*gross warning. there is some grossness below.
so my cat, my syd who is old, needs to see the vet, because he shat in the house the other day and i found mucous-y blood in his...stuff (even this is grossing me out). i'm at work. i'm making appointments left and right due to departure from job and need to use up insurance benefits, so instead of marching down the stairs, unlocking the employee door and stepping out to call the vet, i'm just doing it from here. in front of everyone, who cares now, right? so, i pick up the phone, the vet answers, she asks why my cat needs to see the vet and i pause. i can't tell her why in front of everyone. i laugh, i tell her it's gross so i need to call from elsewhere on my cell. she laughs. i hang up. i go downstairs.
i'm at lunch. it's my coworker's last day before her maternity leave starts. i am sad to see her go, even though i won't be here to suffer for much longer, without her. we go to lunch with another artist, our receptionist friend, the 75-yr-old disgruntled black racist and her friend who used to work here, but was fired. our older friend doesn't pay tips. i've discovered this before, but always forget. it is not easy to deal with. i'm a 20%-er, except in cases of major assholism. so lunch is over and she wants to haggle with the bill. we hand her enough to pay a sizeable tip, but forget her tipping habits until she says, "this is too much! take it back!" oh my gosh. no one likes haggling over bills at the table. we are frozen. we don't know what to do. or how to get the tip in there. so i slide a $10 bill underneath the check and somehow manage to slide over to the register and whisper, "pssst! that ten in there is the tip!" all without our older friend seeing it. difficult. but accomplished. i think. her eyes looked kind of crooked as we left...but hopefully it's just because she's old. i would hate to hurt her racist feelings. i mean that. i love old people.
i'm back at work. my other coworker is about to take off. he walked in with a fucked up neck today. can't turn around, can't move his head. he drives here an hour this morning like that, he goes to the dentist like that, he goes to his shrink like that. he briefs me on some work and says, "can you figure this out? because i'd rather not come back after the shrink." i stare at him, i can't believe this insanity. this job, this company is so fucking bad that this poor guy has to function through all of these appointments and commuting, with a neck that cannot change position in any way, shape or form...or the work won't get done and tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of dollars would be lost. UNbelievable.
i can't wait to fly away in a winnebago with guy and a laptop. that's all i want. a flying winnebago.
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