When Shit Comes To A Head

Some weeks are long and difficult. Others, typically those when I’m on vacation, go by all too quickly. Regardless Fridays are usually special. When at work there’s an air of excitement – kind of a muted adult version of when school kids would have a long weekend and their teacher would have “movie day”. Essentially, a free-pass day.

This past week had been particularly challenging. My company is going through what management calls a “transformation”. They proclaim that we are at a crossroads of awesomeness. That, with the strategy they’ve set and hard work by all, we will take our company to the next level.

If you haven’t been around the block much in the corporate world that’s code-speak for management will make lots of money and us worker-bees are gonna put in tons of hours. P.S. Those two things will happen regardless of the company’s success by the way.

Toss in the impending holidays, which make the fourth calendar quarter really only 2 months yet we still have 3 months worth of goals and objectives, and this week seemed longer than usual for me.


Friday afternoon rolled around and when my post lunch afternoon food coma began to wear off I started to wrap up for the week. That is until Bossman came by and announced, “Hey CV, don’t forget I’ll be traveling next week, but I’m still going to need your weekly summary done before Monday morning so I can update all the senior veeps. Oh, and have a good weekend.”

A quick glance at the watch – 4 pm. There’s no way I’m screwing up my weekend by writing this report on Sunday so looks like I’ll be at the office a while still.

So with some tunes on in the cube – no headphones needed since I’m damn near the only one left at the office – I started in on writing.

Twenty or so minutes later, I hear the familiar <ding, ding> of my trusty iPhone indicating the arrival of a text. Thankfully this wasn’t another last minute project from the Bossman who had long gone to start his weekend. Nope this one was from my Domestic CEO, Mrs CV.

Her: Hi honey have you left yet?
Me: Nope still trying to wrap some things up here.
Her: Don’t forget we have dinner at Sandy’s for her birthday. Don’t be late.
Me: Yup got it. I’ll call when I’m heading out.

Back to writing a status report that was marginally different from last week’s one that Bossman undoubtedly never read.

So, in summary, things are rocking. I’m taking this role and my activities to a new level. We’re fast tracking the project. And, will be ready for what promises to be a new year launch like no other this company has seen.

In plain English: blah, blah same shit different week can I go home now?

Power off laptop. Head to the bathroom cause traffic’s gonna suck and there’s no way I can hold it. Head down the stairs. Call the Mrs.

Me: Hi honey. I’m walking out now.
Her: How long do you think it’ll take? Will you be home by 6:30 or should I just meet you at Sandy’s?
Me <heads out side door>: I should be able to get home…what the fuck? Oh my god it’s like a scene outta Birds here. There are hundreds of crows flying around!
Her: Wow, I can hear them!
Me: I’ve gotta run to the car! They’re dive bombing me!
Her: Haha! Threats funny! Hope you don’t get shit on!


Run to the car! Jump over dirt parking strip! Beep the remote! Grab the handle! Jump in!

Me: Phew, I made it! I’ll see you in…
<touches head>
Her: What’s wrong?
Me: The fuckers got me!
Her: You mean…
Me: Yes I got shit on. Right on top of my head!
Her <yells> : Hey kids! A bird just shit on Dad’s head! <mass laughter> Haha why don’t you just wipe it off with a napkin and get home to clean up properly. We’ve gotta get going.
Me: Well I would if I hadn’t used all the napkins in my car to clean up the coffee that I spilled all over this morning. I’ve gotta go back into the bathroom to clean up.
Her: OK. Hurry up and <giggle> don’t get hit again!

Well, I successfully made it back into the building to clean up and back to my car without getting hit by further enemy fire. But it got me thinking…

A few weeks ago I had mentioned that the birds were wagging a war with me for cooking one of their own. See, while I was BBQing some chicken a bird shit on the plate I was going to use to carry that night’s dinner back into the house. Thankfully, I hadn’t put the juicy teriyaki breasts on the plate yet.

Now, this attack reminiscent of Hitchcock’s movie.

Ok flying beasts, It’s Fucking On!

And just to show I mean business, in a couple weeks I’m going to invite all my family over, find the largest of your warrior birds, cook that fucker in my 350 degree oven and leave its ravaged carcass on a pike in my front yard!


They say that when life gives you lemons you should make lemonade. Well when life shits on your head the only cure is a soapy hand towel and the bottle of Jack Daniels Single Barrel waiting for me at home.


About CubicleViews

Observations, thoughts & random bitching about cube life, food, beer, wine, whiskey and sometimes politics. Living the dream in a 6×8 doorless polyester walled cell.
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4 Responses to When Shit Comes To A Head

  1. Ned's Blog says:

    Sorry about the birds. But hey, you can have your revenge on Thanksgiving.

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