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Monday, February 11, 2008

"If you're not well paid, put your hands up!"

First off, put your hands down if you work for Airbus or an Airbus supplier. No seriously...hands down.

I wanna take some time to talk about a problem I've been having at work. It's neither (in the grand scheme of things) radical nor exciting, but as of late it has been weighing heavily on my mind.

You see, I am "the voice" and, more frighteningly, "the face" of FHHM. What I mean by this is that when you call the main FHHM number, you have to speak with my non-German native speaker ass (and no, not literally my ass...but figuratively. Grow up, Schmidt). And when you drop by for a visit, I'm typically the first person you see and one that explains, "Well, actually, the doorbell is located above key entry code pad." Also, I tell you that the reason we have a key entry code pad is because we want to keep all of our top secret rap information out of the hands of evildoers.

I am the office manager, yet...I am so much more. (?)
I am a vital cog in this hip hopping machine.

So, why are the pens on my desk being constantly swiped? It's really getting out of hand. I mean, it's not just pens. It's stamps. I need those company stamps. Like when I sign my names on things... I like to add a company stamp. Or the stampy thing with the date and then the appropriate action, like "RECEIVED", "SENT", "FILED", etc. My stapler and tape are gone. My calculator has disappeared. C'mon Germans...I'm American...I can't do the maths...

At least once a day, someone comes up to my desk and asks, "Hey, can I borrow a pen? I'll give it right back." Up until recently, I've always obliged. I never saw those pens again. Then one day, I had no more pens. All gone. Luckily, I had brought a pen with me from home. And when I say home, I mean it was a pen that I had (ironically) stolen from Pickles during my last trip to OKC. I fiercely protect this pen. Before I go home in the evening, I place it in one of my desk drawers (sometimes I even rotate which drawer I put it in). It's like the fucking Last Stand over here...

Still, people come up to me and say, "Man, I don't have any pens, can I borrow one of yours?"

And I think to myself, "How can you not have any pens?" I mean, seriously, where are all these pens going after I loan them out? Is there some kind of pen-consuming wormhole surrounding my desk? The mind boggles...

Out of the kindness of his generous heart, my boss gave me some of his "personal pens" after he'd learned of my plight. These were not the standard issue blue ballpoint pens, but rather various expo/trade fair-type pens. That was nice of him. I tried to protect these as best as I could. Whenever I got up to do something, I had conditioned myself to put the pen in my pocket, so as to not leave the writing utensil vulnerable to poachers...

However, soon I realized that after an 8-hour work day, I had become my own worst enemy. I'd get home, only to discover I had a pocket full of pens.

At least now I know why banks do that whole pen-on-a-chain thing.

I swear, this is even worse than smokers and our chronic lighter thievery.

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