I hate my boss


Spirits were not so high the next day. Kim the Klingon’s daughter tends bar at the restaurant and was not happy that the place emptied out during the fight. Neither was management. Apparently there was only 16 dollars in tips to split by the end of the night.

On Friday there was a custody hearing down at the courthouse, so the Kim didn’t come to work. She was supposed to be at home with her grandson while his drug-addled parents fought over him, but when we tried to reach her by phone, we found out she left the kid with her boyfriend and went out drinking. Oddly, my boss had nothing to say about this.

Nor did she say anything on Wednesday when Kim was hungover and amusing herself by searching an online roster of who is currently in the Clackamas County jail, to see if any of her friends were there. She was doing this while the boss was freaking out over state tax records that mysteriously disappeared from payables. It’s discouraging.  I’m not exactly sure what it is this woman manages, because it certainly isn’t the office.  Amy and I started keeping track of her personal phone calls. Added up, they average about five of her eight hour day. I’m not exaggerating.

I’m also not sure why she was hired in the first place. This is a small town and word gets around. About five years ago, her son needed a kidney. She volunteered one, and the whole town pitched in for a benefit which raised about $20,000 to cover hospital expenses and a portion of the medications for her son.

Shortly after the benefit and the surgery, she showed up in a new Mercedes ( well, new to her) and was buying new furniture for her house. Shortly after that, as her son filed for bankruptcy, she took a vacation.

And yet, my boss not only hired her, but loves her and believes she can do no wrong. It’s disgusting in a way I don’t understand.

I know all about why we sometimes see only what we want to see, or why we make excuses for the men we love, or for our family members, or glossing over little imperfections in our friends for the sake of maintaining friendship……….but this makes no sense until I look at it from the perspective of my boss’s addiction to chaos.

Of all the things there are to be addicted to, that are so much more fun, addiction to stress and strife just seems dumb.



I’m Still At Yahoo 360
According to “The Secret language of Birthdays” I pay inadequate concern to negative energy and I ignore resentment in others, all of which are quite capable of surfacing swiftly and blowing up in my face.

Is that ever true;)And because of my transcendant, Piscean nature I am more likely to try and adapt to a situation rather than flee for my life, for years at a time. I’m also guilty of the “Why-Should-I-Let These-People-Spoil-My-Good-Time” approach to problem solving. Oh but it gets worse. I can’t resist paying the occasional well-aimed, oddly-inverted compliment to people who annoy me. This is unlucky when it’s La Grande Patrón who has parked her whale of a dorsal hump as well as those of her friends en la mesa you were saving para su camaradas a beber y bailando, refusing to relinquish said seats upon their fashionably late arrival. I swear, some people get fat just so they can take up more room.

Her persistance did pay off later in the evening when I introduced her to a la amiga mío que posee que dos casas hermosas she would love to have in her piscina de la renta. Sus ojos encendidos arriba con avaricia. Don’t say I never gave you nada’;D

Both Bradley and I attempted to set an example of what we believe to be good manners mountain style: we fetched them their first drinks. My daughter just ignored them all till it came time for introductions and then flashed that disarming smile of hers. Resistance is futile. We illicitely added rum to her can of cola because she was such a good sport.

But nevermind all that, it was an awesome party. My compliments to the chef and whoever’s idea it was to invite the whole town for free food and booze. I vaguely remember my power lesbian friend trying to fix me up with her Italian contractor who allegedly has las calientes para mi, and then finding a quick ride home before I was forced to come face to face with this hombre de mistero. I was too borracho. No good would have come out of it. He is alto y moreno and looked pretty guapo after a bottle and a half of Oregon Pinot Gris.

The road home was swarming with la policia and it was a good thing I didn’t have my car because I would probably still be in jail. Bradley did get pulled over in his Country Squire, and charmed his way out of it. I can’t say enough good things about good manners.

OK now I hit publish?