It Never Snows In Paradise
Snow? What the fuck do I know about snow?
Or so I though as this nugget of wisdom populated in my noggin as I gazed longingly out the window across from my cubicled exsistance. It's in the low 90's today as it was yesterday, as it will be tomorrow and...well...you get the point?
Digressing as always...
His name was Pete and he was pissed, which is of course why he was droning on to me. His angst was compounded by the fact that he works an hour from home and had to traverse this treacherous terrain that was now covered in snow (snow...in March, blasphemy I tell you!) and now he was taking out this pent up rage on yours truly. His problem? The driver that takes care of this particular route that Pete is a part of is a deaf mute. The driver in question also has the hand-writing of a deaf mute paraplegic and with written words his only form of communication, this has presented a few problems. So as I listened to Pete ramble and offered my gainful assistance I couldn't help but think; Is this drivers vehicle equiped with one of those beeping warning systems to warn everyone that he is backing up? And if it is, how would he know? Does he get upset when people yell at him? And how on earth did he participate in sporting activities where folks yell out, "heads up!" as words of warning?
Moving on with my day, I fielded a different sort of escalated phone call. This time it was a chance to listen to one of our customers heap praise upone one of my agents who helped her resolve a particularly sticky situation involving the shipping of a movie script. I obtained her name (Jamie Lee Curtis) as policy dictates and did my standard procedure of capturing her comments for appropriate dipersal amongst the rabble in order to help boost morale. I shrugged off her star powered name as mere coincidence, but couldn't help but marvel at how strikingly familiar the voice coming through my headset was to me. Could it be...? THE Jamie Lee Curtis, whose finely toned body I have gawked at and masturbated to from pre-teen to fledglingly adult? As we concluded the business at hand, my mind went blank, my mouth dried up and my hands begin to tremble ever so slightly. The only two movies that popped into my head at that moment were Trading Places and A Fish Called Wanda and with and audible gasping for breath, I tried my damndest to be smooth...
ME: "So I bet you get grief all the time for having the same name as a movie star, huh?"Jamie Lee: "Oh, you could say that, mostly I 'catch grief' for being that movie star."
ME: (after several uncomfortable seconds of silence)"I love you in A Fish called Wanda!"
Jamie Lee: "Oh that's sweet...thank you for helping me out this, it's a relief to finally get some folks on the phone with some semblance of intelligence about them that actually know what they are doing. You both have been a great help."
ME: "You are ever so welcome, anytime you need assistance, don't hesitate to call me (gives first and last name, extension and hours I work) and let me just say that you are SO hot."
Jamie Lee: "Oh...well...I suppose that's sweet too. Have a good weekend Mr. Supervisor guy."
...
Shit fire I'm such an ass
To finalize the strange dealings of this work day, sandwiched in between the deaf mute and Jamie Lee was our bi-weekly team meeting. My supervisor does quirky little things to encourage team interaction and add a light hearted air to these rather morbidly serious settings. This bi-week, our instructions were to draw a picture of a pig. After which she divulges this activity is a personality test and to check out our picture compared to the following answers about what our pig looks like and what this says about our personality. I wish I could place the picture I drew within these walls, but alas you'll have to get this one with a mental picture of your own.
My pig picture? A stick figure man with a badge on his chest that reads, "PHX PD (Phoenix Police Department)". I think, dearest of diaries, that I passed this particular test with flying colors, don't you?
...
As my day draws to a close, I realize that my normal weekend submersion into college town crazyness will be complimented with co-eds swathed in less than nothing; as the temprature heats up, the clothes dissapear, such is life in the desert.
My pulse begins to quicken.
The 'X' wiggles past flashing a smile in her new white sun dress that leaves very little to the imagination as to what sort of undergarments she is wearing today.
My breathing becomes labored.
Casually chatting with my super before we both make an early exit into the bright sun shiny day, she bends over at the waist to fish her purse off the floor giving me a perfect glimpse of her well molded ass, that is complimented nicely by her almost too tight business suit that she has donned this day. And as the answer to the mysterious question "what sort of underwear does my boss wear (if any)" is literally answered right before my very eyes, I can't help but think to myself...
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margaret thatcher naked, Margaret Thatcher Naked, MARGARET THATCHER NAKED!
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Geez, I thought trying to quit somking was hard. OH GOD, did I say hard?!?
...
Five more days.
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