UnpleasantlySexy

One-hundred whole blog posts! Woohoo! Too legit to quit!

I've no idea if this is onehundredthblogpostworthy, but read it anyway, won't you?

My boss came up to me today, peered over my cubicle wall at me, and asked, "What time are you leaving today?" She had no idea that I was going through a raging internal debate about whether or not to put in two hours overtime, or go for three, so perhaps my hesitation was a bit unexpected on her part. I said, "Well, at the earliest I'll be leaving at four-thirty, but I was thinking of stayi--".

She cut me off there by doing two things: First, she clutched the top of my cubicle wall with both hands, as though she was planning to rip it in two, like a phone book. Second, she leaned back and yelled.

Leaned back and yelled hard.

If I haven't explained this in the past, my boss is, to put it mildly, a very LARGE woman. She is so large, in fact, that her entire wardrobe is made of a one-size-fits-some, Wal-Martian-special, surgical-scrubs-meets-disposable-tablecloth fabric, which only comes in "Stars-and-Stripes" and floral prints. I say this not to insult her (well, maybe her fashion sense - just a little), but to drive home the fact that cubicle walls are simply not built to withstand the sheer force imparted when she leans back on 'em.

So, back to the story. We have her now clutching the top of my wall, leaning back hard. Her face then flushed purple, her eyes teared up, and she burst forth with, "NO! I NEED TO KNOW WHEN YOU ARE LEAVING! YOU NEED TO GIVE ME A TIME! I NEED TO BE ABLE TO TELL THEM WHEN EVERYBODY IS LEAVING BECAUSE THEY NEED TO SHUT THE SYSTEM DOWN! WHEN ARE YOU LEAVING?!?"

This scared the ever-lovin' patooties outta me, and I couldn't answer her - I was dumbstruck, which isn't the best way to respond to someone in this kind of mood. She then announced that, "YOU WILL BE LEAVING AT SIX O'CLOCK! NO LATER!"

I said, "OKAY."

From there, she proceeded to run around the office, having the same high-volume conversation with everyone on our floor, so I knew I wasn't in trouble - which I was sort of worried about. Upon researching the matter further, it turned out that the IT guys sent out an email to everyone in the building, informing us of routine maintenance on the servers. They just wanted to know when they could start working - when everybody would be logged out of the system. My boss, being as smart as a dead parakeet's sphincter, thought it was an emergency.

And now my wall is bent. There's a big parabolic curve to it, and it rattles when people walk by.

Maybe I'm bitter...maybe I'm jaded, but this is one cubicle-monkey that left at five-thirty.




Looky, looky! A hunnert!




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