Hi, How Are You, You're an Asshole

Good people,

Let me tell you that coming back to work from Costa Rica was rough. No more vacation days for me. I keep telling myself I won't be working a five-day work week until 2009. It does little to soothe me.

The C Rizzle is the most beautiful place I've ever been too. It really gives you an idea of just how beautiful the world would be if we hadn't fucked it up so bad. Did I mention that I canopied over a rainforest? Well, I did and it was amazing! Did I mention I saw a leatherback turtle come ashore and lay her eggs? It was not unlike that first part of that National Geographic special--sorry folks but it ain't on YouTube--that traumatized us as kids. You know that one where those adorable baby turtles were awkwardly making their way to the ocean only to be scooped up and eaten by birds just before they made it. (Sidenote: Everyone my age seems to remember two PBS experiences as a a kid, the baby turtles and the crayon factory. Why is that?)

By the way, is canopy even a verb? Did I just turn a noun into a verb à la the business world? (Dictionary.com has just informed me that "canopy" can, in fact, be a verb. So we're good.)

At this point you're probably wondering what does the title have to do with the tangential tangled tangent above?

I'm glad you're paying such close attention savvy readers. Long story short, everyone who knew where I went for vacation asked me how CR was and I told them how amazing it was and how traumatic it was to be back at the Happy Cappy Investment Team except...for the Stone Cold Killer.

What did SCK do ten minutes after I arrived at the HCIT? "We need those round hand wash things in the men's bathroom?" Huh? But I said I would get on it so I could quickly end that inane encounter which would only have gotten more awkward with each additional second. Besides, I would just go to the bathroom, see what was missing and from there I would be able to deduce what a "round hand wash thing" was. Right?

But lo and behold, the bathroom was completely stocked with the holy trinity of hand care--hand soap, hand sanitizer, hand lotion. I eventually concluded that the complaint regarding the "round hand wash thing" must've have been referring to the fact that the men's bathroom closet didn't have any of the OVERSTOCK hand wash in it. You see, the hand wash containers have rounded bottoms--giggle if you must. That's the best guess I could come up with.

So SCK, yes I DID have a great time in the Rica. Thanks for asking... asshole.

OH...MY...GOD!

Good people,

Today, a line has been crossed.

Tis the season for employees to bring in sweets and treats. Given all the recent economic hubbub I don't know if this December will be as intense as last year's 30-days-'til-a-heart-attack junk food feast that was unleashed upon the employees of the Happy Cappy Investment Team. Still, that process is well underway this December.

Someone brought in these marshmellow-truffle things. They had that weird gooey-chewy thing going on dusted in cocoa. And of course someone made a mess since these people can't seem to wipe their own asses without help from others.

Someone must have dropped one on the floor and then someone (or somemany) proceeded to step on it and make coco-mello smudges on the floor.

So reception puts in a call for the building to come clean it up. I go and follow the smudge trail to see wear it leads. The path directs me to the men's bathroom door. So of course the oh so witty jokes coming flying (in case you were wondering the joke each time is that it was shit... ha... ha... ha... ugh).

Well like some horror movie I slowly open the door to see if the trail ends there...it doesn't! I turn the corner...but the smudges continue! Until finally...they lead to...THE FUCKING TOILET!!!

That's right, some grown ass man [at first I called him an asshole and then a piece of shit but that just seemed to confuse the narrative] did this. He cannot, in fact, wipe his own ass without the help of others (you see, that was foreshadowing before). This man actually tracked his own excrement into the kitchen. Amazing.

So of course I mopped it up. Some people were stunned that I would do this filthy task, especially when the cleaning services would be here within the hour. My answer? "There's fucking shit on the fucking floor and it's fucking disgusting."

Seriously, do these people do this at home but have servants waiting on them hand-and-foot so as they don't realize just how disgusting they are?

Time to look into grad school.

My Hand Hurts Almost as Much as My Brain Does

Good people,

I punched many boxes of individual coffee servings and now my hand hurts. This in itself is not worthy of a blog entry so let me share with you the email that instigated my stock room fit.

As you already know this is not a day to give me shit.

So imagine my delight when I received the following email from Stone Cold Killer:

"Please ensure we have regular liquid hand soap in addition to the alcohol based hand cleaner at all sinks and restrooms. I have noticed we have been running out of it regularly."

"Regularly" falls under the category of "numerous incidents" and we've already discussed that. Since people aren't aware of where I keep the hand soap I doubt others haven't been replacing it when I'm not looking, so I think I have a pretty good idea of the soap flow in the men's bathroom.

That being said, I refuse to make a pledge that I will be on top of the "soap situation" in the women's bathroom. Me walking into the women's bathroom everyday under a pretext of "checking out the soap" is a surefire way to get fired in less than a week.

Also, in addition to the hand sanitizer, the hand cream (you read right), and organic hand soap I stock, the building provides hand soap in the wall dispensers above the sinks. So in the event that one of the organic soap containers is empty suck it up and use the OTHER ONE TWO FEET AWAY or, god forbid, use what us peasants clean ourselves with: the wall-mounted soap dispensers.

Guess Who's Back. Back Again...

So won't the the real office manager please stand up, please stand up, please stand up?

After being the office manager at my hedge fund for the last year--which we will call The Happy Cappy Investment Team for the purposes of this blog--I finally took a vacation. I spent two weeks traveling around Europe, by which I mean I occasionally left Amsterdam for a few hours here and there.

A couple of days before I was set to return I got an email on my work-issued crackberry. It informed me of two things:
1) that my temp replacement would be staying on one more week
2) that my office was being turned into a men's bathroom

At the time I was in an Amsterdam coffee shop. I read the email, turned to the bartender and complimented him on the quality of his product.

The next morning I awoke and checked the 'berry. Apparently, I had read the email correctly. (Who saw that coming?)

First, a word on turning my den of privacy into a crapper. My office is located all of 20 feet from the men's bathroom. I have no idea why this company is going to initiate this expensive, lengthy, loud, filthy process to build another men's bathroom only spitting distance from the current one. But I promise you this, with Zeus as my witness, I will get to the bottom of this mystery and we will have a hearty, if forced, laugh as the end credits roll.

Second, I must admit I am somewhat fascinated to watch someone else do my job. Who wouldn't love to see how someone else would do their job? People should definitely add this to their list of "Things to Do Before I Die": #96. Watch someone else do my job.

It should make for a fucking delightful anthropological experiment, though I must confess I am a tad nervous. Boss of the Boss aka Stone Cold Killer--one of the villains you will come to know and hopefully despise as my story unfolds daily--hates me. When I heard there was going to be a temp to replace me during my vacation I kept hearing that little voice in the back of my head (the non-killing-spree voice) saying "there is no job waiting for you when you come back."

A day before I had left for Europe I met and trained my replacement. I soon discovered that while he can probably do an adequate job filling in for me, in no way is he qualified to replace me. At the time I thought a "boo-yah!" was called for, even though this is not a phrase I ever use in conversation.

Fast forward, 2+ weeks. When I learned that he was staying on another week that voice came back. So we will see how this week goes.

Let the great experiment begin.