3.04.08

Category: dribblings

mr. fleegan was making muffins for breakfast when i left this morning to go to mom’s coffee klatch. when i got home he was already gone, but there were some fresh muffins waiting for me. i was excited (i don’t think we’ve ever made muffins. not since LBC and i were roommates. it’s not cos we don’t like muffins, it’s more cos i never bought any muffin tins when i moved. LAZY. lazy for being so lazy.) so i get home and there’s the muffins and i’m all, “yes!” with the fist pumping. and i can’t remember if he made blueberry muffins or cranberry muffins. so i unwrap a muffin…clearly anticipating a tangy berry of some kind…and i bite into it… and it’s chocolate. my response was an audible, “no!”

i was, in a word, disappointed. chocolate? in a muffin? what are we, 12? but i shouldn’ve known, right? after all i did marry him. he would eat chocolate for three meals a day if he could figure out how to get away with it. so here i was all, “i had my mouth ready fo’ some hash, and they ain’t no hash.” chocolate damn muffins.

as i was making some coffee i was thinking about how sweet it was that he got up early to make muffins (he even went out to the store to get milk. at like, 6am. in the rain)(oh, but don’t go thinking he was making the muffins for me. he’s the one who wanted muffins.) and i thought about how i’m the only person on the planet who would complain about fresh, free muffins. but then i thought, no! i’m not the only one. you know that you know someone who’s like that. someone other than me. you probably work with someone like that. someone who ALWAYS complains about things that bear no complaining. like, for instance, muffins.

well i don’t want to be like that person. i don’t want to be like Roberta in HR or Larry in accounting. i don’t want to be the bonehead muffin complainer. i won’t! who the hell complains about free muffins? NOT ME. I LOVE THEM. THEY’RE MY FAVORITE.

******

yesterday was monday. and the first thing that happened to me at work yesterday was some lady, some mentally ill piece of sewer-ridden garbage of a women calls me an idiot. okay, the word idiot didn’t come out of her mouth, but this is what happened. she comes up to the desk as i’m walking out to the library all fresh and ready for a new week of library-ing. she says, “i can’t get the copy machine to work. nothing comes out.” so i volunteer to help her cos my co-workers were going to take their morning break. so i go back there and the problem is that the copier doesn’t recognize that there’s anything on the screen because the paper was smaller than a regular piece of paper. it’s easy to fix and i fix it and it copies her tiny page. she says, “that’s not really how i wanted it.”
“oh, do you want it on the page long ways?” i know, “long ways”, right? but if i say “landscape” it will only be more confusing.
“i don’t want it like this.”
“okay.” so i copy it again, this time “long ways.”
“i don’t like it like this either.”

let me take time to tell you it’s a small handwritten note that we’re copying. it’s not any kind of project or something to be graded, m’kay?
“well, there’s only long ways or short ways, and we’ve done both. you’re pretty much out of choices.”
“i guess this will do.”
“okay then, glad i could help-”
“i need this letter copied.”
“oh, okay, put it on the screen.” this time it’s paper-sized paper. you know what i mean. it copies. she snatches up the copy and says, “what’s this line doing here?”
“what?”
“there’s a line on here. my original doesn’t have a line on it.” it’s almost like she knew there would be a line there because i swear she hadn’t even finished picking up the paper before she freaked out about the line. i look at the paper and sure enough there’s a faint line on it. it’s just copier machine bullshit, right? you know how copiers are.
“um, i guess it’s just some kind of interference with the machine. do you want to try it again?” and i swear to God this is what she says,
“i don’t think you know how to work this machine.”

ok. i’m out.
“you’re welcome to try another copy if you want. i can’t do anything about the line.”
“this is terrible. i can’t use this. i know that they put the bad copy machine out here for the public to use.”
“actually, this is the new copy machine. it’s only a year old.”
“i know they sell the bad ones to the public and the good ones to offices.”
“…”
“i can’t use this. i’m going to talk to someone about this.”
“okay then.”

and she walks up to the desk. and she starts in on the two ladies at the desk (one of which is my boss.) i can hear her bitching, but i can’t tell what she’s saying. meanwhile there’s a guy who’s been standing around to use the copier. he gives me a look like, “what the hell is her damage?” and i look at him like, “dude, is it monday or what?”

so tina makes the lady a copy of her letter on the copy machine in the back office, which, is the shittiest copy machine ever. it always leaves specks of black on the copies. ALWAYS. and of course this time is no different. the lady comes back to the new machine where i’m still waiting because the stupid whinebag left her purse and keys at that machine and i didn’t want her to come back and say that the man had touched her things or stole anything. (she seemed the type). and so she comes up to me in a TIZZ and is all, “well, look, that one put black spots on it.”
“yeah. because that’s the old machine. it’s not as good as this one.”
she huffs and puffs and FINALLY stomps away. i straighten up a shelf or two and go back to the desk and ask, “did Freakshow leave?” and they tell me that she’d said that i obviously had no idea what i was doing with that machine. (ooh, that corksoaking witch.) then mary says that the lady insisted that her copies should be BETTER than her original, and that she knew all about copy machines because she was an office manager for 12 years.

what planet is this crazy from? how could it be BETTER than the ORIGINAL?

i can only be relieved that i never had to work in that lady’s office.

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