Glad to Have a Job

My boss is a jerk. And I work for myself.

Usually I don’t bad mouth myself behind my back, but when it comes to the holidays, I’m a real Scrooge, so I deserve to be publicly chastised.

Just a quick look around my office shows how little holiday spirit there is at my place of employment. Not only does my boss not let me put up a any kind of decorations for fear that I might offend myself, she’s also confiscated my red, green, gold, and silver Sharpies to make sure I don’t write a festive note to tuck in with my monthly letter to Verizon inquiring why they continue to charge me for text-messaging when I have assured them repeatedly that my thumbs aren’t really opposable.

My boss has even changed my radio presets to prevent me from accidentally hearing Alvin & the Chipmunks or Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer as I slave away pretending to be working. I came in yesterday, after having beaten off the holiday traffic between my kitchen and office, humming a seasonal tune to cheer myself up. I got a look from her that would have frightened a lesser employee, but at this point in our boss/employee relationship, I know she’s usually all talk and no action when it comes to discipline. I could – and have – come into work wearing my pajamas and all I’d get is an eye roll. And a note on my personnel file that says “Continues her childish behavior.” Like that scares me.

Needless to say, we’re not having a holiday party this year. Last year, we actually took fifteen minutes out from our day to play online solitaire while wearing party hats and eating fudge, but apparently harsh economic times have put the kibosh on festivities of any kind. She says if I feel the need to celebrate the season, I should do it on my own time. Which I would, if she didn’t follow me home every night. Despite that restraining order.

And I can forget about time off for a little shopping or general holiday cavorting. I worked up the nerve to ask her last week. Our conversation went like this:

Me: I was wondering if maybe I could take Friday afternoon off. I’ve really got to get a few gifts to send to my sisters next week.

Boss: You should have done your shopping at garage sales in July like I told you to. See, this is what happens when you don’t listen to me.

Me: But it’s just a few hours. You won’t even have to pay me for the time off.

We both laughed and laughed.

Boss: I can’t afford for you to be away from your desk. What if an editor calls with an important assignment? What then?

We both laughed again.

Boss: I’m serious. Someone could call. With an actual paying job.

Me: Well, if she did, she’d get my voicemail.

Boss: Oh, that’s very professional, now isn’t it? You remember last month when you were looking for someone to fix the roof and the first three companies you called went right to voicemail, what did you do?

Me: I called the next one down the page.

Boss: My point exactly!

Me: But I’m not a roofing company. I’m a humor writer.

Boss: So you say. If you were a roofing company, we might not be having this

discussion. After all, they actually work for a living.

Me: What are you implying?

Boss: Implying? Nothing. I’m saying that anyone who wears reindeer slippers to “the office” and takes breaks every hour to pet the dogs so they don’t feel you’re taking them for granted shouldn’t be in here begging for time off. She should be thanking her lucky stars I don’t can her. You know, plenty of other people have lost their jobs recently.

Me: So I guess a bonus is out the question?

I really need to update my resume. I wonder if one of my other personalities is hiring.