When Stealing Office Supplies Simply Isn’t Enough
My job is not one of those scary, life-or-death, tear-your-hair-out-and-crap-your-pants, anxiety-inducing jobs like air-traffic controlling or neurological surgery – or, shit – even wedding planning. So if I fuck up, it’s usually no big deal.
“But, hell – that’s quitter talk,” thought the evil part of my brain responsible for fuck-ups, “I’m sure we can figure something out.”
And so, because I did not read a mass e-mail about multiple-entry visas closely enough, my boss was nearly deported. TO BAGHDAD.
AS IN IRAQ.
AS IN WAR ZONE.
AS IN BOMBS FALL DOWN GO BOOM.
Guess I won’t be getting that bonus this year.
“My bad! Can I have next Friday off?”
Entry filed under: Gobble-gobble.