A Day Off? For What?

So, my secretary comes in Monday wearing a skirt and a tight little tank top. Very nice look for her. She's tall and she's got some great legs and she knows it. Smallish on top but she's sexy as hell when she wants to be. Alas, for the most part she wears jeans and button down shirts. As a friend of her told her, she dresses more like a lesbian biker than the hot sexy woman she is.

Anyway, she comes in wearing a skirt for the first time in a year, or longer. She wants something.

So, after a few hours of her prancing around in this sexy little number she comes in to see me. She wants to take Wednesday off. I ask her what for and she says she needs to take her husband to the doctor. 44 years old and he needs her to take him to the doctor. Most likely, she is forcing him to go and he is a child, hooked on amphetamine salts and he won't go anywhere if she doesn't drag his out out of bed and out of the apartment. This is a major task for her because he sleeps all day. She says he takes ambien around 4 or 5 each morning, sleeps until 5ish and wakes up so she can feed him, then she goes to the gym and he is gone by the time she gets home.

She swears she loves him but there's nothing to love. It's one of the mysteries of the office. Right up there with "who left the booger on the mouse?"

Wasn't me. I did a carb check once. Boogers are lo-carb and, therefore, make a fine midday snack.


Back to the secretary.

So I tell her it's cool, take the guy to the doctor, no worries.

This morning I'm sitting at my desk, pondering life's little foibles, wondering why things happen the way they do and she comes in to say hello.

I ask her how the doctor went and she says "it didn't happen."

I feel for her. I really do. This guy is like a lump of shit, minus the tasty morsels. All dried out and useless. He's got no street value. He has no purpose whatsoever and, yet, she does these all she can for him.

So, I ask my bookkeeper, who finds him to be even more of a waste than I do, if that's possible, what happened. She says "he refused to go have the cards read."

Say what?

That's right, Wednesday, a work day, was going to be blown off for the sake of a fucking palm reader.

Friday is a fucking holiday. She's taking ten days off from the 16th or something and she needs to ditch work to go have their fucking future told to them?

I can do that for them.

The one income family might find themselves with no income. Times will be tough as the do nothing continues to not write the epic masterpiece script and the secretary with no references tries to get a job in the worst job market in decades.

unfuckingbelievable.

She ditched work to see a fucking seer. A tarot reader.

A con artist.

That's what she was going to do.

And she lied to me.

Yeah, I know the future baby. It ain't pretty. She can show up in her thong and I still won't forgive this.

Who am I kidding?

On a side note, my dad is turning 75 in a couple of weeks and I've been trying to come up with some ideas for him. Seems I'm stuck chipping in with both sisters. One doesn't want to spend much money, the other is ok with spending but needs to discuss the options until I kill myself. Spent a solid 53 minutes discussing one gift item, the merits of buying it etc and then, not even 5 minutes later, she fucking called back with a few other things to talk about regarding the same god damned gift.

Way to ruin the fun of gift giving.