Sir, we are not assholes!
The always hunky Randall Bing, my boss, popped into my humble cubicle this morning for a social visit. This surprised me because I had been betting people in the office that he wasn't speaking to me.
In the course of him chatting away and me trying to figure out how to discreetly navigate away from Tangled Up in L'Heure Bleue, which I was reading when he sneaked up on me, he mentioned something that we, and by we he meant me, would be working on in 2009.
I asked Randall what would make him believe that I would be working there in 2009.
This lead to an entire discussion about my career plans, that culminated with the two of us in a conference room discussing the appropriate length of time to give notice. I am vacillating on this whole quitting thing.
The way my brain works is that things seem like a good idea to me until I actually decide to do them, after which they get to be bad ideas. It is little wonder that I am mad and I don't mean angry.
I was thinking earlier today, while I was standing knee-deep in water, wearing a silly-looking party hat, balancing a cup of punch and 3 pigs-in-a-blanket, about the time I nearly started an international incident at the Grand Canyon.
The Sneed children were probably preteens and we were on one of our many ill-fated vacations. The Sneeds have always enjoyed a good trip, although since we are afraid of non-English speakers (Spanish excluded), we try not to stray too far.
We were at the Grand Canyon, which by the way, is a giant hole in the ground, and we were waiting for a tram so that we could go out to one rim or another and get a look at the giant hole in the ground from a different angle. This must have been a good idea, because about one million other visitors were in line with us.
After a wait of what seemed like several hours, we reached the front of the line and prepared to plunk our weary butts into the fine hard plastic seat on the tram. As I approached the door, a young child raced by me and into the tram, where he blocked the aisle, while hoards of German tourists busted the line and took seats. Seats I might add, that many fine Japanese and American tourists had patiently waited for.
Well, this didn't sit well with yours truly and I declared the whole mob, to be a bunch of assholes. In my best outside voice.
The matriarch of this unholy swarm, I believe her name was Frau Scarybitch, looked me in the eye and said, "Sir, we are not assholes!" Emphasis on the holes. As I recall, my response was, "Are too", all the time wondering if I had made a tactical error.
The rest of the tram ride was uncomfortable to say the least. A lot of German was being spoken and I am sure the subject was me. Since the only German phrase I know is "I do not like fried potatoes", I can't be positive.
Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky
Tag: Daily Life
Personal Finance
Humor
1 comment:
Thanks forcoming to the party despite the mud. I learned a few things from yesterday.
1.You can't make a day a perfect day, you just have to let it unfold and go with the flow.
2. A little mud on substandard food is not bad, as condiments go.
3.Alcohol works even if yu're standing in two feet of water.
4. Kurt is an amazing daredevil.
5. You sure can drink a lot of booze!
I too have met Frau Scarybitch and her relatives. I seem to have more trouble with her menfolk telling me off. I just avoid Germany altogether.
In New York, I have had many German tourists ask me for directions in commanding tones that I took offense to. In days of yore, when I was a girl, I dutifully gave correct directions, but at about my mid 20's I had had enough.
I smile sweetly and give them wrong directions, sometimes even drawing a little wrong map for them.
I hear the tourists are a necessary evil. How nice would the Grand Canyon be without the tourists if you just wandered over there?
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