TGIF: Thank God it's Five

I had an interesting day at work. You can laugh at most of it, but not until tomorrow when my face isn't red anymore. (Red out of anger, not embarrasement.)

But first the stuff you can laugh at. A conversation I had today with a co-worker, narrated by myself:

After a sudden 15-minute dissapearace at 1105 people start to get suspous.

Co-worker (CW): Where were you?
Me: Oh, I was . . . uh . . . (looks around for someplace to have been) . . . in my car. Getting . . . my, uh . . . (looks around for something have gotten) gum.
CW: No, you weren't.
Me: I was.
CW: Where's your gum?
Me: Oh, it's . . . uh . . . (looks around. After all, the gum I saw was in the trash.) I must have forgotten it.
CW: (laughs) Where were you, off the record?
Me: I was using the restroom.
CW: Over in the main building? (Which is about three times the distance of the actual nearest bathroom) Why not use the shop one?
Me: Well, I like the soap better.

The second funny story happened in the lunchroom. Well, not really, but the event that inspired me to write this did. It was after lunch that I really thought about it. All the guys at work (and I mean ALL the guys) have a habit of not swearing in front of me. Why, I wonder? Is it because I don't swear in front of them, or because I'm a girl? (I think it's a mix of the two). When they do swear, they often apologize. In fact, one guy apologizes when he thinks that he used a foul word. Today, my supervisor was talking about some group of "sons of guns" but that's not what he said. At least not at first. He got out about four letters worth of the word he wanted (but I won't repete, so use your imagination). Then he changed it.

Why is this funny? If he heard some of the words I use while driving city vehicals and wandering around the parking lot (where residents can hear me) he would be suprised. I was muttereing something about our darn trunk being moved by a police officer when I remembered the "sons of guns." Then I laughed.

But the day basically was Khibi. After all this, I went to City Hall to get truck 450 (number has been changed). I couldn't find it. I looked in four parking lots near the Hall. Then I went in to get the number to call my supervisor. I figured that I jinxed it. I had told him that if the truck wasn't there I would just not come back. He laughed, said okay, and as I turned to leave he mentioned that if the truck wasn't there I should call him.

So of course it wasn't there. He told me to check the police parking lot. And where was it? The police parking lot of course!

But there's more!

The key wasn't in the truck. Normally, we hide it so that it won't get stolen (if you want to steal it, I'd think again. It's a really bad truck. It's not even worth much money. That's why we didn't sell it in the auction.) So I asked the police, who sent me to the secretaries who sent me to public works and so on. Nobody knew who had the key (well, I knew who, but nobody knew where she was).

So I had to call Harry again. He thought it was so funny. And tomorrow, when I tell Brian (who left early for a dentist appointment) I'll think it's funny too.

Today was a day to come home to a vodka. Unfortainatly, I'm too young, so I promised my supervisor that I'd have a double root beer. I didn't. I had a double cream soda.