So for the last six weeks I have been living in a bubble of anything-goes-edness with my boss out of town and his number two out for a few of those weeks as well. Luckily number two is not a senileistic ( I'm pretty sure that's not actually a word) old man who should have retired before I was legally old enough to work without my parents signature. And then the bubble burst. The boss came back today and I'm still dripping with the shiny bubbly funk that is actual work. And now it's back to the reality that is (quite literally) the Crapper.

It's not so much that I dislike work in general. I mean I do, but I can deal if it's at least something that peaks my interest a bit. But selling, shitters and pissers and sprayers and anything else plumbing related, from augers to nipples (seriously, some plumber came up with the idea to call short pieces of threaded pipe nipples. and if you think that's awkward the black nipples are really going to get to you. especially when you have to sell a lady a pair of three quarter by four inch black nipples. I've almost been socked a few times for that). So if I at least had a job that interested me a little bit more it wouldn't be such a big deal for my boss to come back from a looong business trip. Because I would've been working just as hard with him gone as I do when he's there. But that was not the case this time. This time around the world (for him), I took advantage of the new baby and the plethora of excuses that accompanied him out of the womb.

I don't really think it's wrong to take advantage of the wonderful opportunities that arise from having a newborn.

"Sorry so and so, I'll be into the office in an hour so. The kid kept us up all night." (1 hour turns into 2-3 hours quite easily with this one)

"I'll be in by lunch time, my Wife's not feeling great and I'm on Papa duty."

"I forgot that little RQ had a doctors appointment today. I'll see you tomorrow."

(I've used all of these and more at least once.)

And then he's gotta come back and ruin everything. There is just something about the boss man coming back from a long trip, with a stack full of work that he is expecting to be done 3 weeks ago, that kind of takes you out of neutral and throws you into first as you start up the hill that is eight hours of your Monday through Friday. And you feel like all your good energy is gone by the time you stumble in the door. The only saving grace in this instance is the fact that it's the holiday season. And while I'm not necessarily the it's the most wonderful tiiime of the yeeeeaaar kind of a guy, I do enjoy the holidays. Assuming of course that we are celebrating the holiday on the actual HOLIDAY and not as a season. And I especially enjoy them because the scum guys that handle all the warehouseish duties at work are part of the corrupt, prickish, assholeistic prestigous Brotherhood of Teamsters. Why on hell I am thankful for that? well because they bring with them one awesome fucking holiday/paid time off schedule.

So yea, I have to start working hard again. And it'll totally blow. But at least I can look forward to the three, four day weekends in less than two months, that are headed my way. The only people who get a better deal are teachers, stay at home mom's, europeans.....Wait, am I getting screwed here? I thought this was legit.

So in another couple months. Well pretty much after the new year, I'll really be fucked. Then I'll have to really start working for real. Though I think there is already another trip scheduled for march. I need to get me one of those circularpaperlinkscountingthedaysuntilchristmas things that we all used to make in school before we went all religiously correct on the education system, to track when I can tune out for a few weeks. And then I can start getting all the inane shit I don't want to deal with at home, done at the office.

And I really shouldn't be bitching about my job in an economy where so many people are trying to just scrape by until business' start hiring again, but I like to bitch about work. So my apologies if this post just pissed you off. (And hell no I won't tell you the name of the company I work for so you can come gunning for my measly position.)

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