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06.04.2002 - 11:29 p.m.


It seems like almost every day something sort of weird or interesting happens at the office. For instance, a couple weeks ago we had to call the police because there was this deranged old man outside carrying a long metal pole, brandishing it at traffic. He would dart out and stop cars, then bang it down like a spear - CLANG! - and jabber angrily at people. This is the same guy that knocked on our door a while back, and rambled incoherently for about 45 minutes to one of our way-too-patient developers about how he "invented software testing dammit".

And last week the company president, my Funky Boss, decided he wanted to dig up the back parking lot in order to plant a garden. So he rented a backhoe, which was delivered during the afternoon. Everyone clustered around the windows murmuring dire predictions as this giant yellow machine is slowly rolled down a ramp. Later I peered out to see him flipping through a manual (hee!), while two other guys stood by giving pointers.

Remember - these guys are computer engineers. They're, like, all standing around in their All Your Base Belong To Us! shirts, trying to figure out how to run a backhoe. They probably ended up taking it apart and reassembling it to be more efficient or something.

Today's weird event was a Daring Fish Rescue. Scott, one of our support guys, was walking by the fish tank (right by my office), came to a halt, and cried "Oh no! Oscar's dead!"

[Interjectory note: anything that is unusual and/or noteworthy that happens in the fish tank is always relayed to either myself or Molly, whom I share office space with. The assumption apparently being that our proximity defines a presumed level of interest in said subjects.]

So I dutifully got up and looked in the tank, where one of our engineer gobies - the fugly one - was indeed looking peaked. He was sort of squashed somehow under a big chunk of coral, but was still breathing.

"He's trapped in there! We have to do something!" said Scott, who was actually wringing his hands.

Basically, Scott is a very sweet person with a tender nature that has no business being around an asshole like myself.

Scott: "What do you think we should do?"
Me: "We need a fish Lassie. Lassie, save Oscar! Go get help! Or - I know, get the Jaws of Life! Hang in there, Oscar! FIGHT!"
Scott: "Maybe I should try and move the coral? It's a long reach, though."
Me: "You need one of those backscratcher deals. You know, those cheapie sticks with a little hand on the end? Are those even still around anymore? Seems like you'd see them in cheesy souvenir shops and stuff..."
Scott: (straining) "Ergh...can you see if he's still there?"
Me: "Don't drop the coral, Scott, for the LOVE OF GOD! He's - he's BURNING ALIVE! Oh, the humanity!"

Despite me being absolutely no help whatsoever, Scott finally managed to uncover the squashed goby, who slunk off looking slightly pop-eyed but no worse for wear.

The other weird thing at work today: Evidence of Cats Slutting My Chair Whilst I Am Away. I tape-rolled the black skirt I was wearing this morning to get rid of some random fuzz, and ending up unearthing major WADS of cat fur from Lotus, the scruffy longhaired black cat that typically avoids our office like we've got Rotweillers stashed under our desks or something.

Cat fur. A recurring theme in this diary, for which I aplogize.

go back ::: forward

06.02.2002 - Anal Sundry seems the type that might wield a leather whip in her offtime, or something.
05.29.2002 - "We obviously have a portal to Hell where horrible horrible creatures can crawl into our house."
05.25.2002 - We are going to rush right over and just sort of walk around and touch things and whisper "ours".

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I have moved. - 1.03.2005
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