Schemes

Our wonderful maintenance man Juan is here fixing our broken lights today. I guess the Bosses had been trying to save money by making us all work in the dark for a while, but enough is enough, people. Online Dater Mortgage Banker Jason Bates is trying to loiter underneath Juan in hopes of having a drill dropped on his head so he can sue the building. “Then we’d change the name of this place from Midtown Plaza to Bates Plaza!” Jason hissed as he tried to weasel his way beneath Juan’s ladder.

Jason and Juan

A few people have been asking me if the ole Bosses were really going to take me down had I not delivered 50 readers to the Save the Blog party. Even my brother thought I was going to get fired. I have to say, I think it would have been totally hilarious if only 49 of you showed up, and then the Bosses could have dramatically pulled the plug on my laptop and shooed me out of the bar. Then y’all could have booed me and threw your free beers at my back as I slunk to my car…

But y’all, come on. Isn’t it obvious who runs this show? (That would be me.) I’ve got these ole Bosses eating out of my hand. I say jump and they say, well, they say something to the extent of “I seriously can’t believe you’re still here. Did you ever figure out how to use the copy machine?” And I’m like, “Not really.”

Speaking of jumping, the Bosses took us on a bowling excursion last week (most of us jumped up and down upon not landing gutter balls). Some of us handled ourselves nicely. Some drank shots of tequila upon arrival. I’m not saying who’s who.

Below, Spanish-Speaking Richard (he also speaks English, by the way) after nailing three pins. I don’t know why he always wears a nametag, but he’s so nice I feel like I shouldn’t make fun of him even though the nametag thing is a make-fun-of-worthy characteristic:

Richard

Online Dater Jason tried to teach Sandra to bowl. I think Sandra is better off ignoring Jason.

Pick up that Ball

But I can't see

Throw it!

Straight-Shooter Shane ended up winning. I can’t say we’re not nervous about Shane having yet another reason to gloat.

Shane the Winner

The bowling deal was spun as a team-building gig. Team building my eye, I say. An hour into it, the ole Boss Chad pulled me aside, in a bowling alley, to tell me how he didn’t like one of my recent posts. I squinted my eyes at him and asked, “Why are you telling me this in a bowling alley? On a team building event. You sure aren’t very buildy, Chad.”

Just So John wasn’t at the bowling soiree (and good thing since Chad was so rude). Instead, he was lounging on a Hawaiian beach. He’s back now (in a Hawaiian shirt). Said Just So John: “Do you think it’d be too gross to put my sunburned belly in your newsletter?”

Yes, John. Yes it would. And it’s a blog, not a newsletter. Get back to your loans.

Just So Hawaiian John

Okay folks, I’m out of here before Jason gets hit by a screwdriver, Chad tries to “build me up” again, or Just So John tries to give me any more ideas for my newsletter.

Things Fall Apart (Seriously)

I came in the office today and walked directly over to Online Dater Jason to inquire about his love life. Instead of finding a smiling, noisy Jason like usual, I found a gloomy Jason all hunched over his desk wearing a visor and glasses (he doesn’t wear glasses). Here’s the thing. Jason woke up in the middle of the night with his allergies going haywire and eyes itching galore. Two hours later he woke again, scratching at his eyes like a wildcat. And this morning when he finally got up, the guy was nearly blind. “Jason,” I said, “I think our readers need to know what you’re going through.”

“I don’t think so,” he said.

“You above sympathy loans?” I offered.

Not above sympathy loans, after all.

Not above sympathy loans, after all.

That got me thinking, maybe I could play up everybody’s ailments here. I passed Hottest Mortgage Banker in Texas Hayley’s cube. “Got any ailments?”

She thought for a while, and then lit up. “I bumped my hand on the door!”

“Perfect!”

Please send us loans.

Please send us loans.

After seeing the attention everyone else was getting, V-Shaped Mortgage Banker Will offered to drum up a flesh wound by smashing his head into his desk.

Ailing Will

Okay, y’all, I’m not even kidding about this next part. As I was prancing around the office asking people for their ailments – “Anybody got any bursitis?” – the ole Boss James walked in. He’d been at the doctor. An orthopedic surgeon. And he was wearing this giant leg cast! I may have physically pushed Jason to the side when I saw James’ ailment. “Sorry Jason. You just got upstaged, buddy.”

Thankfully, James isn’t above trying to score a few sympathy mortgages either.

Help this man. Send mortgages.

Help this man. Send mortgages.

Turns out, James has been experiencing mystery foot pain that resembles, as he says, “someone shoving a knitting needle into my ankle.” (I’ve not had that experience so I’m not sure what’s going on with the ole feet.) He’ll be in the boot for three weeks, and after that, well, we really don’t know. I’ll keep you posted.

UPDATE

What the heck is going on? Y’all, I know I stretch stuff here, but I am not making this up. Just So John just showed up. Half his face is swollen – he just had a tooth pulled! He said the dentist offered him laughing gas for $130 but he said he’d rather buy a new mermaid shirt with that money because it’d make him happier in the long run.

Here’s John demonstrating how he can slap his face and not even feel it.

Help a guy out, y'all.

Vicodin rocks

UPDATE # 2

Jason is back from the optometrist. Poor guy has an ulcer. On his eyeball. Caused from contacts or something.

It’s official. Jason wins. Jason has the worst ailments. Send him the loans.

Okay readers,  please remember to tune in to 700AM in Houston tomorrow evening at 6:00 and listen for my breathing in the background of the finance show (because that’s cool, right? Listening to AM radio on Friday nights?).

Now, I’m out of here before one of my co-workers drops dead. Have a great weekend!

Underwear, Boobs, and a Robbery

My husband and I moved into our new home last week. On our first night there, after hauling boxes up stairs all day and making four failed attempts at assembling a bed together and generally pushing our marriage to the limits of what is considered bliss (turns out, we’re going to make it), it was finally time to go to sleep (on a mattress on the floor since we couldn’t figure out the bed). Then we held pillows over our ears and harrumphed through the night as one of the cats paced the hallways of our gorgeous new home loudly mourning the loss of our old house. The next morning I awoke to my husband with a towel around his waist rummaging through the suitcases scattered on the floor. “Hey hon, have you seen my underwear?” he asked.

I scratched my head and thought back to the previous day. Packed the teapot? Check. Packed the dog food? Check. Packed water bottles and scarves and frozen peas and our wedding album? Check. I packed the whole house.

Except for his underwear.

We’d left our old house the day before empty, save for a small bathroom drawer that contained a neat stack of folded undies.

“Uh, I thought you packed your underwear.” Thought I’d try the ole “it’s all your fault” trick.

“No, I didn’t pack them. I guess they’re still in that drawer at the old house?”

“Um. Mm hmm.”

I didn’t have the heart to ask what my husband’s plan was, whether he was going to wear dirty undies or none at all or try to make a pair of mine work. All I know is that he went to work, and I drove to the old house and found the underwear.

So that’s the news on my personal life. Now, on to office scoop.

It’s Just So John’s and Richard’s (I haven’t nicknamed Richard yet) birthdays this week, and some title company brought in like a whole birthday party for them:

John and Richard and The Mermaid

I’d like to remind that title company that my own birthday is August 24th and I’ll be delighted to take some flowers and candies off their hands at that time.

I asked Richard (on the left) how old he’ll be and he proudly told me 50. “Hey! What a great birthday!” I said. Richard is a nice guy and I’m glad he’s been around 50 years. Then I asked Just So John how old he will be and he mouthed out his birthday number (which was his nice way of warning me not to splash his age across the whole internet (43ish)).

Hold up. I just realized John’s shirt has a mermaid on it with shells over her boobs.

Mermaid Boobs

I don’t even know what to say about that. If you get a mortgage with him, please inquire about it and let me know.

Other office scoop: Hottest Mortgage Banker in Texas Hayley witnessed a robbery last night! Oh yes she did. She heard a noise in the night, peered out her window, and watched some dude with a long beard pilfering in her neighbor’s car and putting things into a sack. And then get this. The neighbor had apparently left a drink in the cup holder, and as the thief was stealing everything out of this guy’s car, he paused to take a drink. Out of an old stale Coke! What the what? While Hayley’s husband called the cops, Hayley pushed her own car’s alarm button to scare the crook off.

Well, you know what the crook did? Run away? you ask. Nope. Slowly walked away, and ever so slyly slipped behind a tree. Call the creepy police. That’s nuts! And you know what’s funny?  I got so freaked out and screechy when Hayley got to that part of the story that I didn’t even ask what happened next. And Hayley didn’t say. She just kept going, “Isn’t that creepy!?” and I kept going, “Oh my gosh, yes!” while we grabbed each other’s arms.

Finally, I had a meeting with my ole Boss Chad in which he acknowledged that it appears I will never make this blog what he wants it to be (he wants me to make it some stupid mortgage info haven that nobody will read). I thought he might be about to fire me, but instead he kind of shook his head in disappointment and walked away.

Finally, stay tuned later this week to meet another new guy, Shane. Shane thinks he can sass me. Shane thinks wrong, sucker.

If any of you would like to wish Richard and John a happy birthday, provide Hayley with a home security system, gift my husband some new underwear, or send your condolences to the ole Boss Chad, please comment below. I’m off to stick some duct tape over those mermaid’s boobs.