Magic Coffee

How many well-educated executives does it take to make a pot of coffee? Well, let me see, that answer is ZERO. I must be honest up front, and post a disclaimer that my boss knows how to make a pot of coffee and if he arrives first to the office, he will do so. This is where any happiness to this story ends.

Last week I decided to run amok and play childish games since I work with a bunch of 5th graders. My boss was on vacation and I made the executive decision that there would be no morning coffee for those who arrived at the office each day. Those who breathlessly get off the elevator after parking in a nice underground garage (in their "fill-in-the-blank" BMW Series cars) would not smell one drop of java. I knew it wouldn't take long for one of them to scoot to the kitchen, complaining about L.A. traffic for the thousandth time, and realize there was no coffee.

By the way, after someone has lived here for as long as these people have, can't I call a bullsh*t moratorium on them using traffic as an excuse for always being late? SERIOUSLY.

So many footsteps back and forth to the kitchen, yet not one sniff of Verona blend Starbucks. After about 3 hours of watching the ping-ponging from desk to kitchen, I made a slow waltz to take in the view. Why there before my very eyes was a clean and empty coffee cup sitting under the pot of an empty coffee urn. It suddenly came to me...they were waiting on magic coffee!

I'm looking on the bright side, though. I could have been up against the kind of co-worker who told me to get them some coffee, black, and make sure the cup was clean, darlin'! Oh wait, there is no bright side. That empty coffee cup sitting there was conveying the same messsage, just in silence. I took the high road, people. I am an Executive Assistant, not a Coffee Fairy.

Hey Lady, What's That On Your Head?

Being at the corporate hierarchy at a level in which I am twice as old as some of these people who are making 4 times more than I am, I have to remind myself of something very important. While they are well-schooled, they lack the life's experience that I have, which clearly deprives them of having some of the common decencies the rest of us have had years to learn.

Every morning as I make that morning drive, I try real hard to anticipate what's coming so I can be better prepared for my day. There is never enough foresight lately. Through those life's experiences I mentioned above, there are three that will strengthen your character - getting audited, getting divorced and being an assistant. And there are 2 that aren't worth the consequences - extra mayonnaise and telling off your boss.

But let's jump back a few years when I was pregnant with my second child, my Ivy League graduated boss was relocating out of the country. He was so self-involved that my days were consumed with packing his office as I waddled around, took frequent breaks to prop up my stove-pipe legs. I was not sure I'd ever see my ankles again. After finishing up a call to customs to figure out how to get his dogs safely abroad, he asked me to also make sure his locker in our office gym was cleaned of its contents. Oh yea, baby...as I opened the locker door, I removed dirty socks, toothpaste, and last, but not least, a filthy, smelly, dirty JOCK STRAP! If it hadn't been dirty, I swear I would have put it on my head like a cute derby hat and traipsed back upstairs. Because I promise you, nobody would have believed I had been asked to do such a crappy thing. You probably think I made this up to sound cute and interesting. Although, now that I think on it, cleaning that locker out is probably a skill more useful than a Swiss Army Knife. That guy was oblivious! My pink slip didn't work for him at the time; however, I guess I have the last laugh, since he got the ultimate pink slip. Fraud or something...maybe more jock strap episodes...

SERIOUSLY? Every day is a marvel of stupidity. Just stop and look around. You're already on the bus.

An idea is born.

I am an Executive Assistant.
Executive.
Assistant.
It sounded nice at the time I took the job seven years ago, but now I just want to piss all over it.

I started off the year by telling myself that I was grateful for my job. "So many Americans are losing their jobs everyday," I would say. I had to remind myself daily that I was fortunate to have a job that liked handing out checks rather than pink slips. (Do they still do that when they fire people?) Anyway, that was eight months ago and the reminder isn't working anymore. Instead, I come into work every morning ready to bite someone's head off at the slightest sideways glance or, what I consider to be, stupid question.

I am fully aware that there are folks out there desperately seeking employment. I get that. In fact, I would gladly replace some of my incompetent co-workers with some of those eager folks. This isn't meant to offend anyone, and I am still quite grateful to get a check twice a month. I like paying my bills, eating, health insurance and even having some spending cash. What I don't like is waking up every morning and dreading what lies ahead.

I'll give you a brief example. I was sitting at my cubicle (minding my own business) when one of my co-workers (a Stanford grad who probably makes twice as much as I do) asks me, "Can you please whole-punch these sheets for me?" I sat there and I looked at him for one or two seconds waiting for the punchline, but it never came. I turned around and grabbed the whole punch that sits on my desk, out in the open for everyone to use, and whole-punched his three sheets of paper.

THAT, my friends, is when I ask, "Seriously?"