I have spent most of my day thus far catching up on work from last week, and much to my utter dismay catching up on the "Office Drama"!

Some days I feel like I'm a mere over priced babysitter, who got stuck watching Hells Rejects!

I hate "Office Drama"! I hate it with every inch of my being!

You see today’s episode of As the Rejects Turn involves two "delightful" people who work for me.

We will call them Idiot #1 and Idiot #2.

Idiot #1 and Idiot #2 started shagging/dating about 6 months ago. This arrangement had BAD IDEA written all over it for numerous reasons.

Idiot #1 is a young girl in her 20's. She's fresh out of college and this is her first "real" job. She's sweet and untainted!

Idiot #2 is an older idiot, who just got out of a bitter 5 year marriage, and was looking for a quick rebound to thrust him back into his old player days!

Bad mix people. Bad!

This morning Idiot #1 comes into my office, closes the door, and sits down.

Idiot#1: I just can't work with him. He's a complete jerk, and it's just going to be impossible for me to deal with him.

Apparently the two are no longer a "happy couple"! Big shocker!

Her eyes well up with tears. OH God! PLEASE don't let her cry! Please!

*pushes box of Kleenex at her*

AM: Is he threatening you? Harassing you?

Idiot #1: No, I just can't work with him.

She continues on for what seems like a freakin' eternity. Then she looks at me and asks me in a matter of fact voice what I am going to do about it?

WHAT? What am I going to do about it? Is she high? Does she think I'll fire him for being a bad bad boyfriend? I'd have to fire half of my staff if that were the case.

So, I try to refrain from using a smart ass tone. It's hard people. I want to just smack some sense into her!! I refrain from screaming, "I TOLD YOU SO!"

AM: *taking deep breath* Listen I know how painful break ups can be. I am sorry. You guys are just going to have to find a way to deal with this. (I want to steal the words of blogger RitaB and tell her to pull up her big girl panties and deal with it!)

Finally she leaves my office after wasting a good 20 minutes of my day! DRAMA!

An hour later Idiot #2 comes into my office. Before he even has a chance to open his mouth I decide I'm just going to nip this monster in the ass.

AM: Listen, I know you and Idiot #1 are having problems. This however is not my problem or your co-workers problem. You guys need to act like grown ups and play nice in the sand box. I will not get involved in this. Am I clear?

Idiot #2:

There's a long awkward silence in the room now.

Idiot #2: Errr, uh, I just came down here to tell you that our trip for Houston is set up next week and everything is a go.

AM: *inserting foot in mouth*

Idiot #2: She came down here and talked to you about us?

AM: *shaking her head* No, no! NOPE! (When all else fails lie...lie!)

Idiot #2: I can't believe her! My GAWD, it's not like we are in high school. I can't believe she did that. I'm sorry.

AM: No, everything’s alright. You're alright, she's alright...it's all good. *kicking my own ass*

He stormed out of my office. Idiot #2 is no doubt going to go confront Idiot #1, just to make sure the "Office Drama" continues!

See what happens people? I got sucked into the drama with no say whatsoever. And inadvertently created more drama by simply being present!



There's a moral to today’s story my fellow bloggers. And it is quite simple.

In the words of my father "Don't shit where you eat!"

And if you do....please be kind of enough to those who work along side of you...and keep your "shit" to yourself. Thank you!

There’s one thing about kids that never ceases to amaze me. It’s their complete inability to realize a very simple fact. The fact that sound does travel.

They are oblivious to this from a young age.

They seem in awe of our ability to know they are eating a piece of candy in the other room. They seem completely unaware of the loud sound of crinkling candy wrappers!

They are shocked at our Superhuman power of knowing when they are out of their beds at night. Again they are oblivious to the thumps and bumps of their own small little feet and hands.

They are also clueless in regard to their sweet little angelic voices carrying on the air waves! This one has often had me in the most uncomfortable of Mommy situations.

My daughter and I were at church one Sunday this summer.

The priest was in the middle of his sermon. Suddenly the silence of Sunday morning mass was interrupted by my “Little Angels” very non-angelic stadium voice echoing through the church.

“Momma, look that lady is feeding her baby and she’s showing Jesus her boobies!”

Before I even had the chance to cup my hand over her little mouth the words had erupted from her lips like Mt. St Helens. It was as if someone had given her a bull horn.

The whole congregation was now awkwardly gazing upon us. I slid down into my seat. I would have crawled under the pew had I’d been given the opportunity.

I glance around and sure enough one pew over and up is a young mother who was feeding her child. She had a blanket draped over her chest, but I guess it had not covered “all” of her! She was now a brilliant shade of red, and I think she was shooting death rays at us.

I gave her an awkward smile. What more could I do? She quickly got up and rushed towards the back of the church and towards the bathroom.

Way to go Doodlebug! The power of sound, and my daughter’s inability to truly grasp it’s meaning, had me once again praying for cover!

When we got in the car I tried to explain a few things to her.

AM: Honey, you know when you talk in church you really need to use a whisper?

DB: Whatcha mean Mommy?

AM: When you were talking about the Mommy feeding her baby, you weren’t using your church voice.

DB: Yes, I was.

AM: No, you weren’t. A church voice is a whisper.

DB: I was whispering Mommy.

AM: No, a whisper is a quiet voice.

DB: I know that’s what I was using, Momma!

AM:

It never ceases to amaze me. Even though she and I have discussed what a “whisper” is a million times, she has yet to prove she understands the meaning of the word. And she has yet to realize I posses no superhuman powers when I bust in her in the act of wrong doing. She ensures I “hear” her long before I catch her.

And until Doodlebug learns the important lesson of sound, I’m quite certain I will be enjoying the benefits as well as the embarrassments for a long while to come!

As a Mom, I am constantly finding that I have to say the same things over and over and over again!

I am quite certain my "Little Doodlebug" thinks I do this for no other reason than to hear myself talk! Sometimes I might as well just sit and talk to the wall or a tree! I would get the exact same result!

Yes, Doodlebug is feeling much better today. How do I know this? She's back to her little old self, and I am talking to the air again!

DB: Mom, I wanna paint something in my room.

AM: No, we aren't painting anything in your room today.

DB: Well, I'm going to paint something in my room.

AM: No, not today.

Suddenly I hear the sounds of things being tossed about in her room.

AM: What are you doing?

DB: I'm looking for something to paint.

AM: *Grrrr* I said we aren't doing that today. You wanna paint; I'll get you some paper.

DB: That’s so boring. I wanna paint something in my room. How come you take away all the fun?

AM: I know I am the killer of all fun things. That's my job. Now I am taking a shower, and when I get out I expect all of this to be picked up.

DB:

AM: Did you hear me?

DB:

AM: Okay, so you heard what I said right? *raising voice*

DB:

AM: Grrrrrr!

I go take a shower and get dressed. Stumble down the hall to her room. Wow! The room is clean! She listened, she listened to me! Yay Me!

Where is she though? Awful quiet. Quiet is never a good thing for a Mom, unless it's the kind of quiet when you know they are SOUND ASLEEP in their beds!

I walk towards the kitchen. And there on my pretty table cloth, is my precious Doodlebug, and what she will later call her "master pieces"!

It looks like Picasso threw up in there! There's paint everywhere.

AM: *trying not to scream* What are you doing?

DB: I'm painting.

AM: I see that. But I thought we discussed we weren't going to paint anything from your room.

DB: I'm not.

AM: *trying not to blow a gasket* Then what is this mess?

DB: I'm painting some of your stuff.

She grins as if this will get her a blue ribbon or something.

I look down more closely at the table. Low and behold she IS PAINTING MY STUFF!

She's used her painting talents on MY vase, MY 2 handmade bowls my sister brought from RUSSIA, and she is now working on MY grandmother’s tea set!!!!

I want to yell, I want to scream!

AM: Put down the brush and walk away from the table.

DB:

AM: NOW!

DB:

AM: Did you hear me??? I said NOW!

DB: What? Why are you so mad? I didn't disobey, Mommy. I didn't.

AM: I said no painting. I meant no PAINTING! *turning bright red*

DB: But I didn't paint anything from MY ROOM! You said I couldn't paint anything from MY ROOM!

I look at her with pure bewilderment. She has not only covered priceless items in paint, but she has also covered herself in it!

How can one little girl wreck so much havoc in 30 FREAKING minutes????

AM: Walk away from the table. NOW...please. Sit on the floor. Do not, and I repeat do not walk into another room, do not sit on ANYTHING!

DB: Gawd! I was just trying to make it pretty for you. You don't have to be so mean!

AM:


So, Doodlebug is back to her normal self. Was I really complaining about all the quiet this week?

Got to go. There's some more "air" that needs talking to in my house.

I was talking to one of my customers today; we’ll call him “Dan”.

Dan has been my client for almost 4 years. He’s one of my favorites! Dan is almost 70, and is from the Deep South. He moved here from Alabama in the 1980’s. He has quite a “colorful” personality.

So after we finished talking about business, and set up our meeting at my office next week.….this is how the rest of the conversation went.

Dan: When I come to the office next week I’m bringin’ you some fish.

A.M.: Excuse me?

Dan: I’m going to bring you some fish. What you don’t like the fish???

A.M.: No, no I like fish.

Dan: I’ve got too much fish, so I’m going to bring some to you.

A.M.: Emm, Errr…Okay?

Dan; You know my son? The slow one… whose wife just ran off with some bastard? (Nice huh?)

A.M.: Yes.

Dan: Well, I took him fishing. We got too much fish now. So, I want to give you some of the fish.

A.M. (Thinking in my head: Gee, what more could a girl want and dream for?) Great! That sounds great! *shaking my head no*

Dan: You have a big freezer?

A.M. (I hesitate to answer) Yeah, kinda… I guess.

Dan: Ok, good. I’ll bring you the fish next week. I’ll put it in one of those ice coolers.

Oh GAWD!!!!

How much fish is this man planning on bringing me???? I’m scared ya’ll! And I can just hear the jokes my fellow co-workers will have with this one! A.M. and her cooler of “the fish”! It will never end!


Dan has always given me weird gifts. He’s a sweet guy, but sometimes he makes me stop and go.....WHAT?????

So, anyone want some of “the fish”? I’m scared he’s going to bring me a lifetime supply!

Okay ya’ll I am a complete idiot!

I cut my foot tonight. I went to reach for the red wine vinegar to whip up some dressing, and it fell to the floor. A shard of glass stuck into the side of my ankle. The blood was flowin' like a river!

This shouldn't be a big deal. It wouldn't be, if I were not the queasiest squeamish girl on the planet!! The mere sight of blood and I am out cold. Sometimes if I am really lucky I throw up before I pass out! Bonus!

So, I'm sitting there crying, my daughter is screaming, "Mommy, pull the glass out! Mommy get a band aid!"

Mommy is sitting on the floor like a big wimpy baby!! Every single time I went to pull it out the spewing blood made me feel like I was going to black out.

Breathe in, Breathe out. You can do this A.M.! It's just a little piece of freakin' glass! A piece of glass drowning in blood! Woozy! I was feeling woozy!

I sat there on the kitchen floor for a good 15 minutes. I knew I had to yank it out, but I was afraid I might just have to leave it in there for the rest of my life.

So, I close my eyes, and decide to feel my way through the situation. Out of sight, out of mind, right? My hands were sweaty, my heart felt like it was in my brain, and I was breathing like a winded whore!

First yank...nothing. That stubborn piece of glass was still stuck in my damn ankle. It's taunting me. Nah, Nah, Nah, Nah, Nah...you can't get me I'm the Gingerbread man!

Second yank....success! Thank GAWD!

And then my dumb ass looks down at my hand, now covered in blood. And that's all she wrote people. And then there was only black...

When I came to a minute or so later my poor daughter was in a frenzied panic. She was running around screaming and crying. Poor baby. I had told her if by some chance Mommy fell over and looked like she was sleeping, that Mommy had just passed out, and not to worry. Well, she was worried. I think I just scarred her for life!

It took me another 10-15 minutes to gather up the courage to get the cut cleaned and bandaged. God, I am a big wussy pants! Not the girl you want at your side in a medical emergency that much I assure you!

Anyone want a piece of glass??? Just kidding.