Awesome moment of the week number four: I hired my first ever employee at work. I've had people working under me for over a year now, but this kid is the first one where I've done all the interviewing myself, put together the job offer myself, and actually made all the decisions without my boss being directly involved. Now let's all cross our fingers and hope he doesn't turn out to be a colossal fuck up, shall we?
Awesome moment of the week number three: I get to go to pizza school! Woo hoo! My company works closely as a produce and logistics supplier for one of the major pizza chains, right? I have absolutely nothing to do with this, ever, in any way, but somehow my boss elected me to go with the account manager to a three day school where they teach you to make pizzas, deal with lunch rushes, properly attire your employees, etc., etc., etc. Apparently it's something they have in place for new franchisees to learn the ropes before opening their doors, but much cooler to learn just exactly how much cheese constitutes "extra" when you know you don't ever actually have to do it again.
Awesome moment of the week number two: This would totally be number one, but as you'll see, nothing could beat the top of this list. I'm bursting with pride, regardless. The Remix is going all Rodney Dangerfield and heading back to school. She's been selected (as one of two--TWO!--people from her company to go back for a master's degree, on the house. Great deal for her--job security, free education, and obviously she's the apple of the boss's eye. I had no doubt when she told me that this was a possibility, as long as I've known her she has excelled in everything she's ever wanted to do, and probably lots of things she didn't want to do at all. She's brilliant, beautiful, and (bewilderingly enough) batshit over me. I'm a lucky boy, folks. Anyway, like I said, this would totally have been the coolest thing about my week, but...
Awesome moment of the week number one: Ok, so my apartment is at the far end of a looooong hallway (we're talking The Shining all over the place) from the laundry room on my floor. I'm walking back from the dryer and as soon as I open the door at the end of the corridor, I hear the yelling. Reggie! I am not in the mood! Get off me, now! How can you do this to me? Get the fuck away from me! Uh oh. This woman is sobbing and practically screaming, and here I am standing in the hallway in my flip flops and gym shorts with a basket full of whites. I freeze momentarily, wondering if I should intervene or just mind my own business, panicky images of rape, a beating, or worse running through my head. Just as decide that maybe I ought to ring the bell, hopefully break things up and give the screaming woman a chance to escape or ask for help, the door opens. A black cat shoots out the door, and I've got goosebumps waiting to see what's going to follow. (A battered wife with a black eye and a seething Reggie--who is undoubtedly 6'5", 300 pounds, and fresh out of prison--is nothing for me to try to deal with before I've had my coffee.) Sure enough, there's the woman. No black eye, thank god, but definitely having herself a good cry. As she opens her mouth to yell again (oh please God don't ask for help! What am I getting into?) I cringe. And then. And then. Reggie! I told you I can't fucking deal with this today! Get back in here, now! Back in here? Huh? Oh jesuscocksuckingchrist, the cat? Seriously? I can't help but laugh, out loud and uncontrollably as I walk by, listening to her sob quietly into Reggie's fur as I pass. You're so mean to me. So mean. How can you do this to me, you bastard?!?
See, school (grad or pizza) and new hires are great, but nothing compared to being the knight in shining armor who rescues a poor, desperate woman from her abusive cat. I'm a hero, I know. No need to thank me. Any of you would have done the same.
3 comments:
That made me laugh. Out loud, even. This is why I don't have cats; it's a short jump from crazy to crazy and in an abusive relationship with your cat.
Also, pizza school? This is news to me. Don't tease, pizza is serious stuff. Does this mean I can expect fancy pizzas, made with love and resentment?
A similar story: I was living in an apartment one time and heard a young woman or maybe a kid's voice screaming very late one night. There was banging and shouting from the apartment below me and I immediately assumed the worst, grabbed my cordless phone, ran downstairs in my pajamas and started pounding on the door. Everything got quiet, the rough-looking guy who lived downstairs opened the door. "Is everything all right?" I said. "I heard a lot of screaming down here."
"My daughter's here to visit and we were having a tickle fight," he said sheepishly. He opened the door a little wider and there was his little girl, none the worse for the wear, smiling at me. Argh!
My cat once broke my finger. I suppose that means we were in an abusive relationship. It was definitely a case of co-dependency, though. Also, how do I go to pizza school? And one more also: fairlywell says I should read something you wrote and mentioned in the blog a while back. If you're inclined to send it, I can be reached at harri3tspyATgmailDOTcom. Thank you and good night.
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