the governor does a public access show, generally once a month. he hosts said show and asks a guest to appear on it as well, who he interviews about politics. the woman who runs it, whose name is karen, is a total doll and he drives her up a wall, so once a month when we schedule the show for him (a month in advance) we joke about him and it's great. and then, once a month, i remind him his show is coming up, and he starts calling people--from my office, mind you--and claims that the show has just been scheduled (when, in reality, it has likely been on his calendar for a month, if not more), and finds a guest.
i reminded him of his upcoming show on monday of this week, and when he came in this morning it was the first thing he wanted to take care of. he calls several people before i suggest he try the senator, who started off in the governor's administration, back in the early 90s.
the intern at the senator's office sounds like he's about 15, but logic would dictate he's got to be at least 18 or 19. either way, he couldn't have been more than 11 when the governor left office (that's how old i was), and while this kid is living and working in the same state in which my boss was once governor, and you might guess that he MIGHT know the governor's name, he also might not.
so, when he asks the governor to repeat and spell his last name, he gets that same, funny, smart-assed smile on his face. he spells his name out slowly, then says "do me a favor."
"sure," the intern replies.
"ask somebody in your office who i am."
"ok," that poor kid says nervously, and hangs up the phone.
the governor leans back and crosses his arms, triumphant. "there," he says. as if a serious issue has been resolved.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
i'm going to be extremely busy all week--tons of catching up to do from thanksgiving and some personal craziness as well. i might get a chance to tell a story or two but while i have a quick minute, i thought i'd mention these two little gems:
the first is a story from quite some time ago, this past summer. a friend of mine races go-karts and had qualified to go to this pretty big deal race in colorado in august, but was slightly lacking in the funds to get him there. "you should ask the governor," i suggested one day. "play up the fact that you're from RI and want to represent the best state in the nation and he'll definitely at least give you $50, which you didn't have before." so, he wrote out a letter to the governor and sent it with a little poster of himself racing and a resume of his experience.
this was back when i worked in this office from 9 am to 2 pm, then raced home to do office hours from 2-4 pm, so i wasn't here when dillon called to check and see if the governor had gotten the letter.
what i WAS around for was a phone call from dillon, telling me he'd spent the last half hour repeating his name as loud as he could, only to repeatedly hear "i'm sorry, i really just can't hear you, i can get most people but you're going to need to talk louder, i don't hear very well."
the next morning i came into the office to find the governor at his desk. "i hear you got a phone call last night and couldn't hear what the guy was saying?" i asked. "no!" the governor exclaimed. "i couldn't hear a damn thing that kid was saying! could you?"
"well sir," i explained. "i didn't fly B-17's in the war. i can hear most things."
"i wish you had!" he joked back. "we'd be pretty funny, then!"
oops, looks like i only have time for the one gem. the other one wasn't that funny, anyway. have a great week, everybody.
the first is a story from quite some time ago, this past summer. a friend of mine races go-karts and had qualified to go to this pretty big deal race in colorado in august, but was slightly lacking in the funds to get him there. "you should ask the governor," i suggested one day. "play up the fact that you're from RI and want to represent the best state in the nation and he'll definitely at least give you $50, which you didn't have before." so, he wrote out a letter to the governor and sent it with a little poster of himself racing and a resume of his experience.
this was back when i worked in this office from 9 am to 2 pm, then raced home to do office hours from 2-4 pm, so i wasn't here when dillon called to check and see if the governor had gotten the letter.
what i WAS around for was a phone call from dillon, telling me he'd spent the last half hour repeating his name as loud as he could, only to repeatedly hear "i'm sorry, i really just can't hear you, i can get most people but you're going to need to talk louder, i don't hear very well."
the next morning i came into the office to find the governor at his desk. "i hear you got a phone call last night and couldn't hear what the guy was saying?" i asked. "no!" the governor exclaimed. "i couldn't hear a damn thing that kid was saying! could you?"
"well sir," i explained. "i didn't fly B-17's in the war. i can hear most things."
"i wish you had!" he joked back. "we'd be pretty funny, then!"
oops, looks like i only have time for the one gem. the other one wasn't that funny, anyway. have a great week, everybody.
Friday, November 16, 2007
google that shit.
last thursday included, but was not limited to, calling the state department in D.C., making out checks he's already sent out to people, looking for files that don't exist, cutting articles out of the newspaper that he'll never read again, buying things for him that he doesn't have the money to pay for...
and calling malaysia.
i have not told this story yet because it has seemed too ridiculous every time i have tried. but we'll give it a go anyway.
back story: the governor apparently met somebody who lived in, and/or currently resides in malaysia, during world war II (i found this out when i asked "how do you know them?" and he replied "world war two!" in a pleasantly indignant, "you should've known that, you idiot" tone). and last thursday, he decided he wanted to talk to that person.
now, for starters, let's review the concept of time zones. malaysia, being in asia, is on the other side of the world from rhode island and, as such, is on a completely different schedule. with daylight savings having taken effect on the east coast, we are 13 hours behind malaysia at this point. this will come into play later.
i cannot find a file for the person he would like to speak to. wait--back up--first thing's first--i cannot determine if the person he is hoping to speak to is male or female. the name sounds feminine, but (a) it's asia, names sound different there, and (b) if he met this person during WWII, i'm tempted to guess this individual is, in fact, a man. in addition to this, i can find no record of this person in any of the gov's files, or in his rolodex (which, to be honest, is a thing on the computer, so it's easy to look for people). this angers said gov, who goes off to lunch declaring that he will ask the people he eats with; they will know.
when he comes back roughly an hour later, he has a triumphant look on his face. "google it," he says smugly.
(google it? where did he learn that word?!)
"google it?" i reply, and he goes on. "google kuala lumpur, malaysia," he says, "then click on phone directory." i follow his directions. "it doesn't say phone directory anywhere," i explain. "that's what they told me to do at the university club!" he says (perhaps they have a different internet than i do?...), and comes around to look at my computer. he inspects the screen, then points to a website that eventually leads me to a listing for the US embassy in kuala lampur. "call them."
when, after several tries, i manage to get through to the embassy, a recording tells me that it is closed, and will not be open until 7:45 am. upon further investigation, i find out that this is because, at 2 pm in the northeast, it is 3 am tomorrow in malaysia. the recording suggests i call back in the morning, or, if i am an american citizen, and it is an emergency, to please press 1. i write down the hours of operation and hang up to give the governor a report.
"well, call back," he says.
"they're closed," i explain again. "it's 3 in the morning, there."
"well there must be SOMEONE there," he says, exasperated. "call back."
i call again and tell the poor man answering phones in the dead of night that he can feel free to hang up on me at any time, because i understand that the reason i am calling him is ridiculous and not something the emergency line at a US embassy is meant to handle. he explains that if the person i was trying to reach were, say, begin detained by the malaysian government, i might have a case, but otherwise i should just call back during their regular business hours. i agree, thank him, and hang up.
going into the governor's office, i figure, i've got a pretty good case of my hands for why he's not going to reach the person he'd like to on this particular day. besides the fact that it's nearing 3:30 am in malaysia and therefore, nobody is going to want to talk to him him on the phone anyway even if he GETS the number he's looking for, the guy working at the embassy doesn't know how to help him anyway.
i go in and explain all this, and he asks what i mean. i say "well, they're in a different time zone--" "well that's stupid!" he says (time zones are stupid?). "when it's daytime there, it's nighttime here!" he says this accusingly. as though it's my fault. call me crazy, but SOMEBODY should've thought of this when he created the world. it's not MY fault we only have one sun.
the day continued with a call to the state department (when i couldn't find a specific phone number to call, his response was "call THE STATE DEPARTMENT. in WASHINGTON D.C." as though i could just call one number and say "yes, washington? could i have the state department please?" or, for further example, as though i could call, say, new york city and say "yes, sean thompson's office, please?"), which i could not get out of, though my own common sense did not deter me from attempting to explain that they probably did not have an address and phone number for everyone in the world (the CIA has that, dummy). they were also no help. their suggestion was (shocker) "call the embassy when it's open." helpful, guys.
moral of the story? i'm not sure there is one. unless it's "rewind to june and, when you are offered a job working as professional administrative assistant for a former governor, say no thank you." which, y'know, is impossible.
and calling malaysia.
i have not told this story yet because it has seemed too ridiculous every time i have tried. but we'll give it a go anyway.
back story: the governor apparently met somebody who lived in, and/or currently resides in malaysia, during world war II (i found this out when i asked "how do you know them?" and he replied "world war two!" in a pleasantly indignant, "you should've known that, you idiot" tone). and last thursday, he decided he wanted to talk to that person.
now, for starters, let's review the concept of time zones. malaysia, being in asia, is on the other side of the world from rhode island and, as such, is on a completely different schedule. with daylight savings having taken effect on the east coast, we are 13 hours behind malaysia at this point. this will come into play later.
i cannot find a file for the person he would like to speak to. wait--back up--first thing's first--i cannot determine if the person he is hoping to speak to is male or female. the name sounds feminine, but (a) it's asia, names sound different there, and (b) if he met this person during WWII, i'm tempted to guess this individual is, in fact, a man. in addition to this, i can find no record of this person in any of the gov's files, or in his rolodex (which, to be honest, is a thing on the computer, so it's easy to look for people). this angers said gov, who goes off to lunch declaring that he will ask the people he eats with; they will know.
when he comes back roughly an hour later, he has a triumphant look on his face. "google it," he says smugly.
(google it? where did he learn that word?!)
"google it?" i reply, and he goes on. "google kuala lumpur, malaysia," he says, "then click on phone directory." i follow his directions. "it doesn't say phone directory anywhere," i explain. "that's what they told me to do at the university club!" he says (perhaps they have a different internet than i do?...), and comes around to look at my computer. he inspects the screen, then points to a website that eventually leads me to a listing for the US embassy in kuala lampur. "call them."
when, after several tries, i manage to get through to the embassy, a recording tells me that it is closed, and will not be open until 7:45 am. upon further investigation, i find out that this is because, at 2 pm in the northeast, it is 3 am tomorrow in malaysia. the recording suggests i call back in the morning, or, if i am an american citizen, and it is an emergency, to please press 1. i write down the hours of operation and hang up to give the governor a report.
"well, call back," he says.
"they're closed," i explain again. "it's 3 in the morning, there."
"well there must be SOMEONE there," he says, exasperated. "call back."
i call again and tell the poor man answering phones in the dead of night that he can feel free to hang up on me at any time, because i understand that the reason i am calling him is ridiculous and not something the emergency line at a US embassy is meant to handle. he explains that if the person i was trying to reach were, say, begin detained by the malaysian government, i might have a case, but otherwise i should just call back during their regular business hours. i agree, thank him, and hang up.
going into the governor's office, i figure, i've got a pretty good case of my hands for why he's not going to reach the person he'd like to on this particular day. besides the fact that it's nearing 3:30 am in malaysia and therefore, nobody is going to want to talk to him him on the phone anyway even if he GETS the number he's looking for, the guy working at the embassy doesn't know how to help him anyway.
i go in and explain all this, and he asks what i mean. i say "well, they're in a different time zone--" "well that's stupid!" he says (time zones are stupid?). "when it's daytime there, it's nighttime here!" he says this accusingly. as though it's my fault. call me crazy, but SOMEBODY should've thought of this when he created the world. it's not MY fault we only have one sun.
the day continued with a call to the state department (when i couldn't find a specific phone number to call, his response was "call THE STATE DEPARTMENT. in WASHINGTON D.C." as though i could just call one number and say "yes, washington? could i have the state department please?" or, for further example, as though i could call, say, new york city and say "yes, sean thompson's office, please?"), which i could not get out of, though my own common sense did not deter me from attempting to explain that they probably did not have an address and phone number for everyone in the world (the CIA has that, dummy). they were also no help. their suggestion was (shocker) "call the embassy when it's open." helpful, guys.
moral of the story? i'm not sure there is one. unless it's "rewind to june and, when you are offered a job working as professional administrative assistant for a former governor, say no thank you." which, y'know, is impossible.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
geriatric moment of the day
it's only 9:30 am, things can only go up from here...
the governor comes into my office with a business card.
gov: here, call this guy, tell him i've got a copy of my book so far, and he can come pick it up. and also, make up a reciept for him to sign when you deliver it.
me: ...you want me to deliver it?
gov: no! where did you get that?!
me: you just said "when you deliver it."
gov: no i did not!
me: yes you did! i was sitting right here!
gov: fine! YOU take care of it!
aaaand walks out of my office with the business card in hand.
awesome. best job ever.
the governor comes into my office with a business card.
gov: here, call this guy, tell him i've got a copy of my book so far, and he can come pick it up. and also, make up a reciept for him to sign when you deliver it.
me: ...you want me to deliver it?
gov: no! where did you get that?!
me: you just said "when you deliver it."
gov: no i did not!
me: yes you did! i was sitting right here!
gov: fine! YOU take care of it!
aaaand walks out of my office with the business card in hand.
awesome. best job ever.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
so far this morning, the governor has yelled at, i believe, 7 bank tellers from citizens bank, all the while trying to get somebody to say it's ok for him to borrow $30,000 (and to presumably overlook his massive credit card debts in the process). one of the poor souls he encountered asked him to please spell his name out. his response?
"I USED TO BE GOVERNOR! WHAT DO YOU MEAN HOW DO I SPELL MY NAME?!"
awesome. i mean, aside from the fact that, judging by voice alone, the girl on the other end of the phone lines was probably about 8 when he got elected. but that's neither here nor there. know your state's former governors names, and how to spell them! ass.
edit: in addition, one of my roommates had the following to say:
i'm so gonna do that any time someone asks me to spell my name. except i'll make up different things each time...
"I USED TO BE A FAMOUS SCIENTIST! WHAT DO YOU MEAN HOW DO I SPELL MY NAME!"
"I USED TO REPRESENT KENYA IN THE OLYMPICS! WHAT DO YOU MEAN HOW DO I SPELL MY NAME!"
"I USED TO BE A PORN STAR! WHAT DO YOU MEAN HOW DO I SPELL MY NAME!"
"I USED TO BE GOVERNOR! WHAT DO YOU MEAN HOW DO I SPELL MY NAME?!"
awesome. i mean, aside from the fact that, judging by voice alone, the girl on the other end of the phone lines was probably about 8 when he got elected. but that's neither here nor there. know your state's former governors names, and how to spell them! ass.
edit: in addition, one of my roommates had the following to say:
i'm so gonna do that any time someone asks me to spell my name. except i'll make up different things each time...
"I USED TO BE A FAMOUS SCIENTIST! WHAT DO YOU MEAN HOW DO I SPELL MY NAME!"
"I USED TO REPRESENT KENYA IN THE OLYMPICS! WHAT DO YOU MEAN HOW DO I SPELL MY NAME!"
"I USED TO BE A PORN STAR! WHAT DO YOU MEAN HOW DO I SPELL MY NAME!"
Friday, November 2, 2007
what's my husband's name again?...
the governor is not the only crazy one who lives at his house. no, don't worry, his wife is sort of a nutjob as well.
case and point: october 31st, halloween, roughly 2 o'clock PM.
phone rings. "hello?"
"hi sarah, can you please tell [the governor] to remember to bring home some halloween candy for the trick-or-treaters tonight?"
issue #1: she's calling from a store she owns about 20 minutes away. this is how far the governor would have to drive from here to get to somewhere that sells halloween candy.
issue #2: her store is right next to a cvs. she could spit on it from where she's calling me. she could open her window, reach out, and knock on their window (if they had windows. do they?...). if she sneezed while on the phone with me, someone working in that particular cvs would probably hear it and, knowing the people who work there, she'd probably be able to hear it when one of them said "bless you."
issue #3: "um, actually, he just left for a doctors appointment. but he's in his car, you could try his car phone!"
"oh, could you call him and remind him? i don't know the number."
now, he's had that car longer than i've known him. and guess who's been married to him the whole time he's had it? (hint: if you guessed me, you're wrong.)
sometimes i wonder how she puts up with him. and sometimes i wonder how he puts up with her. i NEVER wonder how he made it to wife #5.
i guess it just all comes out even in the end.
case and point: october 31st, halloween, roughly 2 o'clock PM.
phone rings. "hello?"
"hi sarah, can you please tell [the governor] to remember to bring home some halloween candy for the trick-or-treaters tonight?"
issue #1: she's calling from a store she owns about 20 minutes away. this is how far the governor would have to drive from here to get to somewhere that sells halloween candy.
issue #2: her store is right next to a cvs. she could spit on it from where she's calling me. she could open her window, reach out, and knock on their window (if they had windows. do they?...). if she sneezed while on the phone with me, someone working in that particular cvs would probably hear it and, knowing the people who work there, she'd probably be able to hear it when one of them said "bless you."
issue #3: "um, actually, he just left for a doctors appointment. but he's in his car, you could try his car phone!"
"oh, could you call him and remind him? i don't know the number."
now, he's had that car longer than i've known him. and guess who's been married to him the whole time he's had it? (hint: if you guessed me, you're wrong.)
sometimes i wonder how she puts up with him. and sometimes i wonder how he puts up with her. i NEVER wonder how he made it to wife #5.
i guess it just all comes out even in the end.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
During the license suspension fiasco, when I was driving the Governor to and from work, there was a particular day that I knew I was going to be at least a half an hour late. As I was leaving Providence, I called his house and spoke with his wife. “Could you tell him that I’m going to be late?” I asked. “I don’t want him to be waiting at the end of the driveway for an hour.” (That’s what he’d do, by the way—wait at the end of the driveway, clutching his bag, looking like a schoolboy waiting for the bus. And then, as he’d get into the car, he’d cheerfully report how long he’d been waiting, so I’d feel bad about being so late. A real gem, that guy.)
It took me almost exactly a half an hour to get there, but I’d warned his wife that it might be as much as 45 minutes, just to be safe. When I got there, I got out of the car, walked up to the front door, and knocked.
Nothing.
I waited a few minutes, then rang the doorbell. Being that he's mostly deaf, knocking would be louder, but I supposed that I didn’t know where in the house he was.
Nothing.
I called his wife, who hadn’t arrived at work yet, and left a message for her to call me—had she dropped him off on campus and forgotten to tell me?—and then thought to call the house, to tell him I was outside.
As my cell phone rang, I realized I could actually hear his phone ringing inside the house. Leaning closer, I realized I could also hear the television on. And, squinting hard enough to see through the gauzy white curtains in the windows that were on either side of the door, I recognized the unmistakable outline of the Governor, sitting on the couch, completely ignoring the phone.
“GOVERNOR,” I yelled, knocking on the door while ringing the doorbell with the other hand.
Nothing.
Completely out of ideas—I thought to kick the door to make a louder noise, but had a terrible mental image of somehow ruining something on the door and having to apologize for it—I walked down to my car and called my mother. As I explained my predicament to her and asked what she thought I should do, she could hardly contain her laughter. “Oh, Sarah,” she said finally, “I have no idea.”
As she erupted with more laughter, I looked up to see the Governor walking triumphantly down the stairs. “I’ll call you later,” I said crossly to my mother, closed my phone, and looked up at the Governor. “I’ve been knocking and ringing your doorbell for fifteen minutes!” I exclaimed. “I even tried calling the house—how loud did you have that TV up? I can’t believe you didn’t hear ANY of that.”
He looked at me, a defiant smile taking over his face. “I know,” he said obnoxiously, “but you told [my wife] that it would take you 45 minutes to get here. So, I thought I’d give you that full 45 minutes, just in case.”
I will not kick an 87 year old in the shins. I will not kick an 87 year old in the shins. I will not kick an 87 year old in the shins.
Later, at the office, he came up to my desk with a gleeful grin on his face. “Look at this!” He exclaimed, thrusting a piece of paper in my face. I took it and looked it over—attached to it was a drivers’ license.
“What...” I said slowly.
“It’s my drivers license!” He crowed. “I lost it before my driving test, and they sent me a new one! Now—how can they say that I don’t have my license when I have this one, right here?”
He was waiting for me to agree, congratulate him. I didn’t do that, but I also didn’t explain to him that when your license is suspended, they don’t physically take the piece of plastic—and it doesn’t matter if you have it; if you’re pulled over, on a suspended license, they will run your records and, license or no license in hand, they will note that you are legally not to be driving.
“Here you go,” I said as I handed it back. He gave me a trademarked “you are so rude to not be happy for me about this” look and stormed away.
I don’t know if he ever tried driving with that license. I suppose it would be nice to add “I warned him” here, but really, it was a lot less stressful to just go into his office later, and hide that piece of paper.
It took me almost exactly a half an hour to get there, but I’d warned his wife that it might be as much as 45 minutes, just to be safe. When I got there, I got out of the car, walked up to the front door, and knocked.
Nothing.
I waited a few minutes, then rang the doorbell. Being that he's mostly deaf, knocking would be louder, but I supposed that I didn’t know where in the house he was.
Nothing.
I called his wife, who hadn’t arrived at work yet, and left a message for her to call me—had she dropped him off on campus and forgotten to tell me?—and then thought to call the house, to tell him I was outside.
As my cell phone rang, I realized I could actually hear his phone ringing inside the house. Leaning closer, I realized I could also hear the television on. And, squinting hard enough to see through the gauzy white curtains in the windows that were on either side of the door, I recognized the unmistakable outline of the Governor, sitting on the couch, completely ignoring the phone.
“GOVERNOR,” I yelled, knocking on the door while ringing the doorbell with the other hand.
Nothing.
Completely out of ideas—I thought to kick the door to make a louder noise, but had a terrible mental image of somehow ruining something on the door and having to apologize for it—I walked down to my car and called my mother. As I explained my predicament to her and asked what she thought I should do, she could hardly contain her laughter. “Oh, Sarah,” she said finally, “I have no idea.”
As she erupted with more laughter, I looked up to see the Governor walking triumphantly down the stairs. “I’ll call you later,” I said crossly to my mother, closed my phone, and looked up at the Governor. “I’ve been knocking and ringing your doorbell for fifteen minutes!” I exclaimed. “I even tried calling the house—how loud did you have that TV up? I can’t believe you didn’t hear ANY of that.”
He looked at me, a defiant smile taking over his face. “I know,” he said obnoxiously, “but you told [my wife] that it would take you 45 minutes to get here. So, I thought I’d give you that full 45 minutes, just in case.”
I will not kick an 87 year old in the shins. I will not kick an 87 year old in the shins. I will not kick an 87 year old in the shins.
Later, at the office, he came up to my desk with a gleeful grin on his face. “Look at this!” He exclaimed, thrusting a piece of paper in my face. I took it and looked it over—attached to it was a drivers’ license.
“What...” I said slowly.
“It’s my drivers license!” He crowed. “I lost it before my driving test, and they sent me a new one! Now—how can they say that I don’t have my license when I have this one, right here?”
He was waiting for me to agree, congratulate him. I didn’t do that, but I also didn’t explain to him that when your license is suspended, they don’t physically take the piece of plastic—and it doesn’t matter if you have it; if you’re pulled over, on a suspended license, they will run your records and, license or no license in hand, they will note that you are legally not to be driving.
“Here you go,” I said as I handed it back. He gave me a trademarked “you are so rude to not be happy for me about this” look and stormed away.
I don’t know if he ever tried driving with that license. I suppose it would be nice to add “I warned him” here, but really, it was a lot less stressful to just go into his office later, and hide that piece of paper.
catching up
It's been a while. Things here have been crazy. To catch you up to speed, since I last wrote an entry about my job, my boss
(a) Lost his drivers license (as in, had it suspended)
(b) Convinced me to buy a car to drive him around in
(c) Had two of his three sons visit (one of whom drove us to the office one day, an idea which ended in me basically taking my life into my hands--terrifying)
(d) Maxed out every single one of his credit cards (some of which have spending limits higher than what most of the people I know make in a year)
(e) Confirmed that he makes more in one month off of pension than I will make in two years working for him
(f) This, if you were planning on keeping track, ends up coming out to me having to work approximately 33 and a half years (give or take a month or two) to make what he makes in one year
(g) Got his license back (this one still confuses me).
In other news, the following conversation took place today on AIM between myself and my friend Aaron. Turns out, he used to have a job much like mine. We traded stories for a while and upon his suggestion, I decided to put it in here:
Aaron: i love your blog
Aaron: i can totally relate
me: hahaha
me: yeah?
Aaron: i also was an admin assistant for a cranky old man
me: best job ever!
Aaron: o it was
Aaron: i must have bought him 1,000 sugar free vanilla nonfat lattes
me: hahahahaha
Aaron: the people at starbucks came up with a code name for it
Aaron: "the barbie"
me: that is fantastic
Aaron: i used to do negotiations with him
me: hahaha
Aaron: like with the library and stuff
Aaron: and everyone loved me so much because i was so nice in comparison
me: we got in a fight yesterday because i don't know if you got to do this at your job, but he dictates letters into a dictaphone and then has me type them up for him
me: and he was talking about the pyrenees mountains
Aaron: o excellent!
Aaron: no i never had to do that
me: and so i hand him the letter i typed up and he crosses out "pyrenees" and writes "pyrenee"
me: and i kept telling him he was wrong but he was like "which one of us has been to europe?"
me: which, i will concede, is a valid point
me: but i mean, have YOU ever heard of the pyrenee mountains?
me: ...no?
me: ...because they don't exist?
me: clever, aaron. good call.
Aaron: o man
Aaron: one time, he asked me to buy him christmas cards, so i bought the cheapest ones i could find with tons of glitter on them
Aaron: and he finished signing them and walked out of his office covered in sparkles and said "aaron, could you please not buy glitter cards next time"
me: hahahahahaha
me: he also, when dictating letters, will selectively spell people's names out
me: but i mean he'll usually spell, say, the name "william"
me: but when talking about his cleaning lady, he neglects to spell out [her really long and confusing name]
me: once he wrote a letter in which he said something about me
me: and spelled out my last name
me: for me to type up
Aaron: the thing is, the guy i worked for was pretty old, but very lucid
Aaron: he had to [do a lot of difficult things]
Aaron: not an easy job
me: yeah
me: see, my boss, on the other hand...sits around and reads the newspaper
Aaron: yea
Aaron: so, some similarities
me: how old was your boss?
me: did he know what the internet was?
Aaron: um
Aaron: like 65
Aaron: yea
Aaron: he was technologically OK
me: he came in here recently and told me i needed to email someone a file
me: so i asked him if it was on my computer
me: he said maybe
me: i asked if it was on a disk
me: he got confused
me: and went into his office and got me a file folder
me: full of paper
me: and i just could not figure out how to explain to him that you can't just...put a file folder into a computer
me: you need another machine to do that
me: so he decided he wanted to buy a scanner, and told me he was going to staples to get one
me: so i called up when he left and said "listen, i know this is going to sound crazy, but my boss is on his way there to buy a scanner and he's 87 and has no idea what a scanner is and i'm pretty sure he will have forgotten what it is he's going to buy by the time he gets there." and described what he looked like and exactly which one he was going to buy and had them keep it at one of the cash registers for when he got there
me: and the next day he comes in with it, brimming over with stories about how wonderful staples is
me: he couldn't get over how they just somehow knew what he was there for
Aaron: haha
Aaron: that's great
ps: Aaron has decided to get back into blogging as well; check out his blog if you get a chance listed with all the other links--his is at the top (Arch). Because I like things to be orderly. And alphabetical. And non-crazy. Perhaps I should get a new job?...
(a) Lost his drivers license (as in, had it suspended)
(b) Convinced me to buy a car to drive him around in
(c) Had two of his three sons visit (one of whom drove us to the office one day, an idea which ended in me basically taking my life into my hands--terrifying)
(d) Maxed out every single one of his credit cards (some of which have spending limits higher than what most of the people I know make in a year)
(e) Confirmed that he makes more in one month off of pension than I will make in two years working for him
(f) This, if you were planning on keeping track, ends up coming out to me having to work approximately 33 and a half years (give or take a month or two) to make what he makes in one year
(g) Got his license back (this one still confuses me).
In other news, the following conversation took place today on AIM between myself and my friend Aaron. Turns out, he used to have a job much like mine. We traded stories for a while and upon his suggestion, I decided to put it in here:
Aaron: i love your blog
Aaron: i can totally relate
me: hahaha
me: yeah?
Aaron: i also was an admin assistant for a cranky old man
me: best job ever!
Aaron: o it was
Aaron: i must have bought him 1,000 sugar free vanilla nonfat lattes
me: hahahahaha
Aaron: the people at starbucks came up with a code name for it
Aaron: "the barbie"
me: that is fantastic
Aaron: i used to do negotiations with him
me: hahaha
Aaron: like with the library and stuff
Aaron: and everyone loved me so much because i was so nice in comparison
me: we got in a fight yesterday because i don't know if you got to do this at your job, but he dictates letters into a dictaphone and then has me type them up for him
me: and he was talking about the pyrenees mountains
Aaron: o excellent!
Aaron: no i never had to do that
me: and so i hand him the letter i typed up and he crosses out "pyrenees" and writes "pyrenee"
me: and i kept telling him he was wrong but he was like "which one of us has been to europe?"
me: which, i will concede, is a valid point
me: but i mean, have YOU ever heard of the pyrenee mountains?
me: ...no?
me: ...because they don't exist?
me: clever, aaron. good call.
Aaron: o man
Aaron: one time, he asked me to buy him christmas cards, so i bought the cheapest ones i could find with tons of glitter on them
Aaron: and he finished signing them and walked out of his office covered in sparkles and said "aaron, could you please not buy glitter cards next time"
me: hahahahahaha
me: he also, when dictating letters, will selectively spell people's names out
me: but i mean he'll usually spell, say, the name "william"
me: but when talking about his cleaning lady, he neglects to spell out [her really long and confusing name]
me: once he wrote a letter in which he said something about me
me: and spelled out my last name
me: for me to type up
Aaron: the thing is, the guy i worked for was pretty old, but very lucid
Aaron: he had to [do a lot of difficult things]
Aaron: not an easy job
me: yeah
me: see, my boss, on the other hand...sits around and reads the newspaper
Aaron: yea
Aaron: so, some similarities
me: how old was your boss?
me: did he know what the internet was?
Aaron: um
Aaron: like 65
Aaron: yea
Aaron: he was technologically OK
me: he came in here recently and told me i needed to email someone a file
me: so i asked him if it was on my computer
me: he said maybe
me: i asked if it was on a disk
me: he got confused
me: and went into his office and got me a file folder
me: full of paper
me: and i just could not figure out how to explain to him that you can't just...put a file folder into a computer
me: you need another machine to do that
me: so he decided he wanted to buy a scanner, and told me he was going to staples to get one
me: so i called up when he left and said "listen, i know this is going to sound crazy, but my boss is on his way there to buy a scanner and he's 87 and has no idea what a scanner is and i'm pretty sure he will have forgotten what it is he's going to buy by the time he gets there." and described what he looked like and exactly which one he was going to buy and had them keep it at one of the cash registers for when he got there
me: and the next day he comes in with it, brimming over with stories about how wonderful staples is
me: he couldn't get over how they just somehow knew what he was there for
Aaron: haha
Aaron: that's great
ps: Aaron has decided to get back into blogging as well; check out his blog if you get a chance listed with all the other links--his is at the top (Arch). Because I like things to be orderly. And alphabetical. And non-crazy. Perhaps I should get a new job?...
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