unexpected 3
there is nothing quite so disconcerting as seeing two police officers stationed outside your office door.
despite these wise words of experience [re: paragraph seven], i shall speak of my crappy day. for starters, i have to figure out how to clean up a customer account balance that has been disputed since before i finished my undergrad classes. then i prepare my daily bank deposit, a process that i usually finish around 9:30 or so. due to circumstances beyond my control [a diplomatic way of saying EVERYONE ELSE'S MISTAKES], i finish just a smidge after 12:15. throughout the day i receive phone calls about projects not anywhere near an mdog Urgent Status Level and as i hang up each call i am internally screaming BACK THE FUCK OFF ALREADY. also throughout the day my officemate and i receive piecemeal bits of Rather Important Financial Information, which means hours of us going back through already entered data to correct problems caused by us not having this Rather Important Financial Information at THE BEGINNING OF THE MONTH, WHICH IS WHEN WE SHOULD HAVE BEEN GIVEN SAID INFORMATION. the entire day is mostly spent with me sitting at my desk muttering various obscenities, chant-like, and with great force. i'm missing a lot of details here but just know that everything pretty much sucked. and then... bliss. time to go home.
OH, BUT WAIT: IT DOESN'T STOP THERE.
at 6:15 i get a call from the police department, saying i need to come in to my office right now. well, actually they called at 6:10 but i didn't recognize the number, so i didn't answer. i promptly forgot about checking voicemail, and received another call at 6:20 while i was in the bathroom: this time, my boss, calling from home. sonofabitch. what's this all about? so he tells me i need to go in to my office right now because they found our safe open and need someone to come in and verify its contents, or they will in fact be taking the contents with THEM if no one can do the verificationizeness. apparently there have been some office break-ins in the area lately, so they're being very cautious. however, my boss and i both know full well that i probably just didn't shut the safe correctly. sonofabitch. where were you all the other night when one of our offices really WAS broken into, TELL ME THAT, WHY DON'T YOU? i call the police, letting them know i'll be there in ten minutes, and they relay that there are two officers stationed outside my door. nice. ironically, i speed to my office to meet the officers, suffer slight disconcertion at having police in my office, count the cash, yep yep, it's all there, thanks for everything, blah blah blah. none of this is as bad as knowing that my boss thinks i'm an idiot. sonofabitch.
and the unexpected denouement of this day comes at a local hot dog joint, a short stop on my way home from this debacle. the only one in line, i order my butterscotch milkshake. as i wait, the high school or possibly-college-undergrad with long dusty blonde hair eyes me with... suspicion? intrigue? mind control? finally, she speaks.
"do you color your hair, or is it natural?"
now, i'm highly accustomed to questions like "how do you get your hair to do that?" and "is it hard to style?" but at this question, i'm slightly taken aback. armed with brown eyes, a fairly dark complexion, and moderately untamed eyebrows, questions about hair color are in far shorter supply than those regarding finishing style. factor in my utter lack of desire to EVER do anything with my hair, color-wise, and it's a wonder i didn't tumble over in shock.
i compute the question and recover. "oh, no! totally natural."
she nods, thoughtful. "it's pretty. i like it."
most descriptors i receive regarding my hair are things like "cute," "funky," "cool," etc. which i generally interpret as meaning "something i would never have the balls to do, but really awesome in theory even though it sortof makes you look like either a boy or a lesbian."
"pretty," however, is a new one for me. i like it.
despite these wise words of experience [re: paragraph seven], i shall speak of my crappy day. for starters, i have to figure out how to clean up a customer account balance that has been disputed since before i finished my undergrad classes. then i prepare my daily bank deposit, a process that i usually finish around 9:30 or so. due to circumstances beyond my control [a diplomatic way of saying EVERYONE ELSE'S MISTAKES], i finish just a smidge after 12:15. throughout the day i receive phone calls about projects not anywhere near an mdog Urgent Status Level and as i hang up each call i am internally screaming BACK THE FUCK OFF ALREADY. also throughout the day my officemate and i receive piecemeal bits of Rather Important Financial Information, which means hours of us going back through already entered data to correct problems caused by us not having this Rather Important Financial Information at THE BEGINNING OF THE MONTH, WHICH IS WHEN WE SHOULD HAVE BEEN GIVEN SAID INFORMATION. the entire day is mostly spent with me sitting at my desk muttering various obscenities, chant-like, and with great force. i'm missing a lot of details here but just know that everything pretty much sucked. and then... bliss. time to go home.
OH, BUT WAIT: IT DOESN'T STOP THERE.
at 6:15 i get a call from the police department, saying i need to come in to my office right now. well, actually they called at 6:10 but i didn't recognize the number, so i didn't answer. i promptly forgot about checking voicemail, and received another call at 6:20 while i was in the bathroom: this time, my boss, calling from home. sonofabitch. what's this all about? so he tells me i need to go in to my office right now because they found our safe open and need someone to come in and verify its contents, or they will in fact be taking the contents with THEM if no one can do the verificationizeness. apparently there have been some office break-ins in the area lately, so they're being very cautious. however, my boss and i both know full well that i probably just didn't shut the safe correctly. sonofabitch. where were you all the other night when one of our offices really WAS broken into, TELL ME THAT, WHY DON'T YOU? i call the police, letting them know i'll be there in ten minutes, and they relay that there are two officers stationed outside my door. nice. ironically, i speed to my office to meet the officers, suffer slight disconcertion at having police in my office, count the cash, yep yep, it's all there, thanks for everything, blah blah blah. none of this is as bad as knowing that my boss thinks i'm an idiot. sonofabitch.
and the unexpected denouement of this day comes at a local hot dog joint, a short stop on my way home from this debacle. the only one in line, i order my butterscotch milkshake. as i wait, the high school or possibly-college-undergrad with long dusty blonde hair eyes me with... suspicion? intrigue? mind control? finally, she speaks.
"do you color your hair, or is it natural?"
now, i'm highly accustomed to questions like "how do you get your hair to do that?" and "is it hard to style?" but at this question, i'm slightly taken aback. armed with brown eyes, a fairly dark complexion, and moderately untamed eyebrows, questions about hair color are in far shorter supply than those regarding finishing style. factor in my utter lack of desire to EVER do anything with my hair, color-wise, and it's a wonder i didn't tumble over in shock.i compute the question and recover. "oh, no! totally natural."
she nods, thoughtful. "it's pretty. i like it."
most descriptors i receive regarding my hair are things like "cute," "funky," "cool," etc. which i generally interpret as meaning "something i would never have the balls to do, but really awesome in theory even though it sortof makes you look like either a boy or a lesbian."
"pretty," however, is a new one for me. i like it.
mdog
9 Comments
Reader Comments (9)
along with the funky & cool bit. my old roomie wanted me to chop my hair your length (she was an at-random roommate mind you, so she didn't know me well enough to know which hairstyles may or may not suit me.)
sorry you had a crap day. that was me yesterday.
how to look like an idiot at the hospital: schedule no less than three patients who you looked them straight in the eyes, said 'please have a seat so the nurse can draw your labs' & have them walk out of the clinic, so the rns think you're an idiot when they call the patient & no one responds & ask you where they went when they needed tests. derrrr...
that's a good one.
ever think about letting it long and loose again? I mean, to look like a straight girl...
"long and loose," no, not really. growing it out a little - still very short but no with the spiky - has been a thought. but not "long," no. i'm just too lazy.
that's a new one.. I LIKE!!!!! ololo
sounds like a stress-full day.. YIKES!
and i LOVE the close-ups to illustrate your point. you will recieve full marks for that :|
;P
and you want to talk about "follically challanged" you should see MY hair!
It's good to know your run in with the law ended so peacefully. But I would have visited you in jail. :O)