Blink, yawn... yah.
Jun. 21st, 2005 07:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
baronessekatSo this morning started out with Miss Oblivious driving to work. I'm sitting at the intersection of Union and Genesee waiting for the green arrow to make a left hand turn onto Union. I'm not really paying much of any attention to my surroundings, just occasionally looking up to make sure the light is still red. Then on the radio I hear the traffic report "If at all possible, avoid the intersection of Union and Genesee due to a major roll over accident. Emergency vehicles are on their way." I blink. Um.. I'm at the intersection of Union and Genesee. I look up and there... kitty-corner from me maybe 20 feet away... ONE BIG MUCKING ACCIDENT SITE. And I then hear the sirens fast approaching.
Light turns green, I make my turn and avoid the scene and head to work.
I get to work. NORMAL HOURS!!! Hoooray!!!!! And I settle in to my normal work routine which had beens so rudely interrupted by training the wondertwit.
After lunch I find myself asking myself the immortal question "Why are all the non-repulsive looking, socially polite ones always married or interested in the wrong gender?". You see, for several months a guy from one of the real estate agencies I work with comes to the office 2 or 3 times a week to drop off contracts. We've flirted and stuff and I've been trying to get my courage up to see if he wants to go for the proverbial cup of coffee. Hell, I've even been so lame as to practice the question. And today, I'm feeling brave and just about to ask when for the first time ever I spot it. OH CRUEL FATES... a gold band on the third finger of his left hand. NOOOOOOO Fair!!!
I complain to Linda, my co-worker and she said "Colin's married?" I nod and say, why else the gold band on his left ring finter? She being Linda, said she'd call his co-worker Anna and get the scoop. I just nodded but I know... he's unavailable.
Later in the afternoon I had a talk with my supervisor about Wondertwit and how I really don't think she's working out. Barb, said supervisor nodded and told me what to have Amanda do tonight with very explicit instructions.
We shall see. Frankly it's to the point where if I have to correct much more of her work, there's no point in having her. Just give me three hours of overtime a week and I can take her files back and get them done right. Monetarily it would probably come out to be about the same.
Oh well.
I'm home. I think I hear a white russian calling my name from the fridge.
Light turns green, I make my turn and avoid the scene and head to work.
I get to work. NORMAL HOURS!!! Hoooray!!!!! And I settle in to my normal work routine which had beens so rudely interrupted by training the wondertwit.
After lunch I find myself asking myself the immortal question "Why are all the non-repulsive looking, socially polite ones always married or interested in the wrong gender?". You see, for several months a guy from one of the real estate agencies I work with comes to the office 2 or 3 times a week to drop off contracts. We've flirted and stuff and I've been trying to get my courage up to see if he wants to go for the proverbial cup of coffee. Hell, I've even been so lame as to practice the question. And today, I'm feeling brave and just about to ask when for the first time ever I spot it. OH CRUEL FATES... a gold band on the third finger of his left hand. NOOOOOOO Fair!!!
I complain to Linda, my co-worker and she said "Colin's married?" I nod and say, why else the gold band on his left ring finter? She being Linda, said she'd call his co-worker Anna and get the scoop. I just nodded but I know... he's unavailable.
Later in the afternoon I had a talk with my supervisor about Wondertwit and how I really don't think she's working out. Barb, said supervisor nodded and told me what to have Amanda do tonight with very explicit instructions.
We shall see. Frankly it's to the point where if I have to correct much more of her work, there's no point in having her. Just give me three hours of overtime a week and I can take her files back and get them done right. Monetarily it would probably come out to be about the same.
Oh well.
I'm home. I think I hear a white russian calling my name from the fridge.
