So yeah.

Take a week off, come back and enter into bizarro world. Oh sure, the office looks the same. Dingy, gray and blue, far too many unhappy faces. And the mail still piles up when I’m gone, and my key still opens up the door to my office – even though I did harbor some strange fantasy that it wouldn’t, and that I’d be coming back to a pink slip and a fat package. So didn’t happen.

What did happen while I was gone is that they hired me a temp to assist me. Now, I’ve been promised an assistant for years now. Literally. Three years to be precise about it. So when do they decide to bring this person in? That’s right, in stellar corporate style, while I’m on holidays. And I wish I could say that I actually gave a fuck enough to either react with anger or humor about it, but I couldn’t. It was basically a ‘yeah, whatever’ moment and I got off the phone and went on about my holiday.

The thing is, I have no clue what I am supposed to do with this guy, because he doesn’t seem to want to take orders from a woman. And it’s not like I’m ordering. I’m more like suggesting… you know, the kind of suggesting that it is in his best interest to follow, otherwise he’s not going to last long. They call you a temp for a reason, buddy boy. I don’t care if culturally you’re led to believe that women are supposed to be subservient and acquiesce to your navigation of the world. In my world – which is the world you now inhabit – I drive your bus, and all you should do is take a backseat and hope I stop the bus in front of your house so that you can eventually get off unscathed as you wish to be, I’m sure.

Grrrrrr…

I plan to give this guy a chance. He will get as much of a chance as I can muster, and if he pushes that chance too far I will show him where the door is and make sure that he doesn’t have a way to get back in. And to be honest, if it wasn’t for the fact that I just got back from non-work for a week, he may not even have gotten that much of a chance.

In other news, truck drivers are still stupid.

Particularly ones that think that if they hit a building it can’t possibly have done the damage that it did. No, that couldn’t have been caused by my truck running into your office at full force because I am an idiot and wanted to save time so I did something I shouldn’t have done in the first fucking place. But I’m not bitter. What the fuck, it’s not like it was my office.

Random thought: if you tell yourself you love your job over and over again, does it ever actually come true?

Anyhow, my time for personal stuff being through now, I’d better get back to work. Or whatever it is that will pass for it while I send myself frolicking in the woods for the rest of what will surely be a terribly thrilling afternoon.

I… love… my… job.

Oh, and hey you.
You’re my favorite distraction, like EVER.
:::blows kisses:::

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