Absolutely nothing…
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.
*SHUDDER*
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?
HUH!
Girl, you need a new job. There were serfs during the middle ages that were treated with more respect than you get from the idiots at the place where common sense goes to die.
Get out there and start rubbin’!!!!
Omg. Yes. What tom said!!!!
It’s a fitting analogy, don’t you think?
I try not to complain. I DO! Well, not as much as in my head.
My point is, I’m lucky to have this job right now, but they make it extremely hard to be grateful!
I’m all up for rubbin’! I’ll put you down for a free one. You’ve totally earned it!
They make you use your own money for something they expect of you? That’s gross. I say make the rum cake and fill it with diuretics. That will keep them off your ass and on their own for the day.
Yes! Great idea!!! Make that special cake from the book The Help!
As much as I would LOVE to watch them eat a pie a la the Help…there’s no way I could actually make one! *SHUDDER*
Hahaha!!! That made me snort! Gross is an excellent word for it! It’s unbelievably jacked up around here.
Knight has a pretty good idea!
I know! You people are a delightfully bad influence!
Make Ex-lax chocolate chip cookies? Just a thought . . .
Also, I love Chick-Fil-A. It’s always a highlight of trips to the south. We don’t have those here in the cold forlorn north.
I’ve always wanted to bake with Ex-Lax…which is probably really telling.
Wait, you eat Chick-Fil-A?
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Are u friggin kidding me? Out of your own pockets? Are u f kidding me???!!! I think it’s already too much if the tasks of making birthday parties happen fall on the assistants esp when its not quid pro quo. You have to pay for them???!!!! Of all the workers I am going to assume the AA don’t make the most. Omfg! I am sensing an analogy between this and how millionaires are taxed at lower rates and cry about having to pay. Srly, r u friggin kidding me???? The gall!!!
Oh, I am SO not frigin kidding you! I WISH I were frigging kidding you!
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