I crashed a Delta. Or was it an Epsilon?

I'm writing this to see if I can relay not necessary the humor, but the horror of my recent encounter with the smoothie guy. I find myself on or near a certain college campus at least two times a week. Occasionally, when it's 95 degrees and 90% humidity, I like to stop and get myself a refreshing fruit smoothie. Lately, it's been serving as unintentional meal replacement.

So on Tuesday, after work, I stop in to get a smoothie. Only one person in line, so I should have my fresh, cold concoction in under three minutes. TWENTY EIGHT MINUTES LATER I depart with something that was damned near undrinkable.

What happened in the meantime is hard to relate, as I believe I blacked out from boredom on two occasions.

Minute One: I step to the line. Smoothie guy is finishing up another oroder. I am the line.
Minute three: I order and pay for my smoothie.
Minute four: Smoothie guy begins making my smoothie.
Minutes five through six: Smoothie guy stares at a near empty jug of fruit juice, occasionally shaking it.
Minutes seven through eight: smoothie guy is desperately opening every drawer, cabinet and cover in the place as if searching for treasure.
Minute nine: Smoothie guy, head hung down, mumbles, 'I need to get shupplies.' He then walks behind the half wall of the smoothie shop and somehow, disappeared.

Here it gets fuzzy. I remember others coming up to the line and asking me, rather accusingly, what I did with Smoothie Guy. I shrug and relay all the information I have. I make a couple calls on my cell, each about five minutes. I'm about 20 feet from the counter now, and there's about 12 people in line. Sheep. I begin to wonder if the Delta that is Smoothie Guy actually got lost.

Minute 24ish: Smoothie Guy returns and looks around like a lost child. He can't see me. At this point, I considered just hiding from him, as I don't think he would know what to do if the transaction was not completed. Instead, I choose to let him know that, no, after damned near a half hour, I still haven't left. He tells me that he's out of fruit juice. Not wanting to bear the hassle of having this guy refund my money, I tell him to just make me whatever he can. I was running late for a meeting.

Smoothie Guy works frantically for about a minute. He asks me questions about ingredients etc and I always respond, 'Whatever, make something, I need to go.'

I quickly grab my cup from him as he hands it over. I grab a straw and head out the door. I take a quick call, and then pop the straw into my smoothie. I can only describe it as this:

Have you ever had Big Red soda? With ice-cream? Ok, now add peach syrup. Now add cherry syrup. Now add chunks of crushed fruit. Now add chunks of poorly crushed ice. Now add plain (baby spit flavored) yogurt. That's about as close as I can come. Un-freaking drinkable.

I know, the world needs all kinds of people for all kinds of jobs, but I'm willing to forego smoothies if we can just get rid of this guy. He was over-Bokanovsificated.

Open Ass, Insert Head

I'm torn about my boss (the guy with the document shredding spawn)... he's a nice guy. He's easy to talk to. He knows I'm late by eight to 15 minutes everyday and doesn't care because I get the shit done and do whatever he asks of me. He has a constant supply of tasty cookies on his desk and in the time it takes to eat two of them, can be warped to my way of thinking on just about any subject.

That said, sometimes he manages to fuck up beyond belief and I get screwed over it.

Today I find myself driving through rain and hellacious traffic to attend some training that is duplicitous to training I've already had. In fact, the training was an intro to skills I've been using professionally for eight years. I could give this training. But someone higher up tells him that warm bodies are needed to fill seats and I must attend. So I go there. I left extra early from my house, drive through rain-slicked streets, pass two accidents and get passed by numerous emergency vehicles. FORTY MINUTES TO GO 2.5 MILES AT ONE POINT! Finally arrive to the training to be greeted by several of my coworkers standing outside. Apparently, we're not on the list.

A quick call into the bossman reveals why: he apparently misread his boss's demands for attendance at the NEXT training event, not this one. I get back to the office, and he shows me the printed email (idiot PRINTS all his email) and it clearly indicates he is to force staff into the next training, NEXT YEAR.

Oh, but to one day outlive everyone else and work my way into middle-management.

Happy New Year

To my friends in Texas government/bureaucracy, I say to thee:

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Now for something sobering.