The Gripping Hand
I honestly cannot believe my new job is in the same agency as the old one.
The bad side of this is that I have been kept too busy, so far, to be able to take regular-length breaks at regular times. And the really bad side of this is that everyone else is so normal, so healthy, so cheerful and intelligent and functional, that I am not sure what I'm going to blog about anymore.
There is no Bubbly Bitching Nonsmoker in the new place; and as of today, there isn't one in the old place either. They've been collecting dirt on her for quite a while - it takes a lot to fire a state employee - and apparently today, the scales tipped over far enough that she was escorted out of the building. By the Sheriff, of all people.
She's something special. I always felt sort of a wary affinity for her. I know she tended to bite, but she had a good sense of humor, and I was usually safe because I tended to stay out of her way. Except for the times Robbie and I were jaywalking to Dominican Joe, standing in the center turn lane, waiting for traffic to pass, and she drove up and we were blocking her way and do you know what? She did not run us over. Not even once. It really seems like that ought to count for something.
Maybe it did. Robbie has been gone for a few months now. I was still there until last Friday. Maybe my leaving was what tipped the balance!
More likely it's just an accident of timing, and the poor panicmonger, who has not yet managed to get a replacement for Robbie in, now has three vacancies to fill. It was suggested at afternoon break today (which I managed to attend by the clever expedient of working through lunch) that the Sheriff is taking a new tack, and plans to eliminate the PM simply by getting rid of everyone who reports to her. So she'd better hurry up and hire some new people, and fast.
If we see the popcorn lady from day before yesterday again, I might send her over.