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2005-10-01 @ 1:16 a.m. |
Its so strange. Although I only work part time, I get most of my hours going to meetings rather than actually doing my job. Is this wrong? It kinda feels wrong. Because the actual job I'm supposed to be doing is not going that well. My clients. Well, lets see. The first one? I have no idea. I kept calling her and she stopped returning my calls, so I finally stopped calling her. My second client? I can't really discuss anything because of confidentiality, but I haven't seen her since mid-August. My third client? I guess she's a keeper. I take her out twice a month. She likes doing exactly the same exact thing everytime. So I occasionally try to mix it up a little with her. Like today for instance, I took her to our local art museum. There was this really cool exhibit called "Aftermarket" about this guy who sold every single thing in his entire apartment on E-Bay and then traced down the people who bought his stuff and photographed them for a book and art exhibit. My client didn't understand why somebody would buy a box of saltine crackers on E-Bay. Me neither, but hey, wasn't that totally cool that somebody actually did? The best part of the exhibit was actually when you entered the museum and there was a 15 foot tall revolving Bob's Big Boy Statue. I giggled the entire time I was looking at that and everything else while my client just looked at it all blankly. Then I felt kind of guilty dragging her in there. I guess because she usually gets her hair done on our second appointment of the month, but of course I don't have a car right now, so we had to make do with what we could do without a car. I did give her a choice. Art museum. Library. Or walking around downtown. She chose the art museum. And needless to say, I was beyond thrilled when I saw my first piece of Keith Haring artwork I've ever seen in person. I carry around a Keith Haring planner. I (heart) Keith Haring. And I wanted to just stand and gaze lovingly at it, but my client was clearly bored with the whole large, bold pop art thingie. And after all, the trip there was about her...not me. So I think that is why I attend a lot of meetings in my office. Because the actual job I was hired for is not something I'm particularly good at. But I do *give* good meeting though! And I've been joining committees and going to meetings and groups like crazy in the last month. My ulterior motive, of course, is to make money. Because, it seems, that my "real" job has so few hours, that when a chance comes along to attend a meeting, I'm right there with my Keith Harring planner tucked under my arm, ready to brainstorm. And so far, nobody has caught on yet....you know, that I'm actually employed as a professional meeting goer. Because except for my two hour stint today, my whole work week has been nothing but meetings. My departmental meeting Monday. My new empowerment group meeting Wednesday. A survey training meeting Thursday. My Event Planning Committee meeting today. Don't I sound important? Gosh, if only. Although what people don't know, is that I'm actually kind of a secretly important component at our Planning meetings, because of my role as the ghostwriter of our corporate kidnap event in 2006. And people are just dying to know who the secret ghostwriter is, especially the office manager. Today she kept asking pointed questions of the two people who know who I am and I was looking down at the table kind of bemused. She hates not knowing something that is going on in HER office. Its killing her. And really....the answers are right there in front of her. Like for instance, last night, the two people who know who I am, took me out to a local murder mystery dinner theatre to see how something like this is done. Now doesn't that seem strange? That little nutty me went out with a bunch of social workers? I felt like, ok witty, don't act crazy now. Don't embarrass yourself. They're only letting you come (and paying your way) because there was a slip up somewhere and somebody will soon realize that you're really drooling or shooting people out in the lobby and it will all be over soon. I was so fucking insecure all night that I could barely talk. I also had a blinding headache. But I didn't want to miss a free night of theatre and food. You know, first things first. The show and the actors were a lot of fun though, especially the way they interacted with the audience and made asses of themselves. And I was easily able to guess who the murderer was. And I was startled when no one at our table initially realized what the plot was. See, having a fancy degree doesn't necessary make you a genius like me. I also got to spend the afternoon and evening with my new favorite friend...the boring story teller lady. She excitedly offered me a ride to the restaurant from the office, but I said I would go with my case mgr. She seemed very disappointed, like one of the cool kids had rejected her. But I didn't want to be stuck with her any extra time that I didn't have to be, because once again, I had happened upon her telling her And it was then, that I got to see the true range of her personality. No matter what anyone said, her life was always 1) worse. 2) better 3) more incredible 4) more astounding. I mean, no one could say anything without her trying to best them. That is one of my least favorite personality types. My mother does that. Like for instance, one of my co-workers said something about taking stuff out of her attic and bringing it to her daughter's room to sort out, since her daughter no longer lives at home. Well, Ms. Boring Story said exactly the same thing except it was her son. As in, oh yes, I just took everything out of the attic and it was in my son's bedroom and he had already moved out of the house, because he was just deployed and was on a warship that ran into another warship and he got injured and then there was going to be a court marshall and he got extremely ill with the flu and then they gave him penicillin and he was allergic to it and almost died, but then he didn't and then the military gave him leave and he went to this beach, even though he was still deathly ill and he walked in the water and he was stung by not one but TWO jellyfishes and he had to go to the hospital and they asked if he had a place to go after they released him and he said yes, he could go to his girlfriend's but when he got there, he knocked on her door and she opened it and dumped him right there and said he wasn't welcome, and there he was still sick with the flu and two jellyfish bites and the court marshall charges and he had no place to go so he finally came home to us, but his bedroom was full of stuff from the attic! Did anybody really ask you? All my co-worker said was she was sorting some stuff in the attic and suddenly we have to listen to the entire season for a new boring TV reality show. I've also noticed that she says stuff that is supposed to be funny, but its totally blecchhh and then she stands there like, gee nobody laughed, I wonder why...totally oblivious to the fact that she hasn't got a single funny bone in her entire body. And I've only noticed this because everytime I get a laugh now, she tries to follow me with (cough) a " joke" and it fails everytime. Every.single.time. And besides, isn't it obvious that nobody should ever try to follow awittykitty, since she's one funny beeyotch? And guess who practically fell over themselves offering me a ride home? Go ahead guess!! Yeah, Boringtessa. And what made it even more exciting was when she was regaling us with stories about her grand mal seizures and then she had been drinking some kind of alcoholic beverage and I was thinking, "I guess I won't have to worry about menopause anymore when I die in a car crash during one of her seizures". Once I got in her car, she wanted me to brainstorm some ideas for our mystery plot. And I was like hey, I know, lets kidnap Hillary Clinton! And she was like ohhhhh no. That's too political. We'll offend too many people. And then she launched into one of her dull stories about how someone who didn't like Bush at our office had offended someone else. Oh dear! How shocking. (Me: Long pause) Hey! I know! Let's kidnap Bush! heh, heh. Ok, I didn't really say that. Why? Because she was suddenly, inexplicably apologizing for getting off at the wrong exit, saying, "I bet you were scared I was kidnapping you." Ummm, not until you just said that. But then all the way home I kept coming up with various ideas, both good and bad, just brainstorming and she was so cautious, like we would get into trouble if we said the word "the", that I was starting to feel frustrated. I guess I'm used to brainstorming with more creative types who don't need to send every idea through a politically correct scanner to see if it beeps. Part of what made the murder mystery theatre thing so funny was all the sexual double entendre and bad behavior. It was all really funny. But I think if I were to write something that met everyone's criteria in the entire building, it would be incredibly boring. And also the main person who is going to be the narrator is a very clever and witty speaker. He was hilarious at our last event when he dressed like a computer geek and did the history of our agency with pictures that looked like they came out of a "Monty Python" sketch. I think if I could get together with him, we could probably write something really funny together. But unfortunately, since I'm a "secret" (shhhh!) ghostwriter, we eliminate any potential for me to cross paths with any possible partners in comedic crime, because of my vow of corporate silence. Older Entries |
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty |
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