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”.
Lemons.
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…”
He’s ok.
____________
* 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?”
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I am clearly not worthy to read this blog…as it would never occur to me to say such a thing but it is so DAMN expressive!!! *bows down* I’m not worthy….
*Sigh* I remember the days when there were people we could call to make the travel arrangements for us. Now we’re *empowered*…
I could probably leverage your epithet and save it for times of need. Of course, turnabout is fair play and, in my case, it would be: “Eat. My. BEAVER!”
Lucky you for having an *understanding* boss.
🙂
My rage-induced rant is generally “Balls! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” My boss is pretty religious, so it isn’t a favorite of hers’. However, she can’t say too much, because it’s from a story her husband told me about Catholic School.
Working in a middle school for as long as I did, I had to give up swearing and learn /create verbal expressions of rage anew. Can’t think of one that sums it up like yours though.
As for my husband’s turnabout response, I had to remind him that the only beaver he has to offer is mine, so he needs to take care with just throwing it out there for consumption.
…but Annie, generosity is a virtue.
awalkabout – you’re more than worthy! Just a good bit classier than I am! But yes – this particular phrase, when uttered by a woman in a dress, will generally bring conversation to a halt…
rob – ‘fraid that turnabout here doesn’t have the same effect! Nice thought, though. Maybe “well stomp my ovaries” is better?
uncle keith – a low key “balls” is another favorite. I can say it, even though I don’t own any…
annie – I agree – it is infinitely more challenging to deliver the impact without offensive words! Yet another reason I should be kept away from children!
uncle keith – she’s right – although as canadians, you’d think there’d be excess beaver up that way….
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You have a DICK?
Bb – No dear, calm down! That’s the point of the joke… Now, with the equipment i do have, i can collect as many of those as i want…
You have a collection of DICKS?
Bb – Some pickled. Some in the freezer. And a special few have been bronzed and are displayed on the wall.
I wish I was articulate as you are. In times of immense stress and annoyance, the best I can manage is a kind of strangled gargling.
kyknoord – strangled gargling? i’ve been known to make that noise, but not when annoyed by the boss…
*grins in delight*
At the risk of sounding like a “me too”….ME TOOO. Only it was at home, and in front of my mother. Who was less understanding. I think, if I was 20 years younger, she might have tried to wash my mouth out with soap again. Bless. Good memories.
dolceii – you really are the little sister i was supposed to have! My father was quite amused by the fact that his three daughters swore like drunken sailors, yet his only son was much more judicious in his choice of language…
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