The Office Stink(s)
I’m kind of wishing I’d gotten my flu shot now. I walk in our building today and Otis, our beloved front door man, stops me. “I think I’ve got something for your blog. The birds.” Then he points outside and I’m thinking, Sorry Otis. You’ve got to give me something better than bird watching, pal. I smiled politely and nodded, about to walk away, and then Otis tells me more. “They’re falling from the trees and dying.”
“What!?” I asked, shifting my laptop bag from one shoulder to the other.
“You want to see them?” Otis offered.
“No! What are you talking about, Otis? Are the birds flying into the building? Because you know I’ve seen stuff like that happen.”
Thankfully, Otis is a patient man. “They’re just dropping from the trees. I called the Humane Society, but they just said to leave a message. Health Department’s here now though,” he said, pointing out the back door of the building toward a truck.
Then he pointed out front, indicating a woman in a business skirt and heels. “See those wings at that lady’s shoes?”
Oh my gosh. I might throw up.
Y’all, there are dead birds falling from the tree outside our building. I thanked Otis for the scoop and told him we’d check back in with him later to find out if we’re all about to catch bird flu or whatnot. (If this picture shows up small and crooked, refresh your page, because I worked for like an hour on this. My janky blog site has been making my pictures small for some reason, but it’s important you fully understand the bird situation.)
Then I come in to find out one of our processors (Colorado-Bound Nikki (she’s constantly threatening to move back to her home state of Colorado)) has been pilfering through the mortgage bankers’ trash cans to retrieve any recyclables. I’m not making this up. She got so tired of asking everyone to place empty cans in her cube (she takes them home to recycle) that she gave up and began garbage diving. Next thing you know she’s going to tie herself to the dead bird tree outside in some sort of green protest.
Y’all, I know the grand purpose of this blog is to make you all fall in love with us and eventually get mortgages, but today is just not a good day. Don’t call. Don’t fill out a loan app. Don’t email. I don’t care how low interest rates are. Just don’t do it. Stay home. Enjoy your apartment. Lay out by the pool. Call the crappy Big Box Bank if you want a loan. Things are too bananas here for guests.
Alright readers, you all go get a shoddy loan from somewhere else, and I’m off to rent a Hazmat suit (and then give it to Nikki to recycle when I’m done).