That’s my favorite comeback of the day. A man in his thirties used that to rebut an argument. I was impressed. The reason there was no 6 a. m. hateful this morning was because I wasn’t up at 6 a.m. I wasn’t even up at 6:30. The power got knocked out, which killed my alarm colck. It has this little compartment in the bottom where I could put a battery if I were so inclined. My lack of interest in being the “always prepared boy scout” type stems from my desire to never be to dependable. Dependability is a flaw most often taken advantage of by those who have no right to do so.
So for the first time in about a week I was late for work. I wouldn’t have been. I was out the door at the usual time, but alas, my karma was shit city this morning, and I made the wrong choice as to the route I should take. I chose the possible to achieve mach speed freeway route. 7 other people also chose this route, and I’m sure because it was raining and foggy failed to maintain there forward progression. This failure was achieved according to the bass brain on the radio by slamming into each other, and thereby shutting down all of the westbound lanes of I-70.
Even this would not have created my unbearable lateness of being. What stumped me was the asswit in the green G35 that thought it would be cool to also block the shoulder so those behind him could not exit the freeway. After waiting for 8 minutes for him to change his mind I walked up to his car and tapping gently on the window with a pipe wrench requested in a civil yet incredibly creative profane way that he either remove his vehicle or I would commence performing structural modification to the vehicle.
I thought for a moment he was going to get out and slap me across the face with his doeskin driving gloves and challenge me to a duel, but somewhere deep in the recesses of his occipital lobe I assume it occurred to him that pansy gloves are no match for an irate pipe wrench, and he proceeded to move his piece of shit infiniti before I turned it into a yugo. Judging by the horns honking around me I could quite easily have been elected mayor of this shitpit had the vote been taken at 7:02 this morning. As I maneuvered past the posterchild for roadrage insensitivity he flipped me off. I waved and smiled. I’m not an unnice person after all.
Ever notice that when you’re late every redlight in the world is just waiting for your arrival? I got stopped by a redlight at an intersection where the last car to use the crossing street was probably called “horse.” I got skipped at the redlight to get back on the freeway,meaning I had to sit through it twice, and then got nailed by one at the airport that was being manually controlled by the oldest living member of the human race in a policemans uniform. I thought about going after him with my pipe wrench, but my father taught me at a very young age that a club is useless in a gunfight. He was old, but he was packing, so I just sat there and ineffectually wore out my entire litany of cusswords, including the appendix labelled “I stole this phrase from…” while I waited for the old bastards prune juice to kick in and give him the rush that was needed for him to raise his right hand 8″ and hit the switch that again allowed me to continue on my merry way.
I intentionally left out the part where I called my boss and informed him I would be late as I was enjoying a liesurely sabbatical at the I-70 parking lot. I was regaled with peals of laughter as I explained the pridicament, and it was a little ignominious. His parting words were to the affect of “don’t worry about it. You don’t obey any of the other rules no reason you should obey this one.” It’s nice to be appreciated. I sincerely believe that your job is only as safe as your relationship with your immediate supervisor. This means I will never be fired. I add joy to his life. I’m quite sure tormenting me ranks right behind beer, and sex with whatever species is handy, in his hierarchy of needs.
Anyway, I arrived at work 3 minutes late, 7 if you include my “nature calls” moment. Well, not really calls. My colon doesn’t call. It demands. When I walked into the office my boss looked up and stated with a big old smile “lets see now, late, unshaven, sleeves rolled up, shirt untucked. Hell I could ring up enough points to fire you before break.” I replied “you could fire me for 3 uniform violations and an I don’t give a fuck, but what I need is a 3500 psi powerwasher, and the most powerful HVLP pump money can buy.” Bosses are like women. When you hit the top of the shit list send them shopping. He was in a good mood all day. Spent almost 8k, and had a target for his mirthful musings.