Life Imitates Reality

Work tends to be fairly peaceful, though when you stop to think about it, it really shouldn't be. We've got all the necessary ingredients for a bitch-slap showdown of incredible magnitude. Yet somehow it never happens. We need someone to act as a catalyst: someone to feed the flames, to play personalities off against each other; someone to whip everyone into a complete frenzy, then stand around shaking his head and looking terribly disappointed in us all.

We need Jerry Springer. And we're ready for him, because as of today, Bubbly Nonsmoker has just about run out of bubbles.

This morning, as Robbie and I headed out to break, we caught Butch and got him to join us. Butch is a long-termer. He's always been friendly and welcoming, but he takes his job seriously, so he never hung around with us newbie riffraff. He's a quiet, good-natured sort, and not one to rock the boat. He's been doing this job for twenty-odd years. Our panic-mongering supervisor has, in only a few short months, worn away over two decades' worth of easygoing, laissez-faire morale. Butch goes on break with us now.

Bubbly Nonsmoker passed us in the hall as we were on our way out the door. "You don't get to go anywhere," she snapped at Butch. "The boss wants to meet with us in her office."

"I didn't get a call or an email, and she didn't put it on my calendar," shrugged Butch. (Our supervisor is morbidly obsessed with having everything scheduled on our calendar. She'd make us post our potty breaks there if she thought she could get away with it.) "I'm going on break."

Bubbly Nonsmoker was so taken aback by this show of defiance, you could almost detect a wisp of leftover smoke curling from one flared nostril. "Fine!" she barked, turning her back and stalking off.

In other news, that new system that Automation implemented a couple of months ago to simplify our work process isn't doing so well. The one we protested, you know, because it would send its automatic alerts to everybody every time anyone did anything? Well, it turns out that Automation isn't getting the notifications they need to do their jobs because they've all turned off their alerts, because they're all sick of getting a bunch of damn messages all the damn time.

Their proposed solution? Keep using the new system, just be sure you also send an email to the Automation staffer involved so they know to check their alerts.

This is the part of the show where security guards drag someone off the stage, kicking and screaming obscenities. Possibly me.

But there's good news today, too. Word is that the panic-monger has finally hired someone for one of the three openings in our department! The new person is supposed to start July 1, and I'm dying of curiosity. Will s/he be funny? Will s/he be smart?? Will s/he be cute??? Will s/he be playful???? Will s/he, in short, be Three-Martini Break Group material?????

Or ooh! Maybe it will be Jerry Springer!