stretched thin

…the following is an email from a friend of mine and is in no way related to me in any way, shape or form...

The owner (big boss) of my company has two assistants. The first being a perfect yes man, who is climbing his way up the corporate ladder of privilege with every helpful suggestion. We’ll call him Keanu. The second assist, well, that’s a revolving door. When I started working at my company, I would often see the poor girl at the desk dozing in her chair or sluggishly clicking her way through a game of bedazzled. I rued the day I ever have a job like that again. Well. Christmas come early.

Four weeks ago, in addition to assisting three other busy execs, I was deemed competent enough to fill in as the second assist, since they’d fired the latest victim. I wanted to have the faux-leather office chair blessed with holy water – a bit extreme, perhaps. Three grueling weeks later, a permanent replacement started and I had survived, with my job and sanity in tact. Woohoo! I was excited to go back to my relaxed old digs and surround myself with friendly coworkers, rather than the stiffness of uber corporate policy in the CEO’s area. Life was good…for a week.

Six days after working as the 2nd asst – the new girl quit. WHAT? Keanu promptly stopped by to report, “pack up your shit, you’re comin back upstairs.” NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Why, why would she quit????? Did she not realize how her actions would affect ME, the innocent victim in all of this. Clearly not. Bitch.

The worst part was the sympathetic laughter that I encountered as I.T. reinstalled all my shit upstairs again …. “welcome back. Heh heh heh.” And that was just from the butler. (yes, we have a butler who tends to the execs for their meals/beverages etc.) “Corazon, I bet you still seeting dere at Christmus.” Thanks dude. Shut up. I feel like a MLB player who keeps getting traded back n forth, but with the same contract. I’ve been trying to figure out a diplomatic way to broach the “renegotiation” topic with one of my many bosses…I’ll let you know how that goes.

a coworker downstairs suggested that I stop being so competent and start to fuck up. A wise suggestion, should I suddenly enjoy living off welfare. I’ll pass on that method for now. Then today happened. I think my brains leaked out halfway through the morning from stress…which would explain the following:

The big boss wanted to know where his kids were, so I emailed the nanny and she quickly responded with their whereabouts. Sadly, she didn’t check her grammar. So instead of reporting that his beloved offspring were with Tata (a relative's nickname) – I confidently reported that they were at Tatsa until three. Please note that “tatsa” is a location in Morroco OR the foundation for Thai After Tsunami Schooling Aid......... idiot .......... He gave me a cautious “wtf” expression then called Keanu. I’m pretty sure dyslexia is not something a CEO looks for in an assistant.

So for now I plug along. I have no idea when a new perm assistant will begin to take the helm, but for the love of God, I hope she’s a career admin and doesn’t quit after six friggin days! Or get fired. Or suck in general. that's not a lot to ask...... so, if I suddenly drop off the face of the earth, please have someone check under my desk at work. I’ve probably just slipped into a catatonic state of schedules, meetings, expense reports and junk mail.

Just another day in paradise.

The end.