Man, Fuck...

I was leaving work yesterday, going to get something to eat before my evening meeting, about to make a right turn on the massive one way street called Michigan Avenue. I looked to the right, just out of instinct, because, of course, there was no traffic coming from that direction, and inched the nose of my car past the sidewalk. I looked to my left and saw that traffic was still coming at a steady rate. I looked back to my left, and out of nowhere, a filthy, middle aged toothless Black man was on his bike, standing right next to my passenger side window.

"You pulled out and made me hit your tire!"
"What?"
"You pulled out on the sidewalk and made me hit your tire. You got my chest and heart all hurtin'!"
"You sayin' I hit you?"
"You got my chest all hurtin'!"
"Are you sayin' I hit you?"
"You got my chest all hurtin'?"
"Man, what do you want from me? You wanna sue me? What do you want?"
"You got my chest all hurtin'. At least you could give me money for a hamburger or somethin'."
"Man, fuck you. Sue me. Take down my license plate, n*gga."

And I sped off, hoping to just go get a quick meal before this night meeting.

I stopped about 3/4 of a mile down Michigan at this restaurant. I parked across the street and headed to the crosswalk. In front of me at the crosswalk was a lady (and I use this term generously) listening to her iPod. She was a large woman dressed as though she was a trucker or a longshoreman. She looked over her shoulder and saw me standing there. Then she apparently heard something too good to stand still for in her earphones, because at that moment she started suggestively shaking her enormous trucker ass in my direction.

That's when I knew everybody here was as crazy as I thought they were. Every fucking day it's something new. Meanwhile, my wife lives a billion miles away and my job sucks dick. Man, fuck...

KZ

Liquor and Cookies

Muthafuckas don't know that they're insane. You know they're insane, but them themselves? Not so much. I try to remember that when I'm at work, because it makes my interaction with insane people go a lot smoother. I mean, how can you get mad at someone who doesn't know better?

So, when I'm sitting at my desk trying to make sure people get their homes assessed for flood damage so that they can potentially qualify for FEMA (ha!) aid, I can ignore my secretary busting in the door like the building is on fire to ask me if I want some doughnuts somebody brought. Hell, I can even ignore the loud black receptionist who's obviously on a personal call during this mini-emergency. Well, either she's on a personal call or she's telling a resident about what the doctor found whilst fiddling around her vajayjay. It could be either one of those, right? It's not like we don't have a multi-million dollar budget and we're called to recoup half that operating budget through fees, permits, inspections and citations all of which must be handled by the receptionists. Oh, wait a minute, it IS like that!

I'm able to forgive bouts of insanity by all my staff, like my staff person who thinks it's OK for her husband to come visit her EVERY MORNING with their two small kids. Yeah, I get that you miss that smelly bitch, but EVERY MORNING? She just left home, dude!

What I'm not able to ignore is Wispy. Wispy is like the office "Glenn Close". She will not be ignored. She comes in my office squealing on everybody. She's got on a "No Snitching" t-shirt with a Ghostbusters line drawn through it. Not literally, but damn, she was tellin' on everybody. She ended her tirade by crying REAL TEARS because the other receptionists hate her. They hate her because she's better at her job than they are. I foolishly ask "It's not because they know you tell on them?" Heaven's to Betsy! No! That's not it! It's jealousy, according to the wispy one. "I was talking to them about Cloris Leachman on Dancing with The Stars and they just ignored me!" Big, huge, super teardrops started poring out then. It was amazing.

"Wispy, I can't make them like you, but anything that affects the function of this office, I'll address."

She walked out of the office crying. And I couldn't think of what I wanted more at that point to comfort me. Either (or both) would do me a world of good.

Peace,
KZ