Earlier this year I updated that my boss, Judith, after "catching" me surfing non-salt-related sites on the web, suspended me. However, rather than executing this "time out" then--during our busy time--she chose to dangle it over my head like the blade of a guillotine. Well, true to form, she calls me into her lair last Friday, reminds me of my delayed suspension, and offers me the following deal:
"You can take a week off, now, paid, or I'll suspend you for a week. Disciplinary action does not look good on the ol' company record, Herbert."
"I'm well aware of that, Judith. But I thought you said if I minded my manners, you'd forget about--"
"That was before. I've still got the paperwork," she said, flapping some company stationery at me, "and right here is your--" she paused, scanning; "yes, here's your signature."
"And?"
"Look, Herb," she said, her eyes now focusing on my left jowl, "either you're suspended for a week, or you take a week's vacation, starting Monday, and I tear these up."
Here, she held the quadruplicated forms in a manner that made me think she was on the verge of rending them in half right then and there (i.e. doing me a big big favor). She wore a pleasant expression. Smiled even. I asked if I could think about it. She gave me 'til three pm to decide.
I retreated to my office--that's right: office. No more being exposed to the wiles of nature in some drafty cubicle; I mean I thought things were looking up; OMG this woman takes the cake!
Needless to say I was perturbed. It's not the time off that irks me, it's her trying to trick me into screwing myself outta my vacation time. Dawn and I have been planning this Cancun thing for like... for over a year now.
lack of planning resulted in our vacationing at this terrible beach a few years back
I just... I mean it's not like she can tell the difference between salt and your typical salt substitute either. She can't, I'm telling you, she can't. Also, it would take more than two hands to count the number of times I've bailed her butt out. I saved her and a few others with that whole Morton deal. Oh, the nerve of that woman! I guess that's why they created managers.
So, a steamy period. Went to check on a few underlings. Couldn't tell if they were working or not. Got on somebody else's computer and scrolled around a bit. That's right: screw her. And the laptop she rode in on.
Then I head back to my office. Got on the phone. Started pushing buttons, but then stopped.
Replaced the headset. No, I thought, I'm not gonna run this by Dawn. Not gonna sulk either. No, this is... this is perfect. Tailor made, in fact. "Time for a little extendo observatio," I say under my breath. I waltz* back to Judith's office and request a little time off. Unpaid, thank you, if that's what you wish.
"You know it doesn't have to be this way, Herb," she says.
"Look, Judith: either I'm a good person or I'm not a good person."
"Stealing time from the company is stealing. You know what you were doing is against company policy."
"And you know this is our slow time, Judith. You're just trying to cut payroll. I clicked on one link, a link called 'Salt and Pepper.' How was I to know it was a site for a rock band?"
"I'm not gonna get into that again. Look, you've already completed your part, I just have to sign my name, put the dates here and here, and your suspension starts Monday. Last chance, Herb; what's it gonna be?"
What it was was I went back to my office and clicked over to our local power company's site. Found a printable page and clicked print. Composed a little note to Kevin B., telling him about some trouble we were having with lines that traversed the length of his backyard, parallel to and approximately ten point five (10.5) feet from his house. Gave him my cell phone number and told him to call me personally if he had any qualms concerning this excavation. Told him to remove any structures along that path, that fences would probably not become involved in the operation, but if so, we'd replace with fencing of equal market value. Ditto for concrete. Please remove any above-ground pools, viz. Doughboy, etc. etc. Then, all along the top of the letterhead, I carefully and ever so slightly smudged the actual telephone numbers of our local power company.
Copy. Print. Delete. Grabbed my hoat and cat. Blew Judyjudyjudy a kiss, then enacted my exit strategy at the usual time: no need to cause any undue suspicion.
Got home and quickly found an envelope from the power company. Transferred their logo onto a new envelope. Drove to the post office. Managed to wend my way home before Dawn returned from Curves.
Kevin B. had one week to break up his concrete... or not. One week to do a little disinterring. Or perhaps a little exhuming. Who knows. Either way, I plan to be there, waiting. Watching. Wondering whatever became of that guy he was choking in the parking lot of my local Wal~Mart.
FORWARD to what happened next
BACK to that initial choking incident
OVER to HerbNation HOMEPAGE
*Inwardly, it felt like a waltz; a disinterested onlooker, on the other hand, would have noticed my limp.