Now, this is the story all about how
My job got flipped, turned upside down
And I’d like to take a minute, though the story’s kinda shady
‘Bout a gal I used to work for who I call the BossLady.
(Click here for Part One of this anecdote.)
Part Two
BossMan called me from the road the following week and asked me — take note, please: he asked me — if some office furniture would be helpful. My response was a very emphatic, “YES!” He said that they would start looking at getting some. I was much relieved.
A week or so later, though, nothing had happened on that front, so I asked BossMan, real casual-like, if they were still thinking about getting some office furniture. That’s all, just, “So, are you still thinking about getting some office furniture?” He said that yes, they were, they just hadn’t gotten around to it yet, basically. I dropped the subject, not wanting to press the matter, and BossMan and BossLady went to lunch.
About an hour later, BossLady called me and proceeded to GO OFF on me. She started yapping about how furniture is not a high priority, that getting the work done is of primary importance and “you can do your job,” and that she didn’t appreciate how I “keep bringing it up” about the lack of furniture.
I take pride in the fact that I didn’t just take this sudden and completely unwarranted abuse lying down. I hastily and firmly interrupted to point out, “I don’t keep bringing it up. [BossMan] brought it up to me last week, and I asked him about it today.” She responded by fumbling, “Yes, well, [BossMan] mentioned it just last week and now you’re bringing it up again already, so it seems like a lot.” In a hissy of I-Need-To-Assert-My-Authoritah impotence, she then repeated that it was not a priority, and asked for confirmation with a pissy, “Okay?”
I growled, “Yes.” As soon as she hung up, I immediately called BossMan and informed him that “[BossLady] just called here to berate me for asking about the furniture. She said that I ‘keep bringing it up,’ but I only brought it up ONCE, so, uh, I don’t know where this is coming from.” Bossman sighed in frustration, agreed with me that I had only mentioned it the one time, and “I told her it wasn’t a big deal. Don’t worry about it.”
The next day, BossMan gave me an Office Depot catalog to peruse, to see if there was anything I wanted. He waited until BossLady was safely out of sight first, of course. Hee.
I never did get an apology from her, though I strongly suspect that BossMan had some words with her about it. I mean, obviously the whole thing upset her on a personal level, possibly because she felt that I was being critical of her home, which, yeah. But it’s not like I said, “This place is a craphole and I’m sick of working in these ghetto conditions, how about you buy me a desk and filing cabinet, beeyotch?” I tried, as tactfully as possible, to express my wish for a more comfortable working environment, and I certainly don’t feel that I made a big deal out of it.

I’m liking the poem up there… Bosslady needs to take some medication of some sort. Like tranquelizers. Or sleeping pills. Did you ever get your furniture? Or do I have to wait and find out?
In other completely unrelated commentary, there’s a really creepy add here that says ‘BECOME A BABY retain your adult knowledge and assume the form of a human infant. Your satisfaction GUARENTEED.’
Until you have to go through puberty again. And by then it’s too late to get a refund. (The wierd things these people come up with i SWEAR…)
Heh, the poem is a takeoff on the old theme song to the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. It makes me feel so old to realize there are people who don’t remember Will Smith from those days.
The Tales of the BossLady will continue for a while yet. :) (That particular creepy ad is actually for an offbeat short novel by a guy who does some other webcomics, he’s not actually selling a fountain of youth serum or anything like that. Which is kind of too bad.)
Haven’t seen that one yet… I like your little adaption. And not that i’m calling you old, but i do lilke older TV. Something about it seems more… iunno, personal.
Phew. That makes me feel much better.