My relatively new boss has a sense of humor, and just perhaps understands redneck women…
Frazzled and sleep deprived at my desk this morning, i was halfway through the tempermental web-based process we use for making travel arrangements. A four-day, two-city trip toward the end of the month, with enough options to require both hands on the keyboard and both active brain cells focused on the task at hand…
The boss stepped into the office at the most critical juncture in my travel preparation process — the moment i was about to hit the “accept” button. This is the magical make-or-break point when you learn whether the system has arbitrarily hacked up an ether-loogie forcing you to start over, or you get a happy, smiling screen of success.
We all know this dance, and seeing what was on the screen in front of me, he waited quietly behind me as i did a last check for accuracy before pulling the lever on the “Travel Slot Machine”.
daisyfae: “Suck. My. DICK!”* i said it before thinking. Took a breath. Cringed. Then turned around to face the boss, apologetic look on my face, knowing that it is possible to cross the line. And perhaps i had just done so…
boss: “Too much information!” while fighting back the grin… followed quickly with “Did you get the request from…”
* Once, while dealing with a freakishly annoying series of asshole drivers, i directed this phrase toward another driver. With my 16 year old son in the car. He simply said “Um, Mom… That’s pretty freaky… Can you come up with something else?”