Working For A Dollar

Okay, so this will not be another blog about my feelings for Tattoo Boy. Although I will probably need to throw him a few lines just because he's my saviour :)

Today, some fucking idiot decides to screw up our major computer program at work. Not that it actually affected our particular portion, but the other centres are all up in arms over the fuck-up. Now normally, I wouldn't give a shit. We're okay, so what does it matter? Well, since it's the third major incident in a year, the head honchos in the States want to lock down the entire system. May not seem like a big deal to you, but this system is my baby. I've slaved over it since it's first blip over three years ago, and, quite frankly, I'm having a real hard time giving it up. I know, I know...it's always good to hand the reins over, especially since I've made it what it is today. But I sure as hell didn't want to do it this way. Maybe it's the control freak in me speaking, but dammit, I just want it left the way it is.

I always thought I'd end up handing over my responsibilities to someone else in my department, not relinquishing them back to the makers who be. I was stunned on the conference call. I'm not the only one who feels this way, as some guy who's name I can't remember ended up yelling on the call. Now when I say yelling, I certainly don't mean voice raising. I mean pure, unadulterated screaming! This is definately not something I am used to. Most times we all act like professional adults. Apparently someone forgot to eat their Wheaties today or forgot to remind Jimbo that we were playing at being grown-ups still. Yet some parts of me agreed with him 100%, even if his methods left a little to be desired. So, in a nutshell, all hope is lost. The decision has been made by the head cheese and I just have to sit and wait for Friday to come along to see the outcome. (Even after typing the ridiculous e-mail stating why I should get to keep my present reins of authority and feeling like big fat knob who is begging for her job. Which, by the way, isn't even the case.)

Anyway, about 2 seconds before this dreadful call is over, guess who's name pops up on my phone? Great timing, as always, as I disconnect the call and beg him to come upstairs. Not that there was a lot of begging needed. I just need to make sure that everytime TB comes upstairs to visit and drag me off for a ciggie, that I'm not about ready to pound someone or something. May make a bad impression :) Okay, really what I am thinking is that he may believe me to be a boring twat who does nothing but bitch, whine and moan. I'm quite sure he has enough of that with the minors he hangs with on a weekend. (Which would include the wee 18-year-old that passed out after too much booze, hit her face on the bumper of a car on the way down, and now needs an awesome dentist to fix three of those beautiful pearly whites.) Have to tell you though, I was about this close to asking him if he wanted to go for a beer after work. I can't quite tell you why this seems so important to me. Almost like a conquest or something. Guess I came to my senses before I decided to do something so silly. But hey! if I keep having these thoughts then sooner or later my lips will start flapping and those words will definately be airborn.

Well, looks like I did exactly what I said I wasn't going to do. Blab, blab, blab, fantasize, etc. It's a good thing I don't get this glazed look on my face at work. Or maybe more appropriately I should say I don't get this glazed look on my face at work anymore. On the other hand, maybe I should ask a few close mates around me if the glow has disappeared yet, or if I still look like I should be wearing a bib to catch all the fast falling drool. One question I do have though....why did I fell like such a teenager handing over that krell CD today? I kept asking myself whether I thought TB would like it....or whether I was trying too hard....or whether it was the right type of music? Even tonight, long after work is done and people have gone home, I keep asking those same questions. Why do I seek his approval? Why should it matter? And here I am, believing in the misnomer that this crush is receding. Ah, hell, if he doesn't like it, too damn bad! (But a tiny piece of me still wants the damn approval!)

Bedtime for me very shortly, with a hope for sweet dreams. Maybe reading some of these trashy chic lit books will help. Or worse still, they'll make me want for what I don't have! Finished reading: Monkey Business by Sarah Mlynowski, Looking For Mr. Goodfrog by Laurie Graff, Spin Doctor by Leslie Carrol and Man On Platform Five by Robert Llewellyn.
Presently reading: Is That A Moose In Your Pocket by Kim Green and The Piper's Son by Bruce Chandler Fergusson (cos I need some sick shit in my life too!)