Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Shit Storm

The day started pretty much as any other work day. My body clock woke me around 4:00 or so. I knew going back to sleep would mean rushing out the door, so while I lounged, I avoided sleep mostly by watching Abe Lincoln special on The History Channel.

An hour later, time to rise. The cats and dog camped outside my bedroom door, Pete making his presence known by throwing himself into the door.

After tending to bathroom needs, I feed the animals, clear and clean the litter pan (Oh Mah Goodness, The Boys!!) wash and have my breakfast of multi-grain Cheer*os with skim milk.

My daughter sent me a message that . . . well, angered me. Greatly. I didn't have time to deal with the issue and the shit storm it will cause, work beckons. The hardest work being ditching my attitude before I make it to the office.

Success, almost.

I'm the second person in the office. My early arrival allows me time to gather myself, thoughts and emotions and by the time folks started filing in, I was my usual self. Everyone arrives, files past my office door, speak a greeting, which is returned in kind. Chatterer didn't speak, but in about 30 minutes it wouldn't matter.

Having foregone coffee or tea before leaving home, it isn't long before the body begins to crave. There wouldn't be time to satisfy this craving as this is when the shit hit the fan. The owner is in the outer office, just beyond my doorway faxing. Chatterer had been assigned to the space next door. For whatever reason she came back into our space supposedly to report her whereabouts to owner, "I just wanted you to know where I was. I'll get back to the spreadsheets..." The exchange went back and forth with him finally saying, "just go do the work."

She leaves, briefly. Returns, slamming the door on her way in, grabbing up her belongs, punching her time card and working up a head of steam to storm out. Owner slows her progression, asking if she had keys (or any other property) calling me out to witness. He asked, "are you quitting?"

Once I confirm she never had any keys and she didn't appear to be in possession of any other company property, she exits. He follows. A short time later he returned noting that she'd uttered some very vile words while getting on the elevator and threatening him with her daddy's lawyer.

And so . . .

The day progresses more than the usual ups and downs. The owner is frantic, not over chatterer's leaving or her threat, but over the fact that he wanted the (new) company to go live days ago and the highly touted software isn't working, the freight carrier he was looking to contract with won't stand by their original quote, the secondary carrier has communication issues, the phone system isn't working properly, and then the guy he hired to be his GM decided he needed to be home (he lives in another state, comes in for the week and heads home on the weekend) full-time. He'd like to remain with the company with a smaller role.

And so, it seems to me that the very full litter pan first thing this morning, as it happens, turned out to the quite the literal interpretation for the day. I don't know what the recent turn of events will mean for the (new) business over time. Immediately, it means I'm back on the recruiting train and it means me, my GM, and the rest of our staff will work to mitigate the impact the additional support we'll be called upon to provide will have on (our ) business.

I suppose, given the givens, having a job is preferable to the alternative, but still . . . Friday, please, or better yet, Saturday. And if the turd rain could be kept to a minimum, that'd be good.

Thank You.


  1. Damn. Well at least you're rid of the chatter-box pest.

    I guess your boss & GM shall appreciate you even MORE!

  2. Wow...hopefully the week only gets better! Hang tough.

  3. It's bad when the best part of your day is the litter box.

    Fingers crossed it's a smoother week from here on out!

  4. I was thinking the same thing about the litter box being the best part of the day.

    What a stupid little bitch that chatty girl is. I hope her daddy will support her while she looks for a job in this impossible economy. Or not.

  5. The rough days make the ones with smooth sailing all the more sweet. At least, that's what I tell myself to get past them. It works.

    Sometimes. ;-)


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