The phone call came late Wednesday that my account manager had succeeded in landing a new work contract so I went to Mr. CPQ’s office Thursday morning to sign paperwork which, once again, gives me the privilege of playing musical desks at the cube farm.
In case I haven’t mentioned it before, I’m contracted through his professional services and consulting firm to another company where I wear binder clips as a wardrobe accessory and routinely lock myself out of the supply closet.
Mr. CPQ rejoiced at the news because it meant a) he’d legitimately be the boss of me for 15-20 hours a week; b) he’d have a few paycheck dollars rolling in to fund my hairapy sessions; and c) he’d see me in something other than blown out Clarks and yoga pants.
My very hard pilgrim shoes.
I hung out in his office while he held a staff meeting which sounds boring but it wasn’t because I had this to keep me occupied.
After his meeting was over, we went to our attorney’s office to enjoy a delightful two hours talking about power of attorney, living wills, trust funds, pulling the plug, and farming out our children if we both got hit by a bus.
Fun times, my friends. Fun times.
Feeling confident in our newly executed wills, we then tempted fate by eating strip mall sushi.
I’m sure it was a little more authentic than what we usually have but in this instance, I think I preferred the Americanized version.
There were a few things that were just a little too mysterious for me.
And then my idyllic morning of uncomfortable shoes, morbid conversations, and questionable sanitation was over and my mean boss cracked the whip and told me to get back to work.
If you insist.
Have a nice day.