Your cocktail sir,





2002-10-07 - 3:07 p.m.

Between the 90 odd urgent messages in my inbox and several urgent messages on my voicemail, plus an unforgiving sales force, it was not a good morning. On Friday, Scotty had done a bad thing (that doesn’t involve Steve in Product Marketing or the Photo Copier in any way, thank God) with the orders that managed to piss off a large number of Fulfillment and Finance folks (isn’t alliteration grand!) The tarnishing of his gleaming image was driving him crazy, thus I am convinced that he manufactured an “incident”. While having him load A4 paper into the printer so we could run some reports created by our Return and Repair facility in Scotland (yes, those wacky Europeans have their own special paper size that wreaks havoc with HP printers what with having to press buttons and such) when I heard a very loud feminine shriek. It seems that Scotty has given himself a papercut, and from the way he was carrying on about it, it sounded like we were going to have to pick up and ice a severed appendage and fly in some famed hand physician for emergency micro surgery. The whole office eventually became involved, no doubt because of the hysterics. Scotty likes to perform, and he really gets going when an audience is involved. I gave him a band-aid, letting the VP’s admin play Florence Nightingale while I finished loading the printer and Scotty took a breather. All the sobbing and trauma had left him a little lightheaded. The Admin called him a “poor dear” at one point. It was crazy. He was awash with well wishers. Over a God damned papercut. At any moment I expect a Get Well Soon card to come around for me to sign. He bravely ran reports before taking an early lunch. When he got back (20 minutes late) I noticed that he had replaced the nearly invisible bandage from the corporate medicine chest with a shockingly pink Power Puff Girl bandage of such obvious swishiness it was a miracle that the various print outs in my cube didn’t just burst into flames. And he started favoring his left hand, letting everyone know that he had been injured in the line of duty. He occasionally winced as well. Today however, is his last day. In a few hours he will be leaving this company, perhaps forever. He will take with him a scar; only his will be physical rather than emotional. Or perhaps it will be a little bit of both.

I neglected, in my half assed recap of Journalcon 2002 yesterday, to mention the fabulous (and really, it’s the best word regardless of the fact that it’s overused by Scott and his butt pirate cronies, whoops, a little bitter there) Mo, one of the coolest chicks attending this year, plus an organizer. Let’s just say, she gave it her all, and everyone left satisfied. I serenaded her with a song during Karaoke, and pretty much hung around hoping she’d draw me into conversations. She continuously called me by the wrong name. I highly recommend her movie reviews.

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Zen and don't cry out loud - 2007-07-29

Zen and the stumbling rocks of fitness - 2007-07-19

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Zen and fasting - 2007-06-20

Zen and hiccups - 2007-06-18

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