Wednesday, December 14, 2005

The Numbers are Shrinking Around here

I can't figure out if I didn't get the word that we were all suppose to be out by such and such day or if I am the only one still working here. Can-O-Corn and his wife went on vacation this week to Flagstaff, Arizona. Not a great time to leave for vacation when they are rolling up the business but they had it planned long before the bombshell of unemployment was laid in front of us. They are one of the millions in America that own timeshares so their allotted time and condo had already been put into play. So it was use it or lose it.

Everyone else seems to be missing. Oh, except the tyrannical, sawed-off, Sir Von Asswipe and his lovely and gracious wife, Peach. They keep rolling in here at odd hours of the day. Lurking the halls, slamming and locking doors behind them as they go from room to room. They stay in the king's office the most but on occasion they bring their foot stomping, screeching banter down to Peach's office, which is next to mine, so I can hear them argue over the most innane stuff.

Here's an example of their arguing.

Peach: What time do you want the help to arrive at the dinner party Saturday night?

Asswipe: 5 or 5:30 it doesn't matter.

Peach: (In her most patronizing manner and with her highest decible screech) 5 o'clock or 5:30? What is it?

Asswipe: It doesn't matter.

Peach: It does matter damn it. Now what time 5 or 5:30?

Asswipe: You pick the time.

Peach: Okay. If you aren't going to step up and nail it down, I will. I say 5 o'clock. You have any problem with that?

Asswipe: No, that's fine.

Peach: That's fine?

Asswipe: I mean okay.

Peach What is it? Fine? Or okay?

Asswipe: Dammit just do it yourself! (stomps down to his office and slams the door)

Peach: (On the phone with the help) This is Queen Peach. We will need you at the house between 5 and 5:30 Saturday. (She stomps down the hall to Asswipe's office and slams the door behind her).

Note to self. Talk to the people across the hall and ask them what they have against me. Once again this year they dropped off a large bucket of assorted popcorn flavors, already popped and in assorted bags. Thre bucket isn't in our office three minutes before Peach has laid claim on what bags are her's and what bags go to other people. Then she marches around the office shoving the assorted flavors down her face.

When she has a mouthful she always seems to find her way into my office and plops her butt in a chair and proceeds to show me how she can devour popping corn. Yuck!

Its not as bad as the red rope but damn put a cover on that trap I say. She likes to eat with her mouth open so it gives the appearance of a front loading tumble dryer slopping food around. And the sound of the pop corn in her tumble dryer sounds like she is tearing a sty-ra-foam cooler apart with her teeth. OH My God. 12 more days of work.....