Really?

Oftentimes I sit here at my desk and wish that I had majored in whatever it is that you people do here at this place that I come to every morning. I think that if I had just majored in cartography or insectology or immunology, or...what? Engineering? Civil engineering, for real? I never would have guessed that. Anyway, if I had just majored in civil insectology, I think that I could have made a real difference in the world, rather than just sitting here typing these boring Word documents. I mean I could have been the one out there surveying dalmations or dissecting crustaceans or...what? That's what you guys do? Wow, I wasn't even close.

Dr. Albus Dumbledorf, DMD, Totally Unaware of Harry Potter

October 27, 2010

Utica, NY - Dr. Albus P. Dumbledorf, D.M.D., a Utica, NY orthodontist for over 26 years, has expressed bewilderment at the substantial rise in patients he has seen over the past seven years.

"It's like some magical force has been drawing children to my practice," said Dumbledorf, a tall, graying man, with crescent shaped spectacles. "This one child took my picture and said he was going to 'post' it to 'Facebook.' Facebook? I don't know, I just talk to my colleagues using these state of the art video phones that I've mounted on the walls of my office. Look, there's Dr. Weinstein, he's waving to us."

With the recent increase in patients, Dr. Dumbledorf has been able to hire several new staff members including Rubeus Hagridson, a foreboding but loveable once you get to know him x-ray tech, and Hermione Grangeroni, the smart as a whip but not quite there yet in the looks department receptionist.

"I don't really understand what it is," said Dumbledorf. "But my local colleagues, who have gone so far as giving out free orthodontia themed stickers, have still not experienced the type of surge that we have. It makes you wonder if something else is going on."

When approached for comment, children in the waiting room admitted that while they love Dr. Dumbledorf, and that it's a real shame he has to die in book six, if he tightens their braces one more time he's probably gonna get kicked.

Actually I Can Very Easily Believe That it's Been Five Years

Thank you all for the cake, and the kind words.  But actually, yes, I can believe that it's been five years.  Five days a week, 52 weeks a year, 2,080 hours, 37 million excruciating seconds.  It's not exactly believing in Santa Claus, just some simple math.  Thank you, Pam, I know that I haven't aged a day since I first walked in the door.  That's very sweet of you to say.  But on the inside, a good fifteen years have been whittled off my life - fifteen years chipped away like ice from my windshield on exactly 243 frigid winter mornings.  I can, without any trouble, believe that it's already been 334 wasted summer days, 20 working holidays, and 260 Sunday nights spent crying myself to sleep.  In fact, I keep a tally right here in my calendar, see? 

 

No, Bob, time really didn't fly by.  Monday coughed up Tuesday, Tuesday farted out the horror that is Wednesday, Wednesday vomited up a big mess of Thursday, and so on.  Over and over again each day came on more nightmarishly boring than the last, creeping slowly toward a whopping three weeks vacation and one extra personal day.  Huh? There's no extra personal day?  Oh you son of a - What's that, Mike?  It seems like just yesterday that I was learning the ropes?  Actually yesterday, the day that I spent my lunch hour photocopying status reports, feels a lot more like yesterday.  Five years ago feels like fifty years ago.  I mean, my God, I can't even remember a time when I didn't know every single one of your faces and disgusting personal habits.  The engraved clock is lovely, by the way.  Thank you.  I will put it in my living room.

 

So really, I just want to say that you have all been so helpful in making each and every minute of the past five years last twice as long as it needed to.  Barbara, the day that I showed you four times how to email a simple Word document, turned an ordinary Tuesday into a sheer time warp to Hell.  And Carl, without your constant personal phone calls I would never have appreciated the beauty of sitting silently in traffic, staring straight ahead, and wishing that a meteor would blast my car to smithereens.  Thank you all.  Each and every soul-killing one of you.  

 

Who wants cake? 

Fast Food Workers Not Jealous of You, Not One Bit

October 20, 2010 

Boston, MA - In a recent study conducted by the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, it was revealed that fast food workers employed in the vicinity of your office building are in no way jealous of you, not one bit.  The study, which interviewed fast food workers in every single business district on Earth, was originally intended to measure job satisfaction among those earning minimum wage.  But in an unprecedented twist, all questions regarding job satisfaction resulted in the same response - "I am so glad to not be like them."  This statement was typically followed by the employee pointing toward the registers where any number of knee-length wool trench coat wearing middle-managers were waiting to order. 

"At first, I envied them," said an anonymous Chipotle worker, possibly from the one that you go to. "They'd come in with their Blackberries, looking like they had it all. Talking real loud about things I didn't understand. And I thought for a while that maybe I should go back to school and try to get a job like that. But then, just as I handed one of them their barbacoa burrito bowl, I noticed his eyes. Dead, hollow. As if all the sadness in the world had been funneled straight into his soul.  And the air seemed to get, I don't know, colder it seemed.  I don't like to think about it, I'm sorry...I gotta go squash up some avocados."

Director of the study, Andrew Smithfield, was surprised to find that it was actually the downtown areas where fast food employees showed the greatest satisfaction with their jobs. 

"A finding like that is probably due to the fact that the douchiest attorneys work downtown," said Smithfield. "The presence of those types of assholes, plus totally hideous looking City Hall employees, tends to make fast food workers more appreciative of their jobs." 

"Sure some of them come in and yell at us because they ordered no onions, or they found a Bandaid in their fries," said an anonymous Burger King worker. "But at the end of the day, who's the one having a heart attack at fifty? Not me. Plus, I get all the free Quad Stackers I can eat."

Monopoly

I hope these little pockets are big enough to hold 3 dozen Reading Railroads.

Happy Monday

My cat coughed up some heart shaped vomit last night for my wedding anniversary.

Paper

This sounds like one of my exaggerations ("today I used 14,000 paperclips), but I seriously just used 2,000 sheets of paper for a project with a company who claims to be green. A major company. BIG.

Bee

A bee appears to have committed suicide in my cubicle.

The Secretary4Life Daily News

McDonald's Monopoly Game Last Chance for Success in Life

October 11, 2010

Boston, MA - After exhausting all other opportunities to become successful in life, administrative assisant Donna Porter, 56, has come to the conclusion that winning any of the prizes in McDonald's 2010 Monopoly game will be the best thing she can ever expect to happen to her.

Over the years Porter has considered a myriad of new career paths, but lacked the initiative to follow through with any of them. In 2004, after caring for an ill grandparent with the utmost compassion, Porter enrolled in a nursing program at North Shore Community College. She later dropped out due to the mention of a ten page term paper on her Anatomy & Physiology syllabus.

"On weekends I go onto Craigs List," said Porter, "and try to meet up with other people who might have found the rarer pieces." With no other current goals, Porter is able to spend up to 6 hours per day tracking down the elusive pieces.

In 1994 Porter finished writing a novel about a teenage vampire who falls madly in love with a mortal girl. After receiving two rejections letters, Porter accepted the idea that "Dusk" was silly and probably unsaleable.

"You can get pieces on the Filet o' Fish, a large fry, a Quarter Pound...no, not a Quarter Pounder, a Big Mac, and also the McGriddle," said Porter. "So, I could play three times a day if I wanted to. And why not? If you want to become the successful owner of a 2011 Ford Edge, you've really got to put in the effort."

"Look," said Porter, tearing into her second box of McNuggets, "not everyone is meant to find success with a fancy career or a best selling novel. If I could get my hands on that $5,000 Walmart shopping spree, I would finally feel that I made it."

"Shit," she added. "Baltic."

Kids

Sometimes I think about going into early childhood education, like working with 0 - 2 year olds.  But I'm still not sure if I can stand other people's kids.

201!

Secretary4Life has made it to 201 Twitter followers! Now for the real question...do any of them actually read my blog? I mean, I have photos of pushpins for cripes sake.

Pushpins Just Awkwardly Hanging Around

The Secretary4Life Daily News

Co-worker's Unmarked Package Almost Definitely Erectile Dysfunction Medication

October 5, 2010

Boston, MA - Mail carrier Jim Granger, 37, voiced suspicion on Monday that the unmarked packages delivered monthly to Weinstein-Fleiss employee Richard Wire are almost definitely erectile dysfunction medication. 

"Once a month, like clockwork, he gets this weird package wrapped in plain brown paper," said Granger. "I mean, plain brown paper? They may as well just stamp a picture of his non-functioning ding-dong right on there."

The suspicious package is usually postmarked from Detroit and yields no helpful clues when shaken or thumped. Receptionist Marie Baxter, 30, attempted to confirm the package's contents by "accidentally" tearing the paper and claiming that she thought it was a sweater she had ordered from Ann Taylor. Unfortunately a second unmarked box was found underneath the plain brown paper.

When reached for comment, Wire said that he wished the receptionist would just give him his contact lenses without all the strange looks.

Doctor

Eagerly counting down the minutes until I get to leave work for my doctor's appointment. Yes, childhood version of myself, this is how your career turned out - wishing you were at the doctor's office.

The Secretary4Life Daily News

Even Ficus Tree Bored Out Of Its God Damned Mind

October 4, 2010

Boston, MA - After three years of being stationed outside of that moron Scott Winston's cubicle, a 6-foot ficus tree has confirmed that if it has to spend another minute in this place it's going to lose its God damned mind.

"Day in and day out it's the same old shit with these people," said the ficus. "And God forbid that fat ass should ever take five minutes out of his precious day to hold a conversation. Unless there are Snickers bars dangling from my limbs he ain't interested."

Sources have confirmed that part of receptionist Marcy Brown's job description includes watering the disgruntled ficus once a week.

"Yeah that broad waters me, big deal. They expect me to hang around all week waiting for it like it's the second coming of Christ? Whoopty doo."

In a memo to Branch Manager Robert St. George that was never written because trees cannot write, the ficus expressed its opinion of how everybody in the office is either a total blowhard, major dipshit, or boring enough to make it just quit photosynthesizing and die.

"You think I want to waste my energy converting carbon dioxide into sugars so I can sit here and listen to these zombies talk about grabbing the low-hanging fruit?" said the ficus. "I'm a f#cking tree and even I don't give a rat's ass about low-hanging fruit."

"Get a life," it added.

"You know, I've got a sister adorning the lobby of Google out in California.  Every day I wonder how it is I ended up here."

As of press time, the ficus tree was considering going back to school for a teaching degree once it figures out how the hell to get to the elevator.

Bug

There's a bug in the bathroom and I really want to say to him "Look man, you can go anywhere you want. You're a bug for Christ sake. What the f#$k are you doing here? Go outside where it doesn't still smell like some fat lady's BO half an hour after she's left the bathroom."