New Job

So, I started my new job last week. I'm actually kinda digging it. I have an awesome view of NYC. I think I have one of the primo cubicles (if there is such a thing). I'm on the 38th floor right next to the SE corner office. My cube is the first along the windows on the south end of the building. I have a beautiful view of midtown and lower Manhattan. I can even see the Statue of Liberty waaaaaayyyyy down. And, when it's clear, I'm pretty sure I can see a bit of the Brooklyn Bridge.

So, just having natural light, when I wasn't expecting any at all, is a serious boon.

I'm supporting nine (yes, 9) people. Once they figure out I'm not just a pretty face (snort) and can do a heck of a lot more than scan documents and send out FedExs, I expect I will be swamped with work. But (and here's my new mantra)

Hey! Hey! I won't mind!
I'll be gettin' overtime!

Yep! I'm a non-exempt employee which means I'll be making time and a half for any work over 40 hours a week. Take that former boss who thought a fancy-shmancy title that doesn't mean jack in the real world makes up for the fact that you drastically underpaid me during my entire 7 years with your company. Piss on this!!!!!

Snerk.

And the people are pretty nice, too. Only fly so far is the woman who is in the cubicle next to me. She came back to work yesterday after being on vacation for the previous week. And she talks to herself. Loudly. And she curses to herself. Loudly. And she talks on the phone. Loudly. And she curses on the phone. Loudly.

I'm no prude, but saying "Fuck" in a loud voice on a crowded office floor is a bit more than I can take. She sounds like Jeanne Garafalo in a really foul mood. If I had a quarter for every f-bomb she drops I wouldn't have to find laundry money every weekend.

Oh yeah, my other annoyance - the little salad dressing cups at the salad bar in the company's cafeteria (yeah, baby. There's a rockin' caf in the building!) For some reason, I have major butter fingers trying to put my olive oil and balsamic vinegar in those little cups. I even mangaged to drop an entire cup of olive oil on the floor. Flash back to middle school anyone?

And I feel like such a geek in my suits. I can't believe I have to wear these every day! I feel like such a dork. I wore a great tweed suit today. All I needed was a pipe, a hat, a magnifying glass and an English accent. And a dead body or two.

(And here comes Isabella, sneaking her way back to the printer - see post below - she thinks she's going to slkdasjf;askk;dsler get out of the way Isabella!)

So, so far so good. Check back here in a couple of months and see how I'm faring!



(side - ever notice how this spell check doesn't seem to know ANY words? I thought laundry was a word, but maybe I'm wrong...)

I feel lower than dirt...

...because I just scared the crap out of my cat. She's been bugging the shit out of me all evening. I know, I know. She wants to play...blah, blah, blah.

The problem is, I'm trying to do work on the computer and she keeps jumping on the desk and attacking the printer. She's already broken one printer by sticking her paw up where the paper comes out and cracking off one of those tiny, irreplaceable plastic things that guides the paper. I had to buy a new printer last spring and I know she was the one who broke it because it was working fine the night before and one of her paws was a rainbow of colors...

Anyway, last spring when I had to replace the printer, I tried to find one that took the ink cartridges we already had - we had just restocked because we had a lot of printing to do - and those things are expensive! Of course, no printer in the store took the ink cartridges we had so I had to buy a printer that takes cartridges that are not only more expensive than the ones we had before, but also hold less ink. Sheesh!

So, tonight, Isabella jumped on the desk. I picked her up and put her on the floor. Within a minute, she was on the desk again and got up on top of the printer. Fine. As long as she keeps her paws to herself, she can stay there. She sat there for about five minutes and then couldn't contain herself any longer. Paws in the printer. I pick her up and put on the floor.

She put herself in "time out" for a minute or two (paper box sitting next to the desk. She jumps in there and looks at me pathetically if she thinks I've been scolding her). Then she wanders away and I figure I'm safe for the moment.

Then I start printing.

Our computer room is laid out like this: Computer desk with scanner, monitor, printer. Short file cabinet with old all-in-one printer/fax, Easy chair, door. Earlier in the evening, the BF had been sitting in the chair and left a can of Pepsi sitting on the file cabinet. There is very little space between the printer and the edge of the file cabinet but enough that most cats can make it with no problems.

So I start printing and I see Isabella get on the chair. I don't say anything because she was curled up in the chair earlier in the evening watching TV (yes, my cat watches TV). But then I see her zero in on her nemesis - the printer. She starts stalking the printer. She is so intent on stalking the printer, that she doesn't see me get up and lean over in her direction. She has two paws on the file cabinet and is between the printer and the Pepsi can. She lifts one of her back legs just as I snap my finger in her face and say "No!"

Well. Isabella leaps back, knocks over the Pepsi can, and falls between the chair and the file cabinet (with a few ineffectual paws at the cabinet, trying to prevent herself from falling) the Pepsi can goes flying, spraying soda all over the chair before rolling onto the floor, landing top down, spilling soda everywhere.

I clean up the mess and then track down Isabella. She is very unhappy with me.

And then there is Merlin, who won't stop crying. I know the litter box needs changing. If you could only learn to piss INSIDE the box, I wouldn't be so adverse to changing it!

Damn good thing I love these little shits. Damn good thing.