Thursday, October 11, 2007

ThePeach Has a Rough Day at Work; Kicks TheBoss in the Pills (in her mind)

Yesterday was not a stellar day. It was more like one of those days where you feel all Emo and are driven to tenderly cut yourself with a plastic Tim Hortons knife, but the cheap-ass knife snaps in two and a splinter of plastic lodges itself in your cornea. Ya, it was like one of those days…

No, I am not a cutter. I am, however, a master of analogies.


The day started like any other day for me. My clock radio went off and I immediately hit snooze to savour 9 more minutes of precious, precious sleep. And also to stop the assault of Nickelback coming through the speakers. Of course, the cat knows not the meaning of ‘snooze’. The second the alarm goes off, the cat snaps to attention and starts jumping on my face and bladder to rouse me. When this fails, he begins to yowl into my ear until I push him off the bed. This process takes approximately 8 minutes. After he lands on the floor he pouts for about 30 seconds before he crawls back into the bed and falls asleep on my legs. 30 seconds later the alarm goes off again and the process is repeated. Usually for 45 minutes. This earns me about…three and a half minutes of extra sleep. Score.

Yesterday I also woke up with a nagging headache. It was unpleasant. I popped about 3 extra-strength advil with my morning caffeine.

When I got to work, OfficeMate warned me that TheBoss was cranky with me. I swallowed another advil and asked her what was up his acorn this time. Apparently he was flipping out because a dataset that I had sent him wasn’t scored properly. This perplexed me because I couldn’t remember sending TheBoss a dataset anytime recently. I opened my work email and noticed about 5 cranky emails from TheBoss telling me what a shit-hole I am. I noticed that my phone was blinking and discovered several messages from TheBoss in a similar vein. Tricky.

I looked through all of my past emails to see when I might have sent TheBoss a dataset. There was the dataset I had sent him 3 weeks ago, but it couldn’t be that one. He told me he needed that dataset in 24 hours so that he could write a report on it, and thus I had to work late and skip class that day to get it done in time. So there was no way this could be the same dataset that he had only opened that morning, 3 weeks from when I sent it to him.

Then I remembered that TheBoss is a useless, sack of shit, anal bum-cover who sits in his office reading dirty jokes all day.

It was that dataset that he was looking at. The motherfucker. My head was pounding and I thought I probably shouldn’t take any more advil, lest I perforate my liver. So I got a large timwhore’s tea and a bagel. This seemed like good medicine.

Well, one mystery was solved. But I still couldn’t figure out why the data in TheBoss’ version of the dataset wasn’t scored properly. OfficeMate informed me that TheBoss had been bitching about how he had to stay up all night fixing the dataset and running the scores again, and I was thoroughly perplexed. I tried calling him and e-mailing him but he wasn’t in his office. I munched on my bagel and rubbed my temples. I got butter in my hair but I didn’t mind.

Finally, TheBoss made a grand entrance into my office.

ThePeach: *chokes on bagel*
TheBoss: What the fuck happened to the dataset I asked you to do? Why didn’t you score it? I was up all night rewriting the syntax!
ThePeach: *dislodges bagel from lung with a swig of tea* I’m not sure. My version has the scores and the syntax. I don’t see why I wouldn’t send you that version.
TheBoss: Well, you didn’t.
ThePeach: Did you check your emails from me?
TheBoss: Of course.
ThePeach: All of them?
TheBoss: …Sure.
ThePeach: Because it says here in my email history that I sent you the scored version of the dataset 3 weeks ago. When you made me stay late to finish it for you. *shows TheBoss e-mail history*
ThePeach: So you were working with an old version. I sent you that version a month ago. I said in the e-mail that it wasn’t scored yet. *shows TheBoss e-mail history*
ThePeach: So you didn’t actually check my emails.
TheBoss: Well, it doesn’t matter anymore because I did it all last night.
ThePeach: Yes, but I did it for you 3 weeks ago. You just didn’t read any of the emails I sent you.
TheBoss: Hey, these crackers are tasty!
ThePeach: That’s my lunch.
TheBoss: Tas-tee!
ThePeach: I have to go to class now.
TheBoss: *spits cracker crumbs as he talks* No, I need you around this afternoon to get something important done for me.
ThePeach: But…class?
TheBoss: No. Mmm! Crackers!!!

I took another advil. I was pretty upset about having to miss class, especially since I had been up late finishing the goddamn readings for it. And especially since my prof, an uptight lesbian (probably), already hated me for missing so much class already.

TheBoss tripped back into my office 20 minutes later with the important work that he needed me to do. It was this: Make a contact sheet for his 6-year old son’s hockey team.

Make a contact sheet for his 6-year old son’s hockey team.


Before I could say “Why don’t you eat my asshole?”, TheBoss was gone. In his wake he left me the list of hockey contacts and an empty box of crackers.

I briefly considered swallowing the entire bottle of advil, but I feared what perverse things the boss would do to my body when he discovered it in the office 2 days later. The coroner would conclude that I died of box of crackers to the taint.

So instead I got another tea and 2 cookies.

So, after that pleasant day at work I went home and made dinner for myself and FauxHawk. FauxHawk was leaving for a conference that night so I tried to be cheery around him since I wouldn’t be seeing him for a week. I made him a tasty dinner. He partook. I offered him some sex. He did not partake. I was nice about it because he was leaving for a conference, so I kissed him and helped him carry his bags to the car. He got in his car and drove away.

I was sad and un-sexed, so I decided to reheat the leftover thanksgiving pumpkin pie. As I let it cool on the counter, I went to the fridge for a glass of water. When I returned to the counter I discovered Milo chin-deep in the pie. The little fucker was licking and gnawing at the pie like the fat-ass he is. Just prior to his snack of pie he had made a snack of his own asshole, so I was forced to throw the pie out.

So, that was my day. TheBoss pillaged my soul and ate my crackers, FauxHawk ate my dinner and didn’t pillage me at all, and the cat ate my pie after he pillaged his own asshole.

My life has recurring themes.


Ps – I miss the hawk.


Tania said...

OMG - the horrors of being a research assistant... that only another research assistant can appreciate. It's almost as if they get a complete labotomy at the same time they hand them their Ph.D. Oy.

Anonymous said...

Why couldnt you have simply cut the cat-asshole section out of the pie and eaten the rest?

OfficeMate said...

I'm so sorry peach. He should have apologized. Gawd that was an awful day for you. I wish I was around to take you to tim's.