You haven’t heard the last of me, Landlord GoldenEye!
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Archive for ‘Conversations’
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My father and me, when I was eleven years old. A rare conversation in which no bellowing, belt buckles, or “bing slam bang” occurred.
Part Four in the BossLady series. (One, Two, Three.) The longer I worked for BossLady and BossMan, the more I started to take over the day-to-day running of the office and all the stuff BossLady herself used to do. She began to create issues where there were none in order to feel useful and to assert her Authoritah. BossLady saw this filenaming scheme as yet another opportunity to harangue me about something that wasn’t really a persistent problem.
I had to email PDFs of various contracts to people every day, and for those who were leery of opening attachments, I helpfully included a link so they could download the files directly from our site. (This is Florida, where people are elderly and suspicious.) After one or two complaints from AOL or WebTV users, BossLady became convinced that “stupid people” could not click the links and would therefore try to type the URLs in themselves, only to be thwarted by such things as underscores, slashes, trying to spell their own names, etc. She was so determined to eliminate the crushing tsunami of time-wasting phone calls from idiotic customers (which happened about once a month, at most) that she literally spent twenty minutes explaining this thesis to me. But since altering my entire filenaming system would have caused a lot of pointless extra work for me with no actual benefit to anybody else, I blithely continued using my own method for some time. To Be Continued…
Now, Timmy, I know you’re only ten years old and dying of AIDS, but little Joey across the street has a HANGNAIL. And you don’t see him crying about it.
In real life, people often have a hard time figuring out whether I’m kidding. Partly because I’m very deadpan, but also because I’m deeply weird.
Trying something a little different with the layout of the text boxes now; it’s probably too subtle for anyone to actually notice, but I think there’s a minuscule improvement.
Part Three in a series (Part One, Part Two). This lady was my boss for a couple of years, therefore I will henceforth refer to her as “BossLady.” BossLady, you may remember, “almost had a master’s degree in Computer Science,” and supposedly had had a lengthy career in the IT field before turning to the glamorous life of Realtor®. During my tenure as Assistant to BossLady and her partner, BossMan, I accumulated many a tale of conversational derring-do, such as the ones reproduced here. Working for BossLady was like working in a “Who’s On First” skit in which Abbot can barely spell but thinks he’s a high-level computer geek, and Costello just wishes Abbot would shut up and let him do his job.
I was just asking a personal question in public about an aberration in your appearance, the reason for which is glaringly obvious. What’s wrong with that? Also, a bald eagle with mutilated wings is still a bald eagle, gosh darn it. Respeck.
My pathetic attempt to learn the “Hail Mary” in French at the age of six led to my lifelong irritation with people who say “coo da gra.” It’s coup de grâce, people.
You’d be surprised at the black ops mission skills you can pick up in parochial institutions. Not to brag, but the things I can do with a pair of saddle shoes would make you say a prayer or two.