Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Things That Make Me Cuss

One of my resolutions for 2006 was to stop cursing. That’s not working out too well. Here’s why:

· My ordinarily smooth commute to work is filled with bumper-to-bumper traffic. I consider calling my supervisor to tell him I’m going to be late, but I decide against it. One of the head honchos has an outside relationship with a transportation group and whenever somebody complains about traffic, we’re required to get some stats, write up a tedious report and give it to him. Eff that Sugar Honey Iced Tea. So I keep driving, taking my chances on the road.

· After an agonizing 40 minutes on the highway, traffic starts to clear. I see a cop car and wonder what the holdup is. All I see is two men standing on the side of the road, talking to a state trooper with their hands in their pockets. No human roadkill. No blood. No carnage. This was caused by a bunch of gawkers who want to make my life a living hell. Darn the futher muckers.

· I get to work and nobody notices how late I am, nor have they heard about the backup. This could be a good thing and a bad thing. I log onto my computer, only to learn that another supervisor has all kinds of questions on a report I submitted the previous day. *Groan *

· I spend my lunch break studying at the library, only to return to our snowy parking lot exhausted. After I park my car, I search the ground for a patch of ice. All I needed to do was take a small tumble, then Ooops! I’m hurt. I have to leave work early, and possibly call in sick tomorrow. Sadly, no ice could be found.

· I’m sitting at my desk when I notice a colleague, Tragic Sneeze (more on that nickname later) limp past me. I ask her what’s wrong and she says she slipped on some ice in the parking lot. While my colleagues are offering her aspirin and advice, I give her a look that clearly says ‘Shut the fudge up.’ She doesn’t say anything when I say I didn’t see any ice and she’s vague when I ask her where it was and to describe the fall. The lying heifer stole my scam. My phone rings and I have to return to my cubicle.

· I’m reminded that it’s Valentine’s Day by two different men. One, a former coworker who demands to know why I don’t have a date today (Answer: I have to study and I have no life) and the other, my First Love who emails me out of the blue to wish me a happy V-Day. My feelings fluctuate from annoyance at the former, who acts like it’s so easy to get a date, to fear toward the latter…. How the heck did he find me? A coworker offers me some of her Hershey’s Kisses and I thank her. She says you’re welcome and mispronounces my name. Wench. I’ve been sitting across from her for nearly a year and she still can’t say my name? I imagine myself throwing the chocolate at her and screaming, ‘I’m Strength/Courage/Wisdom, B****!!!’ I start to chuckle and my coworkers look at me like I’m crazy.

· It’s the end of the day….FINALLY. I had to watch Tragic hop to and from the bathroom repeatedly, in her effort to get attention. Then she sits at her desk with her leg propped up on another chair. 'I’ve gotta keep it elevated,’ she says innocently. She promises my supervisor that she’ll be in tomorrow as she hops out the door. I wait a few minutes for her to leave the building, then I grab my stuff and head off after her. I’m willing to bet I can catch her doing a Kaiser Soze move in the parking lot. When I get outside, she’s nowhere to be found. I realize she could be in the bathroom, so I walk slowly through the parking lot so I can surprise her .. and maybe I’ll find this mysterious sheet of ice. Five, ten minutes go by and no Tragic. I conclude that she must have ran out of the building and sped away, because she knew I was on her tail. But that’s alright. Tomorrow’s another day. If she calls out, I will expose her little plan. Punks step up to get beat down.

1 comment:

dr. bi said...

all these crackers and no soup!