“You’re late Linc.”

“Sorry boss, I forgot that we moved the clocks ahead an hour already.”

“That was done in March.”

“See? Just goes to show how behind I am on the times.”

He sighed and walked away, mumbling “*&%# little smart@$$ piece of —-.”

Or something like that I think.

I had one of those nights where I would wake up early, look at the clock… and then go right back to sleep again.

Actually it’s like that every night, only I did it three times in a row today. When I finally did get up, it was a race against time as I blazed down the highways at warp speed so I wouldn’t be late for work. Considering how close I was already cutting it, I probably shouldn’t have stopped by the local market to pick up some DVD rentals and grub on the way.

I snuck inside 15 minutes late, checked the logbook and noticed no one had signed in since 9AM.

Hmmmmmmmm….

So I signed in an hour before my shift was slated to start, then messed up my desk to make it look like I had already been here for a while.

Looks like I’ll be going home early tonight, just in time for the holiday weekend too.

Here’s how a typical day might go:

*Phone Rings*

“Special Division, Lincoln Adams speaking.”

“Yeah I need to have a few documents faxed over?”

“Sure, what’s the subject’s last name, first name?”

I get up, pull the requested files out of the drawer, and then fax them over.

*Phone Rings*

“Special Division, Lincoln Adams speaking.”

“Yeah I need to have a few documents faxed over?”

“Sure, what’s the subject’s last name, first name?”

I get up, pull the requested files out of the drawer, and then fax them over.

*Phone Rings*

“Special Division, Lincoln Adams speaking.”

“Yeah I need to have a few documents faxed over?”

“Sure, what’s the subject’s last name, first name?”

I get up, pull the requested files out of the drawer, and then fax them over.

*Phone Rings*

“Special Division, Lincoln Adams speaking.”

“Yeah I need to have a few documents faxed over?”

“Sure, what’s the subject’s last name, first name?”

I get up, pull the requested files out of the drawer, and then fax them over.

*Phone Rings*

“Dominos Pizza.”

“Oh…. sorry I must have dialed the wrong number. *click*

*Phone Rings*

“LavaLife Dating Service, how can I help you?”

“……………………………… *click*”

*Phone Rings*

“Central Intelligence Agency, Jack Ryan speaking.”

“Linc stop #$%ing around with the phone.”

“Oops, sorry sir, I won’t do it ag-”

*click*

I need a new job.

So my new supervisor has been here a few days, and so far I’m thinking he won’t be too much of a problem. He knows enough to stay out of our way, and he’s already carved out an cubicle igloo for himself, leaving me to keep what is now formerly the supervisor’s desk, so I’m happy.

But there are little ripples here and there that might indicate the new guy could be, well… insane.

You know how when you meet some people things just click, and the conversation easily flows and ebbs? This wouldn’t be one of those times.

Not that he doesn’t mean well, it’s just that our conversations are so awkward they end up becoming something akin to watching a train wreck in slow motion. Weird. When he’s more mellow it’s a bit easier to engage in dialogue, yet the way his face involuntarily twitches makes me think I won’t be trading cooking recipes with him anytime soon.

His 3-4 hours of absence a day where the man is positively nowhere to be found makes me wonder about things though. Like maybe he’s running a drug operation, or hitting the local brothel for a few hours of hoochie coochies, or maybe at the OTB putting a few Gs down on Who’s-Your-Daddy to win it down the stretch.

His work ethic would also seem a bit… lacking. Just yesterday, as he walked out of his cubicle igloo he dropped his coffee. He picked up his cup and threw it not in our trash bin mind you, but in our shredding bin (what we use to dump “sensitive” documents that need to be shredded). After studying the pool of coffee that was now on the floor for a few seconds, he then pulled the shredding bin over it to hide the spill.

Self employment is starting to look better and better to me every day.

Ever gone to work without your pants?

When I first started my job we were all supposed to get new uniforms, but unfortunately there was a severe pants shortage at the time, so some of us had to place them on backorder. My pants finally did arrive though… 9 months later. And they were ladies’ pants too, though the tailor assured me there was no notable difference between the two. Sure. I still had to wait to get them hemmed, which inexplicably took over a month to do, but once they were done I was FINALLY donned in proper uniform, this after already being a year on the job.

There were a few problems though: one, the pants were light threaded and were designed for spring/summer wear. Try wearing this baby in say, February, during a full-on blizzard. There was more than one occasion where I would be screaming at the top of my lungs cursing the tailors and my department while I was hauling my frostbitten legs indoors.

Then one day I happened to be standing next to a cute coworker, who was shuffling a few things in her hands when she dropped a few papers.

“Oh don’t worry I got it,” I said, as I quickly bent over to grab the papers.

*RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP*

Oh no. No, no, no….

“Umm, I have to take some lost time,” I announced, then promptly ran the @#$% out of there, the shredded remains of my pants flapping in the wind.

You know, I understand now why people who wear uniforms order from an outside commercial vendor, especially military uniforms, instead of getting it all in-house. When your righteous buttinski is getting shot at, you really don’t need to be worrying about the kind of nonsense I went through once I got my own “regulation” pants.

I oughta sue too. I might have had a legitimate shot at asking cute coworker out before the pants ripping thingie ruined my chances forever.

I walked into the Chief’s office and sat down. The chief took his seat behind his desk and leaned back a little in a more relaxed position.

“So, tell me what the problem is…”

…three hours later I got a frantic call from my lieutenant asking me to call him back as soon as possible. I guess people were finally starting to take me seriously.

It wasn’t easy though. The chief wasn’t willing to concede anything in my meeting with him at first, and it was looking more and more like I was going to get slapped for insubordination too. But I held my ground and made it clear I wasn’t going to let this one go. They knew I had a case, and they also knew they couldn’t intimidate me either.

In the end the chief finally called the lieutenant, who probably about crapped his pants when he realized I had gone over his head and dealt with the bigwigs. After leaving me an urgent message I called him back and we chatted for a few minutes. Devil Woman was finally being moved, this time for real. For now, the battle had finally been won.

The next day I finally went back to work after almost a month’s hiatus, the whole place abuzz about what I had done.

I passed by one guy who quickly called me out:

“LINC, you are da MAN!!!”

I blinked. “Umm, thanks?”

“Holy cow, if I had done what you did, I would have been kshhhhhhhh…,” he said, making a slashing motion across his neck. “You are DA MAN!”

My coworkers greeted me with much fanfare, then quickly ushered me to the same desk that had once been occupied by Devil Woman and my supervisor, who was now my ex-supervisor. If that didn’t speak volumes about the victory I had been given here, nothing did. I was now using the supervisor’s desk, effectively seizing what had used to be someone else’s “throne.”

It didn’t come without sacrifice though. I lost a week of vacation time, and I’ve probably been branded as a troublemaker now by some of the people here. Too bad, really. If rattling cages is what needs to be done to get some justice around here, then the world could certainly use a few more troublemakers.