Showing posts from January, 2011


I was sitting in my cubicle the other day when a co-worker came by to talk about my hockey career. You know those jokes that are funny at first and then they get old, and then, if you really persist, they get funny again?  Or maybe they don’t.

For the past 10 years, 98 percent of our interactions have been based on the premise that he’s my agent, trying to get me a contact with the National Hockey League.  No, I don’t play hockey.  A typical conversation passing in the hall goes like this:

“Hey, you ready to fly to Toronto?  I’ve been talkin’ to a guy there.”

“Yep.  Skates are sharp.  Ready.”

And that’s as far as it ever goes.  There’s such a serious tone to it all that one day a couple of women in our office actually thought that I was looking for a spot as a goalie in a professional league, which is puzzling on so many levels that I won’t go into it here. 

 “Thought I saw you at Wayne Gretzky’s 50th birthday party. Did you get any offers?”

“Yeah, that was quite a party.”


Welcome to my workplace*

This week, since we’ve all been required to work a bunch more hours and there’s even less to do, I remembered that the bosses used to ask me to do stuff.  I went to The Baron.

“Hey, remember when everyone cared about what we were doing around here, and you’d give me special little side projects?  Research and stuff?  Let’s do that again.”

“Uh, what did you want to do, exactly?”

“Oh, you know. Something involving an excel spreadsheet.  You’ve got all this underutilized talent, right here!”

”Betsy, I think you’re working right at your capacity.”

“Baron, I’m making photocopies and printing off maps.”

“As I said…” and he gave that wry little Lutheran look.

I went back to my desk, and a little while later he appeared to talk to B. and I.

“Gentle-people, I have a project for one of you.”

In mid-sentence, though, B’s cell phone rang, he answered it, and walked away, clearly having a personal call with his gf, leaving the boss looking a little dismayed.

“What’s the project?” I asked.

“A culve…

Astrology, revisited.

Aries (3/21 – 4/19): I suppose you were fascinated by Spiderman's accident.  Let it be a reminder to check your own safety net.  That's the deal, Aries.  You can jump long and far as long as you're firmly attached.  But don't just assume you aren't attached and play it too safe either, you know? We should make some plans for gathering.  Ditch all of those needy people you're related to by blood and marriage, and meet me for a drink in town one evening.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  Have you ever started on a project that you think will be really interesting because something good happens at the beginning, but then Nothing. Ever. Happens. Again.?  The other day, I started asking around at the office, "what are you going to miss now that we have to work on Fridays?"  I was thinking I'd collect our grief and do something with it, I wasn't sure what.  The very first person I asked said she was going to have to quit going to Beer Bingo at the Pickled Onion…

Resolutions, revolutions

I get a text from R on NYE:  “Can I have some kids over for a sleepover?”


“Sure, as in okay, or sure as in Ab-so-lutely?”


“Whoa, Mom.  Calm down.  You got a resolution?"

“Yes.  To be more accepting and forgiving of my loved ones.”

“Mine is to try to do something you can’t forgive or accept. HA HA HA”

Our text conversation ends there, but it made me start thinking about resolutions.  I asked around the workplace yesterday, and almost no one had one.

The boss came in to see if we won the lotto (we didn’t), and I asked him.

“No, I don’t really do that.”

"B?  How ‘bout you?"


“Hey, boss, can I assign NY resolutions?  ”  Sadly, he walked away without answering, but B. asks what his would be.

“I’d like to suggest that you focus on not drunk-dialing your girlfriend.”

“That’s not a bad idea.  I might actually work on that.”

Out of about 30 people I asked, no one had a resolution.  I even asked the Great Sandini, who gave me that loo…

Mega millionaire

It is possible that I won the mega-millions lottery last night, but I’ll wait to find out. The pot has gotten huge.  Earlier this week, I was out of the office for I think only an hour, and when I came back, a lottery pool had been created, fantasies were being developed.

My boss came into my cubicle, probably to be near my full-spectrum light, which, not to stray too far from the topic, but I do feel like I work with a bunch of moths.

“Hey, Betsy, if I win the lottery, you can work at the foundation that I start.  We can give away money.”

I know.  His lottery fantasy is that he’d still be my boss.  I can’t decide how I feel about that, but I guess it could be a lot worse. 

“Hey, I’d take that job.  I think I’d be pretty good at it.”

“I know you would. We have to come up with a name for the foundation.”

At this point, two things happened:  they discovered they didn’t win, and the pager went off, summoning me to the permit center, abruptly ending the whole thing.

The man I went to he…