Oh Boy, The Christmas Spirit Just Reeks

I don’t usually blog about work because of what I do, but I just wanted to send out this little snippet of advice to anyone that starts a project that others have worked on for 2 years:

If you feel the urge to “take the initiative” to do something, don’t go leaping straight to the boss and tell the boss that you need something because you are going to change a bunch of stuff. If you do choose to do that, also expect that the next day when you skip into your office, all of the people that you jumped over will be standing in line to stomp on your head.

I’ll be wearing my Doc Martins tomorrow.

So, that sets the tone for the rest of my posting.

I had to brave the evil grocery store in the dark and rain after work for taco fixings. Oh sure, we had other things we could eat at home, but since most of my money is either being drained from my 401K like a plug being pulled out of a bath tub, or being spent to bail out the auto industry I figured that I wanted tacos, so dammit I’m going to have tacos.

I get home, cold and wet, and as I’m trying to prepare the tasty tacos, still stewing about work and wondering where I left my Doc Martins, the phone rings.

Typically I don’t answer the phone. If they can’t tell me they’re foreclosing on my house, then I must be allowed to stay in it. Ok, things aren’t that grim, I exaggerate a lot... actually I’m avoiding the phone calls from desperate charities, or my mortgage holder telling me I need to refinance my house. Yeah... AHAHAHAHAAAAA. The charities I tell that we’re poor and eating cat food but if they want to give ME something, then we can talk. The mortgage company I just say AHAHAHAHAHAAAA, then hang up.

Tonight I was hoping for either, because I was going to give either of them a piece of my mind (taking out work frustration on innocent strangers is a lovely way to keep from bottling it all in and going postal someday. Hey, its not like I asked them to call.) but I couldn’t even get that satisfaction... it was a recording... from the local pizza delivery place.

Hey (some very perky woman shrieked in the recording) you are a V.I.P.! As a V.I.P. (shrieking and way to freakin perky woman says) I’m “entitled” to a large pizza with one topping for only (enter some amount here, I don’t remember).

Frankly, I do like pizza, but ONE topping? Does that include sauce and cheese?

My questions were interrupted by perky recorded woman who couldn’t hear me muttering into the phone, and who, instead, shrieked with glee that all I had to do was press “1” and she would stop her shrieking so I could speak to my local pizza place and order this wonderful one topping cheap pizza.

Are you kidding me? Are things THAT bad that now pizza places are calling their customers to get them to order pizza?

I hung up on perky recorded woman, made tacos and enjoyed them so much that I literally had to hose myself off. Have I mentioned that I’m a messy eater? I’ll save that for tomorrow.