Hit Me With Your Best Shot

I wish I had something fun to report from our Admin. Professionals luncheon, but it was uneventful. Owner has been very depressed lately, so he sat at the head of the table like a zombie. He did manage to take a couple of shots at me. Some of my co-workers patted me on the back, but no need. I'm very tough.

I never, ever let people see what rattles my cage. Hubby knows. My mom knows some of them, but beyond that, I keep my vulnerabilities to myself. That's partly how I was able to maintain a relationship with Former Friend for so long. Owner is like a little boy who loves to pull little girls' pigtails. I happened to be on the receiving end this time.

I had a database meltdown on Wednesday afternoon; I thought I'd lost about 160 records. Fortunately, I was able to get in touch with IT Boy and he restored it before the server could save the new, screwed-up file.

Most of the office is out today, having a good time. The Ladies' Man, Loathsome, The Hemorrhoid Guy, Crazy Employee, Mr. Moneybags and the Foot Lady are all out. This might be a very good day to get back to the database. Silence.

Just for the record, I didn't mean to imply that I'm sorry to have lost the relationship with Former Friend. I was relieved. My therapist said I should write something more direct and to the point. She thinks it would be therapeutic. I'm considering it.

Loathsome's Proposal

I think I mentioned earlier that Loathsome is back with us. (Settle down, ladies.) We've already had more than enough interaction to last me about a decade. We're in the same suite of offices, unfortunately. Last week, we had a 30 minute conversation about what he and his psycho wife have for dinner every night. This was in the context of my own food dilemmas--what will Hubby eat, how much time and energy do I have to prepare it, etc., Loathsome had an extensive list of suggestions. No, I've never heard of fish. Ditto tacos.

He's been stalking around the office, telling everyone that he's been to some big meetings the past couple of weeks and he's working on some proposals. This should not be monumental, impressive news seeing as how it is his job. Loathsome reminds me of a pigeon during mating season, his chest all puffed out, strutting through the building, looking around to monitor who's noticing. He's doing proposals, people. Sit up and look suitably awed.

You know how I am: friendly, approachable. Loathsome stopped me in the receptionist's area this morning to let me know he submitted a bid that will save the client tens of thousands of dollars.

"That's what you're supposed to do, right? Save the client money?"

I couldn't figure out whether he was really confused about that or if it was rhetorical. I answered yes, just in case. I was never able to ascertain whether he actually knew the answer before he asked.

Loathsome then waxed eloquent in excruciating detail all about the cost saving idea. My eyes had begun to glaze over when the Superhighway walked in. I excused myself and trailed after her, mumbling that unfortunately I had to immediately resolve an issue regarding another one of our offices. I could see Loathsome pitied me for having to leave our spirited discussion of the requirements of the Americans with Disabilities Act.

Later this morning, Loathsome's name came up during a conversation with Mr. Moneybags. He suggested that Loathsome's new office nickname should be Isaiah. He was referring to the mind-boggling level of incompetence Isaiah Thomas brought to his job with the New York Knicks. Thomas has been banned from even talking to the team, just as Loathsome was prohibited from talking to anyone in our out-of-state office after he returned from there to our corporate office. Mr. Moneybags can be very, very funny sometimes. I signed on immediately. Of course, I'll continue to call him "Loathsome" in these posts.

We're having an office luncheon today to celebrate Administrative Professionals Day. No one really wants to do it, but if we don't, Crazy Employee will be crushed. I'm forcing everyone to show up, even Golf Pro, who would normally beg off. No way, Pro. We all have to honor Crazy's endless uselessness in all things administrative.

Who knows. It could be fun. Owner will be there, so Loathsome will be the primary focus of his current bad mood. Even Owner's relentless disdain won't diminish the pigeon walk, but you can't have everything. If I find it amusing, I will most certainly recount the high points.

We may have to find a psychotherapist for our dog, Andy. Yesterday, Hubby went to work at noon and accidentally left the little boy outside. My mom didn't make it over for her puppy-sitting stint until around 1:00.

She arrived to find Andy crying. Sheba wouldn't take her treat from my mom until Andy was inside. This is totally unheard of. Under normal circumstances, she would have taken the treat and run to get into Andy's crate so she could be there when he entered the room. Andy hates it when she's in his crate.

After my mom let Andy in, he sat by the sofa and cried for a while. He was so upset that he couldn't take his treat. When he was able to pull himself together to drink some water, he had to take a little cry break in the middle. Finally, he started to feel better and went directly into What Can I Do To Be Bad Boy mode.

We have a perfectly wonderful backyard where Andy chases birds and squirrels. There are three dogs that live behind us and a small terrier who lives at the side. We have some overhanging bushes that all of our dogs have loved to run through and a garage that has an exit door at the side near the back fence. It's a veritable universe of canine fun potential, but Andy's accustomed to coming and going as he pleases. He's also used to having his Woo outside with him a lot.

When Hubby got home, I told him about how traumatized little Andy had been. Hubby felt guilty and dispensed treats all evening. This morning, Andy wouldn't go out until the Sheba Woo went with him. When she came in, so did he. I need that pet psychic lady from television to come over and talk with him.