I found out the mentally handicapped woman's name this morning on the bus. Her name is Pam. We have two Pam's on our bus. Maybe the fact that they have the same name is why Pam # 2 is always bothering Pam #1 about her dog. I found out her name because she started to sing "one hundred and one bottles of beer on the wall - one hundred and one bottles of beer..." Everyone then asked Pam #2 very nicely to stop. She is nice but every so often gets these weird bursts of anger. Apparently after I got off the bus last night she let the bus driver have it. I am not quite sure what that means but I don't really want to find out.
There were a few newcomers to the bus today. I guess people figured that the strike may last a little longer than anticipated and they had better head to work. Our group is doing some bonding. I say when this is all over we should head out for happy hour! Our bus driver's name is Buba and he was even kind enough to drop us off pretty much at our doorstep last night. But this nonsense really sucks for a whole lot of people. Can't we act like adults and compromise? I thought there was supposed to be a surplus. Weren't they about to give out half priced metro-cards? Why don't they just use that money? If I managed my life the way these people manage the city I sure would be in trouble. Either way let's just figure it out because it took 2 hours for me to get home last night and from what Erin tells me someone in Boston is going to die because they can't get their bone marrow.
My muffins were a big hit. Much bigger than Angie's. I think she was feeling insecure so she pointed it out to me. I just don't understand these women. They take such pride in what they bring to the Christmas breakfast every year. Who has the biggest bagels or the tastiest cake. I just don't see why it matters, although Lydia's cookies were delicious. Everyone showed up with fancy cakes in fancy containers. I brought six muffins in a bag and plopped them down on the table. I suppose if you have nothing else to live for. Not that I have anything all that exciting to live for, but I like to pretend I do.
Jake managed to get into work today. He is a really nice guy but although I have worked for him for almost a year it is still incredibly awkward. Every single interaction. At first I thought it was me. But I don't care enough about what anyone here thinks of me to be awkward. I wonder if he is like that with everyone. Maybe he is just worried I will mess something up (a valid concern). Maybe I just make him nervous because of my blatant disregard for just about everything here. How did someone so awkward manage to get a job here, or a wife for that matter?
Well I had to enter his time and I broke my "no initiative" rule and suggested that perhaps he would like to wait to enter it until he received the correct number. Remember that whole fiasco with Gerry and how he practically refused to change the time? Well I didn't want it to happen again. He wanted something charged to the office charge that I knew would later be changed. I pointed out that accounting (Gerry) doesn't like to go back and change charges so if this will one day be charged to an actual client "we" should wait to enter it.
I said "it is hard (annoying) for accounting (Gerry) to go in and change numbers once they have been entered into the computer." Meaning we should just wait until he gets the correct number instead of letting his impatience force me to do it incorrectly. He said "well...why don't 'we' (we meaning you - they always say we but really mean you) enter it under this and they could just change it later once we figure things out." "OK." So, did he hear anything I said? So I entered the time as he wanted. Well not exactly, none of it ended up mattering at all because I entered the time under the completely wrong charge by accident. That is probably why he gets so nervous around me. He is probably afraid I am going to do some real damage one day. But he decided to cut his losses and told me not to worry about it. Of course I wouldn't have worried about it but it was nice of him to give me permission.
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