LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You need to show others how to get along today — though you might make it look too easy! Your ability to get close to people is legendary, but on a day like today, you can make a real difference.
I know it’s a groaner, but I have to say it: things have been pretty dead at the funeral home all week. A service on Tuesday, attended by six or seven people. Sad. Couldn’t someone pay for extras and take it out of the estate? Things, however, started to get interesting yesterday in the case of Whitman Gallagher Langden-Ogden, heart attack victim at a local gym. First, his wife of thirty-seven years came in at 2:30 to meet with Theodore to go over Monday’s service. Ten minutes after she’d left, a stylish older gentleman named Alastair showed up to see Theodore about his lover’s service, set for Monday. Same service. Naturally, Mrs. Langden-Ogden’s plans did not please Alastair who labeled the entire affair “tacky”. Under no circumstances would Alastair allow red balloons to be tied to the back of each chair.
“We’re not making a video for ’99 Luftballons’,” he shuddered. “And this isn’t Valentine’s day or a children’s birthday party. What else does she want,…the organist to lead us all in a round of musical chairs as a stretch break after the eulogy?!”
Suddenly I was quite pleased to be continuing to temp at the funeral home next week. WWE, Funeral Edition.
All giddiness zapped from Theodore due to the pending drama, he had me call Mrs. Langden-Ogden to arrange a meeting for this morning involving Alastair, Theodore and the grieving widow.
Naturally, she bucked. “Not a chance! That man is banned from the service!” she screeched through the phone, loud enough for Alastair to hear without the speakerphone option.
Alastair leaned into me and yelled back, “He knew you’d be like this. It’s in the will!”
Theodore ushered Alastair away from my desk and I listened politely as Mrs. Langden-Ogden railed for the next twenty-five minutes about Whitman’s Other Life, his cruelty, her public humiliation and Alastair’s penchant for wearing tank tops that horrifyingly outlined his sagging man boobs. (Not an image I appreciated having imprinted in my head. In his suit, Alastair looked so dapper. Mrs. Langden-Ogden’s assault wounded ME more than anything.) Somehow just listening cooled the raving widow and she agreed to attend a meeting “as long as you join us, my dear.”
Aside from the Oscar party invitation that led to a shagging streak with Gabriel (three nights and counting), it was the best invitation I’d had all year.
KEN’S JOURNAL (via BlackBerry):
AFTER A WEEK OF THE BOSS AVOIDING ME (NOT THAT I MINDED), I WALKED RIGHT PAST GLORIA (“YOU NEED AN APPOINTMENT!”) & INTO THE HIS OFFICE. I’VE COME TO THE REALIZATION I CAN’T QUIT JUST YET SINCE I’LL NEED STEADY EMPLOYMENT IN TRYING TO GET A NEW MORTGAGE. THE TIME HAD COME TO CLEAR THE AIR. NO DELAYS. MY BLACK EYE WLD BE FULLY HEALED BY MONDAY & I FIGURED I NEEDED THE VISUAL REMNANT AS A NEGOTIATING TOOL.
HE HUNG UP AS SOON AS HE SAW ME, ROSE FROM HIS DESK AND POINTED AT ME. “OUT!”
“WE NEED TO TALK. I CAN STILL PRESS CHARGES, YOU KNOW. OR SUE YOU FOR HARASSMENT. MAYBE BOTH.”
HADN’T PLANNED TO SHOW MY HAND SO FAST BUT PEOPLE POINTING AT ME ALWAYS RUFFLES ME. (I THINK IT GOES BACK TO MARY TOOZE IN 1ST GRADE, RATTING ME OUT FOR PUTTING A ROADKILL SNAKE ON MRS. WHEATLEY’S READING CHAIR.)
THE BOSS SAT BACK DOWN, I TOOK A SEAT & WE HASHED IT OUT FOR AN HOUR AND A HALF. HE MENTIONED A HALF DOZEN TIMES HOW I’D “BLOWN IT” W/THE BURNABY PERMITS & I NODDED W/O DEFLECTING. I LISTED ALL I’D DONE FOR THE COMPANY, ALL THE DEALS I’D LANDED, ALL THE CLIENTS WHO CAME BACK FOR MORE, INSISTING ON WORKING W/ME. HE HAD NO CHOICE BUT TO NOD. YEAH, HE CONTINUED TO BRING UP THE BURNABY BOO-BOO UNTIL I FINALLY CUT HIM OFF FOR GOOD. “BIG PICTURE, I’M AN ASSET & YOU NEED ME.” (MID-SENTENCE, I’D WANTED TO FINISH W/ “& YOU’RE AN ASS”—WOULD’VE HAD SUCH A NICE RING TO IT—BUT I SHOWED RESTRAINT.)
IT ENDED W/A HANDSHAKE, HIM SMILING & SAYING HE WAS TAKING ME TO LUNCH. SHIT, MAYBE I’D OVERDONE IT. I WAS RELIEVED WHEN HE INVITED RAJ ALONG. (HAD TO YANK RAJ INTO THE RESTROOM B/F WE LEFT FOR THE WATER ST. CAFÉ. HE WAS FREAKING OUT, THINKING THE BOSS WAS GOING TO FIRE US SINCE WE’D BEEN TALKING ABOUT DEFECTING. “I CAN’T BE FIRED, I CAN’T BE FIRED.” WASN’T PRETTY. ACTUALLY HAD TO SHAKE THE GUY.)
TALKING ABOUT NOT PRETTY, I HAD TO BRACE FOR WATCHING THE BOSS ORDER HIS FAVE, GINGER BRAISED BEEF SHORT RIBS. ALL THAT GNAWING AND PICKING ALMOST MAKES ME WANT TO BECOME A VEGETARIAN.