There are no bad owners, only bad dogs

2006-10-03

I had a bad case of the Mondays.

So on Friday, I was told two things: early in the day, I was told that I had two weeks to finish my work, then I should just get the hell out; later I was told that EduMart no longer required my “sevices,” and I should consider myself RIFed. At that point, I asked Catbert just whom I should transition my tasks to dump my work on. Catbert seemed surprised that I actually do any work at all. I told him that I was essentially the only person at EduMart who works on my project. Hmmmm. This seemed to puzzle him. So he asked me to come to work on Monday and talk to another evil whore about just what it is I would say I “do” around here.

When I arrived at EduMart Monday morning, I was in a bit of a snit, as you might have guessed. I went ahead and parked in a space reserved for someone who embodies the corporate value of “Customer Focus.” What are they going to do – fire me? Again?

I met with her on Monday morning. She asked me to work for EduMart for four more weeks, as though she were tossing leftovers to a bum. “That would be good for YOU,” she said. She was stunned when I told her that I was not necessarily happy or willing to do so as being treated like gum on the bottom of a shoe was not really a good feeling for me, and that in the past couple of days I had been told several severance dates and didn’t really want to stretch this kind of joy out for another month.

It turns out that she doesn’t have the authority to offer me four more weeks of employment, as that joy belongs only to Catbert.

I went back to my desk and actually did some work for a while, because it calms me. Then I told Gail, the Captain’s administrative assistant, that I had parked illegally and would probably find a Denver boot on my car when I went to lunch.

Ha, ha, we said. That would be funny. Then we looked out the window at my car. No boot, said Gail.

Why is that security guard wheeling an empty wheelchair? she queried. I don’t know, was my response. Is CrazyWheelChairLady in da house?

He’s got a boot in that chair, she said. Run! she said.

When I got down there, I told him a tale of heavy boxes that I had carried into the building. I told him that I had intended to move my car, but forgot to. He didn’t care who parked in those spots, but someone had made a big stink about it.

Close call, I says.

When I got back from lunch (still waiting about to find out when my last day would be), my security badge didn’t work. Didn’t think twice about it, as that door is frequently kind of sticky.

Then the greggers called me and told me that he had gotten a voice mail from the Crazy Canadian asking if I had left the company. Apparently Mrs. LaZBoy was telling people that I had already left the company. I called the secretary in that department, and she said that my name didn’t come up on her caller ID. It turns out that Mrs. LaZBoy was told by the Canadian that I had left the company because he called here looking for me and the receptionist told him that I had, indeed, left the employ of EduMart.

I asked Gail to use her cell phone to call the front desk and ask for me. “TwoBadDogs is no longer with the company,” she was told.

It takes a minute for me to get a big picture sometimes, but … my entry badge didn’t work, my phone was disconnected, and the receptionist was telling people that I don’t work here anymore. On the very same day that an evil whore asked me to stay for another month. This smacks of Catbert.

I went down there to yell at him, but I couldn’t get in because my badge doesn’t work.

Turns out that on Friday, when he told me that it was my last day, he also sent out all of the memos telling various departments that I am now DEAD TO THEM.

So instead of allowing me to tell people this news when I wanted to (which was when I knew what my last day was), he just went ahead and spewed it. Fucker.

Then I went home and had Pinot Grigio for dinner.

But let me tell you something about karma. The best therapy when one feels sorry for oneself is to do something kind for someone who is in worse conditions.

On Saturday, I took Katy and Buster to the park. The park (rather rudely) had some soccer event going on there, so I had to look for an alternate venue. I found another set of walking trails a short distance away, and we all had a grand time tearing ass around the woods.

On the way home, I passed an emaciated, very pregnant Boxer. I stopped to see if she would come to me. She was trotting with a purpose, but was clearly in trouble. She was wearing a collar, no tags. She didn’t hop right into the car, but a man stopped and helped me get her into my front seat.

I took her to the vet after dropping K and B at home. She has an upper respiratory infection, causing snot to ooze from her eyes constantly. She has a bad case of tape worms. None of this can be treated until she is done with lactating. The x-rays showed from 7 to 12 puppies. Her temperature was below 100°, meaning that it would happen soon.

The vet didn’t want to keep her there over the weekend, just in case the big event happened when she was alone and there were complications.

It’s now Tuesday, no big event yet.

She’s eating everything in sight. She gets along OK with Katy and Buster, although she did get aggressive with Katy a couple of times. The name Sweety Pie seemed perfect, so that’s her name.

So go ahead and lay me off. I got something better to do for a while.


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birth & death