22 February 2013
634
R. Linda:
We are having a bit of office reconfiguration going on. We are being sold by our parent company and layoffs are not far behind. In the meantime, sections are being moved about as if we were making money instead of losing it. Yes, new office furniture, electronic equipment, the whole nine yards. That happened a few years ago, everyone got re-settled and then got handed pink slips. So here we go again.
Next to my section of local news hounds was what we called the fluff section, fashion and travel, but those "folks" (the new politically correct Obama word) are being moved downstairs (oh can you imagine the shame, the hoity-toitys are now a floor below the commoners (local news reporters).
And up are coming the financial people -- the wall street and NASDAQ analysts who are as dull as counting numbers all day! Well, the head of this group of boring people is a Ms. Feinstein. She's anything but boring but nowhere as amusing as the fashion people. Let me tell you the flamboyant swishing around and cross-dressing was a lot more interesting, but it could be that at least the head of Boring International Number Counting may make up for that.
Yes, she came upstairs to peruse her new "space" as the fashion and travel people were consoling each other over desks being moved from underneath them. I thought she was a fashion person, but then I thought, "Nah." She was dressed like a pencil, you know the straight skirt, matching jacket, blouse with a bow at the neckline, short-heeled pumps, navy blue everything, hair tied back in a short ponytail at the nape of her neck and large glasses. She stood there with clipboard and sharpie in hand with a workman who was the overseer of the placement of HER furniture and people.
"OH NO NO NO," I heard her loudly proclaiming, "THAT WILL NOT DO! I want THAT wall and THAT wall DOWN!"
"But those walls are not temporary they have studs, electric running through them, and lots of sheet rock." The man said looking quite a bit harassed.
"YOU have got to take them DOWN. We need open concept to work efficiently. We can't be searching for each other, takes too much time!" She took off with a measuring tape and actually pushed a fashionista out of her way and THEN had the nerve to ask her to put her foot on the tape measure while she measured. I tell ya!
"Too many DIY shows," the man muttered to himself, but he was close enough WE heard him.
Maureen, Alan and Ms. Jaio were cramped in me cubicle feigning like we were discussing an article, but that wasn't what we were really doing. The outer partition of me cubicle was gone in the new realignment of departments, so we had ample sight lines of Ms. Feinstein and the construction boss (as well as the weeping fashion department). We had our heads together like we were working, but in truth, all work had stopped because this new attraction was just too entertaining AND because prior to Ms. Feinstein's arrival, I received a text message from a co-worker who was having lunch at a pub. He was asking me if I worked with a Joanna Mohr and I texted back that yes I did, she was the brown-haired fat girl that sits two aisles away. And he was texting back that there must be another one with the same name because the one he knew wasn't fat. Then he sent a picture of him standing next to Joanna Mohr. We four were staring at the phone screen trying to think of a way to text him back that the Joanna Mohr he was standing next to was one and the same, the fat Joanna Mohr that we work with, AND a way to ask him how much he was drinking, OR if he needed glasses. Meanwhile, we couldn't help overhearing the discussion of "BRING THOSE WALLS DOWN!"
"Move that bus!" Maureen giggled and we all snorted laughter trying to hide it but not doing a very good job.
"If you start now, you should have all this cleared and ready by next Monday." Ms. Feinstein said ignoring the man's protests.
"Even if I could do it, I'd not have it done by Monday. For one thing, if I take that wall in particular down," he gestured towards the one facing the back, "the whole building above us will collapse." He said this by placing his hands on his hips in a defiant stance as if daring her to insist he do it. Then very slowly as if she was stupid he said, "IT - IS - A - MAJOR - SUPPORT - BEAM."
"Yes you CAN take it down, I've seen it done. You need to work through the weekend."
Uh oh. No one but news personnel work on a weekend. The construction crew gets overtime they work on the weekend and IF there is the possibility of a bad storm WHICH THERE IS, they get double overtime. But all this extra work has to be sanctioned by the powers that be in the corner offices (with a view) on the top floor. The same top floor that if the beam is taken out will be on the sixth floor with us, or we may all be in the lobby. Who knows?
The construction boss was speechless and SHE was ignoring his looks of incredulity. She was walking around taking mental measurements and writing where desks and people were going to be placed as he stood where she left him.
She started to say something and realised he was not with her so she swung around and addressed him like he was a naughty five-year-old.
"DID YOU HEAR ME? Did you hear what I just said?"
Oh, he caved, his shoulders slumped down, he shook his head no, he hadn't heard her and he went slouching over to where she was standing looking at him with a severe expression on her pinched face.
"Bad dog!" Maureen muttered and we chuckled.
"IF you can't get the walls down, I want glass partitions put here and here. This will start the rows, then by my calculations, you will put glass partitions along this wall . . . "
"Hold on wait a minute lady, there are no glass partitions. The walls are like the ones you see us taking down over there," he pointed to our section, as she slid her glasses down her nose and looked over them at the stack of solid partitions that were leaning against a wall at the end of our section.
"Oh no. Never do. It has to be glass, we have to be able to see each other." She was adamant. "IF you can't bring the walls down then we must have GLASS!"
We chuckled covertly -- like either of those things would happen, hah!
"Probably so she can see whose nose is to the grindstone and whose is not," Maureen whispered.
We started giggling and thought we were unobserved, but we weren't. Ms. Feinstein was looking at us, as a minion dressed in black pencil attire (as if for a monetary funeral), putting a cup of joe in her hand. Not losing a beat she came clicking towards us, steaming coffee in hand, followed by her peon.
"You four have work to do? I assume your levels of enthusiasm are geared toward whatever you are working on and not eavesdropping on my conversation with Mr. . . . uh Mr.," she turned only her upper body towards the poor man in the hardhat and he answered miserably, "Rick, Rick Ostermere." Meanwhile, we were wondering how she did that upper body thing, it was sort of creepy robot-like, but she interrupted our thoughts by continuing, "Mr. Ostermier."
"Ostermere." He said louder.
"Whatever." She threw a hand up like no big deal to which he rolled his eyes and turned his back looking at the walls she wanted down.
"If you think what Mr. Ostermere and myself are discussing is much more interesting than what you are working on, then, by all means, come join us, and when you have put your two cents in we can go off to YOUR immediate superiour and get you transferred to Mr. Ostermere's team." Then she sneered with eyebrows raised like that was just the solution she had for us.
Now I for one, did not take her words with a grain of salt, no she ticked me off she did. Maureen and Alan too, only Ms. Jaio was trying to control her want to burst out laughing. She coughed and excused herself, something about the ladies' room and left me, Alan and Maureen seething at Ms. Feinstein's remarks.
"Oh that's right run away," Ms. Feinstein said to Ms. Jaio's retreating back. More reason we three minions of the local news department were starting to dislike Ms. Feinstein.
"You know I'd be happy to help you figure out your department seating chart but . . . it's been years since I did elementary school stuff." Maureen sneered back as she shuffled her paperwork and left Alan and me.
Nothing was said, just eyebrows were raised over heavy glasses in my direction.
"Me too," I started but then I thought, no way this is me desk, what was left of me cubicle and she had invaded me space. So turning over me phone so she couldn't read the text, I said, "If you would please take yourself out of me tiny, cramped office," I began, but Alan feeling brave cut me off with this gem, "Why don't you go makeup flow charts or spreadsheets or whatever it is you do, so we can get back to our work." And he made the same hand gesture of dismissal she had made to Ms. Jaio's back.
"You weren't working just a few minutes ago, you were all eavesdropping." She said standing her ground which was on my turf.
"We're not," I said, "If you must know we were discussing a story on Kate Middleton and how nice it was to do a story on her with her clothes on for a change of pace."
Ms. Feinstein looked at me weighing that but then she rejected it.
"You were not."
"You have no idea what we are working on so to accuse us of eavesdropping as if moving furniture is a fascinating pastime, well . . ." Alan said.
Feeling like this was getting way out of hand, I got up out of me chair and raised meself like a cobra to me full over 6 feet tall height and looked down me nose at her with ME hands on me hips just like her.
I will say I have never seen anyone shrink like she did. Her head raised back as I stood up and I have to gauge she was about 5' 2" tall looking up at me, her head almost totally tilted back. That effect has never happened to me, you see it in cartoons and such but for real, it was a splendid moment for yours truly. She looked intimidated but it wasn't for long.
"Ok then," said she, "You get back to your amusing story and I'll finish up here, shall I?" And she moved off signalling her toadie to follow her over to the put out Mr. Ostermere who as soon as he saw her coming looked like he wanted to hide but knew it was useless.
Alan shouted after her, "Yes that's right let me get back to my story on selfish, bitter businesswomen whose problems are occasionally funny but rarely sympathetic!" Then he turned to me and said, "I had heard that line somewhere and decided now was the time to use it." However, Ms. Feinstein chose to ignore him.
"What did you do?" Maureen hissed at us as she came back.
"I stood up to her . . . literally." I smiled with satisfaction. "And Alan well . . . "
"Yeah I lost it, I mouthed off." He said having second thoughts on his bravado.
"She can get you fired." Maureen whispered.
"Probably will happen with the layoffs, so might as well make the most of it," I said. I mean why not, that's what happened the last time there was a downsizing, but I now had more seniority than before, so that mindset was probably risky.
I turned the phone back over and there was a video of Joanna worm waving her fingers at the screen. She was all smiles saying, "Hi Gabe, Maur, Alan and Ms. Jaio. It is I, the one and only Joanna. Hahahaha." By the by, no one calls Ms. Jaio by her first name, I even, who work with her every day can't remember what her first name is.
"O-M-G." Maureen said, "That is not a skinny woman. How can't he see that?"
"He's a dum gai he can't see she fat ho?" Ms Jaio commented as she slipped back into the cubicle.
"Now, now ladies let's be nice." This from Alan who had no trouble being not very nice to someone who was above him in the company.
We were once again sidetracked by the sound of Lance one of the fashion people because it looked like Ms. Feinstein was having her minion push his desk out of her way of measuring with him in it.
"Just hold on girlfriend!" He was shouting. "You have the desk leg on my chiffon scarf and it cost me over a hundred and fifty smackeroos at Saks! STOP before you ruin it, it is my FAVOURITE ONE! STOP I SAY!"
Never have I heard Lance so much as talk above the Marilyn Monroe whisper he usually affects. So to hear his high-voiced shouting was attention-getting.
But that didn't stop Ms. Feinstein from putting her back into the desk moving and demanding Rick's help. The three of them were dragging Lance's desk with Lance and chair, out of the way and well, it was sort of comical but it wasn't, if you know what I mean.
"She can't do dat to gay gai," Ms. Jaio said.
"No, she cannot." Maureen chimed in.
Alan and I watched as the two of them marched over and got a hold of Lance's desk from the other side and started pushing it back where it was with Lance in it!
"You go girls," Lance said clinging to the desktop and still holding onto his entangled and expensive scarf.
Then Audrey who is really a guy but dresses like a goth woman came to lend his/her efforts to pushing the desk back while the three who have seemingly no regard for poor Lance were pushing in the opposite direction.
"No amount of yoga can prepare you for THIS girlfriend," Lance said to Audrey.
I almost jumped out of me skin when a voice from behind us startled me (at least) with, "What the hell is going on?"
It was Cruella! Now talk about an even match, Cruella I knew for sure could take on Ms. Feinstein and cut her up into little pieces with her sharp tongue. This was getting interesting. She walked through me cubicle and up to the shoving match.
Standing arms akimbo and legs in military stance she said, "I really like harmony at the workplace. It is so nice to see people happy and appreciating each other. Here let me help."
Ms. Feinstein immediately let go as did her toadie and Rick, but unfortunately, Ms. Jaio, Maureen and Audrey went flying forward, Lance, desk and all, crashing into the trash buckets that were filled with all sorts of construction debris and all over did this spill. There was quite the dust cloud and choking going on but the good news was Lance's scarf was freed from under the desk leg. The bad news is he had stood up and was lurching around flailing the air to disperse the dust while trying to wrap the scarf around his neck, but unfortunately Ms. Jaio had her eyes closed from the dust and grabbed one end of the scarf just as Audrey grabbed the other and going in opposite directions began pulling the scarf to wipe the dust out of their eyes, all the while both blocking off the air supply of the strangling Lance, who would come to a not so dramatic end as he had envisioned it, with his very own scarf being the weapon of demise.
"Oh my God," Cruella said, "Look what you've done!"
This said to Ms. Feinstein, toadie and Rick. But she made no move to save the life of the struggling Lance, but Maureen had the gumption to grab Lance from the back and pull him towards Audrey trying to slacken the hold, not fully realising Ms. Jaio had the other end taut! Poor Lance his voice was but a croak.
"Get over there and undo what you've done!" Cruella pointed and the three miscreants went over to try to unbind Lance and remove the three dust-covered fellow employees who were blinded by the dust and still choking on it.
I walked over to Cruella saying nothing, just being an onlooker and nosey parker in general, Alan preferring to stay in the background.
Once Lance was set free and everyone had adjourned to the ladies room except Rick and Ms. Feinstein (her toadie leaving for the nether reaches of the floor below and away from trouble), Cruella had a few choice words and I noticed Ms. Feinstein did not dare to act the controlling redecorating monster she had first established herself as.
Ms. Feinstein's defeat was just another public humiliation in Cruella's book of which she had a growing list of minions she had sliced and diced and was very proud of her record.
"Open-air places would not do in a business like this." She was informing Ms. Feinstein. "You cannot think for one moment you can come up here and physically move personnel so you can measure for an office layout that won't be approved. Did they not tell you in HR that THIS is MY floor and I get the final approval on where YOUR people will be sitting? And let me just say, I do not want to be looking at the financial element all day long, so the walls stay!" With this, she turned on her heel and click-clacked in her high heels back to her very nice glass office with the blinds.
"Take heart, Ms. Feinstein, we aren't a bad lot. Just staid and stodgy you know, old dogs learning new tricks doesn't work with us. Have a great what's left of your day," Alan said, as she turned on her heel simmering. Poor Rick just stood there not quite knowing if he should be relieved or worried.
Really what was there to say? Her treatment of Rick not to mention the near murder of poor Lance at the foolishness she set in motion was bloody awful. She should be embarrassed, but it was Alan who surprised me. Usually, he's quite the upstanding gent, never a bad word, usually diplomatic, but today, well we saw a whole new side to old Alan. He's been sheepish ever since. He has stayed in his office convinced Cruella will axe him the first chance she gets. But I don't think so, he'll get off this time. Meanwhile, I am more perplexed at what's wrong with me co-worker at the pub that he thinks Joanna Mohr is a skinny beauty queen. Ms. Jaio may be right and he's having us on. Wouldn't be the first time.
Gabe
Copyright © 2013 All rights reserved
"Too many DIY shows," the man muttered to himself, but he was close enough WE heard him.
Maureen, Alan and Ms. Jaio were cramped in me cubicle feigning like we were discussing an article, but that wasn't what we were really doing. The outer partition of me cubicle was gone in the new realignment of departments, so we had ample sight lines of Ms. Feinstein and the construction boss (as well as the weeping fashion department). We had our heads together like we were working, but in truth, all work had stopped because this new attraction was just too entertaining AND because prior to Ms. Feinstein's arrival, I received a text message from a co-worker who was having lunch at a pub. He was asking me if I worked with a Joanna Mohr and I texted back that yes I did, she was the brown-haired fat girl that sits two aisles away. And he was texting back that there must be another one with the same name because the one he knew wasn't fat. Then he sent a picture of him standing next to Joanna Mohr. We four were staring at the phone screen trying to think of a way to text him back that the Joanna Mohr he was standing next to was one and the same, the fat Joanna Mohr that we work with, AND a way to ask him how much he was drinking, OR if he needed glasses. Meanwhile, we couldn't help overhearing the discussion of "BRING THOSE WALLS DOWN!"
"Move that bus!" Maureen giggled and we all snorted laughter trying to hide it but not doing a very good job.
"If you start now, you should have all this cleared and ready by next Monday." Ms. Feinstein said ignoring the man's protests.
"Even if I could do it, I'd not have it done by Monday. For one thing, if I take that wall in particular down," he gestured towards the one facing the back, "the whole building above us will collapse." He said this by placing his hands on his hips in a defiant stance as if daring her to insist he do it. Then very slowly as if she was stupid he said, "IT - IS - A - MAJOR - SUPPORT - BEAM."
"Yes you CAN take it down, I've seen it done. You need to work through the weekend."
Uh oh. No one but news personnel work on a weekend. The construction crew gets overtime they work on the weekend and IF there is the possibility of a bad storm WHICH THERE IS, they get double overtime. But all this extra work has to be sanctioned by the powers that be in the corner offices (with a view) on the top floor. The same top floor that if the beam is taken out will be on the sixth floor with us, or we may all be in the lobby. Who knows?
The construction boss was speechless and SHE was ignoring his looks of incredulity. She was walking around taking mental measurements and writing where desks and people were going to be placed as he stood where she left him.
She started to say something and realised he was not with her so she swung around and addressed him like he was a naughty five-year-old.
"DID YOU HEAR ME? Did you hear what I just said?"
Oh, he caved, his shoulders slumped down, he shook his head no, he hadn't heard her and he went slouching over to where she was standing looking at him with a severe expression on her pinched face.
"Bad dog!" Maureen muttered and we chuckled.
"IF you can't get the walls down, I want glass partitions put here and here. This will start the rows, then by my calculations, you will put glass partitions along this wall . . . "
"Hold on wait a minute lady, there are no glass partitions. The walls are like the ones you see us taking down over there," he pointed to our section, as she slid her glasses down her nose and looked over them at the stack of solid partitions that were leaning against a wall at the end of our section.
"Oh no. Never do. It has to be glass, we have to be able to see each other." She was adamant. "IF you can't bring the walls down then we must have GLASS!"
We chuckled covertly -- like either of those things would happen, hah!
"Probably so she can see whose nose is to the grindstone and whose is not," Maureen whispered.
We started giggling and thought we were unobserved, but we weren't. Ms. Feinstein was looking at us, as a minion dressed in black pencil attire (as if for a monetary funeral), putting a cup of joe in her hand. Not losing a beat she came clicking towards us, steaming coffee in hand, followed by her peon.
"You four have work to do? I assume your levels of enthusiasm are geared toward whatever you are working on and not eavesdropping on my conversation with Mr. . . . uh Mr.," she turned only her upper body towards the poor man in the hardhat and he answered miserably, "Rick, Rick Ostermere." Meanwhile, we were wondering how she did that upper body thing, it was sort of creepy robot-like, but she interrupted our thoughts by continuing, "Mr. Ostermier."
"Ostermere." He said louder.
"Whatever." She threw a hand up like no big deal to which he rolled his eyes and turned his back looking at the walls she wanted down.
"If you think what Mr. Ostermere and myself are discussing is much more interesting than what you are working on, then, by all means, come join us, and when you have put your two cents in we can go off to YOUR immediate superiour and get you transferred to Mr. Ostermere's team." Then she sneered with eyebrows raised like that was just the solution she had for us.
Now I for one, did not take her words with a grain of salt, no she ticked me off she did. Maureen and Alan too, only Ms. Jaio was trying to control her want to burst out laughing. She coughed and excused herself, something about the ladies' room and left me, Alan and Maureen seething at Ms. Feinstein's remarks.
"Oh that's right run away," Ms. Feinstein said to Ms. Jaio's retreating back. More reason we three minions of the local news department were starting to dislike Ms. Feinstein.
"You know I'd be happy to help you figure out your department seating chart but . . . it's been years since I did elementary school stuff." Maureen sneered back as she shuffled her paperwork and left Alan and me.
Nothing was said, just eyebrows were raised over heavy glasses in my direction.
"Me too," I started but then I thought, no way this is me desk, what was left of me cubicle and she had invaded me space. So turning over me phone so she couldn't read the text, I said, "If you would please take yourself out of me tiny, cramped office," I began, but Alan feeling brave cut me off with this gem, "Why don't you go makeup flow charts or spreadsheets or whatever it is you do, so we can get back to our work." And he made the same hand gesture of dismissal she had made to Ms. Jaio's back.
"You weren't working just a few minutes ago, you were all eavesdropping." She said standing her ground which was on my turf.
"We're not," I said, "If you must know we were discussing a story on Kate Middleton and how nice it was to do a story on her with her clothes on for a change of pace."
Ms. Feinstein looked at me weighing that but then she rejected it.
"You were not."
"You have no idea what we are working on so to accuse us of eavesdropping as if moving furniture is a fascinating pastime, well . . ." Alan said.
Feeling like this was getting way out of hand, I got up out of me chair and raised meself like a cobra to me full over 6 feet tall height and looked down me nose at her with ME hands on me hips just like her.
I will say I have never seen anyone shrink like she did. Her head raised back as I stood up and I have to gauge she was about 5' 2" tall looking up at me, her head almost totally tilted back. That effect has never happened to me, you see it in cartoons and such but for real, it was a splendid moment for yours truly. She looked intimidated but it wasn't for long.
"Ok then," said she, "You get back to your amusing story and I'll finish up here, shall I?" And she moved off signalling her toadie to follow her over to the put out Mr. Ostermere who as soon as he saw her coming looked like he wanted to hide but knew it was useless.
Alan shouted after her, "Yes that's right let me get back to my story on selfish, bitter businesswomen whose problems are occasionally funny but rarely sympathetic!" Then he turned to me and said, "I had heard that line somewhere and decided now was the time to use it." However, Ms. Feinstein chose to ignore him.
"What did you do?" Maureen hissed at us as she came back.
"I stood up to her . . . literally." I smiled with satisfaction. "And Alan well . . . "
"Yeah I lost it, I mouthed off." He said having second thoughts on his bravado.
"She can get you fired." Maureen whispered.
"Probably will happen with the layoffs, so might as well make the most of it," I said. I mean why not, that's what happened the last time there was a downsizing, but I now had more seniority than before, so that mindset was probably risky.
I turned the phone back over and there was a video of Joanna worm waving her fingers at the screen. She was all smiles saying, "Hi Gabe, Maur, Alan and Ms. Jaio. It is I, the one and only Joanna. Hahahaha." By the by, no one calls Ms. Jaio by her first name, I even, who work with her every day can't remember what her first name is.
"O-M-G." Maureen said, "That is not a skinny woman. How can't he see that?"
"He's a dum gai he can't see she fat ho?" Ms Jaio commented as she slipped back into the cubicle.
"Now, now ladies let's be nice." This from Alan who had no trouble being not very nice to someone who was above him in the company.
We were once again sidetracked by the sound of Lance one of the fashion people because it looked like Ms. Feinstein was having her minion push his desk out of her way of measuring with him in it.
"Just hold on girlfriend!" He was shouting. "You have the desk leg on my chiffon scarf and it cost me over a hundred and fifty smackeroos at Saks! STOP before you ruin it, it is my FAVOURITE ONE! STOP I SAY!"
Never have I heard Lance so much as talk above the Marilyn Monroe whisper he usually affects. So to hear his high-voiced shouting was attention-getting.
But that didn't stop Ms. Feinstein from putting her back into the desk moving and demanding Rick's help. The three of them were dragging Lance's desk with Lance and chair, out of the way and well, it was sort of comical but it wasn't, if you know what I mean.
"She can't do dat to gay gai," Ms. Jaio said.
"No, she cannot." Maureen chimed in.
Alan and I watched as the two of them marched over and got a hold of Lance's desk from the other side and started pushing it back where it was with Lance in it!
"You go girls," Lance said clinging to the desktop and still holding onto his entangled and expensive scarf.
Then Audrey who is really a guy but dresses like a goth woman came to lend his/her efforts to pushing the desk back while the three who have seemingly no regard for poor Lance were pushing in the opposite direction.
"No amount of yoga can prepare you for THIS girlfriend," Lance said to Audrey.
I almost jumped out of me skin when a voice from behind us startled me (at least) with, "What the hell is going on?"
It was Cruella! Now talk about an even match, Cruella I knew for sure could take on Ms. Feinstein and cut her up into little pieces with her sharp tongue. This was getting interesting. She walked through me cubicle and up to the shoving match.
Standing arms akimbo and legs in military stance she said, "I really like harmony at the workplace. It is so nice to see people happy and appreciating each other. Here let me help."
Ms. Feinstein immediately let go as did her toadie and Rick, but unfortunately, Ms. Jaio, Maureen and Audrey went flying forward, Lance, desk and all, crashing into the trash buckets that were filled with all sorts of construction debris and all over did this spill. There was quite the dust cloud and choking going on but the good news was Lance's scarf was freed from under the desk leg. The bad news is he had stood up and was lurching around flailing the air to disperse the dust while trying to wrap the scarf around his neck, but unfortunately Ms. Jaio had her eyes closed from the dust and grabbed one end of the scarf just as Audrey grabbed the other and going in opposite directions began pulling the scarf to wipe the dust out of their eyes, all the while both blocking off the air supply of the strangling Lance, who would come to a not so dramatic end as he had envisioned it, with his very own scarf being the weapon of demise.
"Oh my God," Cruella said, "Look what you've done!"
This said to Ms. Feinstein, toadie and Rick. But she made no move to save the life of the struggling Lance, but Maureen had the gumption to grab Lance from the back and pull him towards Audrey trying to slacken the hold, not fully realising Ms. Jaio had the other end taut! Poor Lance his voice was but a croak.
"Get over there and undo what you've done!" Cruella pointed and the three miscreants went over to try to unbind Lance and remove the three dust-covered fellow employees who were blinded by the dust and still choking on it.
I walked over to Cruella saying nothing, just being an onlooker and nosey parker in general, Alan preferring to stay in the background.
Once Lance was set free and everyone had adjourned to the ladies room except Rick and Ms. Feinstein (her toadie leaving for the nether reaches of the floor below and away from trouble), Cruella had a few choice words and I noticed Ms. Feinstein did not dare to act the controlling redecorating monster she had first established herself as.
Ms. Feinstein's defeat was just another public humiliation in Cruella's book of which she had a growing list of minions she had sliced and diced and was very proud of her record.
"Open-air places would not do in a business like this." She was informing Ms. Feinstein. "You cannot think for one moment you can come up here and physically move personnel so you can measure for an office layout that won't be approved. Did they not tell you in HR that THIS is MY floor and I get the final approval on where YOUR people will be sitting? And let me just say, I do not want to be looking at the financial element all day long, so the walls stay!" With this, she turned on her heel and click-clacked in her high heels back to her very nice glass office with the blinds.
"Take heart, Ms. Feinstein, we aren't a bad lot. Just staid and stodgy you know, old dogs learning new tricks doesn't work with us. Have a great what's left of your day," Alan said, as she turned on her heel simmering. Poor Rick just stood there not quite knowing if he should be relieved or worried.
Really what was there to say? Her treatment of Rick not to mention the near murder of poor Lance at the foolishness she set in motion was bloody awful. She should be embarrassed, but it was Alan who surprised me. Usually, he's quite the upstanding gent, never a bad word, usually diplomatic, but today, well we saw a whole new side to old Alan. He's been sheepish ever since. He has stayed in his office convinced Cruella will axe him the first chance she gets. But I don't think so, he'll get off this time. Meanwhile, I am more perplexed at what's wrong with me co-worker at the pub that he thinks Joanna Mohr is a skinny beauty queen. Ms. Jaio may be right and he's having us on. Wouldn't be the first time.
Gabe
Copyright © 2013 All rights reserved
5 comments:
ROFLMAO
I LOVE office drama! makes everything more interesting!
good spectator sport, wouldn't want to be a participant!LOL
had to say, I'm gonna think of cobras when I hear your name!LMAO
LOL
LOL Sounds the right madhouse to me.
You think?
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