Apr. 22nd, 2009

velouria: (front)
So it was Secretary's Day. I didn't bring a lunch because I figured they would be having a grand old festival in my honor, as in previous years. Instead, this is what transpires:

8:00 AM: I smile and wave. No one says anything to me.
9:00 AM: Still no one says anything to me
10:00 AM: Boss sends a pompous-ass, passive aggressive email from 3 feet away: How do you intend to handle the 20 minutes from yesterday?
10:00 AM - 10:30 AM: I sit at my desk wondering which 20 minutes he was referring to. The 20 minutes I've been late all of my life, or the 2-hour lunch I take daily?
11:00 AM: Guy across the hall that I call Babylon 5 because he actually has a Babylon 5 quote in his signature comes up to my desk and offers me some of the fancy chocolates he got for Secretary's Day
11:30 AM: Lonely/Hungry
11:45 AM: Half the Branch goes to lunch
11:50 AM: Hear frantic whispering in Boss's office
11:55 AM: Remaining members of Branch present me with a "Thinking of You" card. Two people have signed it "Happy Birthday"
12:01 PM: Yogapants lingers to make accusations about my natural hair color. Asks whether I'm an Asian or an undercover Ginger.
12:02 PM - 1:00 PM: Weep in bathroom stall.
1:00 PM - 4:30 PM: Watch fellow secretaries file by with balloons and flowers
4:30 PM - 4:50 PM: "Handle" whatever 20 minutes Boss wrote of by staying after shift

That brings us to now. My intensive self-pitying is interrupted only by waves of mutilation in which I envision sitting atop my coworkers and stabbing them in the face with a broken vodka bottle. The vodka would be nice, too.

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