One night my housemate and I came home from the bar each with six beer glasses secreted on our persons. The waitress hadn't cleared them all night so we had like 48 to choose from on our table. (um, it wasn't just us at the bar.)
And then we decided to stop at Tim Horton's and somehow added some coffee mugs and sugar shakers to the mix.
And then we had to slog our way up the very steep hill to our house in a heavy snowstorm. I'm honestly surprised we made it, due to either the weigh pulling us back downhill or the likelihood of arterial bleeds if we fell.
In our defense, we were 19 and very very drunk.
And my dad still uses that sugar shaker.
So my boss just asked if I have enough to do, and felt it necessary to point out that "we're all killing ourselves here and I need to make sure remote employees are too."
I guess I was silly not to realize I should be INTUITING their needs, rather than expecting them to email me if they need me to do certain things.
::headdesk::
meara watched me steal a salt shaker at the Chicago F2F. But I did it to be a good hostess -- it was to abet tequila shots! And I returned it on Sunday.
Handwritten thank yous make me raise my eyebrows a little bit.
I always sent handwritten TY notes after each professional interview, on simple yer elegant TY cards I bought for the purpose. But I am a ridiculously overprepared Virgo interviewer.
I need to remember not to look at work email after hours. BECAUSE OF THE RAGE.
I'm pretty sure I once walked out of a restaurant with a glass in my hand. It might have had something alcoholic in it.
A kid who did that won $100,000 on AFV this year. (In our family, we sometimes say, "But Mom, I'm your son.") [link]
My phone screen for the new job went well - I'm talking to the hiring manager next week about a possible interview.
That poor kid! PLEEEAZZZE I'm glad he got money in compensation for being mocked for his guilt meltdown. He will never steal anything ever.
Once, on the way back to my place from the college cafeteria with my then-boyfriend, he pulled two full sets of flatware from his jacket and presented them to me. I was flustered, but, you know, I did need flatware. I rationalized it as a small rebate on my tuition.
I recall a dinner at a barbecue joint with a number of NY Buffistas, at which one or more of their sauce bottles departed the restaurant in the possession of a Buffista. (This is not the only time that an evening with Buffistas introduced me to exciting new crime.)
