People love Bossdad. He barely gets in the door and everyone is talking to him a mile a minute. Before he can take his first sip of Starbucks coffee they are asking him questions, asking him to sign things, asking him for raises (that's me). But when he isn't in, his door is locked to keep all us hooligans out of his private office. Except when I need to send up SPARCS data, then it's okay for me to open up shop.
Problem is, once that light goes on, the employees come running. They get so disappointed when they come in and find me behind the desk. And then they ask me, "Is your dad coming in today?" Like I'm his keeper.
One time I really get them good. Bossdad steps out for a meeting and a private call comes in on my cell. I decide to take it in his office, sitting in the chair across from the big desk. I have the cell up to my right ear and I'm laughing and enthusiastically gesticulating, looking straight ahead. And next thing I know, several of my coworkers are hovering in the door, peeking in. "I don't mean to disturb you and your father but-" and they look in past the shelves and see an empty chair. They then very slowly back out of the room and hurry down the hallway.
I let them believe I am talking to myself.
Or Sirius.
1 comment:
You know what I love about this entry? That the sign Bank of Dad I bought pere is so nicely displayed. Thanks Kate. The blog entry was funny too, but boy that is an awesome sign.
Post a Comment