My Work Rules
The bank that I work at is awesome. I don't think that I will ever work at a place where I sincerely enjoy the people and they actually get my tactless sense of humor.
When I first started working for the bank, my boss and I went to lunch with one of our customers. While we were waiting for the other party to arrive, my boss starts busting my balls. He starts lecturing me about this, that and the other. Keep in mind that I haven't built any repoire with the man. After about 5 minutes of constant berating, I take the knife that is part of my place setting, clasp it in my right hand and look at my boss in a threatening manner before saying, "If you don't shut up, I'm going to stab you in the neck with this knife."
This story has become a standing joke between he and I. I usually tell him that I'm going to stab him with the pen that I'm holding at any given time and he tells my coworkers that if anyone finds me bleeding with a knife in my neck, they'll know who did it.
Yea, kind of sounds weird now...I guess you had to be there.
He also likes to bet. My family are Bronco fanatics. We skipped Christmas dinner 3 years ago because there was a John Elway special on ESPN, my dad has season tickets on the 50 yard line, 4 rows up from the Bronco sidelines and while living in California, Donny and I were over at a friend's house to watch last year's Orange Bowl. In the living room was a set of four concrete coasters depicting different scenes of John Elway's pro career with the Broncos. Let's just say that I became teary eyed at the sight. I love John Elway.
Anyway, the Chargers played the Broncos a couple of Sundays ago. If the Chargers won, I had to buy my boss lunch, make a place setting in the lunch room and serve him the food. If the Broncos won, my boss would have to take three shots of tequila...in a row.
Of course, the Broncos came through with Jason Elam kicking a 37 yard field goal in the last seconds of the game. That Monday was the first time I was actually looking forward to work. My boss tried to beg, plead and negotiate his way out of the bet. Actually, I believe his exact words were, "If I take three shots of tequila I will die." I called him a pussy and told him that he shouldn't have made the bet if he couldn't go through with it.
It took a couple of weeks, but finally the right night came along in which to celebrate my victory. My coworkers and I were headed to my boss' house to celebrate his birthday. It was a Thursday night, which all of us working joe's know is the best time to party during the week. My coworker, husband, boss and I walked to a bar that is literally 25 yards away from our bank (awesome location I must say).
This bar is the weirdest dive bar I have ever seen. Our usual waiter looks like Cheech minus 50 pounds and 6 inches, but with the exact same accent. He always tries to get us to come on the weekends so, "we can really party." The cook also works at the Jack in the Box right next door to the bar (anyone remember the salmonella scandal?) and he always comes out of the kitchen sweating and talking in Mexican. And the bar hosts karoke every Tuesday night.
Well, maybe not karoke. There is a piano behind the bar with a 90 year old lady sitting playing the keys. All these interesting old people come on Tuesday nights to sing songs that were popular in the 1940's. They just sit around the bar, pass the mircrophone and drink. The first time I was exposed to this ritual, I couldn't move. I wanted to leave, but the sensory overload was too much for my motor skills to handle.
So, the stage was set for my boss to kill three shots of tequila. The bartender filled each shot to the brim. We all decided that it was fair if we took a shot of tequila with him. The first went down pretty smoothly. My boss made the tequila face, but nothing unusual. The second was a little rough. His eyes started turning red and watering and he started making this noise. It sounded like he was choking or something. I started to feel sorry for him and told him that he didn't need to take the third.
He flipped me off and proceeded to take the last shot.
He downed three shots in ten seconds and managed to still keep his cookies.
As usual, that was just beginning. After arriving at my boss' house, one of my coworkers and I start to chug wine...out of the bottle. I got so wasted that I thought it was a good idea to moon people through the window. I actually think it was a full moon or something because all of us thought it was a good idea to go swimming in the community pool. My boss was the only one with a bathing suit. I was soaking wet from head to shoe. Of course, my husband was thoroughly impressed.
I don't remember anything I did on the way home, except that I jumped out a moving car in order to puke in the neighbor's bushes.
The next morning I had to wake up early because (being the drunkard that I am), I has to ride with the hubby home the previous night. He dropped me off at work where I left my car around 7:30 a.m. I walked into work and realize that I'm not feeling so hot (huge surprise). I go back to my car, crawl inside and pass out for an hour. I wake up to my boss and coworker taping on the window telling me it's time to get up. This is around 9:00 a.m.
I think I've learned my lesson from chugging wine out of a bottle, but I'll probably need to remind myself why it's not a good idea sometime in the future.
When I first started working for the bank, my boss and I went to lunch with one of our customers. While we were waiting for the other party to arrive, my boss starts busting my balls. He starts lecturing me about this, that and the other. Keep in mind that I haven't built any repoire with the man. After about 5 minutes of constant berating, I take the knife that is part of my place setting, clasp it in my right hand and look at my boss in a threatening manner before saying, "If you don't shut up, I'm going to stab you in the neck with this knife."
This story has become a standing joke between he and I. I usually tell him that I'm going to stab him with the pen that I'm holding at any given time and he tells my coworkers that if anyone finds me bleeding with a knife in my neck, they'll know who did it.
Yea, kind of sounds weird now...I guess you had to be there.
He also likes to bet. My family are Bronco fanatics. We skipped Christmas dinner 3 years ago because there was a John Elway special on ESPN, my dad has season tickets on the 50 yard line, 4 rows up from the Bronco sidelines and while living in California, Donny and I were over at a friend's house to watch last year's Orange Bowl. In the living room was a set of four concrete coasters depicting different scenes of John Elway's pro career with the Broncos. Let's just say that I became teary eyed at the sight. I love John Elway.
Anyway, the Chargers played the Broncos a couple of Sundays ago. If the Chargers won, I had to buy my boss lunch, make a place setting in the lunch room and serve him the food. If the Broncos won, my boss would have to take three shots of tequila...in a row.
Of course, the Broncos came through with Jason Elam kicking a 37 yard field goal in the last seconds of the game. That Monday was the first time I was actually looking forward to work. My boss tried to beg, plead and negotiate his way out of the bet. Actually, I believe his exact words were, "If I take three shots of tequila I will die." I called him a pussy and told him that he shouldn't have made the bet if he couldn't go through with it.
It took a couple of weeks, but finally the right night came along in which to celebrate my victory. My coworkers and I were headed to my boss' house to celebrate his birthday. It was a Thursday night, which all of us working joe's know is the best time to party during the week. My coworker, husband, boss and I walked to a bar that is literally 25 yards away from our bank (awesome location I must say).
This bar is the weirdest dive bar I have ever seen. Our usual waiter looks like Cheech minus 50 pounds and 6 inches, but with the exact same accent. He always tries to get us to come on the weekends so, "we can really party." The cook also works at the Jack in the Box right next door to the bar (anyone remember the salmonella scandal?) and he always comes out of the kitchen sweating and talking in Mexican. And the bar hosts karoke every Tuesday night.
Well, maybe not karoke. There is a piano behind the bar with a 90 year old lady sitting playing the keys. All these interesting old people come on Tuesday nights to sing songs that were popular in the 1940's. They just sit around the bar, pass the mircrophone and drink. The first time I was exposed to this ritual, I couldn't move. I wanted to leave, but the sensory overload was too much for my motor skills to handle.
So, the stage was set for my boss to kill three shots of tequila. The bartender filled each shot to the brim. We all decided that it was fair if we took a shot of tequila with him. The first went down pretty smoothly. My boss made the tequila face, but nothing unusual. The second was a little rough. His eyes started turning red and watering and he started making this noise. It sounded like he was choking or something. I started to feel sorry for him and told him that he didn't need to take the third.
He flipped me off and proceeded to take the last shot.
He downed three shots in ten seconds and managed to still keep his cookies.
As usual, that was just beginning. After arriving at my boss' house, one of my coworkers and I start to chug wine...out of the bottle. I got so wasted that I thought it was a good idea to moon people through the window. I actually think it was a full moon or something because all of us thought it was a good idea to go swimming in the community pool. My boss was the only one with a bathing suit. I was soaking wet from head to shoe. Of course, my husband was thoroughly impressed.
I don't remember anything I did on the way home, except that I jumped out a moving car in order to puke in the neighbor's bushes.
The next morning I had to wake up early because (being the drunkard that I am), I has to ride with the hubby home the previous night. He dropped me off at work where I left my car around 7:30 a.m. I walked into work and realize that I'm not feeling so hot (huge surprise). I go back to my car, crawl inside and pass out for an hour. I wake up to my boss and coworker taping on the window telling me it's time to get up. This is around 9:00 a.m.
I think I've learned my lesson from chugging wine out of a bottle, but I'll probably need to remind myself why it's not a good idea sometime in the future.
posted by Martha | 6:31 PM
1 Comments:
Dude..you know that little lesson is only going to stick in your memory for a few days...in a couple of weeks you are going to be stumbling down the street chugging red wine out of the bottle! It's inevitable.
As far as kids go, yes we are trying. I actually went in and had the full workup done because after stopping BC, No periods! Kind of hard to get pregnant if you don't have normal cycles eh? So now I have started taking drugs to induce ovulation, and I have to chart...google BBT charts..it's a complex deal. My luck, we're going to end up with Quadruplets!!!Nothing is every easy or simple with me! :)
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