I can pretty much guarantee that I walked around like a lunatic today. I must have had a bowl of stupid for breakfast, because every new challenge was met with a wide-eyed stare and a profound sense of “wha?”
Since part of my job involves supervising and participating in new store setup for my particular employer, it’s generally my job to be part of the solution, not so much the problem. However, today I discovered something that I did two weeks ago caused some other shit to happen, and the end results were some things got done broke, and it’s pretty much my fault. Nothing too extreme, but the sad part is when I first discovered the problem, I didn’t even recognize it as my doing. I was full of righteous anger and, being none to shy about it, was venting my frustration by keeping up a steady stream of profanity.
It’s true, you know, you can construct a sentence using only the words “the” and “fuck”.
And I did. At great length. I even called Rosie, since she was one of the only people that had ever dealt with this particular object, and would be able to commiserate. Sadly, she shot me down by pointing out that
A) she had warned me this might happen, and
b) it was really my fault for not paying attention last time, so
c) buck up, Buttercup, because you’ll have to take this square on the chin.
Fine. You know, the damage is nowhere NEAR as bad I thought it was… this is totally fixable!
Of course, not an hour after my blowup and subsequent phone call (or two, or three, all to Rosie) I managed to screw up AGAIN. This time, making a mistake that Rosie and I had done the first time around, earlier this year. In fact, we had made such a big deal about how dumb we were, and what a stupid mistake, that we had even turned the whole thing into a decent anecdote, which I was regaling my helper with AS I WAS MAKING THE SAME MISTAKE. Let’s just say it’s like I was building a house, and forgot to put in doorways. (yes, that obvious of a mistake.) Assume, for the sake of my story, that I realized my mistake only after the house was almost complete, and had to spend quite a bit of time trying to put the damn doors in the house. Now, say I decided to build ANOTHER house, and while telling everyone the story of the doors, and how stupid, no one forgets the DOORS…I forget. To put in. The. DOORS.
(Pause while everyone re-reads that paragraph to arrive at the point that I’M STUPID.)
This, of course, necessitated another call to Rosie, who declined to answer her phone at this point. (Pshaw. Like she was actually trying to work, or something.) I left an intelligible message that sounded something like:
And the day went downhill from there, prompting me to anwser every quesiton put to me with a wide eyed stare and an awkward “HAHAHA I’LL ANWSER YOUR QUESTION BUT I’M STUPID SO DON’T BLAME ME WHEN THE STORE FAILS AND YOU ALL GET FIRED AND HAVE TO LIVE IN A VAN DOWN BY THE RIVER.”
Tomorrow I’m going to say “no thanks” to a shot of stupid in my coffee.