Office Intrigue

My boss is dating the Easter Bunny. The seldom talk, but when she needs things done around the house, she will leave him a text message and then go to the grocery store or some other venue away from her home. When she returns, the work is done. No note, no nothing. She will call him and say that she has a taste for chocolate. When they hang up a few minutes later, there is a knock at the door. When she opens it, there is a basket of various chocolates from Fannie May, but no boyfriend.





I swear I am working in some sick, Yankee version of a Flannery O'Connor novel. Sure, I have met a man who my boss says is her "gentleman friend," but she did introduce him as such. For all I know, it could have been her brother or some random dude off the street that she paid off for the sake of appearances.





Things get deeper than that. Yesterday, in a gesture proving that my boss could kick anyone elses boss' ass, she made biscuits and gravy for me. Well, not just for me, but for the entire building I work in (50+ employees). They all came tooling in to wish me well and grab some gravy. One of the workers, we shall call her Clint, because she had a dude's name, but not Clint, has been tooling around the halls in this:























Yup, it's the executive version of a radio flyer. Clint is a very sweet lady, who is both creative and crazy and I would totally let her have my pocket watch if she needed it, but come on, what ever happened to crutches or good old fashioned 'shunning the infirmed?' If you will notice the keen handlebars, this thing has a hand brake. Hand brakes are only good for stopping when you are racing. This woman is going to be racing people down the halls for the next six weeks until her foot heals well enough to walk without this ultrascooter 2000. Be afraid, or just take to the stairwells.

Of course there were lots of other people that came in to wish me well, but Clint took the cake on apparatus, just barely beating out the building's small army of private assassins. Blowguns are so 1991. Many have personal quirks, some have bipolar disorders, but all are unique in their own right. Can you say the same for the people you work with? Thank God there isn't a Starbucks within six blocks of this building.