My minion really doesn't think I can hear her, apparently. Yesterday, I finally mentioned to her that she should be conscious of what's going on around her if she's on a personal phone call. My boss has mentioned it to me several times that minion always seems to be on a personal call. (Note: I overhear boss on a personal phone call at least once a day...) So I tried to be explicit, telling minion that it's not an issue for me, because I know she gets her work done, but she should be aware when other people are around. She said something about office politics, and I said absolutely -- this is about appearances, not reality. I pointed out that I could be at my desk emailing friends all day (heh), but no one would ever know, so if my performance is fine, it's fine.
So I just heard her on the phone saying to someone, "Didn't I tell you I can't get calls here anymore???"
Oh, minion.
It's really startling to tear open an orange and discover that it's actually a blood orange. I did not expect to see bright red liquid spurting at that particular moment.
So I just heard her on the phone saying to someone, "Didn't I tell you I can't get calls here anymore???"
Maybe she thought the easiest way to deal with the problem is to tell this person not to call her at work?
So today I manage to leave the house without my bus pass or my lunch, but dammit, I had pie.
Maybe she thought the easiest way to deal with the problem is to tell this person not to call her at work?
Apparently. Which is fine, of course! I don't know why she can't email like a normal person... Who talks on the phone??
It's really startling to tear open an orange and discover that it's actually a blood orange. I did not expect to see bright red liquid spurting at that particular moment.
Oh, I've done this! It's freaky.
My mother is apparently on a bender. She's been gone for two weeks and didn't tell Dad where she was going. She's at a casino in Iowa, running low on insulin and about to have her Discover card cut off.
Feh. I don't know why he doesn't pack her bags and have them waiting for her on the porch when she gets back.
And I complain about my mother sometimes... ugh.
Oh man, Cashmere. Good luck to them. Not that kind of luck.
Ack, Cashmere. Good luck to them indeed.
