Hello my friends!
For those of you not familiar with the television show, "The Office," especially the US remake of the brilliant British original, you need to check it out on Netflix, or on NBC's website. It might take a couple episodes to warm up for you, but believe me, it's worth it, and it's apparently going to become required reading if you're going to check in on this blog.
Yesterday was a lightening bolt of a day for me. It's only my third Monday. Yes, that's correct, I've only been in this job two weeks and one day. And in that time, I was offered a promotion, (refused it after 3 days of training), became the "answer girl" for roughly half the things we do in the actual office, helped relocate the office, got bought out, fired, and rehired.
That was my first two weeks. So arriving to work on Monday, I was sort of channelling the great Dorothy Parker when she said, "What fresh hell is this?"
I don't think even Dorothy could have believed this one.
In true Michael Scott fashion, the branch I work for is the most profitable in the company, which means my NBM (New Boss Man) will probably never be fired, demoted, or exiled to an island deep in the Pacific, guarded by man eating sharks....all of which are female. (He doesn't play that well with the fairer sex.)
Working in the office, listening to those around me, I was convinced that the corporation as whole understood that NBM was pretty much a throwback to those delightful days when women were only good for bringing coffee and chasing around a desk, and they were keeping close watch on him so that he wouldn't actually do something so 1954 he'd do damage to someone.
Well I was right about one thing...they were keeping a close tab on him.
Yesterday, when I arrived and was simply minding my own business and making coffee, I heard a shout of agony emit from him office. I was sort of hoping that he'd fallen and bruised his double standard, but such was not the case. No, instead, corporate sent him an email informing him that he was to take three days next week and visit the nerve center of the company. (The big corporation company, not the home office of the gent who just bought us and now runs us under the same name...you think this is confusing...try working here.)
They want to do a psychological profile on him...
To find out what in his brain makes him such an awesome leader that our branch is so profitable.
This is the man who last week got into a shouting match with...oh let's call her Sherry, the woman who sets sales appointments. (More on her on Friday.) The argument: whether or not Sherry had clicked on the wrong button and scheduled the same appointment twice in one day. (She had.) The reason for the length of the argument? (9 minutes) NBM doesn't have any better grasp of the computer system than Sherry has. And I've only been there two weeks. It was sort of like listening to two people talk in a language they don't totally understand, and you only vaguely know. (I solved their issue with two clicks of a mouse...took me forty seconds. I should NEVER be the smartest person in the room! That does not bode well for the room as a whole.)
This is the man who, though he informed me that he knew EVERY aspect of the job, could not answer a simple procedural question I had and instead had me call an office in St. Louis.
This is the man who is now hiding his cereal bowl and spoon in a drawer in the new kitchen. Washed? No, of course not. Rinsed, I believe so, but not washed. Imagine my delight when I stumbled upon that this morning while looking for a coffee filter.
God help us all.
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