Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Last week I was having problems with my assistant. She wasn't assisting me. At all. Not only that, but what she was doing reached new heights of problematic so I took it up with my HR guy. Later, my colleague reported that my assistant was in there talking to the HR guy:
J: Sounds like HR guy is having a meeting with your assistant.
Me: I was wondering. Can you hear them?
J: Not really. Sometimes I can. It cuts in and out. I could definitely tell that it was her talking about the things you emailed her. *
Me: Oh good. I hope she doesn't plan on killing me later.
J: Ha. Ha.
Me: It's all fun and games until someone has a weapon.
J: Go and take her scissors out of her desk. Although I guess she could always try to stab you with a pencil.
Me: Great! I have already suffered one scissor injury already. Another one would just make this week PERFECT.
Yes, I had already been cut with scissors. The night before. By my HUSBAND. You see, my mother decided to gift me with these scissors that I guess would be called shredding scissors. They have many blades and can shred documents. Although not credit cards. Trust. I have the injury to prove it.
B was very eager to test out these new scissors and I insisted they could cut up credit cards. In fact, I was going to hand him one to cut up RIGHT THEN. So I leaned over with the card and B totally cut my finger. I immediately screamed "LOOK WHAT YOU DID" to which he responded "it is so deep it is not even bleeding yet." Nice.
Then it started bleeding. Yes, I thought I might have to get stitches. No, I did not. Yes, I had to beg B to help me put a band aid on it despite the fact that he is the one that injured me. So he slapped some Neosporin on it and declared "It will be healed in 5 days. That is what the tube said." For the record, there is a scar.
And I still have that damn credit card.**
*Apparently my assistant did not like my helpful emails pointing out her problematic assisting.
**But I don't have that assistant anymore.