Somehow I have been sucked into spearheading a project for work that I had absolutely no interest in whatsoever.
Maybe you’re wondering how something like this happens?
Well, appaaaaaaaaarently, it’s because I am a sucker.
As you may already know, I hate my job. As more and more time has passed since I started here I have become less and less interested in impressing anyone with my awesomeness. I know I’m awesome. So why should I waste all that magnificence at a place that ranks only slightly above having a persistent stabby migraine accompanied by moderate anal leakage? I just want to do the job I’m paid for and forget this place at the end of my day. That includes avoiding any and all “special projects” that would “look good on my resume” or “present strong innovation for the department”.
I’m JUST. NOT. INTERESTED.
My boss presented the idea of creating a department-wide newsletter a few months ago and I feigned a smile and a nod hoping he would just forget about it like he does everything else in the way of ideas brought to his attention. What I should have realized was that he only forgets the ideas that others come up with. When it’s his idea, one that his boss is now privy to and that will reflect exceptionally well on his annual review, (since it was his idea. you see where I’m going with this?) you can bet the last sugar packet in your grandma’s handbag that it’s going to happen.
I was told the reason I was approached for this task was due to my having graduated with a degree in Communications.
When you tell most people you have a Bachelor’s of Arts in Communications it’s usually followed with a closed lipped smile and a raised eyebrow similar to one you might receive if you were 5 years old and just declared you had returned from the moon.
Apparently, in my line of work, a Communications Undergrad degree screams (use your best Oprah voice): NEWS LETTER!
Despite my numerous protests and general declarations of disinterest I still managed to get roped into this mess under the pretense that I would work with a group of people to produce the final product. What started as a “group” mysteriously devolved into just one other (highly unreliable) person who, upon our first meeting to discuss said newsletter, stated “Well since this is your project (meaning me) I’ll let you take the reins and you just let me know what you need help with”.
This is why I didn’t want to be involved with the project in the first place because I knew “being involved” was just clever semantics for “do EVERYTHING”.
So here I be.
Forced to actually WORK at work (oh, the HUMANITY!) except as you can see I have chosen to use my time wisely and compose a blog post rather than start on this newsletter mess.
It’s called prioritization, people…
My deadline is Friday to come up with SOMETHING in the way of a layout for this exercise in time-wasting. Since I already blew off my responsibility for this project during our last meeting I need to get cracking, otherwise… well otherwise I imagine something truly horrific will happen to me like getting poked in the hand by a bag full of HIV needles that someone disposed of in the public restroom at work instead of in the proper receptacle OR getting mauled in the face by a rabid bear with HIV even though finding a bear in New Jersey is about as probable as finding a bear with HIV so in reality my punishment would be more along the lines of getting a well deserved stink-eye from my boss.
On my way home from work yesterday I get this text message from the bee:
ur cat shit all over the place
Since “all over the place” wasn’t enough detail for me, I asked “WHERE exactly?” to which the bee responded:
by the door, by the shoes, by the ottoman, by the fireplace, by the litter box, on his legs, on his back, on the side table next to the door, EVERYWHERE.
I expected to find diarrhea smeared and splattered across every inch of the house based on the level of disgust I could sense from his response to my question. Instead by the time I got home I found a totally un-fazed, mostly shit-free cat and a bee with a severely furrowed brow.
In my quest to discover what could have been the cause of my little stinker’s butt dysfunction I noticed that, in my haste to make it out the door, I had left the filter complete with the ground remnants of that morning’s coffee in the sink. Since the stinky one is getting bigger by the minute and has recently discovered the joys of the kitchen counter/sink area I deduced he had gotten into my left-over caffeine and thusly exploded his bowels all over the house.
I thought my explanation/admittance of guilt in the situation would speed up the forgiveness process between the bee and the shit source himself but it didn’t really work the way it played out in my head and instead resulted in a grudge now being held against me.
To honor his poop-tasticness, the little orange monkey who lives in my house who is really a cat but probably at least partly a monkey, even more so now since “the incident”, named Scott McKitten, has his own Facebook page and he wants to be your friend!
He’s new to the whole social networking scene so he might hit you up with a “meep” or a “mrowr” here or there but mostly he just sleeps and plays and looks cute.
He also wants to quiet the vicious rumor that cats suck out your breath while you’re sleeping, especially that of children.
Cats don’t discriminate, silly! They are just as likely to kill a grown human as they are a child and it has more to do with suffocation rather than the act of sucking breath.
And if you’re still not convinced he’s “friend” material, he wanted to leave you with this message: