Feels like spring is finally on the approach… the air is (deceptively?) warm(er) during the day, the sun is shining more, we just “Sprung forward” (damn you, Daylight Saving!! You ate my morning sunlight!!!) and the house finches who made a crusty mess out of my upstairs bathroom window last spring/summer have made a point of calling dibs on that same spot every single morning. At the top of their teensy, vociferous, melody-making little bird-lungs… at 6:30 in the morning…
Change is in the air. Stuff is happening. I’m getting LOTS of calls about my recently updated resume… Never mind that they’re almost ALL for insurance sales and the same bizarro-world accounting-office shiznit I’m trying my darndest to escape… my dream-job is out there somewhere!
The past couple weeks found me intoxicated by the sweet scent of freshly blooming rewards. Firstly, my boss went on vacation for AN ENTIRE WEEK. It was supposed to be 2 weeks but I never look a gift-horse in the mouth… empty-office is empty-office so the quiet, solitary time was conducive to getting my shit together.
Then, out of the clear blue, Jar Jar Bitch came upstairs and actually offered to HELP me with my hellhole of a desk! I know – be still my (bitter, incredulous) heart. She actually took a foot-tall pile of statements, scanned them and filed them ALL. I almost shed a tear after I almost-fainted. Almost…
Ever since she got her “”demotion“” she’s made a point of NOT offering to assist me with ANYTHING. It’s like she’s too good to do all the shit she had me help *her* do since forever ago. I’ve been alone in my paper hell since moving back to the upstairs office 2 years ago.
I guess what’s good for the Jar-Jar GOOSE isn’t good for… aw, HELL! Fucking bitterness makes me lame! Fucking bitch. – Yeah. That’s better…
Even more rewarding – my buddy M came by last week to help me reorganize this idiotic, completely convoluted filing system (more on that in a minute…). Not only does M’s generosity rev me up to finish getting rid of these obsolete files after approval from the Boss-man, it also gives me the joy of seeing Jar Jar Bitch squirm silently in her skin.
The look on JJB’s face was just priceless when she came up here the other day. She took one look at the 8 (yes, EIGHT) stacks of bright, warning-flag yellow folders on top of
her old MY file cabinets awaiting boss-time and quietly asked, “Whaaaat is thaaaaaaaaaaaat?”
You can bet your sweet ass that this was her best impression of someone holding back the urge to succumb to a meltdown.
I relayed my plans to go through all 4 large filing cabinets and junk all files that are as old as the Dead Sea Scrolls (there are MANY), archive anything older than 5 years and review anything which renders me completely clueless. There are way too many confuzzling paper traps to hold any hope of getting rid of so their extraction is limited to anything older than 7 years lest I look like a complete moron to my boss.
She did a great job of resisting the urge to leap over the desk, tear me out of my chair to chuck me over her shoulder, out of my office & barricade herself in for my having the audacity to rearrange all the files she so diligently alphabetized and meticulously arranged like so:
She was slowly and meticulously wringing her hands so knuckles audibly cracked. You could also almost make out Achmed the Dead Terrorist spewing telepathic “I KEEL YOU“s into the waning ether… She might have been squeezing the stuffing out of, and crushing the tiny voice-chip in, the talking Achmed doll I got her for Christmas a few years ago, but whatever. It’s her unique brand of psychosis…
She tried to tell me that Boss-man would never go for this. I informed her that these 8 lovely piles on top of
her old MY filing cabinets were made at his insistence. What she did next surprised me.
She proceeded to take a couple of super-fat files that I had extracted from their hold in the bottom drawer (of MY cabinets) and offered to chuck them into the locked recycle-bin for industrial shredding off-site. She asked that I just get rid of the plastic file-tabs for her. How sweet.
So there are a few possibilities here. She could be feeling slightly guilty for being such a raging lunatic C-word all these years… Doubtful. So maybe she’s feeling the distinct possibility that my boss just might fire my ass if I don’t shape up by June; leaving her responsible for filling in and training a new person in my absence…? Could very well be.
Knowing her the way I do, there is a more accurate explanation: She is SO anal-retentive and bitter that the only way for her to regain the illusion of control which she requires to function on a daily basis without spontaneously combusting is to offer “help” to the one person she honestly has NO desire to assist. Bite THAT!