Tuesday, March 21st, 2006 11:45 am
and once upon a time in the office
While I was innocently having my jaw drilled into by my dentist, whose children I will be possibly sending to MIT, at work, Drama brewed.
I'd like to state, for the record, that I am deeply disturbed that the drama centers around, of all things, flower deliveries.
Despite being chairman of the inappropriately named Courtesy Committee, we who order cake for birthdays, cards for weddings, and flowers for hospitals and deaths, I have avoided any kind of actual *leadership* role in hopes that others would take up the slack, except when it comes to speeches, because oh yeah, your truly is *all over the speeches*. This strategy usually works. Yesterday, however, it somehow failed.
And so there is Drama. I need to repeat this, because I just--over *flowers*. And I wasn't here, and no less than four people came with very serious expressions to discuss it and apparently it was brought up with the fricking associate commissioner--WHETHER OR NOT TO SEND FLOWERS WAS BROUGHT UP TO THE COMMISSIONER--and while I was trying for unconscious while a dentist drilled, drilled, drilled at my jaw, resolutions were passed and thoughts were reached and I had to be told four times in stereo from teh beginning all about it.
So I have scheduled a meeting--I'm actually saying this with a straight face--I have scheduled a meeting with the committee to discuss new protocols to set in place for deaths and illnesses--do we send only for immediate nuclear family? Do we send cross country, in-state, or in office only? More importantly, how do we finance this? Because I can guarantee that no, if people keep dropping like flies, we are so many kinds of screwed that the kama sutra would look on in awe.
And the bad part is, the resolutions? Pretty much what I would have agreed to yesterday, but since I wasn't here and it was all done without me, I feel all possessive and tred upon and apparently my mood has been transmitted to my committee, so we're all--*waves hand*--you know. Hostile.
Over flowers.
You know, I have no idea whether to slowly laugh my way into a hernia or start firing off offended emails about how I wasn't consulted.
Over flowers.
I'd like to state, for the record, that I am deeply disturbed that the drama centers around, of all things, flower deliveries.
Despite being chairman of the inappropriately named Courtesy Committee, we who order cake for birthdays, cards for weddings, and flowers for hospitals and deaths, I have avoided any kind of actual *leadership* role in hopes that others would take up the slack, except when it comes to speeches, because oh yeah, your truly is *all over the speeches*. This strategy usually works. Yesterday, however, it somehow failed.
And so there is Drama. I need to repeat this, because I just--over *flowers*. And I wasn't here, and no less than four people came with very serious expressions to discuss it and apparently it was brought up with the fricking associate commissioner--WHETHER OR NOT TO SEND FLOWERS WAS BROUGHT UP TO THE COMMISSIONER--and while I was trying for unconscious while a dentist drilled, drilled, drilled at my jaw, resolutions were passed and thoughts were reached and I had to be told four times in stereo from teh beginning all about it.
So I have scheduled a meeting--I'm actually saying this with a straight face--I have scheduled a meeting with the committee to discuss new protocols to set in place for deaths and illnesses--do we send only for immediate nuclear family? Do we send cross country, in-state, or in office only? More importantly, how do we finance this? Because I can guarantee that no, if people keep dropping like flies, we are so many kinds of screwed that the kama sutra would look on in awe.
And the bad part is, the resolutions? Pretty much what I would have agreed to yesterday, but since I wasn't here and it was all done without me, I feel all possessive and tred upon and apparently my mood has been transmitted to my committee, so we're all--*waves hand*--you know. Hostile.
Over flowers.
You know, I have no idea whether to slowly laugh my way into a hernia or start firing off offended emails about how I wasn't consulted.
Over flowers.
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From:...and I don't even really care all that much about flowers.
*depressed*
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From:No. You draw your line in the sand *here*.
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From:They all passed around birthday cards and didn't tell me and--
Um, sweetie. I'm going to go home and lie down now before I give up sanity for good.
And hey, while I am totally avoiding my imminent insanity plea in court, how was Walk the Line?
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From:*narrows eyes* In summation: Walk the Line is *amazing*. I do not know when I am going to be able to make myself part with the DVDs so you might be better off breaking your no renting rule.
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From:Quit possibly I have written too much wrongdirty!porn today.
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From:Also: flowerwank. I mean, I know it's not even remotely funny, and yet on another level it's hysterical. Your co-workers started wank over flowers. That's just...that's really special, you know?
*awed*
*also slightly scared*
*also deeply amused*
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flowerwank
From:I just--I mean. *Flowers*. I feel like I have launch codes in my responsibility, not like, a tiny budget for buying frivolous items.
And there was this thing with cake I can't even talk about without losing the ability to breathe or function normally in society.
I just--yeah. Flowers. They are the downfall of society, apparently.
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Re: flowerwank
From:You know, if it wasn't so trauma-inducing, I'd suggest writing this up as a fandom_wank style post. Because, man. I find fandom_wank depressing, but this? Not at all. I would pay cash money to hear the best bits of all the opinions the uninterested parties have been expressing to you all day. (How many opinions can there be? I guess if I had to form one, it'd be: Flowers are nice. Cake is nice. Let's all forget about the wank and just go home early.)
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Re: flowerwank
From:The best thing to do is actually to have NO cake, no flowers, no cards, no nothing. Seriously - this idea that the folks we work with are some kind of extended family is just whacked. They are strangers we work with. I'd push the thought that we're all busy adults, and people are responsible for scheduling their own birthday, wake, funeral, etc. Jesus.
Barring that, I would say, hide under your desk a lot.
The only time I got flowers from corporate was when my Mom died, and that was one flower arrangement.
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Re: flowerwank
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Re: flowerwank
From:Well, obviously that cranks it up by several orders of magnitude; I mean, I think we can all agree that cake is important. More important than flowers, that's for sure.
Probably
Especially if Rodney ended up Atlantis' cake and flower ordering person by default...
See, Rodney'd cut right through this Gordian knot.
"Okay, my first ruling as Courtesy Czar: NO ONE gets flowers. I'm allergic to them and they're a tragic waste of budget money we could allocate toward my birthday cake." Sheppard rolls his eyes. "What? If I use my genius to take over the cake-and-flowers fund and make rational decisions for a change, how is that bad? Anyway, you'll get a piece, so stop complaining."
Sheppard's eyes widen in surprise. "Wow. You'll give me a piece? Rodney, I'm touched."
Rodney nods. "You should be. Now, obviously I'm going to go with chocolate, but the big question: chocolate buttercream and raspberry filling, or should I just go chocolate all the way through? Oh, no, Colonel, I wasn't asking for your opinion; you've been in the military your entire adult life and you're a twig, so obviously you don't have a clue when it comes to food. Just thinking out loud."
Rodney wanders off, muttering to himself about square meters, and Ronon pops his head out of the gym. "Will I get cake?" he asks, frowning.
Sheppard looks down the hall Rodney wandered down. "Yeah. He doesn't know it yet, but we're instituting a Mandatory Team Sharing rule."
Ronon smiles wickedly. "Sharing?" he says. "Good. Can't wait."
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Re: flowerwank
From:Sheppard looks down the hall Rodney wandered down. "Yeah. He doesn't know it yet, but we're instituting a Mandatory Team Sharing rule."
BWHAHAHAHA! I can just see Rodney fighting the mandatory sharing thing, arguing that since he's the one who had to turn his enormous intellect to cutting through the catering crap, he should get the rewards.
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From:I would just advise letting it go. In the relative scheme of things, it's not worth the elevated bp and so forth. And you can always wait and plan your suitable revenge down the line. Maybe interoffice email could explode suddenly, I'm sure Rodney and Reginald can advise you *G*.
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From:Offices, hey - they'll do you in with a stab to the back and a kick to the groin every damn time.
They're thought to be sedate places to work. Huh! Watch supposedly sane, even nice people get into territorial squabbling over matters of the heart - like flowers or morning teas or such as - and that will tell you exactly what sort of hell holes offices can become.
A cold war of nasty intensity has taken over my office, all started when someone picked the wrong place to have our office Christmas party. There's been no loss of life, but it's early days yet and pundits are predicting a long ugly engagement.
My thoughts are with you - protect your six and keep your eyes open for surprise attacks and you might even survive.
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From:(I use my cake icon because I have no floral icons.)
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