Monday, April 13, 2015
Stages of History...in an Office
Conservative Goal
I fill out forms. I know, we all do. But it's my living.
And an easy one, until I get a 5206. Nothing auto-fills
there. Everything must be filled in. And correctly!
Or face the wrath of one, Jeanetta.
The sessions with her are memorable. Literally.
You're given things to remember.
Such as
In 14e of 5206
A dash will do it all,
while 14f is wall to wall!
And there are other tricks!
This is just a smattering of the humiliating times
I spent with this “poetic” fussbudget!
Really! I have a Master's Degree!
Headly Merse had the same difficulties, but his
solution was to fetch her a Polack with a
seven-word vocabulary for a week in the woods.
He set about doing just that. No one every
found out how he did it, but Founder's Week
we were always given off, and...
Mr and Mrs Eddings, the Mom and Pop the
present employees had never seen, "celebrated"
in a flag-bedecked suite in Bide-a-Bit. But they
were too Altzheimed out to sense much.
Anyway, Jeanetta, came back refreshed and easy-
oozie. "Let all the sticky forms...go! They're a
pain in the ass. I'll handle 'em."
So, the Polack was some physician of sex! Wow!
Unfortunately, he was also now a broken man.
Everybody in Shipping remarked on it. Then...
a rogue forklift pinned him against the far
interior of a truck.
He rehabbed for a month, and when he came back,
had the most eccentric walk in the valley.
And never spoke again, though mumbled.
Was quietly retired by the company, Jeanetta's vote
being the deciding one.
Thus was Jeanetta at the peak of her power, but you'd
never know it day-to-day. She was sunshine!
There can be cloudy frames. And the one big one:
Her Mercedes shot into an overflow pond during
Hurricane Arturo, and she drowned.
Instead of her, we now have Royal. And many
days his Mrs too. Those are great days because
she brings in French Pastries from Pierre's,
the boxes decorated with crowns.
Royal eliminated ALL forms! I'm now busy
writing the history of the firm.
He's mostly austere, but does drop by
with severely rationed words of small talk.
His management style is...well simply
not apparent. But classy.
His wife is, of course, terrific!
Then, enter Melissa, on Spring Break from Smith.
Even sweeter than her mother!
But, one day of cool morning and Spring-Fever afternoon,
she leaves her ski jacket.
This precipitates a crisis because Bill Hepple
a down-the-line accountant is caught embracing,
and kissing and whispering to it. And detaching
the expired lift tickets!
By me, who really has no authority over him, but tell
him to knock it off!
"I can't help it, because I'm a Royalist!”
"We all support Royal!"
No, I don't mean that in the way you're saying it.
"They're the Royal Family! I'd give my LIFE!"
I had always been a democracy guy, and this was
all pretty upsetting.
Fast forward five years and I’m okay with it, since
I’m Pope.
Only in the yearly procession of course, but
with an unlimited budget for vestments.
The processions always go swimmingly!
The exception was the first one. The Polack
very nearly ruined it by prostrating himself
sarcastically, and mumbling fiercely in Polish
and English.
All looked to the Pope, sensing a spiritual
problem.
I blessed him with utmost peering deliberation.
“Arise! My son!”
Lion became weirdly-walking lamb, and the
procession continued
Not a dry eye.
Labels: Conservative, forms, office, Pope, Royalist, sex, spiritual
