you better break like a horse out of the gate
You know I’m constantly regaling my friends with my crazy boss stories, and then they say how they really want to meet him, but last night Chloe made an astute observation, which is that if she were to meet him it would probably be a letdown. And it would be a letdown, because 75% of the time he’s not doing anything insane, but instead is stalking around the office silently and giving me these looks like, “why the hell is she talking to me?” I mean, the man is so predictable. For instance the office manager, aka my girl Steph, put in her two-weeks notice three days ago. She can’t take it anymore, and by it I mean him. So a girl comes in to interview today for the job while I’m at the court-run and Steph texts me, “She’s pretty. She’s definitely getting it.” She has a second interview on Friday, but he’s not even interviewing anyone else. I can only assume the reason she even has to go through a second round is that A. she’s not quite pretty enough or B. she’s wholly unqualified, and unless it’s the first, he’ll take her. Life is just not fair, and it would be helpful if teachers would stop saying that it is.
The person in the office who actually deserve some praise for humor so dry it cracks is the paralegal. This woman has been with X for six years, which is longer than any of us can fathom, and she cannot be shaken. She’s thirty and lovely with hair down to her waist and three beautiful baby girls who she brings to work every day. Today when I was sent on an emergency filing mission to the courthouse I showed her the documents I was to submit, and she shook her head at what must have been some error on the lawyer’s part and said, “This is not how I would do it, but hey Jeff you go with your bad self.” Then she walked off toward the nursery in her five-inch heels. I mean, she wore her wedding dress to our office Christmas party.
What I’m saying is if you’re gonna bow, bow low. But if you’re not gonna bow, then put in your two weeks and when you have 13 days to go make a grand exit during the midday lull and take something with you, pull some Jerry Maguire shit, and grab Renee Zellwegger on your way out. Steph said she might take me, and you know if she was standing up there and asking, “Who’s coming with me?” I think I’m the kind of person who would stand and say “I.”