Monday, March 22, 2010

Random Snippets

I know I’ve been a ghost around these parts – I have a new addiction. No, not a video game (*cough*) but something else. I started writing, not here obviously, but yeah. I’m absolutely consumed with it. Takes up most evenings and lunch breaks these days. Times that were formerly devoted to snarky blog posts and other amusing antics. Hence, the ghostliness.

Snippet #2: Muffin’s Dad has called her a grand total of TWO times since Christmas. The first, around president’s day, was to request a visit – which I agreed to. But, he never called back to set up a date or time so… No visit. The second was to leave a long, cryptically melodramatic message about needing to see Muffin and “things going on” and “must talk to you about” vagaries. Seriously? Fine, so we called back. I actually let Muffin call him back (three days later) and when he answered I could tell something was wrong. She was trying to tell him how much she missed him and stuff and he sounded loud and strange. Finally, she handed the phone over to me and I could tell that he was crying. Turns out, there was some serious shit going down at that exact moment concerning his estranged wife and children. He said he’d call back.

Right, remember that whole incident with Mr. X? Guess what I did? I GOOGLED! And found nothing. I searched local newspapers, facebook, every avenue I could think of and found nothing. Which is frustrating when you’re dying for gossip information. He did call back and explain slightly. Nothing that I couldn’t have predicted, but still sad and upsetting – for him. And… since this blog is about me, not him I won’t go into it. (That noise? That was me taking the high road! It is a steep slope, lemme tell ya) He wanted to set up a time to see Muffin that just so happens to coincide with my long anticipated trip home. He understood and is going to come to my hometown and take her out to dinner. Compromise? What next – time running backwards? Color my world rocked.

Which brings me to snippet number three – I’m going home this coming weekend. I’m taking half a day off of work to spend two nights with the parents. One night is going to be dedicated to my sister and local buddy – a fact that my parents aren’t aware of. Also, Mom and Dad don’t know about the arrangement with Muffin’s Dad. Actually, I haven’t been communicating with them much at all since their last visit. So, I guess I’d better get on the horn and let mom them know what’s going on so that mom they can alter their plans accordingly. Plans that will undoubtedly include Mexican food, a trip to Grandpa’s and a “long walk” which is a euphemism for “let’s go for a walk and gossip about the family!”

Good times, good times. I’m going to keep my hand in here at chez bebop, but I’m SO lacking blog fodder these days! Having an uncomplicated life leads to a dull blog, I guess. In other news, the great winter of 2010 has finally given way to a lovely spring. The flowers in these parts could not contain themselves. They are blooming all over! I can’t help but feel that Mother Nature has a final “F U” snow up her sleeve and that all the lovely blooms will be killed off – but you know me, always looking for the downside. See you around the interwebs!

Friday, March 19, 2010

What The French Toast?

A couple of weeks ago my good friend Deb visited and turned me on to my new favorite (kid friendly) phrase. What The French Toast? Apparently it is derived from an Orbitz commercial and now I will share that commercial with you.

Lint Licker! Hoe-boken! Sweet...

Anywho - remember that post I did a while ago about workplace culture and the like? Guess what all of my co-workers are saying now? What The French Toast?!?! I love it! Thanks Deb!

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Wrapping Up The Drama

So, we were never exactly told the reasons behind Mr. X's arrest but I'm guessing it has something to do with the fraud allegations that were uncovered thanks to the modern miracle that is Google. Bless you Google for making it possible to spy on boyfriends/girlfriends/ex's/etc coworkers. You make the world a little less private and a whole lot more embarrassing. Oh, and according to you I'm a doctor as well as a budding rock star and make tiny clay figurines from home. Yay for me.

Right, the arrest happened on Monday, on Thursday there was a "one-liner" from our HR person saying that "Mr. X is no longer employed at Calicobebop's Workplace." Oops, my bad - it was a two liner - the second line read "He is no longer allowed on the premises or in the parking garage." Wha-damn! Oh yeah, and they hired a security guard who now sits on his ass in the lobby protects us from vengeful ex-employees hell bent on fulfilling their dream of going postal on all the people who wronged them.

You can always tell by the announcement if someone has left in disgrace or with the blessing of upper management. If you've screwed up and gotten fired or just quit - you get the little one liner. "So-and-so is no longer an employee." If you've retired after busting your buns for 20 odd years, you get the three paragraph glowing report of the many ways you contributed to the organization and how you will be missed and that we all wish you luck on future endeavors, blah, blah, blah...

OK, so Mr. X is "fired" on Thursday. On Friday the HR person sent out a job announcement for his position. This company works fast, lemme tell you! Not sure what we're supposed to do in the meantime but I think it's along the lines of "man up and deal" because that's the vibe I'm picking up and I'm usually not very intuitive.

There it is, the story that I will probably tell a thousand times so stop me if you've heard it before.

Also, I just want to thank all of you that have offered me a seat on your ride to Hell. I vote we all car pool together and get tricked out van complete with mini bar. What do you think? After all, vans are the personality vehicles! Let's ride!

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Update on the workplace drama...

Well, here’s an update of sorts…

Of course, Monday night my co-workers and I googled the HELL out of Mr. X and came up with some past convictions of fraud as well some other things but nothing really shocking or scandalizing. It does make one wonder though, how well do you really know your co-workers? I mean, this guy was apparently lying his pants off – and getting away with it – and nobody knew!

This morning, on my way to the break room, I saw our office manager showing a security guard around and showing him where to conduct his patrol. So, apparently the organization has decided to step up security as a result of this incident. I’m going out on a limb here and assuming that this is a “cover your ass” kind of thing and not the result of an actual threat.

Also, I imagine that the background/security checks will be ramped up for future employees (I slipped through though, whew!) because if I can type in the guy’s name on google and see all this shit – chances are the HR people could have done the same.

I still haven’t heard anything about his girlfriend and since she works in an entirely different department two floors down, I haven’t had the opportunity to snoop express my concern. It’s not looking good for the guy. The level of excitement around here has dwindled back to normal levels but if anything new develops I’ll be sure to write something about it – if not on FB, then here for sure!

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Why I'm going to Hell...

SO! Guess what happened at work yesterday! What? No idea? OMG, lemme tell you!

Ok, we have a meeting every Monday at 3PM that involves all the "major players" in project development. I work very closely with all of these individuals and one of these men, Mr. X, even sat in on my interview. He has a military background, like myself and we have worked together on several projects. I would call him a "work friend" meaning that I don't really socialize with him outside the workplace but at the office we share inside jokes and roll our eyes at the same kind of thing. You know what I mean, right? Work friend.

Anyhoo! Yesterday I was the first to arrive in the conference room and Mr. X was next. He laid his stuff down on one of the tables (key card, phone, papers, etc) then said something like "Be right back," before exiting again. I assumed he was going for some water or tea or whatever. A couple of minutes later, my female colleague, Holly* entered the room and exclaimed "OMG, I JUST SAW MR X GETTING ESCORTED OUT OF THE BUILDING IN HAND CUFFS!!!!!"

What the french toast?!?!

We both rushed to the window to look down at the entrance of the building. Then, our boss's boss comes in and is all "Hey, what's going on?" and while Holly is explaining I spot Mr X and two coppers trying to sneak around the side of the building. "They're heading around the back!" I cried!

The three of us ran towards the back window and, because I'm a shameless gossip who has very few boundaries, I yanked up the mini blinds to expose his guilt to the... conference room! We're standing there, watching Mr X get frog-marched to one of FIVE police cruisers when bam - the rest of the people scheduled to attend the meeting show up.

Rex* came over and stood between Holly and myself. "Is that X?" he jokes. "YES!!!!" we cry in unison!! "It's totally Mr. X and he's in handcuffs and there are like five cop cars and OMG WTF?!?!?!"

But, we have a meeting to attend to and (for some reason) it seems to be the silent consent that nothing of Mr. X's plight should be communicated to the team members that have dialed in to the conference call. Why? Hell if I know! Why would you not be all "Holy Fucking SHIT you will not believe what just went down!" But, I guess this is why I'm not in management. Those kinds of decisions escape me.

During the meeting, which was 1 1/2 hours I might add, Holly and I were exchanging notes on a piece of paper. "What happened?" "How the fuck do I know?" "Was it drugs?" "Dog fighting?" we exchanged a glance "PORN?" OMG, I will never look at anything naughty on the work computer again, I swear to God - not even Jude Law. Even though he is very close to the Lord, in my opinion. Especially when not wearing a shirt.

I'm going to Hell aren't I?

After the meeting wrapped up Holly, Rex and I rushed back to the office I share with Gabe*. I mean, it had been over an HOUR! Surely, in an organization as small as ours SOMETHING would be known by now. Did he beat up his girl friend? Neglect to pay back taxes? Too many parking tickets?

No idea! Guess we'll find out today... Or not.

Wanna know what my first thought was? After seeing this co-worker/work friend dragged out of the building, in handcuffs, with little-to-no dignity? "I cannot WAIT to update my facebook status!"

And that, dear readers is why I'm a terrible person and facebook is evil. Case and point.

*names changed to protect my innocent yet equally culpable coworkers. Also, please note that I did NOT in fact update FB. Though, I was sorely tempted.

In all seriousness, I really do feel bad for the man. He is a great guy, excellent in his job - he did many great things in a great organization. Plus, his girl friend works in our building and I can only imagine how terrible this must be for her - she is a super nice lady. I am ashamed at my paparazzi-like, ghoulish need for gossip and hope for some kind of redemption.

Down the road, that is. Plus, it would be a bonus if - you know - it wasn't too painful or embarrassing. Wouldn't want to see it on facebook. Gah, can you imagine?

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Boo Boo Zone

What is the quickest way to ensure your child has a mishap? Dress them up! Nice clothes attract misadventure – it’s a proven fact. So, after allowing Muffin to wear a dress and tights to school yesterday I shouldn’t have been surprised to find her in tears when I picked her up.

Muffin was sitting alone, despondently poking at some Lincoln Logs when I came to pick her up. I could tell that she was in the zone. The Boo Boo Zone. And let me tell you, when Muffin goes into the Boo Boo Zone, she lingers. She wallows. She savors every shuddering teary breath. And it lasts for HOURS – literally hours. She was still going on about her boo boo when I tucked her into bed.

(Where in the wide world of sports did my daughter get this drama gene? She was a hot mess. Bless her little heart I know exactly where she gets the “does not cry pretty” gene because let’s face it, fair skinned freckly people tend to get red and blotchy when the tears come so, sorry Muffin – Mama owns that one.)

Turns out she had a little accident and fell down while playing outside. Twice. On the same knee. The first coherent words out of her mouth were “I went to the bathroom to pull down my tights and look at my boo boo and,” here she paused for effect “there was blood” she finished in a horrified whisper.

I knew, then and there that this was going to be a long one. One quick look was enough to let me know that she was in no danger because whatever blood she had seen had not even shown up on her white tights.

She limped out of Kindercare and to the car and when we got in she explained “the reason why I’m walking that way is because of my boo boo and it really hurts when I straighten my leg.” This announcement was followed by more tears and sniffles. The 20 minute ride home was punctuated by exclamations of pain, lots of tears and (to my jaded ears) forced, fake crying. She was well and truly gone - oblivious to everything except the performance.

Once at home I asked her to go and take off her tights so I could examine the boo boo. This exercise was met with fresh tears and moans of pain. There she sat, on a little chair in her room, bereft of tights, sobbing hot tears of misery. I took a look. THERE WAS BARELY A SCRATCH! BARELY!! No blood! Just red welts that, perhaps to a six-year-old, may have been confused for blood. Regardless, I whipped out my secret weapon – a Dora Band-aid.

Once the band-aid was applied her mood perked up a little. She still limped dramatically, but on the whole the tears where gone. I was messing about on the computer when she came over, sat next to me, put her head on my shoulder and stated “My boo boo hurt as much as my heart would hurt if you died.”

What the French toast? My daughter has gone all EMO at age six? (dammit, I knew my love of 80’s alternative rock would come back to haunt me) When I tucked her into bed I said that I hoped her boo boo would feel better the next day and she nodded, sniffing tearily.

And you know what? No mention of it today. We’re talking over three hours of red-welt-induced drama last night and today – gone! Poof! She is as changeable as the weather. Bless her little heart.