky ones.
Somehow managing to make it through the meeting without crawling out of my skin, I make my way back to my desk with the absolute worst headache. My head is throbbing with each heartbeat, my eyes literally feel as though they are bulging from my sockets.
"Hey, girlfriend, how'd the meeting go?" Sophia is cheerful, I'm wondering if the Water Boy came in today to test the water.
"Oh My God! I didn't think I would make it out alive. My head is still killing me," rubbing the back of my neck, I just want to die.
"Here, I've got half a vicodin, it'll take the edge off that headache. You can have it," thank the lord, there IS a Santa Claus, I think to myself. Sophia holds out her arm, half a pill is laying in the center of her outstretched hand. Placing my TV dinner lunch in the microwave, I run to the water fountain to gladly take the pill.
30 minutes later the headache was gone, but The New Guy was out of class and standing by my desk asking me if I'd watched 'Grey's Anatomy'. Am I crazy, or, is he the only man alive that watches these kinds of shows?
As the conversation had progressed, so had the topic. The next thing I know, The New Guy is talking about his dog sleeping in his bedroom, jumping up and down on his bed, and Sophia is standing behind him, mouthing the words "He probably has sex with his dogs".
I couldn't stop myself from laughing, and he had no clue what I was laughing about. The look on his face was priceless. He knew I was laughing at him, yet he stuck around anyway. I just don't get the guy.
That's probably a good thing.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
GQ and his Little Red Wig
If you have taken the time to read my sidebar, then you most assuredly know that GQ happens to be a homosexual man who works as a supporting engineer to the production floor. While most of us from the production floor know and accept this of GQ, I have my serious doubts the Director of Operations is aware of this fact.
A new guy himself, the Director of Operations is a foreign born citizen from the Czech republic who has found himself, up until this past August, heading up 3 corporations in the country of China. With such little exposure to GQ and the production floor, I'm certain he, in no way, knows the identity of GQ's true sexual orientation.
If he did, the following events may not have occurred.
Tuesday morning, bright and early, I happen to look outside my area and see, in all his glory, GQ gliding his way toward myself and Sophia, dressed entirely in drag, complete with red wig, make up, and grey wedge heels.
As he approached, hand bag on one bent arm, plastic shopping bag on the other, he began speaking of how he had decided to dress up as Sophia's sister for Halloween. I was speechless.
Word of GQ had spread across the entire production floor, now a legend in his own time, even the Director of Operations had found his way to GQ's desk just to see with his own eyes.
GQ was elated he had created such a stir.
Fast forward to yesterday, if you will. 24 hours had passed and the entire production floor is in attendance of a plant meeting. The Director of Operations is standing before us all, microphone in hand, talking about how much fun he had the previous day, how morale boosting it was, and how he had in the past enjoyed dressing up for Halloween, but had chosen not to this year due to his newness in his position.
It was at this moment in time he had chosen to bring up GQ, how lovely GQ looked and how he was tempted to ask 'her' out on a date.
I almost died. The production floor was silent, for, I'm certain, they were all thinking the same thing I was thinking.
Does he know? Is it possible he does not know? If he knew GQ was gay, would he have still said he was tempted to ask 'her' out on a date? And, most importantly, did GQ take this as a compliment?
I couldn't believe my ears!
Alas, it is now today, and, my head is absolutely killing me. I've just spent the last 3 hours sitting in a conference room reviewing slides on the 3rd quarter QSR, and, to be honest, I feel like my eyes are going to fall right out of my head.
I think, perhaps, the events of today will have to be chronicled tomorrow, in a very rare, Saturday post.
A new guy himself, the Director of Operations is a foreign born citizen from the Czech republic who has found himself, up until this past August, heading up 3 corporations in the country of China. With such little exposure to GQ and the production floor, I'm certain he, in no way, knows the identity of GQ's true sexual orientation.
If he did, the following events may not have occurred.
Tuesday morning, bright and early, I happen to look outside my area and see, in all his glory, GQ gliding his way toward myself and Sophia, dressed entirely in drag, complete with red wig, make up, and grey wedge heels.
As he approached, hand bag on one bent arm, plastic shopping bag on the other, he began speaking of how he had decided to dress up as Sophia's sister for Halloween. I was speechless.
Word of GQ had spread across the entire production floor, now a legend in his own time, even the Director of Operations had found his way to GQ's desk just to see with his own eyes.
GQ was elated he had created such a stir.
Fast forward to yesterday, if you will. 24 hours had passed and the entire production floor is in attendance of a plant meeting. The Director of Operations is standing before us all, microphone in hand, talking about how much fun he had the previous day, how morale boosting it was, and how he had in the past enjoyed dressing up for Halloween, but had chosen not to this year due to his newness in his position.
It was at this moment in time he had chosen to bring up GQ, how lovely GQ looked and how he was tempted to ask 'her' out on a date.
I almost died. The production floor was silent, for, I'm certain, they were all thinking the same thing I was thinking.
Does he know? Is it possible he does not know? If he knew GQ was gay, would he have still said he was tempted to ask 'her' out on a date? And, most importantly, did GQ take this as a compliment?
I couldn't believe my ears!
Alas, it is now today, and, my head is absolutely killing me. I've just spent the last 3 hours sitting in a conference room reviewing slides on the 3rd quarter QSR, and, to be honest, I feel like my eyes are going to fall right out of my head.
I think, perhaps, the events of today will have to be chronicled tomorrow, in a very rare, Saturday post.
A Little Coffee Goes a Long Way
As a token of friendship, I stopped at Starbuck's and bought My Partner in Crime a large coffee. He had lent me a person yesterday when I needed the help, even though he couldn't afford to spare anyone, so I thought perhaps I could do something nice for him in return.
Imagine my horror when I found out that, even after I had given him the coffee this morning, he spied a cricket on the floor and seriously considered keeping it to throw at me. Today, of all days, a day when we have customers in house!
Thankfully Sophia was here to watch my back!
I missed the production managers meeting this morning for the customer walk through, which went off without a hitch. I love it when things go according to plan. I do try not to brag or toot my own horn, but, one of my strong points happens to be my gift of presentation. It's almost as if I step out of my normal insecure and awkward giggling self into a self assured, confident professional woman who is in command of her process. I can talk a good talk, back my statements up with fact and documentation, and confidently look our visitors in the eye to answer their questions.
Too bad I couldn't be like that 100% of the time.
And my employees did wonderful! Betty had a part set up and ready to be received as soon as they arrived. Sophia was in the process of an inspection just waiting for her opportunity to shine as well.
Although, I must say, GQ has been off his mark lately, with these customer visits. GQ is one of those people who just 'happen' to be passing through during an audit. It never fails. GQ thrives on notoriety and visibility, if he hasn't been picked out in a crowd, he will be sure to make it happen.
Unfortunately, in this process, it ticks me right off! For instance, the time he told one of our customers that I 'report' to him and was a valuable asset. I could have choked the life from his rainbow adorned neck that very day and felt none the worse on the subject. Not only do I NOT report to him, nobody does!
But, that's GQ for you, he's another one of those characters that tend to grow on you.
Interesting tidbit of information, never start a 'health food' kick during Halloween. Trying to be a tad bit more health conscious, I brought in a Healthy Choice TV dinner for lunch. Too bad I ate about a million pieces of chocolate.... etc. this morning.
There goes my diet!
Imagine my horror when I found out that, even after I had given him the coffee this morning, he spied a cricket on the floor and seriously considered keeping it to throw at me. Today, of all days, a day when we have customers in house!
Thankfully Sophia was here to watch my back!
I missed the production managers meeting this morning for the customer walk through, which went off without a hitch. I love it when things go according to plan. I do try not to brag or toot my own horn, but, one of my strong points happens to be my gift of presentation. It's almost as if I step out of my normal insecure and awkward giggling self into a self assured, confident professional woman who is in command of her process. I can talk a good talk, back my statements up with fact and documentation, and confidently look our visitors in the eye to answer their questions.
Too bad I couldn't be like that 100% of the time.
And my employees did wonderful! Betty had a part set up and ready to be received as soon as they arrived. Sophia was in the process of an inspection just waiting for her opportunity to shine as well.
Although, I must say, GQ has been off his mark lately, with these customer visits. GQ is one of those people who just 'happen' to be passing through during an audit. It never fails. GQ thrives on notoriety and visibility, if he hasn't been picked out in a crowd, he will be sure to make it happen.
Unfortunately, in this process, it ticks me right off! For instance, the time he told one of our customers that I 'report' to him and was a valuable asset. I could have choked the life from his rainbow adorned neck that very day and felt none the worse on the subject. Not only do I NOT report to him, nobody does!
But, that's GQ for you, he's another one of those characters that tend to grow on you.
Interesting tidbit of information, never start a 'health food' kick during Halloween. Trying to be a tad bit more health conscious, I brought in a Healthy Choice TV dinner for lunch. Too bad I ate about a million pieces of chocolate.... etc. this morning.
There goes my diet!
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
The Shunning
Crazy Office Supply Jody is publicly shunning myself and Sophia. Not that it is a bad thing, I certainly don't want people to feel that she and I are best friends or anything, but most of the time I know why she is treating me with malice and disdain. This time, I do not. I can only think of one reason.
The New Guy.
I'm certain it has to be because of The New Guy. Crazy Office Supply Jody had been the topic of conversation between myself and Sophia, yesterday, when The New Guy had shown up at my desk.
As was expected, Crazy Office Supply Jody had shown up to work wearing a very inappropriate and very revealing Halloween costume. She claimed to have been 'Jessica Rabbit', but she looked much more like a whore in a brothel whose only dress code requirement is that the garment be completely made from elastic and sequins.
For some people, being burned by a situation is not lesson enough to teach them the error of their ways. Lately, it appears, I happen to have turned into one of those people.
Have I not learned, through the public humiliation and scorn of the recent events, that The New Guy is a recipe for bad things to come?? Do I really need to end up a charcoal briquette before I get the message??
Without thought, Sophia and I had continued our conversation after he had arrived at my desk.
"So, did you see Hussy?" Sophia had asked, a smirk on her face and complete disbelief in her voice.
"No, what did she wear?" I replied, I knew it must have been a good one to contrive such a look from Sophia.
"You've just gotta see her, that's all I can say," my curiosity was piqued.
As luck would have it, Crazy Office Supply Jody happened to walk past the area at that very point in time, if you hadn't known any better, you would have thought it was planned out.
A red sequined nightmare who desperately needed to be wearing a girdle.
"Some people just use this holiday to be able to leave the house looking like......" I wanted to say a hooker, but I said "that."
Meanwhile, The New Guy is taking it all in, making a few subtle comments of his own, but on the most part, being rather silent on the subject.
Now, I would like you all to fast forward to today. Sophia and I were in the front office when Crazy Office Supply Jody cruises around the corner and steps between Sophia and myself, interrupting our conversation to wash her apple. Not once did she acknowledge our existence. No apology for interrupting, no feelingless hello, nothing.
I glance at Sophia, she glances at me, but nothing was said. All in all, it's not really odd behavior from Crazy Office Supply Jody, we're not men, so, why waste her time. It wasn't until later on that I felt something was definitely up with her.
Once again our paths had crossed with Crazy Office Supply Jody. The EIG group had decided that next week should be spirit week, and, with that, all of the production cells on the floor receive posters for their communications boards to publicize the even. Posters that are hand delivered by Crazy Office Supply Jody!!
Once again, I was shunned by the crazy woman! She clicked in, basically tossed the poster at me, and clicked out in a matter of seconds, totally dismissing my greeting to her.
I am certain The New Guy has said something to her. It infuriates me!
Somehow I have to set a trap, something to catch him in the act. I know he's up to no good, somehow I need to turn that around to burn him instead.
The New Guy.
I'm certain it has to be because of The New Guy. Crazy Office Supply Jody had been the topic of conversation between myself and Sophia, yesterday, when The New Guy had shown up at my desk.
As was expected, Crazy Office Supply Jody had shown up to work wearing a very inappropriate and very revealing Halloween costume. She claimed to have been 'Jessica Rabbit', but she looked much more like a whore in a brothel whose only dress code requirement is that the garment be completely made from elastic and sequins.
For some people, being burned by a situation is not lesson enough to teach them the error of their ways. Lately, it appears, I happen to have turned into one of those people.
Have I not learned, through the public humiliation and scorn of the recent events, that The New Guy is a recipe for bad things to come?? Do I really need to end up a charcoal briquette before I get the message??
Without thought, Sophia and I had continued our conversation after he had arrived at my desk.
"So, did you see Hussy?" Sophia had asked, a smirk on her face and complete disbelief in her voice.
"No, what did she wear?" I replied, I knew it must have been a good one to contrive such a look from Sophia.
"You've just gotta see her, that's all I can say," my curiosity was piqued.
As luck would have it, Crazy Office Supply Jody happened to walk past the area at that very point in time, if you hadn't known any better, you would have thought it was planned out.
A red sequined nightmare who desperately needed to be wearing a girdle.
"Some people just use this holiday to be able to leave the house looking like......" I wanted to say a hooker, but I said "that."
Meanwhile, The New Guy is taking it all in, making a few subtle comments of his own, but on the most part, being rather silent on the subject.
Now, I would like you all to fast forward to today. Sophia and I were in the front office when Crazy Office Supply Jody cruises around the corner and steps between Sophia and myself, interrupting our conversation to wash her apple. Not once did she acknowledge our existence. No apology for interrupting, no feelingless hello, nothing.
I glance at Sophia, she glances at me, but nothing was said. All in all, it's not really odd behavior from Crazy Office Supply Jody, we're not men, so, why waste her time. It wasn't until later on that I felt something was definitely up with her.
Once again our paths had crossed with Crazy Office Supply Jody. The EIG group had decided that next week should be spirit week, and, with that, all of the production cells on the floor receive posters for their communications boards to publicize the even. Posters that are hand delivered by Crazy Office Supply Jody!!
Once again, I was shunned by the crazy woman! She clicked in, basically tossed the poster at me, and clicked out in a matter of seconds, totally dismissing my greeting to her.
I am certain The New Guy has said something to her. It infuriates me!
Somehow I have to set a trap, something to catch him in the act. I know he's up to no good, somehow I need to turn that around to burn him instead.
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