blabbity blah blah work

I feel I should write something now because my chances are rapidly declining. My boss is gone today and yesterday, so I have almost absolute Freedom Of The Internet. I have pretty free use anyway, but I am now sure nobody will bother me; they have all forgotten about me tucked away in the corner by the window. Normally my boss sits in the next cubicle, so he is often accosted by the Idiot Brigade. When I hear one of them coming, I go back to pretending to work.

When Boss is not at his desk, they continue on to me to ask one of the following:
1 - Where is he? Since I sit next to him, I am clearly his keeper.
2 - Can I do his job? If I could do his job, I'd better be getting a lot more money. Sometimes I can do his job, but I don't tell them that.
3 - Any number of questions that have no answer; they are only asked as a segue into pointless banter that is their attempt at mindless conversation.
4 - Repeat word for word any combination of the above questions, in any order until my head falls off and rolls under the desk. This only deters them a little.

During the above exchange(s) I make it clear that I am still working. If they don't leave soon, I slam down whatever I am working on and stare at them. To a normal person, this would be a big indication that I don't want to be bothered by you telling me how you were going to wear black pants, but you can only wear them with sandals, and you can't wear sandals because they said it might rain, and you don't want your feet wet, so you wore tennis shoes, but tennis shoes make you trip even though everyone always says tennis shoes are better, but you fall when you wear them, and you wanted to wear your sandals because they go with the pants, but they said it was going to rain, and it looks like it's going to rain, but now the sky is kinda blue, and you wish you had worn your sandals because then you could have worn your black pants and blabbity blah blah blah. Try to guess at which point my head not only fell off, but rolled away and exploded. (Un) luckily, no one was jurt in the explosion. My head always comes back, but so do the Inane Babblers.

My boss called yesterday and today to check up on R, the other person in my department. I could hear her describing some little thing a customer said to her in much the same way as the shoe fiasco above. Even to the untrained ear, her horrible dramas are stupid tidbits of crap. However, she needs to be checked on because she has a very strong habit of screwing everything up. As a comparison, my boss didn't even ask to talk to me. When R insisted that we needed to chat, he asked how things were, I said fine, and then we talked about the weather. This is reassuring to me because he knows that I don't need to be checked on, even if Boss is gone for 2 whole days. And he knows that I know that he knows that. It's a fine system. I know that.

Another reassuring job issue is that this morning the BOSS Boss, the President Of The Company, asked me to do a project for him. I would have gotten it anyway had regular Boss been in because I get all the stuff like that. The thing is, President normally only speaks to Boss. Boss is President's voice. President is the kind of president that you say good morning to, but rarely do you approach him directly. But this morning I was approached by President and asked specifically to do this project. The project was, of course, some mindless crap that involved cutting & pasting company blubber from one computer program to another, but it was a good way to fill what would have otherwise been an empty 3 hours. The best part was, if any of the Idiot Brigade had tried to interrupt me, I could say "sorry, President wants this done before anything else" which was completely true. For once in my life, however, nobody bothered me. Maybe they had seen President walk over my way, and they knew that Boss wasn't there so he definitely wanted something from me.

This is a pretty long blog. I will stop writing now because I don't even know what my ramblings are doing. They are producing something completely on their own.

Just goes to show you, start me a-writin' and I won't stop. I'm clearly a wind-up robot toy - kind of blogger.