Velouria (velouria) wrote,

In the Land of Women.

There are no dudes in Human Resources. I take that back, there's two. The first I have no real knowledge of beyond that fact that he looks just like Ray Romano. I call him Ray Romano for this reason. The second I refer to as Profoundly Unfriendly Metrosexual. He's prettier than me and has signs hanging all over his cubicle that pronounce him "Most attractive guy in HR." How does he think that makes Ray Romano feel? At any rate, neither of them will acknowledge my existence. So much for making dude friends, the only kind of friends I make.

As you may have deduced mathematically, there is no shortage of women. There's Marge, who lives in Brentwood, but is considering buying a house here and spends all day every day on the phone talking about this prospective purchase and what a pain in the ass it will be because she lives in Brentwood. I Googled Brentwood while she blathered on and on about it, as it was not in my geographic vocabulary. I determined that it lies somewhere in the Bay Area, which blows my mind. I would rather lie on train tracks than commute from the Bay Area. Course I would rather lie on train tracks than do most things, but I digress.

There's Peg, whom I call Snow Globe, because she spent the entire month of November laying out her plans (Verbally. Loudly) for Black Friday. First she would get in a few zzz's after Thanksgiving Dinner, then she would head over to Target to camp out til midnight at which point she would purchase a blu-ray player for 29 dollars. Next up, Best Buy, where she would buy 5 dollar blu-rays for said player. Eventually she would find herself at JC Penney's for snow globes (I didn't catch their monetary value) and end up at Starbucks for a quick scone before venturing out to Michael's for 75% off the Tiny Town Christmas Village figurines. My eyes had rolled so far back in my head one morning from listening to her that I could barely get them back down for yet another lunchtime meeting with my two bosses.

I took a swig of my now-cold breakfast mocha and headed into some dismal room where I sat blinking and starving.

"I want you to take charge of the next steering committee!" Crazy Carla bellowed at me suddenly, causing me to pee a little. "I want you to facilitate! Take the lead! Talk us through!"

Are you out of your Goddamn mind? I thought angrily, unable to control my scowl. I don't facilitate meetings. You're lucky I'm not puking peppermint mocha on your desk. I glanced over at my other, tiny boss. Her ostrich feathers ruffled on her ridiculous ostrich outfit as she flipped her long hair around. She had just finished discussing ostrich ensembles that were only available at Nordstrom this time of year. She would be no help.

If you're wondering, my contribution to the next steering committee meeting (which was held at noon) consisted of my usual looking about the room stupidly in silence. I have no plans to do otherwise.
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