Wednesday, February 3, 2016
Six - Fight or uncaged
'Get into my office!' Yelled my boss at me one day with an angry menace being expressed by his volume of choice, in this case specifically as a yell.
This was back when I was was a rare and exotic bird denier working for the federal department of rare and exotic bird denying. It was a plum job for the most part, the main five roles were as follows:
1. Saying 'nah, don't believe in em' myself'. When asked about our specific belief in specific birds, and with 'em' taking the place of the specific bird being specifically discussed at that specific time.
2. Accusing professional birdologists of stuff, specifically that they'd done stuff like just painting pigeons to look like things such as different birds we were trying to deny, Lavender Crested TitHawks being a specific example. Or to be even more specific I'll tell you about one of my specific favorite days at work the whole time I was there, which was when I got to yell at a bird loving dick! And more specifically when I got to yell this - 'You're trying to tell me that THAT specific bird in that specific cage you're holding in front of me, is a Wingtailed Blue Mouse Godwit, nah man, you've clearly just glued some cut up blue t-shirt onto a different bird, in this case clearly a penguin to be specific, you lying dick, and oh look, now that I've opened the cage its flown away, definitely a penguin, fuck you for trying to fool people, you're a male body part, specifically a dick!'
3. Doctoring all company wide memos to say at the bottom 'and remember, it's company policy to say "specific" as often as humanly possible, and anyone who fails at this will have their genitals (whatever that may entail to the specific employee) jammed into an item of office equipment, specially the paper shredder, and specifically the big rusty one by the ladies bathroom'.
4. Making fun of the kid in accounts with a lisp who couldn't say 'specific' without spitting on the girl who worked on the desk immediately opposite him.
5. Making fun of the girl in accounts who always seemed to have spit on her for some unknown reason.
It was a fun job. But the boss was a dick. I'd done absolutely nothing wrong on this day that he'd yelled at me to come into his office. Not a damn thing. ZILCH.
Luckily I'd predicted that this dick would pull this kind of thing one day, so I'd been sneaking into his office every day when he was at lunch and setting up little boobie traps like thumb tacks on his seat to stick into his butt, and sending emails to his wife from his company account that were addressed to his secretary and referenced the fact that she was female, and ended with pictures of his butt, which were easy to get because he was always pulling down his pants at work and dabbing blood off his ass, the gross bastard, and I'd also been stashing some snacks around in case he had a lot to say, and I got peckish.
On this particular day he was screaming at me for some nonsense, so I went to grab the burrito I'd stashed six months earlier in the locked draw where he kept all the company cash reserves, and yet when I reached for it all I found was a draw full of mush, bugs, stank, and for some reason some tiny fragments of cash. That boss sure was a dick.
But now, seven years later, and I suddenly knew what the ordeal that day (of having to eat the bowl of fried rice I'd stashed in his briefcase instead of my coveted burrito, while he rattled on) was for. I'd stared gastronomical dissatisfaction right in the eye and burped hard on its lips, or more specifically on my bosses lips, to prepare me for this exact moment. A moment with so much on the line.
And having faced this pain in the past I know knew exactly what to do the second I began to look over the menu now handed to me by the waiter.
'Just don't order the six month old draw burrito, it'd probably be mushy,
just don't order the six month old draw burrito, it'd probably be mushy' I began to chant to myself as a perused the options. Feeling more and more calm that I could make a choice that wouldn't bring further attention to my failures that day.
Knowledge is power. And I had knowledge. And therefore I had power. And power is powerful. And I was ready to blow my power right in the face of this waiter.
Of course even if I hadn't had that job, I could have just drawn on some knowledge about ordering options of learned the last time I'd eaten here, about thirty five minutes or so ago with Kev. But I'd forgotten totally about that.
Not that Kev bothered to remind me, that dick, no he instead asked if he could borrow my scarf to tie around his wound and try and stop he bleeding. Why would I want blood on my scarf? He knows I don't like wearing l red on Sundays, but I don't think he even thought about that. Selfish dick.
Also I had the same waiter as I'd had earlier. Not that I remembered. Why would I? What kind of a loser remembers other people? A loser like this waiter, that's what type.
'Seriously?' He said when I told him I'd never seen him before in my life 'you don't remember less than an hour ago throwing a bowl of chilli in my face and calling me a dick for not warning you that chilli was served hot?'
Why would I remember that? Some people are so self-centered, you're not all we think about dicks!
'I'll just have any burrito less than six months old that's never been in a draw' I suddenly blurted out, to shut him up, he'd begun to ramble on... 'you don't remember asking if any of your own butt cheek was in the food? You don't remember screaming at me to expose the secret hole of celebrities, you don't remember lighting the table cloth on fire and then accusing the fish in the tank of being selfish dicks for not offering their water to put it out?' On and on and on he went. But the next thing he said shocked me. Specifically to the core. Like seeing a completely mythical bird in the flesh, something like a peahen, and then having every bit of truth you believed in cut from under you, like cutting the legs off a peahen to see if it was actually just a sparrow with dryer fluff stapled to it.
'All our burritos are less than six months old, and none of them have been in draws, so you need to be more specific about what you'd like please'.
Yep he said it. And it was a dig. A dig at me. ME! Yes ME! Of all people he could have said that to, he chose to say it to me! And it was a dig. Like what you do to make a hole. And a hole is my favorite type of ground opening. Yep! He'd used the method of creating something I like to hurt ME! That self-centered dick. And now, among the numerous balls I was juggling, all of which represented a disaster, things like:
- Making sure that dick Kev got distracted by me doing something BIG and NOW, that he'd forget that I'd promised that I'd find something cool in the cloakroom. And
- Making sure everyone in the room knew that I didn't think you eat the menus themselves, and making sure they new that by eating BIG and NOW!
And now I now also had to deal with this dig, and I had to deal with it NOW and in a BIG way. Yep, I now had to add retribution against the waiter to the list, and it would have to be specifically BIG retribution, and specifically NOW! Right NOW!
More to be unearthed*
*Not a great word for continued, but a nice word none-the-less, it reminds you of earth, and un, and ed, all great things. Although if you ask me at least one of those things isn't even a thing, for example I'm sure earth is really just a large Diamond Taloned Condor* with alligator barf stuck in its beard.
*Which are of course just seagulls that someone nailed a cactus to.