Day 12: Unsupervised Forever

by pjmcbride

THINGS I MAY DO ON MY LAST DAYS OF WORK

I make no promises, but I’m keeping a list of tempting options, many derived from co-workers I’ve forgotten.

–After reckless driving BOL: “Authority tattletale.” I have already said, “Subject texting and driving, authority another subject talking on the phone while driving.”

–Officer given a run: “Clear, but I’m not close.” Me: “Neither am I.” Alternative: “Clear, from Oak Hill & Lynch.” Me: “Clear, from 1331 Harmony Way.”

–Irate caller: “I want to speak to your supervisor.” Me: “I am the supervisor.” Or possibly, “It won’t do you any good, I’m retiring next month.”

–Officer on info: “I need a driver’s status, and tell me what vehicles are registered to this person.” Me: “Must I do it all?” Or: “Don’t you show me on my meal?” Or: “What about my needs?”

–Officer: “What type of alarm is this?” Me: “A false one.”

–“Reason why you closed this run?” “Because I felt like it.”

IDLE SPECULATION

Concerning last night’s post, I thought, At least no one would think I’d made that weird story up just to stay home from work. Then I thought, They know you made up a world in which Nick has wings. I just wish Alien Finger had a more interesting story than, I tripped over a paving stone.

NOT THAT I’M IN DANGER OF BECOMING A HARRY POTTER NERD, BUT–

The story of my life is that I want to be a Slytherin, but am actually a Ravenclaw. The Sorting Hat would have hesitated for a moment, but only for a moment.

Did anyone else see nerdhood coming? Anyone? Rom may have to read them in self-defense.

I FOUGHT THE FASHION LAW

One wonders, What outfit should one wear for one’s final day of work? One then (“There is no off on the genius switch”–David Letterman) gets the brilliant idea to VIOLATE THE DRESS CODE IN EACH AND EVERY WAY.

{Intermission during which one looks for the S.O.P. book containing said code, can’t find it, asks supervisor where it is, and supervisor is now frantically searching everywhere, in spite of one’s repeated insistence that one needs it for No Good Reason, and he can therefore stop searching.}

THEREFORE, lacking the text of the dress code before me, I’ll have to design my outfit from memory. (It may be the only S.O.P. I’ve read carefully, and it was for No Good Reason.)

I will wear ripped clothing, a low-cut top, short shorts, and flip-flops. My shirt will feature an obscene slogan, and a button promoting a political candidate.

Hmm. I might have to buy many of these items. I don’t keep clothes with holes in them, and I own no flip-flops (not practical for walking, and I hate the feel of something between my toes). I own exactly one (1) pair of shorts. I don’t wear them  to work, because it’s always freezing in here, and they’re not very short anyway.

A further complication arises because the dress code S.O.P. includes a section on personal grooming. We are required (yes!) to bathe and use deodorant, and I don’t think I could bring myself to flout those rules, even for your sake, dear FanBase. However, I could certainly manage defiance of the edict “If your perfume can be smelled by others, it is not acceptable.” Perhaps I could write off a bottle of Frederic Malle’s Noir Epices as a business expense.

911 OVERHEARD–MORE WORK FOR THE FASHION POLICE

“Is she taking off her clothes while running?” I bet that’s harder than it sounds. She stripped down to nothing but a big t-shirt. Maybe that’s all I’ll wear.

 

 

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