| - 06.10.2002 - Jonathan Richman Says "I'm Straight" The three day weekend is something that's lovely on Thursday and horrible on Monday. The extra day gives me the opportunity to get good and lazy, but Monday always comes and pulls out before I can achieve proper sloth climax. New agey and retarded as it may seem, I've been whispering to myself things like "you will wake up happy and energized in the morning" right before I fall asleep. Whether it really works remains to be seen, but based on the fact that I haven't yet gone out on a Monday morning murdering spree anyone, I have to say it doesn't hurt. The "aw, fuck it" attitude has slowly seeped into my office as people begin to realize the futility of working hard for a company that will soon dump their entire department. My good boss is assigning only tasks that will bolster her employees' resumes, which works out to my benefit because instead of filing or fetching her lunch, I'm working with a team to convert company documents from MSWord to HTML and publishing them on the intranet. The words "HTML Transit Coordinator" look much better than "Professional Bitch" on paper. Because my work takes more of my concentration these days, I haven't been able to keep up my eavesdropping habit as much as I'd like. I've tuned out office conversation to the point that my boss and one of my teammates for the project said my name loudly, yet it took me about a full minute and asking them "am I being harassed?" before I realized they were trying to get my attention. They were having an informal meeting and wanted me to join them. Before we got started, my boss asked me if I had updated my website. When I tolder I had, she cruised over and took a look. She poked around a bit, and since most of the things I have posted there have appeared in the paper before, I didn't think I had anything to hide. That is until she clicked on the link to my webcam, where she saw me in my "I EAT DICK FOR MONEY SHIRT." I explained its purpose, and three of the longest seconds of silence passed before she gave it a laugh. Everything is cool, except that now she's positive I'm gay. She had inklings before, but now she has "proof." When she brought her hot underage daughter and her hot underage daughter's hot underage friend in for Bring Your Hot Underage Daughter To Work Day a month or so ago, my boss dragged them around the office introducing the girls to her staff. She apparently thought I would have no introduce introducing my staff to the girls, because she went down the row like this: BOSS: This is [Gay Man #1]. He's safe. Actually, everything's true except that last line. I sat shocked with my mouth hanging open for a while before I realized that it's not completely out of the ordinary for strangers think I'm gay if my own mother doesn't believe I'm straight. So after she looked at my webcam, she went over to my wishlist and looked through the items. She saw the David Sedaris play "The Book of Liz" and said, "is that about Liza Minelli or Liz Taylor? If it is, you should talk to [Gay Man #1] and [Gay Man #2], they LOVE her." Somehow, we managed to push all that aside and continue with the meeting, wherein she gave me some compliments and tips on things I can do to succeed in the workplace in the future. It is completely bizzare working for someone who's actually smarter than me. I'm usually lucky if my boss can tie his or her own shoelaces. This isn't so bad. After the meeting, she came out into the office and talked us about how the new company will be interviewing everyone. My booklearnin' actually came in handy, as I studied this sort of thing in my communication courses. Since I spoke up, I got to spend the rest of the day searching the internet for relevant information to distribute and maybe prepare something to let everyone know what to expect. If the job had been like this when I first got here, we might have avoided a lot of stress, worry and spending money on voodoo dolls. It's not often that my time away from work is actually more boring than my time spent in the office, but tonight was one of those occasions. I usually spend my Monday nights slouched in front of my computer trying to bang out a column that doesn't taste enough anus to keep all the rectums in California moist with saliva. No Tuesday at Two deadline to meet this week left me with a lot of time to fill and not much to do. So I sat. I sat on the couch. I sat on the floor. I sat on my desk chair. I even sat on the kitchen counter for a change of pace. Perhaps one of these days I'll use my spare time and energy to do something constructive. By that time, though, there will probably be robots to do all of our work anyway, so I'm not going to worry about it. -- Jeffy |
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