This last week has been crazy..
I was out of the office almost the entire week.. and this week I get to do it all over again..
I've been at our main office in Galveston working with my Work Wife (who I love) because she's swamped, and I'm not..
And though I love her to pieces and she would be busy no matter what, I have to say, after working with her for a week that she is crazily disorganized.. or maybe she just organizes in her own way. I don't know, but I couldn't find anything in her office.. Hell, she had 8000 emails in her inbox!!
Anyway, I have to go help her again next week, which is awesome, because then I don't have to see Redneck Boss and Coon Ass Boss and FNG..
While I was gone however, I did have a run-in with Napolean Boss.
(are you noticing that I have a lot of bosses?? That's right, I am the dirt on the peon's shoes)
Napolean Boss is new. And contrary to his blog name, he doesn't have Napolean Syndrome - but he would be fully within his rights to, since he's all of 5'3", maybe.
But I like Napolean Boss. He gets shit done.
I call him and tell him I need something taken care of and that day it's taken care of.
The other bosses take at least a week.
But last Friday he decided that I need to get on a boat.
That's right a fucking boat.
As in the kind that is on the water.
And to top it off, it was a broken boat, on the water.
I don't know if you've ever gotten onto a working boat. But at least at our terminal, you have to step off of a concrete slab that is the dry land, onto a log (that looks like it could rot away at any moment) that is attached to the slab and then up onto the ledge thing on the boat and then climb your happy ass over the side to get on.
And my almost 200 lb self was doing this while shaking violently with the help of a 150 lb man who is 3 inches shorter than I am.
By the time I got on the boat I thought I was going to vomit.
And Napolean Boss says, "See! Now you can say you were on a boat! Just as stable as land."
Except that it's not because it's moving!!!!
So we went upstairs and downstairs and into the wheelhouse and back.
And the place he decides to get off the floating deathtrap required me to jump (yes, I said jump) from the boat to the concrete slab.
I don't like him anymore. In fact I hate him. And I may demand the waive my drug test if they ever make me do it again.
And he wants me to go on a boat ride this week.. As in where the engines are on and there are other floating deathtraps around you to crash into.
Can I call in sick with an anxiety attack??