I Mean It This Time.. No Really

Dang.. I left ya'll hanging huh?

Forgive me?

So, here's the scoop:

Here at the Cubicle Asylum where we manufacture and sell robot monkeys (not really, but work with me here) and we adhere to a tight on-time shipping schedule. Last week, when Tiny was in charge, we fell $20K behind in shipments.

A crime punishable by death here at the Asylum.

So.. everyone.. meaning all the managers... had their Superman Underoos in a wad over the shipments being behind and the fingers started to wag. Blame was being slung around like poop from a chain smokin' chimp down at the city zoo.

Seeing how it's Tiny's mandatory week off and I was the only other person here involved in that end of the operation last week, I was asked alot of questions. One customer in particular was promised by Bossman that her robot monkey would ship on Friday. I know this because she called me every. damn. day. to tell me. Everytime she called, I paged Tiny and told him to make SURE that robot monkey went out on time.

But come Monday morning, the uber hot, super special robot monkey hadn't even made it to the dock.

I told Bossman that I had stayed on top of it. I swore I'd called Tiny every. damn. time. that woman called. Then I told him that sometimes I felt like some people (Tiny) just told me whatever to get me to shut up and get off their back.

Well. Bossman was not pleased. In fact, he was livid. He marched back to the GM's office and told him that Tiny had lied to me about stuff shipping when it was supposed to. This sorta bugged me, because that was not the terminology I had used, but whatever. I wasn't going to worry about it.

Later in the day, as I worked away, entering orders, I over heard the GM on a phone call.

"Hey boy, what are you gonna do all week?" My ears perked, the GM only calls one person "boy" and that person is Tiny. I thought it was strange because, during their furlough week, the managers are forbidden to have any contact with the office at all. "What the hell happened last week? Bossman said you lied to Mahala about stuff shipping. We ain't gonna have a bunch of liars running around here."

Great. The ONLY person I have here to depend on when Bossman is off, has now been told that I called him a liar. So now, we're going to be in the middle of a bunch of he said / she said nit picking bullcrap.

I am entirely too old for this nonsense. It is official. I am looking for a new job.

I whined to the noggin doc last night about the current state off affairs at the Cubicle Asylum and she agrees that it's not a healthy place to be... what with me being batshit crazy and all. She did sorta freak on me when I told her I wished I could find a job working from home, so I wouldn't have to deal with people. I know that would just make me even more of a social numbnut but hell, I'm just about sick of putting up with all this office craziness.

Surely to God I can find something making more than $20K a year.

I know I've made this "decision" before. The difference between now and then is that now, I have a dependable vehicle and the Amazon works close to home in case something happens with Ma, so if I had to drive a little ways, it wouldn't be the end of the world.


Ozzy's still mending and building up strength. I have a feeling that although he will eventually make the move back outside during the hours we're both at work, he'll be spending alot more time in the house from now on.

He's spoiled beyond rotten.

I appreciated ya'lls suggestions for dealing with the tinkle problem. Wait.. I can't really, in good conscience, refer to the gushing firehose of pee he emits several times a day as "tinkle." Anyway.. I tried to buy him some Depends at the dollar store, with the plan to cut out a hole for his tail, but the Amazon was with me and forbade me to do it.

I'm not sure it would have worked, but the photo opportunities would have been AWESOME.

I ended up buying a pack of those plastic backed disposable bedliners, which I used to line the living room carpet. This seems to work well, except for one tiny problem.

I didn't think about the cat's strange obsession with plastic bags and tissue paper at the time. When I left for work this morning, she was trying to drag one of the pads (they're like 30" x 30") off into her lair for shredding. I'm a little afraid of what I'll find when I get home at lunch.

I think that gets us caught up.. sort of. I hope ya'll having a fanfriggintastic Hump Day. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!