It’s one of the PITA’s birthdays tomorrow.
One of my PITA’s.
That means I’m going to have to buy a card and get everyone’s signature by sending it out via interoffice envelope with a list of names taped crooked to the front so I can tell who’s signed it and who’s going to get their kneecaps broken for making me track it to their desk where it’s been sitting for two hours.
Then there’s the question of what to do food-wise.
Do I make rum cake, which is cheap but requires me to bake? Or, do I order a tray of chicken-mini’s for breakfast, which is more expensive but allows me to not think about this place once I’m done exchanging How-was-your-day-Dear?’s with MadamBob on the way home?
I’m leaning toward the chicken-mini’s. It’s worth the extra money to a) not have to cook, b) not have to think about this place after 5:10pm and c) it’s Chick-Fil-A!
Also, if I go with breakfast the whole thing will be done early. By 9:30 the all the PITA’s, after congregating around the Happy-Birthday-here’s-your-breakfast-desk out in the hallway, will have grazed, laughed at each other’s stupid, STUPID jokes, wished the PITA happy birthday and dispersed to their offices where they can go back to irritating just their individual assistants.
Oh, I hate PITA birthdays!
Mostly, because they’re expected of us. They practically stone you to death if you dare let one go without making a big deal of it. We assistants spend our own time and money to make them happen. Money we don’t get to expense. And yet, when our birthdays roll around…
This year I got a card from my PITA’s. It was sitting on my chair when I got back from lunch. Two days late.
Don’t get me wrong. I hate any kind of hub-bub being made over my birthday. HATE. IT. But really? You can’t say “happy birthday”? After five years? Really?
But I digress.
If I play my cards right this is the absolute LAST PITA birthday I’ll have to deal with, AND I’ll be gone before mine rolls around again.
Morgan Freeman willing.
At least we’ll be having Chick-Fil-A for breakfast tomorrow.
PITA birthdays have to be good for something, right?