Tag Archives: work

Why I’ll Start Writing Again

Whoa, I just read what I wrote almost a year ago– That’s some dark stuff there.

I didn’t remember having written that, but looking back I understand what was going on.

That’s the power of blogging.

Well the old me is back, the real me, the one who uses a pseudo-pseudonym and wants to write 24/7, even when I’m dreaming.

The truth is I never really stopped writing; it was just very dark and lonely and unsuitable for this blog’s audience.

So it was on Tumblr.

Naturally.

I don’t want to go into details about the past, but my marriage is as good as it’ll ever be.

I am less interdependent so if that relationship goes down I think I might skip a beat but probably not 2 and definitely not 3.

Now I no longer commute for work. My boss got me an office a few blocks from my home, so I could concentrate on sales, and I no longer have to wait for coworkers to leave the room before I can write.

I’m all alone here, just me and the Internetz.

And the phone. That rings every now and then but I’m not sure how it works. I think it’s trying to tell me something.

Oh! My faithful subscribers. How I’ve missed thee. If only you could know the anguish our separation has wretched me with. I shalt never leave thee again!

Unless I die. In which case, leaving thee is entirely involuntary and should not be held against me.

Unless it’s suicide.

If I kill myself you can be mad at me. But not if it’s accidental, like an overdose. Stuff loses its strength over time. They don’t make it like they used to.

Anyway, let me tell you what my office is like.

It is on the second story behind an art gallery which sells weird ethnic art, like the African pieces my boss had at his office. I imagine that subconsciously it largely influenced his decision to choose this location.

There is a winery next next door and the mother of the owners is a new friend of mine from my church. My friend also owns the vineyard so in a way it makes me feel special somehow even though it has little to do with me.

In my office, there is a tiny window out of which one can view happy little people- “kids” i think they are called- playing in a park-like setting, around a beautiful fountain surrounded by red and yellow sycamore trees.

The window has bars over it in the old Spanish style and is a small reminder that whilst i am at work, i am to think of myself as a prisoner and partake in none of those joys which i may observe below.

My one point of social interaction is when i walk to the post office every day, or when i get lucky, the FedEx drop off.

The clerks at the post office know me now and they are like 100 times nicer than the ones in DOWNTOWN SANTA BARBARA- yes, I HOPE YOU ARE READING THIS you mean clerk who made shipping packages from there a living hell.

(Just that one clerk though- all the other ones were nice, especially Daniel and Michael. I think they are vets). (War vets not animal vets otherwise their career counselors should have told them).

Everyday the bell at the post office tower chimes out a song. Lately it’s been a lot of Christmas music, which some of us find tastefully offensive. But mostly it’s old American classics, the same kind that used to play in my 65 Mustang’s AM radio.

My office kind of has more space than i need and no walls. My boss let me have his old glass desk so i need to rearrange the computer stuff onto that but i’ve been meaning to do it for 6 weeks now and i just can’t seem to bring myself to do it.

I have what they call lazyphoria.

The office is very cold but it has a brand new climate system which no one knows how to program for heating, only for cooling.

Sometimes i bring my guitar but i can’t play very loud because i’m afraid the other tenants will hear me and ask me to perform for them. Then my boss might find out i’m using the office for concertos and then he’d want to get me a bigger office. But i like this one just fine.

There is a skylight on the ceiling.

Well duh, it’s not like there would be a skylight on the floor… *clears throat*

I guess that counts as a window too. I can see some form of rusty pipe and sometimes clouds, but today the sky is blue- like a tepid sky-blue.

Once, down the hall, the hatch to the roof was open and I climbed the ladder because no one was around and the hatch was open, beckoning for someone to climb up through it. There were only more pipes and roof gravel.

Downer down the hall there are a couple of architects who mostly just look stuck up but are actually quite decent, i imagine, and a married couple who are masseuses, (am i saying that right?) and they are just about the nicest people one could ever meet.

Downstairs there is the shared girls’ room, which ought to have but does not have a mirror, because i assume the other tenants are too ugly an no one wants to remind them of that.

Someone is building a tapas bar so i have that to look forward to.

Perhaps then i shall make a friend or two.

But knowing me, i’ll probably just observe them and then write about them.

So now you have something to look forward to too!

 

 

 

 

 

Are you an initiator?

Are you typically the person who initiates conversations, texts, relationships, sex, etc?

Or do you like to be on the receiving end?

Some of us don’t have much of a choice.

If we don’t initiate, we could go years without human contact.

I am not naturally an initiator.

Being shy and with low self-esteem my whole life,  I can think of a dozen reasons off the top of my head why someone would rather not be contacted by me.

But there are some people I’m willing to initiate for, because if I don’t,  I’m afraid I’ll lose them.

There comes a point, though, where I become exasperated.

I wind up at the corner market pigging out on chips and taramisu for lunch.

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This is something I'm happy to initiate.

One recent example of said exasperation is my supposed BFF.
She got divorced in April but has been disconnected from me because she has been talking to this new guy I don’t approve of.
She’s never been a clingy friend, but it’s like she only calls when she has guy problems.
I told her I was buying a house in May and didn’t hear back from her til yesterday.
She only texted me because she’s depressed that she’s cut off contact with the new guy.
I see the pattern clearly now, though I ignored it for over the last five years.

I was arguably rude, I think,  cause after a few texts back and forth,  she didn’t reply.

Eh. I’m used to it.

But that’s not why I’m pigging out right now.

That’s because I just saw through my coworker.

She keeps asking me to move patients to an earlier time and then sabotages the schedule so I have to call them again and move them back to their original time.

I decided to take a long lunch and let her deal with her own mess for a change.

I don’t have sisters and was never really close to my cousins growing up,  so maybe that’s why I have trouble getting along with most women.

Not sure why I can’t get along with men, though.

That’s a whole ‘nother mystery for a different food binge.

A Price on Happiness

I thought you couldn’t put a price on happiness…
What would you do with a 40% raise?
They said I was crucial, so I translated that into a fluffy round number.
I thought they were going to have a heart attack.
But unfortunately, they agreed to the raise.
40% more.
Just enough to cover my transportation costs and my long commute hours.
I was really looking forward to going home for lunch and working with my homegirlz.
(I was a teenager in the 90s).
This morning I awoke at 5:45 AM regretting my decision.
How ideal it would have been to bike to work at 8!
😥
Why did I sell out what I really wanted?
Every part of me wanted the lower-paying local receptionist job. Every part.
Then the transmission on my husband’s truck gave out.
I thought, ‘Great! I’ll work close by so he can just use my car.’
Life hands you a problem, God hands you a solution.
Then my potential new employer said I was too expensive and she could only afford me 4 days/week not 5.
‘Wonderful!’ thought I. ‘More time to do the things I like. Volunteer work and preparing for my state exam.’
Then my assistant pretty much quit and my bosses tried to put a price on my head.
So I did the math.
It’s the same number sites like salary.com say I should be making.
I knew that was way above their expectations so they’d act like sore losers, deny me of my raise and sense of pride, after which we’d spend an awkward last two weeks together with me trying to bring people up to speed, pretending to type extensive manuals that would only have lots of vignettes and pretty bullet points that were all blank.
I fretted all weekend.
I came to terms with my new simple lifestyle that had more time for spirituality.
I embraced my new town.
Then Monday morning rolled around.
I got to work late, as I do every Monday, and was immediately beckoned into their office.
I thought they’d try to negotiate.
I was ready for it.
Let the fire start.
But no.
They pretty much succumbed to my enchantments.
I was beside myself.
“But anyone could do my job.”
“We need you.”
“I’m really not even that good. Have you noticed how much I procrastinate?”
“Your role is special.”
“Listen- I have to tell you about this blog that I write-”
“Don’t you like working here?”
“Well yes but only when no one else is here-”
“We’ve invested a lot into training you. We know you won’t let us down.”
I extended my hand to thank them for the opportunity- that was a mistake- and my manager said, “I’m glad you’re staying. ”
Apparently in business when you shake hands it explicitly means you’re closing a deal.
I got no chance to think about it.
No chance to pray about it.
No chance to talk it over with Mr. Husband.
Just like that *poof* my new reality of biking to work and going home for lunch was gone.
What have I done to myself?
What have I done to my marriage?

Ohhhh 😦
Why couldn’t they just not value me like before?
Why didn’t I try harder to be a bad employee?
Wasn’t I lazy enough?
Was I too early coming in at 9:15?
Were the flip-animations I drew on the edge of Post-It pads too short?
Could I have been a little more racist toward some of our international customers?
My brother congratulated me and told me to see it as if I’m getting paid to come see my parents, since they only live 5 minutes from where I work.
But who wants to see their parents?
Hopefully I pass my state exam and it’s only for a few more months.
But now- I’m probably the most miserable person to have ever gotten a 40% raise.
I will therefor spend the rest of today’s work day looking through a home deco magazine full of fancy items which I guess I can now afford.
Ugh! Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Home for Lunch

Not sure when the last time I went home for lunch was, but it’s got to be-

I’m not sure I’ve ever gone home to have lunch since I moved back to the States from Mexico!

Sure, I’ve often gone to my parents‘ home for lunch, and once I even made my husband lunch at their place, but it’s not the same.

I’ve only been in this new house for two and a half weeks, and we don’t even have a bed so we’ve been sleeping in the trailer…

It’s actually really romantic; the window from the bed has an awesome clear view of the northern sky.

Our neighbor right behind us got really mad that we put our trailer out there and told my husband he’d sue us.

I feel bad for the neighbor, I really do.

Sometimes I want to invite him over to our yard so he can appreciate the view again.

The guy’s pretty old so my cousin says to just give him a couple years.

Maybe I’ll paint a mountain scene on the side of the trailer so he doesn’t miss the view.

Today, I went for my trial run at the new Receptionist job that’s only a few minutes from *home.*

They’re really disorganized but other than that, I really liked it.

For example, at my present job- I’ve only not been able to find one chart in the two years that I’ve been there.

But today, at this trial job, out of about ten patients, we only found three.

And I didn’t even find them myself- the doctor’s daughter did.

I scored zero on that task.

But I did fairly well, I think, on others.

So the doctor asked me if she should schedule training me in a software, which I interpret to mean she means to make me a formal job offer.

I didn’t expect her to make that type of proposition til the end of tomorrow.

I made chitchat with her while I ran the pros and cons in the back of my mind.

Pro: home for lunch.

Con: can’t find patient charts.

Pro: five minutes to work.

Con: i don’t really know her.

Pro:  five minutes from work.

Con: there is a depressed beta fish in a tiny fish bowl on the front counter.

Pro: not a 1 hr 45 minute daily commute…

You get the idea.

I had to tell my present-job manager what’s going on because she asked me if we should hire my temporary assistant permanently.

I couldn’t think of a way to withhold the information about me leaving while still giving her enough information to make the best decision for the company.

Of course, she and the doctor offered me a raise.

And a signing bonus.

After roughly doing the math, I would still make significantly more in this simplistic local receptionist job once I average out hours invested + gas + car repairs.

My manager said I am crucial to the company and there is no one who can just come and replace me.

“Well yeah, that’s exactly what I said a month ago when you told me there’s a ton of people just waiting to do my job!”

I didn’t really answer them like that.

What’s the point of rubbing it in?

I’m not six years old.

They’re losing me.

What could be worse than that?

The point is, I got her to admit it.

Maybe I’m getting too cocky.

Maybe it’ll all fall apart tomorrow.

I had such a huge headache this morning and body-aches because my body actually has this way of going into self-destruct mode any time I rely on it to perform well.

In other words, I always get my period on very important days.

But after I came home for lunch… I felt so much lighter.

I felt…

Content.

So when I was going over the pros and the cons in the back of my head while making chitchat with this new doctor today… I also prayed about it.

I’m not a prophet, but God knows exactly how to talk to me.

Ye Ol’ Blog Post

Life Updates:
I have glue dots on my teeth.
I look Frankensteinesque.
I’ve resolved not to smile til my orthodontist takes them off.

Speaking of smiles, my general dentist wants to hire me.
Her practice is five minutes away from my new home.
For anyone not familiar with my life, that’s 5 minutes vs the 55 minutes of my current work commute.
That’s when I drive my own car instead of taking the bus.
That would give me between 8-10 hours per week to do what normal people do.
Cook.
Shower.
Sleep.
Read.
Socialize.
Haha! Just kidding.
Not socialize.
I’m not ready for that.
Whew.

I’m obviously getting overly excited by the possibilities.

Yes, she is the same dentist in whose chair I broke out crying that time I was arguing with my escrow loan broker over text messages.
If I had known she was going to offer me a job, I would have made a bigger scene.
Wailed even.

So, not my dream job; I’d just handle scheduling and calls while my friend concentrates on billing.
None of this customer service order processing silly stuff I have to do where I’m at now.
My dentist is a normal dentist though, with a decently sized staff.
Here it’s just the doctor’s assistant, (whose job I took), my assistant, (who’s no longer my friend), and myself.
My manager, as we will remember, is never to be seen, and the doctor here goes on lecture tours about every 5 weeks.
Not only that, Tuesdays and Thursdays they work out of another office, and no one comes Friday mornings but me.
As a result, I am highly self-supervised.
(And damn good at it).

Still, as I am not generally recognized as a strong authority figure, there can be issues.
Last week they were out of town and my assistant brought her sister, who also works in the dental field,  over to show her the office.
I snapped at her when she started explaining our production methods.
Our other coworker, the dental assistant, thinks I overreacted.
I think it was very unprofessional of my assistant to bring her sister to our packing area.

Yesterday, her sister confronted me at church and told me I’d hurt her feelings.
Boo-hoo.
She said I shouldn’t apply the rules to everyone.
Oh please forgive me, why was I such an ethical employee…

…You can understand why my assistant is no longer my friend.
But eh who needs friends.
I’ve got cats.
And a husband who tries really hard to please me even though he doesn’t always understand how I feel.
Or why I yell.
Parents who…
Well they have a great sense of humor.
And a few real friends who know better than to make me choose between them and my means of living.

I have to go to the new office and work two days to see if my new boss and I will fit each other.
I already got my assistant to cover me here but I don’t know whether or not to tell my manager yet.
If I tell her, it’ll have to be tomorrow.
Friday, right before I leave.
Ruin her weekend just like she ruins Mondays.

The truth is, when I asked for a raise, she said she didn’t think I was worth more and that there were a ton of people who can do just what I do.
Ha!
Who could possibly multitask between two separate businesses and blog at the same time?
Sometimes even while eating and still catching not just my own mistakes, but those of others?

Maybe it’s time to move on.
Besides, my stalker hasn’t called in two weeks.
If he can do it, so can I.

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I probably won't be able to do this at my next job.

Unbeknownst Self

Another hard day draws to an end.
The typical night fog clouds up the stars.
Murky sky.
What have we done to the night sky.

I ended that with a period because it’s rhetorical.
Or it ought to be
You, the reader, ought to be meditating on your carbon footprint.
I’m trying to imply concepts but we each have to do our part.

Not that I personally have much of a part.
If I do, then I’ve forgotten my lines.

The neighbor has turned off their porch light making the sky less bright but still murky.

I sit in the car and stare at people walking their little dogs between the mobile homes.

When we had to move here in February, I practically threw tantrums on the floor every night.

I have a 1 hour commute to work Mon-Friday.

I never have time or energy to cook or do laundry.

Then I thought… I hardly ever did that before anyway.

Once I settled into the new routine it became less hard.
I gave up on trying to get to work on time.
I am not a morning person.
Never have been, never will be.
Lucky for me, neither is my boss.

I stopped trying to change myself to fit so many conventional norms.

I stopped talking back to narrow-minded idiots.

What difference does it make.

(Note the period?)

My car is cold.
The day wasn’t hard because of the commute.
My assistant I recently wrote about made a rude remark and it makes me sad.
She said, “You can’t just please yourself all the time.”
Her tone and words imply pleasing myself is all I ever do.
I want her fired.
She’s known me for years so it really hurt.

We’re not close friends but then again I’m not close friends with anyone.

Speaking of close friends, a little while ago, my husband and I were speaking with our loan broker, who happens to be the beautiful wife of my ex-best-guy friend.
He was my best-guy-friend until he broke the golden rule of guy-girl friendship.

After being close friends with each other for half our lives, he made disrespectful comments to me late last year.
He tried to get me to do something for his employer by hitting on me.
I don’t know him anymore.

My husband sought out his wife to see if we qualify for a house loan- which of course we shouldn’t- but being the creative persuasive woman that she is, she has helped us find a lender at a decent rate.

“Yes, yes,” you are thinking, “Blahblahblah but why are you in the car?”

Now you must know as well as I do that everything in this world has a catch.

The catch to this “let’s buy a house” project is that it’s really a duplex and I will have to live next to my in-laws forever, or the rest of my life, whichever ends first.

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I’d be fooling myself if I told myself my husband wants to buy a house for us as a couple cause that is the normal way of couples who love each other.

Idk maybe I’m just cynical.
He wants to buy a house for his parents to retire.
I said “Ok but not your brother.”
His mom said, “Yes your brother.”
He said, “Oh well.”

Today is a hard day because he doesn’t hold my feelings or opinions in any regard.
I mean, he doesn’t even read anything I ever write.
I’m not writing this behind his back.
I’d be relieved if he read it.
But it hurts that he doesn’t really care.

Well he did bring me a quesadilla out to the car a few minutes ago but sometimes that’s just not enough.

My biggest problem is I can’t remember things.
Like I know he made me really sad the other day and I deleted his messages, but today I have no recollection of what happened.
I don’t understand- do I forget cause I love him?
Is that forgiving?
Am I really just pleasing myself all the time?

I miss my friend- the broker’s husband.
He’d let me rant on about this for hours.
His broker wife probably knows too many things about me.
She must know about my writing habits and my imaginary stalkers and how I was in love with someone else a while back.
It is awkward that she is helping us.
Or maybe…
Inadvertently, she’s not.

For just a few seconds, I caught a glimpse of the moon.

Cupid Fail and Other Stupid Things I’ve Done

Have you ever had a decent bachelor friend who is also the pickiest guy on earth?

Enter Brad.*

Brad and I used to work together at one of the car dealerships where I did stock photography.

He’s very upbeat and financially responsible, never married, not even engaged, lots of mostly short-term girlfriends, great sense of humor, and had recently quit smoking.

Brad was turning 50 and was thinking it might be time to settle down.

Guys were always picking on me at that job, where picking is synonymous with hitting on me.

Brad would come in like a pelican shoos away seagulls.

He practically obligated all the other guys to respect me on his watch.

So you’re thinking, Brad sounds like a fairly decent guy, right?

We exchanged guitar picks on one occasion; I gave him my business card and he started texting me.

I was naive enough back then to think he was just being his positive flirty self, but in time it became clear this man is very bed-driven.

And by bed-driven I don’t mean driven to sleep.

It was obvious our “friendship” made my husband uncomfortable.
‘All the more reason for me to continue it,’ I thought.

One day he broke off his lunch with me because this ‘woman from out of town was coming to visit’ and he’d rather spend the weekend with someone he had a chance with.

I got very offended.
It had been very hard for me to convince my husband to let us have lunch in the first place.
I was really putting my marriage on a ledge to be his friend and here he was being this insensitive asshole (well he was) indifferent to my efforts.

I didn’t care that Brad was having lunch with another woman, (which according to his public Facebook page, was actually a guy friend from out of town).
It was his choice of words that really hurt me.

Consequently, I also chose a series of words that would hurt him, and what he intended as a gag ended up being a sore point in our relationship- the Crossroad of Dissent.

Later on, at my current job, I had an annoying single female coworker (Gail*) whom I thought would make a great match for him.

I told them about each other and he asked for Gail’s picture.
I sent him a link to her Facebook profile.
“I don’t like blondes,” he said.

Days later- “What did he say about us having a blind date?” Gail asked me.

“You know, he’s really hard to get a hold of,” I replied.

Brad and I became friends again but not like before.
I was looking for a new job and seeing as how my other ex-coworkers have an undeniable linear pattern of sending my messages to spam, I needed him as a reference.
I decided to stay on his good side, sans the flirting.

Then my current coworker’s (Liz’s*) husband passed away.
A month later she started wondering what kind of guy she could date.
Yeah. You read right. A MONTH.
That’s how long it’s gonna take for your wife to start seeing other men if you kick the can.
So put a clause in your will.

Brad had told me he likes Latina brunettes with thin bodies, and here I knew one, who in turn likes well off white men who work out.

Logical match, right?

Liz texted me a nice picture of herself to forward to him.

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My hot coworker Liz, new on the widow scene.

“I’m just not feeling it,” texted Brad to me.
“I want a woman like you.”

:0

“But Liz and I have tons in common!” I pleaded on her behalf, “She’s even sweeter than I am!”

“When have you ever been sweet?”

“Yeah you’re right. I was hoping you wouldn’t catch that.”

I tactfully texted Liz that Brad was seemingly already in love with another woman.

That was a few months ago.
I have since blocked Brad’s number.
Liz stopped talking to me because I technically took her job, though I would argue she conceded it to me.
Last week she apologized for “being a bitch,” -her words, not mine- and things are starting to go back to normal.
(With the exception that I’ll never trust another coworker again.)

Liz and I are both being sent away on a business trip for a few days to a city where Brad happens to have a lake house.
This morning, in a very perky voice, she asked me, “Hey! Doesn’t your friend live over there where we’re going?”

Me: “Oh you mean Brad? I blocked his number.”

Liz: “Too bad your husband’s going with you, otherwise you could meet up with him.”

Me: “That’s why I’m glad my husband is going. I was afraid I’d run into Brad and he’d start hitting on me. The guy just can’t take No for an answer.”

Liz: “I thought you said he was seeing someone.”

Me: “…He’s just an idiot. That’s why I blocked his number.”

(Facepalm.)

Yes, yes, dear, avid reader!
I’m also an idiot, for trying to set up anyone with anyone else.
I wish I knew a Shakespeare who could make a comedy out of my relationship mishaps.
This is the last time I ever try to play Cupid.
My next blog post will be, “Things That Are Better Left to Chance.”

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent. In this case, me.

Flash Fiction: the Day Naboo Was a Human

Ever since she was a kitten, Naboo just naturally assumed one day she would grow up to be a human like her mom, dad and grandparents.

“But you are not human,” her sister, Fifa, would insist in vain. “You are a cat, like me. You have stripes and whiskers like me.”

“Nonsense, Fifa, you may grow up to be a cat if that’s what you choose to be, but I’m sure I’m gonna grow up to be a human, just like Mommy.”

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The years went by and Fifa taunted Naboo.
“Ha! See? You still have a tail and all.”

Naboo replied aggravated, “Wait until I graduate kitten-garden! Then I can start working like a humans do.”

Fifa rolled her pearly cyan eyes while Naboo worked hard at eating up all the garden plants, believing that was the fastest way to graduate from kitten-garden.

Finally, her graduation day came and Mommy and Daddy said, “OK, Naboo, that’s enough munching on plants. No more garden for you.”

They had a two-week long graduation party in which no one ate anything but canned gourmet food and sedatives.

Naboo applied to a number of jobs but none of them called back because she didn’t have enough work experience.

“Do you think it’s ok I used Dr. Mowry as a reference?” she asked Fifa.

“Our vet? What if she tells them you had a UTI?”

“Oh. But nobody knows what that is.”

“People know, Naboo! You don’t know cause you’re a cat!”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Cat! Cat cat cat cat cat! C-A-T, CAT!”

And they’d start to wrestle on top of their mommy at three in the morning.

Naboo was beginning to lose all hope of ever going to work as a human and was beginning to think a life of sleep, play and laziness might be all she was cut out for.

Then one day her mom woke up hideously ill.

“Naboo, darling, I cannot go to work today. Please call the office and tell them I am sick.”

This was the chance Naboo had been waiting for.

While Mommy was busy emptying out the previous night’s tuna from her digestive system, Naboo cunningly swiped the green button on the cell phone and meowed that due to unforeseen circumstance, she would be filling in for her mom that day.

Of course, it didn’t matter what she was meowing.
None of the people at the office spoke Meow.

She arrived at the office and sat on her mommy’s chair.
“Hello,” said her mommy’s nearsighted boss, Mr. Galapagos.
He handed her some papers.
“Please shred this stack.”

Naboo was an experienced shredder.

Her mom’s manager called.
“I’m out today but do you need me to buy more sticky notes?”

Naboo replied, “Mrror.”

Customers came and rubbed her belly.
She told them it would give them luck, and they gave her money.
She didn’t know what money was, so she shredded that too.
She made copies of lots of papers on the paw-friendly copy machine, before shredding those as well.
When she wasn’t sure if she’d shredded enough, she decided to go ahead and shred every paper in the office, just to be on the safe side.
Then she filled stacks of empty boxes with the shredded paper and took a hard-earned nap inside.

And when the day was over, the boss came and congratulated her on her efficiency.

Naboo had worked so hard she had missed her lunch break.
When she got home that evening, she explained to her parents, “Mom? Dad? I am grateful for the opportunity but I think I’m gonna keep being a kittens for now.”

Fifa rolled her glossy Venus-shaded eyes and waited til three in the morning before picking another wrestling match against her obstinate twin sister.

Awkward Work Moments

Awkward Work Moments is when you are making small talk with a customer who works where you used to work and you casually ask them questions about their coworkers to see if you can find out anything new about your old crush and it turns out they work very closely with the mother of your old crush, after which your face turns red, the customer peers her eyes at you, and you try to pretend you just wanted information about continuing education, that is when you know you’re living another AWKWARD WORK MOMENT.