I saw a doctor in Mulletville today about my busted knee. Turns out I’ve got Chondromalacia Patellae. If you’ve never heard of that before, it means that my knee mistakenly believes it’s attached to an 85-year-old body and has decided to eat itself. Luckily I don’t have the flatulence problem of an octogenarian, but I’m sure my hiney will be the next thing to go. I can just sense it.
News of my condition put me in a foul mood for the rest of the day. More foul than usual. That was unfortunate because I had a meeting scheduled—for the newly formed Mirth and Recreation Committee.
Yes, that’s right: Mirth and Recreation Committee.
Because working 35-80 hours a week isn’t enough. Sitting in a veritable petri dish of germs and dysfunctional personalities isn’t enough. Now, instead of setting us free at the end of the day, my company has devised another committee whose intent is to entrap us—under the guise of merriment.
Hah! If I wanted to channel recreation through my workplace I’d get smashed, strip off my clothes and spray paint enormous penises on the building.
The head of the Mirth and Recreation Committee (who henceforth shall be known as The Head) had other things in mind, namely an after hours cookie and punch get-together with a roaming magician.
Sound like fun? No! A magician can pull a Ferrari out of his ass; it still doesn’t make up for the fact that I’m not home with my child. I just want to go home!
For once, I got some support when I said as much. It was decreed that the get-together would be held during lunch and that the magician would do a demo beforehand so the committee could determine whether or not he’s entertaining or annoying. Oh, how I wish there were a trap door.
Everything was going smoothly until The Head said, “How will everyone know when the get-together is over?”
There were harrumphs, nervous coughs, talk of the get-together last spring that lingered and lingered.
Someone raised her hand. “What if we signify that it’s over by having people clap?”
Yes! Yes! The Head loved that. What a brilliant idea! Why market the event with a run-time of noon to one when instead you could shoo everyone out with ambiguous thunderous applause?
Genius!
Then, from The Head: “Who shall start the clapping?”
Everyone shrugged their shoulders. Who indeed?
A smile spread across The Head’s face. “Hold your hands up. Whoever has the largest hands shall begin the clapping.”
As I raised my hands high in the air for inspection, I fought the urge to simultaneously bang my head on the table. Right now, it’s the only body part that’s working. And even that is questionable.
(If you're having a nah-uh moment, let me remind you of this and this.)
24 comments:
I hope you got overtime for this stupidity.
On the other hoof if you The Head wants to hire a goat with a rooster on top I'm open to negotiation. Maybe I can earn my way out of this goat farm.
I hate to tell you but the flatulence problem start way before 80!
Sorry about your knee.
"We'll know it's over when the clapping starts" ? Erm. Ok.
Hope you're starting to feel better. Can we take bets on what part of your body fails you next?
A magician for a bunch of adults? Will you get clowns next week and Cowboy Bob the week after? I guess I shouldn't have complained when my ex-boss made me volunteer to judge Moot Court one Saturday just so I could go on vacation.
Sorry about your knee. I had sharp, shooting pains for about a year for reasons I still don't know. Any shoes that were remotely cute just made the pain worse, and actually bending down on that knee...ouch doesn't even begin to describe it. It's finally better, but now that I just said that, I've probably jinxed myself, and it will hurt tomorrow.
Hope it feels better soon. Can you use it as an excuse to get out of the magician thing? Like bring in a doctor's note (forged or real) saying that you have to ice your knee at lunch? It's worth a shot.
Mirth? Are you serious?
Bizarre-o. You work in bizarre-o land.
I noticed on the news this morning that a woman has been caught spray painting enormous penises all over Mulletville, and even on a mullet or two. As the cops were dragging her away she kept muttering about mirth.
Ok, I am all in favor of mirth and recreation, but a magician, really? Are you sure your attention didn't wander for a moment and you missed the part when they mentioned that families and kids were invited? How about tequila and a male stripper? That sounds more like adult entertainment.
Argggh.
Everytime I read your blog, I am grateful that I do not work in corporate America.
We'll know it's over when the clapping starts.? WTF.
You should have volunteered to start attacking crotches - that would've got people running - check that, at your company they probably would've stayed.
Goats and magicians? Now that's a good time. But Anne, I am deathly afraid of male dancers!
you poor thing - I sure hope your week gets better and that you are able to have a nice relaxing and calm weekend. Big hugs! :o)
So what idiot came up with this idea? A magician? I'm thinking of getting a magician for Buggy's birthday next year...she'll be turning 6. Hmmm. Sorry about the knee. I think I have arthritis in mine or maybe I have that mushy patella thing too!(whatever it's called).
Frogmama, I forgot about your fear. Sorry to bring up such a scary topic. How about just tequila? I have found that it always makes other people more bearable. I think it might be a good every day addition to an office situation.
The Head is the Michael Scott from 'The Office' isn't he? You never told us you were on the tv show! How cool is that?
this place that you work at is real? like really real? not sitcom real?
I'm so so sorry.
Hysterical! And the two links were awesome!!! LOL Love your work. When I was pregnant they put "booms" around my desk in case my water broke. Recently the owner brought in a stuffed badger and put it under my desk. I about had a heart attack. A male coworker asked me if I'd seen the mold in the men's restroom to which I yelled "WHY THE HELL would I know anything about mold in the Men's restroom?!" I too was a pumping mom at work. I asked for a 15 minute break to pump while out on the job and the guy wouldn't let me go. Finally, I told him point blank, "My boobs are going to explode. Drive me to my car so I can pump. I'll walk back." We never had a problem again with my 15 minute breaks.
Your stories are hilarious and hard to believe. But I trust you and know they are true. Amazing.
If you do manage to strip naked and spray paint penises on the building, please take pictures for me...
Sounds like you work for an.... interesting .... place. But you do fit right in, don't you? ;)
Sorry about your knee...
I don't which part made me laugh out loud the hardest.
Poor you!
Hang in there, little lady. The weekend is hovering just above the horizon. Rumor has it....
How I don't miss corporate America.
You have GOT to be fucking kidding me. "mirth and Recreation"? You're writing The Office 2, right? RIGHT?
Er, "Office Space 2".
Sigh.
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