Baboon Pirates

Scribbles and Scrawls from an unrepentant swashbuckling primate.

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Location: Texas, United States

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

F%$#*ng Typical...


So, this morning is my highly anticipated consulting gig with Another Man.  Usually, when you go to work for The Man, you have to do things solely for The Man.

But... if The Man can get some good press out of the deal, or maybe trade for Players To Be Named Later, us peons can occasionally travel off the reservation and see how life in other gulags compares to our own.

So, I've set up the meet & greet at one of The Man's facilities.  Got the email confirmation from the site manager for the conference room, met with him last week to discuss a facility tour and the usual VIP handjob services.  My shit's wired tight.

Nevertheless, I show up 40 minutes early, just in case.

Whereupon I discover that the facility manager is out of town, there's no room at the inn, and who the fuck are you to be showing up at the last minute demanding a room??

This, friends and neighbors, is why I leave my edged weapons at the house.  Otherwise, I'd have an office wall full of scalps.

I didn't come off looking like a total schmuck, 'cause I do know my business, but I'm thinking the 2nd time they asked us to switch rooms, (From a frigid staff lounge to a small room filled with art supplies) my guests lost patience and decided to end the day early.

Well, two hours to go, and I can go home and commence drinking.  Back in my tech support days, I'd have a bottle in my desk drawer and would have begun two hours previously...