18 April 2011
388
R. Linda:
Oooh, my goodness. I don't know what else to say. I'd throw in a few begorrah's but Irish people don't really say that word and right now -- holy shite seems more appropriate. A few weeks ago, our main editor was rumoured to be leaving us for a higher-paying job (smart man) and this meant his job was opening up. The powers that be, were said to be looking outside the company for new blood to infuse some new life into us. Well, we heard not much of anything for three weeks, including the impending leave-taking, so we sort of forgot about it, that was until yesterday when Cruella de Ville arrived to whip us into shape.
My editor wanted no goodbye dinner, he just left. Put in his last day and that was that. We shrugged and went about our business as directed by the next-level editor and chief, when suddenly yesterday, things became very different. I was one of the unfortunates to have to work the Sunday shift. And as be my habit, when working on Sunday, I sort of waltz on in when I get there. Big mistake on my part. But I wasn't the only one. Our former chief never made any bones about this little work discrepancy, and even though he was no longer there, none of us Sunday workers saw any reason to change things. Well, they have changed now.
Let me tell you the gory details shall I? Yesterday I walked into the newsroom, and there were three of my associates bent over their desktops WORKING? I was like what is this? Something new? None of them ever WORK they are usually seen sipping coffee, having a chat as they rock back in their chairs pretty much lounging around. So to walk in and see them working, well I was rather struck. Me first thought was what has happened? What's the breaking news? Something big must be going on they have the nose to grindstone, and as I came upon them ready to ask what gives, I looked straight ahead and there she was. Tall, whip-like willow rod thin, one arm holding up the doorway, the other flipping a pen back and forth in her hand. Her eyes were slits in her face as she watched me come on and her mouth was a thin line of disapproval. But it was the hair that gave me pause. It was jet black but she sported two white wings on either side of her temples looking like . . . who? None other than Cruella de Ville. She was too thin for the bride of Frankenstein, but I think she's related.
"You make a habit of being very, very late do you, Mr. O'Sullivan?" She said sharply like a whiplash.
I started to throw my coat in me cubicle and looked at her as I dropped it on the back of my chair instead. "And you might be?" I suicidally asked not thinking, as Dejoe in the cube in front of me softly groaned.
"Really Mr. O'Sullivan, you don't have a clue?" She sneered almost happy I didn't know who she was.
I stood there with my hands in me pockets in the middle of the aisle shaking me head and shrugging.
-"Then let me enlighten you. I AM YOUR EDITOR-IN CHIEF AND I DO NOT TOLERATE LATENESS IN MY STAFF! IS THAT QUITE CLEAR MR. O'SULLIVAN?"
WOW was it. I stepped back a pace, my eyebrows raised in surprise. I muttered it was clear, perfectly clear and started to turn to me desk when she prevented that with two giant steps to stand in my doorway, thus preventing me from forward motion. R. Linda, she's taller than me, she's got to be 6' 7 if not taller!
Let me say this R. Linda, up close and personal she was scarier than when she was holding up her office doorway.
"Let me tell you straight off Mr. O'Sullivan, there will be no tolerance of lateness, shoddy work, or stupid questions. If you or any of THESE," she indicated the others who didn't dare look up, "so much as disappoint my expectations, there will be a zero-tolerance policy in the effect of which, any of you will be on probation until you either strive up to my standards or I ship you out! Understood?"
"Em . . . yes madame," said I felt like a scolded ten-year-old back in Parochial school.
She moved to let me by and said to the other three, "You all hear THAT?"
Oh, they did and they all nodded never leaving their focus from their desks. I watched her stalk back to her cubicle and slam the door, the Venetian blinds rattling against the glass. I let out of sigh that she was gone, and thinking the glass cubicle was soundproof I said to my cohorts, "Well, SURPRISE!" Two snickered but stopped abruptly when she shouted "I CAN HEAR YOU MR. O'SULLIVAN!"
Oh for shites! I immediately got out a file and looked at it. I started working on it, something I would not have done normally. It was stuff that could wait, but well, we were reminded when next she strolled forth all regal and high and mighty, that we were expected to clean the files off our desks unless we were given a story we needed to go out and cover. So I spent me time WORKING, and not enjoying a moment of it.
Soon I had cleared my desk, and I did not want to just sit there. And here be why, Liam McKeen who sits across from me had tidied up his desk and had not a lick of work to do. So he decided to sit there. Well, Madame de Ville saw this and took it as a personal affront.
"Have you nothing to occupy you, Mr. McKeen?" She snipped.
"Uh, no." Said he looking suddenly very apprehensive to be singled out. It felt like school I tell ya, like being back in fear for your knuckles a ruler wasn't coming out.
"THEN I shall find something for you to do Mr. McKeen. Step lively if you please," she said pointing her pen at the chair next to her desk. OH MY GOD it was like going to the Principal's office. I was shaking for the poor boyo, and covertly glancing at her office to see if indeed she was going to smack his knuckles with a ruler.
"WHAT are you looking at O'Sullivan? You need to come in here too?" She said catching me.
"Uh, no, no, I be busy I be." And I looked at the empty folder I had got down and labelled it with some nonsense like the word SCREWED. Then I started writing you a letter because I wanted to look busy, and I hoped Cruella wouldn't come look at my work because then I'd be fired for sure.
I heard her saying something to Mc Keen in a soft voice and she snickered she did. I thought, uh oh, this can't be good. And it wasn't. I glanced up quickly as he came out of her office and his face was beet red, but worse, he was loaded down with files from HER desk! He could barely carry them there were so many. He looked at me in agony as he passed into his cubical.
I wrote my story on the interview and typed it up nervously, that's why there were so many typos. I was a wreck I was. I sent the first copy to you, and then I secreted the other to the blog. I tried to read it over for mistakes but was too antsy to be able to focus on just that and HER at the same time. I left it to you and decided it was break time, surely she would not deny me THAT, but she did. As soon as I stood up, the voice wafted over the office enclosure and she said, "Have somewhere to go Mr. O'Sullivan?"
"Oh God," I muttered straightening up. "I thought I'd get a cup of coffee can I get you something?" I asked being the picture of politeness.
"You can sit back down and finish your work, and if you have finished your work, McKeen there has a few files you can take on."
I gulped, looking at the huge pile of files stacked on his desk.
"Em . . . I have a few more files to finish up," I lied. And took the SCREWED file back out of my desk drawer and opened it as if I was looking at it for the first time. Well, R. Linda, my interview of how to look like one is pushing pencils and doing absolutely nothing came into play it did. You'd have been proud, while I could not focus on the story to save my life, I did make notations in the margin like, "I wish it was quitting time," and "What kind of sword do I need to commit Hari Kari?" Oh, I was busy making me shopping list, then I took a mental inventory of the paint cans I have in me shed and listed them, and then I made notations on the shopping list guessing what each item individually might cost, oh, I looked at the picture of BUSY. I kept at it until it was time to leave and I put THAT file in me briefcase in case she went looking through me things (which I wouldn't put it past her to do). But as I shut the case she said, "Let's see that file Mr. O'Sullivan that you need to take it home to work on it. Especially, since I noticed it has taken most of your focus and time today."
OH JESUS, MARY, AND JOSEPH! Screwed was the title of the file and that was what I was about to be BIG TIME. I stood there like a deer caught in headlights. I fingered the briefcase clips and reluctantly started to open them when suddenly the wire service kicked in and everyone looked over at it. Amelia jumped up, pencil in hand not sure if she should run over there or stay put. McKeen, well, he just didn't care he had files to work on, and Don Dejoe had moved back from his desk but was looking at Cruella as if for permission to get up and go see what was coming over the wire.
"WELL? Aren't any of you going to GET THAT?" Cruella hissed, hands on hips, facial expression exceptionally cruel-looking.
We all ran for it. I got there first and it was all about Japan's nuclear update. All of us were disappointed because it wasn't a story we could get out of the office on, but one of us would have to work on it. It was my quitting time and it had been Amelia's an hour before me, but she had been too frightened to leave. Thankfully, neither she nor I had to worry about writing an update for the paper, as Cruella had come over and picked the copy up and read it. She looked at each of us, and then she said, "Dejoe, it's yours." She signalled with her head for him to take off. He ripped the copy from the machine and took it back to his desk to write up. Amelia got the nerve to ask in a wee little girl voice if Madame didn't need her, she was all caught up and could she go home now? "GO!" Was the response as I looked at Cruella with the same unvoiced question on me sorry face. Cruella looked at me and smiled the most wicked smile I had ever seen.
"YOU, Mr. O'Sullivan think himself a very clever fellow. But, YOU, Mr. O'Sullivan is someone I will be keeping my eye on. Now go," And as I took a few steps she stopped me in me tracks by adding, "And whatever is in that file DO NOT bring it back."
I nodded and quickly packed my things following Amelia out and into the chilly rainy night.
Amelia waited for me to catch up.
"Can you believe this? THAT witch is our new boss and seriously Gabe, I can't work under her. She's such a bitch to me!"
"Where did they dig her up from? She looks like she's been dead and buried for several years and finally, she's been resurrected and now she's hell-bent on making the "little people" AKA us, pay!"
We discussed this all the way to the parking lot. Neither of us wanted to come to work today, but we did and no, I left the file home. So today, Cruella has been in top-level management meetings, and we minions of her work staff have been slacking a wee bit. Not too much because now it is going around that Don Dejoe seems to have made a deal with the devil and is her toadie and spy. I feel quite the schoolboy again, and I don't think I can survive this atmosphere of hostility before I lose it and you know me, will get meself into all sorts of deep shite, find meself fired and Cruella hauling me arse on a boat back to Ireland. Oi!
Gabe
Copyright © 2011 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
Oooh, my goodness. I don't know what else to say. I'd throw in a few begorrah's but Irish people don't really say that word and right now -- holy shite seems more appropriate. A few weeks ago, our main editor was rumoured to be leaving us for a higher-paying job (smart man) and this meant his job was opening up. The powers that be, were said to be looking outside the company for new blood to infuse some new life into us. Well, we heard not much of anything for three weeks, including the impending leave-taking, so we sort of forgot about it, that was until yesterday when Cruella de Ville arrived to whip us into shape.
My editor wanted no goodbye dinner, he just left. Put in his last day and that was that. We shrugged and went about our business as directed by the next-level editor and chief, when suddenly yesterday, things became very different. I was one of the unfortunates to have to work the Sunday shift. And as be my habit, when working on Sunday, I sort of waltz on in when I get there. Big mistake on my part. But I wasn't the only one. Our former chief never made any bones about this little work discrepancy, and even though he was no longer there, none of us Sunday workers saw any reason to change things. Well, they have changed now.
Let me tell you the gory details shall I? Yesterday I walked into the newsroom, and there were three of my associates bent over their desktops WORKING? I was like what is this? Something new? None of them ever WORK they are usually seen sipping coffee, having a chat as they rock back in their chairs pretty much lounging around. So to walk in and see them working, well I was rather struck. Me first thought was what has happened? What's the breaking news? Something big must be going on they have the nose to grindstone, and as I came upon them ready to ask what gives, I looked straight ahead and there she was. Tall, whip-like willow rod thin, one arm holding up the doorway, the other flipping a pen back and forth in her hand. Her eyes were slits in her face as she watched me come on and her mouth was a thin line of disapproval. But it was the hair that gave me pause. It was jet black but she sported two white wings on either side of her temples looking like . . . who? None other than Cruella de Ville. She was too thin for the bride of Frankenstein, but I think she's related.
"You make a habit of being very, very late do you, Mr. O'Sullivan?" She said sharply like a whiplash.
I started to throw my coat in me cubicle and looked at her as I dropped it on the back of my chair instead. "And you might be?" I suicidally asked not thinking, as Dejoe in the cube in front of me softly groaned.
"Really Mr. O'Sullivan, you don't have a clue?" She sneered almost happy I didn't know who she was.
I stood there with my hands in me pockets in the middle of the aisle shaking me head and shrugging.
-"Then let me enlighten you. I AM YOUR EDITOR-IN CHIEF AND I DO NOT TOLERATE LATENESS IN MY STAFF! IS THAT QUITE CLEAR MR. O'SULLIVAN?"
WOW was it. I stepped back a pace, my eyebrows raised in surprise. I muttered it was clear, perfectly clear and started to turn to me desk when she prevented that with two giant steps to stand in my doorway, thus preventing me from forward motion. R. Linda, she's taller than me, she's got to be 6' 7 if not taller!
Let me say this R. Linda, up close and personal she was scarier than when she was holding up her office doorway.
"Let me tell you straight off Mr. O'Sullivan, there will be no tolerance of lateness, shoddy work, or stupid questions. If you or any of THESE," she indicated the others who didn't dare look up, "so much as disappoint my expectations, there will be a zero-tolerance policy in the effect of which, any of you will be on probation until you either strive up to my standards or I ship you out! Understood?"
"Em . . . yes madame," said I felt like a scolded ten-year-old back in Parochial school.
She moved to let me by and said to the other three, "You all hear THAT?"
Oh, they did and they all nodded never leaving their focus from their desks. I watched her stalk back to her cubicle and slam the door, the Venetian blinds rattling against the glass. I let out of sigh that she was gone, and thinking the glass cubicle was soundproof I said to my cohorts, "Well, SURPRISE!" Two snickered but stopped abruptly when she shouted "I CAN HEAR YOU MR. O'SULLIVAN!"
Oh for shites! I immediately got out a file and looked at it. I started working on it, something I would not have done normally. It was stuff that could wait, but well, we were reminded when next she strolled forth all regal and high and mighty, that we were expected to clean the files off our desks unless we were given a story we needed to go out and cover. So I spent me time WORKING, and not enjoying a moment of it.
Soon I had cleared my desk, and I did not want to just sit there. And here be why, Liam McKeen who sits across from me had tidied up his desk and had not a lick of work to do. So he decided to sit there. Well, Madame de Ville saw this and took it as a personal affront.
"Have you nothing to occupy you, Mr. McKeen?" She snipped.
"Uh, no." Said he looking suddenly very apprehensive to be singled out. It felt like school I tell ya, like being back in fear for your knuckles a ruler wasn't coming out.
"THEN I shall find something for you to do Mr. McKeen. Step lively if you please," she said pointing her pen at the chair next to her desk. OH MY GOD it was like going to the Principal's office. I was shaking for the poor boyo, and covertly glancing at her office to see if indeed she was going to smack his knuckles with a ruler.
"WHAT are you looking at O'Sullivan? You need to come in here too?" She said catching me.
"Uh, no, no, I be busy I be." And I looked at the empty folder I had got down and labelled it with some nonsense like the word SCREWED. Then I started writing you a letter because I wanted to look busy, and I hoped Cruella wouldn't come look at my work because then I'd be fired for sure.
I heard her saying something to Mc Keen in a soft voice and she snickered she did. I thought, uh oh, this can't be good. And it wasn't. I glanced up quickly as he came out of her office and his face was beet red, but worse, he was loaded down with files from HER desk! He could barely carry them there were so many. He looked at me in agony as he passed into his cubical.
I wrote my story on the interview and typed it up nervously, that's why there were so many typos. I was a wreck I was. I sent the first copy to you, and then I secreted the other to the blog. I tried to read it over for mistakes but was too antsy to be able to focus on just that and HER at the same time. I left it to you and decided it was break time, surely she would not deny me THAT, but she did. As soon as I stood up, the voice wafted over the office enclosure and she said, "Have somewhere to go Mr. O'Sullivan?"
"Oh God," I muttered straightening up. "I thought I'd get a cup of coffee can I get you something?" I asked being the picture of politeness.
"You can sit back down and finish your work, and if you have finished your work, McKeen there has a few files you can take on."
I gulped, looking at the huge pile of files stacked on his desk.
"Em . . . I have a few more files to finish up," I lied. And took the SCREWED file back out of my desk drawer and opened it as if I was looking at it for the first time. Well, R. Linda, my interview of how to look like one is pushing pencils and doing absolutely nothing came into play it did. You'd have been proud, while I could not focus on the story to save my life, I did make notations in the margin like, "I wish it was quitting time," and "What kind of sword do I need to commit Hari Kari?" Oh, I was busy making me shopping list, then I took a mental inventory of the paint cans I have in me shed and listed them, and then I made notations on the shopping list guessing what each item individually might cost, oh, I looked at the picture of BUSY. I kept at it until it was time to leave and I put THAT file in me briefcase in case she went looking through me things (which I wouldn't put it past her to do). But as I shut the case she said, "Let's see that file Mr. O'Sullivan that you need to take it home to work on it. Especially, since I noticed it has taken most of your focus and time today."
OH JESUS, MARY, AND JOSEPH! Screwed was the title of the file and that was what I was about to be BIG TIME. I stood there like a deer caught in headlights. I fingered the briefcase clips and reluctantly started to open them when suddenly the wire service kicked in and everyone looked over at it. Amelia jumped up, pencil in hand not sure if she should run over there or stay put. McKeen, well, he just didn't care he had files to work on, and Don Dejoe had moved back from his desk but was looking at Cruella as if for permission to get up and go see what was coming over the wire.
"WELL? Aren't any of you going to GET THAT?" Cruella hissed, hands on hips, facial expression exceptionally cruel-looking.
We all ran for it. I got there first and it was all about Japan's nuclear update. All of us were disappointed because it wasn't a story we could get out of the office on, but one of us would have to work on it. It was my quitting time and it had been Amelia's an hour before me, but she had been too frightened to leave. Thankfully, neither she nor I had to worry about writing an update for the paper, as Cruella had come over and picked the copy up and read it. She looked at each of us, and then she said, "Dejoe, it's yours." She signalled with her head for him to take off. He ripped the copy from the machine and took it back to his desk to write up. Amelia got the nerve to ask in a wee little girl voice if Madame didn't need her, she was all caught up and could she go home now? "GO!" Was the response as I looked at Cruella with the same unvoiced question on me sorry face. Cruella looked at me and smiled the most wicked smile I had ever seen.
"YOU, Mr. O'Sullivan think himself a very clever fellow. But, YOU, Mr. O'Sullivan is someone I will be keeping my eye on. Now go," And as I took a few steps she stopped me in me tracks by adding, "And whatever is in that file DO NOT bring it back."
I nodded and quickly packed my things following Amelia out and into the chilly rainy night.
Amelia waited for me to catch up.
"Can you believe this? THAT witch is our new boss and seriously Gabe, I can't work under her. She's such a bitch to me!"
"Where did they dig her up from? She looks like she's been dead and buried for several years and finally, she's been resurrected and now she's hell-bent on making the "little people" AKA us, pay!"
We discussed this all the way to the parking lot. Neither of us wanted to come to work today, but we did and no, I left the file home. So today, Cruella has been in top-level management meetings, and we minions of her work staff have been slacking a wee bit. Not too much because now it is going around that Don Dejoe seems to have made a deal with the devil and is her toadie and spy. I feel quite the schoolboy again, and I don't think I can survive this atmosphere of hostility before I lose it and you know me, will get meself into all sorts of deep shite, find meself fired and Cruella hauling me arse on a boat back to Ireland. Oi!
Gabe
Copyright © 2011 All rights reserved
1 comment:
You must have been a riot in Catholic school. Somehow I don't think you were the angel you would have us believe. LOL
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