Nevermind the fact that he called me Mrs. Boland for the first five minutes, and when I said I wasn’t her he switched and said that I had been pre-approved as well. Imagine that, getting approved without them even knowing your name. What a world we live in!
I can’t be rude to these guys though. I feel sorry for them. Like how you feel for Girl Guides selling cookies, Walmart greeters, or ex-boyfriends who wait outside your work and follow you home. If I can half listen, throw in an “uh huh….yup…” and still do my work, just to make some poor unfortunate soul feel like he got through to one person well then by God I will do it.
I’m a humanitarian, what can I say.
I liked this guy’s outlook on life though. After asking me a few questions such as what my position was at The Company, yearly income, where the office was located etc., he responded enthusiastically the same way each time:
“Oh, that sounds nice!”
I have a feeling if I told him I was a roadkill scraper making $8,000 a year and the office was located in a sewer he would have said “Oh, that sounds nice!”
He then asked me if I remembered how much I pay for rent each month. No actually, I have no idea. I just give blank cheques to my landlord and let her fill them out. Some months I slide my credit cards under the door and let her go shopping. I just cross my fingers when the statements come in.
I don’ t think anyone has ever let him finish his whole speech. He seemed thrilled to read the last ten minutes and kept pausing to check if I was still there. I especially liked how he closed with: “Thank you for choosing mbnba bank”. Sorry but actually you cold-called me. I happened to answer the phone but I definitely didn’t choose you.
I didn’t want to break his poor little heart though so I said nothing and am eagerly anticipating whatever it is he just signed me up for.
Each week, on Monday, I have a meeting with my boss. He is the Vice-President of the company so it can be slightly intimidating. I have to bring with me a report detailing what I completed the previous week as well as any outstanding projects, the details of what I am working on, and anything else that I may happen to be doing.
Most weeks I have a nice, long task list (thank you Outlook) all check-marks and “waiting on someone else”‘s filled in nicely. Some weeks the list is longer then others. For last week my list currently looks like this:
– Proposal for Golf Tournament (In Progress)
– Fix Mr. W’s Chair (Waiting on Someone Else)
– Confirm Wine Sponsorship (Complete)
– Vacation Request (New Girl) (Complete)
– Vacation Request (Me) (Complete)
I have to meet with him in T minus one hour. Must find busy work.
Not that kind of dream, as much as I want to change the world I’m not quite at that highly intellectual level of thinking where I actually have a plan to do so, but I digress.
No, the dream I had was one in which I had a child. Not just had a child but was pregnant with said child, gave birth and then had a baby. Who then grew into a small walking non-talking entity. She was super cute but seriously WTF?!
I read somewhere that if you dream you’re pregnant your body is trying to tell you something (like, um, that you’re PREGNANT). Now I’m normally fairly good with my birth control; Nuvaring – love it! Seriously ladies this is the birth control of the future. I’ve tried the Pill (ugh, who can remember that shit? I can’t remember to take my diet pills with every meal for a week to drop 5 pounds for houseboating – how the hell can I remember a pill every. Single. Day. No thanks). I’ve tried the Depo shot and if I had a horrible enemy girl that I hated I might inject her with it in her sleep if she was extra super bitchy or something but other then that I wouldn’t give that thing to anyone. I gained 35 pounds in a month (thank gawd I’ve lost THAT), I had super PMS (all the time) and mood swings like you wouldn’t believe. Um, ya no wonder it’s 98 percent accurate. Who the hell wants to sleep with a fat bitchy girl? So I would say Nuvaring is the way to go.
ANYWAY, this month I was LESS then careful. As in I didn’t put it in. At. All. Whoops. Anyway O/N and I had a drunken night (broken shower? Check. Broken bed? Check. Birth control? uhh…not so much) but I wasn’t really worried about it because I think I may be infertile anyway. Until I had a DREAM about being fucking pregnant.
Anyway I woke up in a bit of a panic and telling myself that I was definitely pregnant because I feel fat and bloaty, I’ve been eating like crap all weekend and had cravings for weird things, oh gawd and when was my period due…??
Oh. Right. I guess that would explain all the bad food and fatness. Lets just say I’ve never been so happy to be sportin and if you read Mean Girls Guide to Glory you will get that reference. http://thegloriouslifeof.blogspot.com/2008/02/what-we-mean-girls-are-really-saying.html
I guess that’s what my body was telling me with the pregnancy dream.
My apologies to the boys who read this. Some things you just have to get off your chest.
- Not having quite recovered from the weekend
- Feeling like pulling on old comfy lulus and curling up in the fetal position upon waking at 6:30 am…The feeling doesn’t go away all day.
- Trying to tell my coworkers about my weekend while having to omit all the funny/interesting stories for fear of reprimand and looking unprofessional. Basically I tell them what I did between 10 and 5 – which is…nothing.
- Realizing that the piles of papers on my desk aren’t going to miraculously disappear. Apparently just because you ignore something, it doesn’t actually go away.
- It’s Monday, ’nuff said.