Just Shoot Me!

So yeah, if I ever get to the point that I can't walk my happy ass over to the office next door to deliver a single piece of paper, but instead, I call in the receptionist who is busy mind you, to walk 100 feet to my office and then ask her to take the paper to the guy 10 feet away - - JUST SHOOT ME. Don't even be nice about it; I mean, yeah, aim correctly, but don't be sweet, just put me underground and send me off to Jesus. I do not want to be so freaking arrogant or wrapped up in my own self that I can't take a note that I wrote, over to the guy I wrote it to - - just 10 feet away. SIDE NOTE: I'm not saying if I am unable to do so, I am talking about arrogance.

    That was me yesterday (the receptionist) just smiling, laughing under my breath, and thinking to myself and to God, "THANK YOU for not bringing me into this world with both a silver spoon and a gold key in my mouth!" I, of course, graciously took the paper to the man next door to the boss, and even announced my entrance - - he loved it. He thanked me, and he said to me, "Yeah, Bob can't be bothered sometimes." Wow...no.

    I often take temporary assignments outside the house to make a little money I can squirrel away for whatever it is that I'm saving up to do; this time, it happens to be my move to Scotland. I took a small short term assignment that we all knew would be around two or three days tops; and I guess the "Boss" just thought he could train the new girl in just under that time frame to maintain his level of inept spoiling that either his parents endowed on him, or every other underling he's ever hired. I wanted to laugh in his face and say, "Yeah, no Bob, you need to get up, walk over to Richard's office, hand him the note, and maybe, Oh, I don't know, just ASK HIM if he wants to play golf on Saturday.  Maybe you could have at least added a little box or two to check yes or no!"  I didn't say that, I like being entertained by the very rich. I often think I'll honor them by writing them into my next novel - - as the victim.

    This week I accepted an assignment for a non-profit foundation, and if you know much about non-profits here in the U.S. (Clinton Foundation and the like) you know that most of them have a ton of money! They are absolutely for profit, they are holes to throw money into and lose for others, they are perhaps, in my opinion, the one thing that really should be audited by the IRS and every other agency known to man, but their saving grace there would be that most of the Board members of these foundations work for those agencies and they both turn their heads at misappropriation and at straight up theft or under reporting. Don't shoot me for saying that, it's true, but do shoot me if I ever join one that steals from the very people they claim to help. I have a thing about being honest and ethical, and to date, I have not found a single solitary foundation in the United States that was 100% above board. Many want to be. Many try to be, but somewhere along the line their controllers find ways to skim and/or cut corners and it's just a matter of time before "favors" are exchanged - - and there you go. Corrupted. I think there could be legitimate foundations, I do, I really do believe there could be, but I haven't found one in the United States. I hope I'm proven wrong.

    When the assignment ended today I was just about to walk out the door when the boss calls me on the intercom. Rather than picking it up and answering him I walked to his office to say good bye, and even to thank him for the opportunity to serve, right? Well, he looked at me as I stood in the door of his office holding my purse and little duffle that I carry, and he said, "Oh, it's not lunch time yet, what gives, where are you going?"  I told him that Human Resources had decided they didn't need me to finish the week, and I was going home. He asked me if I could ("Pretty Please") take a file down the hall to Julie so she could have something to work on during the rest of the day.  OK what? Damn, you know I did it. He said "Pretty Please".  I am just too freaking nice. I really am.  I smiled. I took the file, and I laid it on Julie's desk.  She laughed - - she said, "You know, I would have told him to shove it."  I guess that's why he likes me. I just think it - - for now. He's going to end up pushed off the balcony of the 48th floor of a building in downtown Chicago under a different name - - in my book. Sorry Bob, you gotta go!