Totally unrelated crappy things that happened to me and other people I know:
- Someone reported Dave to Parking Services for having a student permit though he is a staff member. I’ve been a little irked by it, too, but not enough to bring it up and certainly not enough to report him. Dave doesn’t normally drive to work, he bikes, but with the baby on the way (still) he’s been driving. Apparently he’s been using one of our student permits with the permission of his supervisor. While I’m not Dave’s biggest fan and I’m more than a little jealous that he’s gotten to park for free, I certainly don’t have balls like the anonymous tipster that tried to get him in trouble.
- I was scared half to death by a mouse twice on Thursday morning. It was in the parking permit drawer and I almost touched it on accident. If you don’t know me well, let me explain—I happen to be one of those “worst case scenario” people—I automatically thought, “OMG, there’s a mouse. I’m going to get rabies and die.” I don’t know if you can actually get rabies from a mouse, but that’s not the point. I screamed like a little girl and my blood pressure went through the roof. I made one of the directors mad with my lack of decorum, so to appease her I attempted to look in the drawer again and get on with the job. But the damn mouse didn’t leave! It was still there! I screamed again and I made the custodial staff come to my rescue (they came running in with brooms and bravely opened every drawer for me). The mouse situation exacerbated other problems in the office and my supervisor and I got a passive-aggressive talking to. We both blew it off and vented to one another later on that day. Evs. Stupid mouse. Still haven’t caught it. I can’t even get my staple remover out of my drawer without it being an ordeal. I’d rather pry open the staple with my bare fingers. My poor nails!
- Lucky 10-Key’s coworker proclaimed that she is melancholy. I wanted to get that girl on the phone and give her a healthy dose of Shut the Fuck Up. I hate it when people who hardly know you make wild assertions, “in your best interest.” Like being negative is going to make you feel better. Did they stop teaching people that if you having nothing nice to say then to say nothing at all? I have lot of nice things to say about Lucky 10-Key: she’s the best personal shopper around (no joke, she practically outfitted my condo in an afternoon with hypothetical furniture) and is quite cheery over a Coffee Bean latte. She shares my love of Parmesan Goldfish crackers and likes to cross-stitch. Melancholy people don’t shop, have hobbies, enjoy gossiping over a snack, or like to accessorize with Betsy Johnson. Melancholy people take my advice quite literally when I say, “Why don’t you got write a song about it,” and though Lucky 10-Key is buying a keyboard this weekend, I don’t suspect she’s going to be winning a Grammy anytime soon.