This is one of those times when I wrote a really, really long post, then decided to “edit” by throwing it all in the trash and starting over with an eye towards brevity. Sometimes my word processor overfloweth and I writeth the crap. And sometimes I just write crap.
It happened in the 20′ x 20′ dungeon known as “work.” The boss’ wife stopped by and since there’s no privacy and his desk is six feet away from mine, there was no way to avoid overhearing their lover’s prattle. I did consider killing myself, though. It might have been extreme but it would have gotten the job done.
“Is there any chance you can get off early tonight?” she asked him. “The family would like you to join us for dinner. Me. And the kids. All of us. The people in your life collectively known as Family.”
It was an extremely slow day. Absolutely nothing was going on. How on earth would he answer? What would be his reply?
Personally I thought pulling out a pocketwatch was a bit cliche and melodramatic but to each their own. If he changed one whit he wouldn’t be the monumental asshole that he is.
“There’s just too much to do,” he explained. The sick bastard even tried to sound apologetic. He failed miserably, of course, but I was amazed he had the temerity to even try.
His wife was disappointed but understanding. She didn’t put up much of a fight. It’s not like they have a close relationship or anything.
For his part, the boss was one cool cucumber. He watched her go. He opened the blinds and waited until he was sure she was gone. Then he cracked the blinds so he’d be aware if she tried to return and surprise him. He’s clever that way.
He then turned to his computer and fired up the project that was so important. The thing that kept him from spending time with his spouse, his children.
He called me over to watch and bask in his glory and magnificence. “This is how I arrange my chests,” he said as if it was something impressive. “And this is how I dig tunnels. I always dig five blocks away, as far as I can reach, on the second level. That way I know it’s safe. Only then do I dig the bottom blocks out. And I always put a torch on every fifth block. This method allows me to keep perfect track. What a good boy am I.”
Meanwhile his wife and children ate without him. And the website that has waited two years for his pieces to be done sat unfinished. And our sales continue to suck. I went and made a spreadsheet. My best guesstimates are that he’s throwing $20,000 to $50,000 a month in profit out in the street because he’s always too busy to finish off his portions of the project and/or give me permission to throw the switch.
Via familia! Nothing else matters. Oh shit. A creeper. Boom.