A Cruella Fate

Back in medieval times (well…2001), when I was working for Cruella de Ville, she received a summons for jury duty.

As expected, she took this about as well as a person who had been told their baby was sold to a Mexican drug cartel to pay for crack so obviously she tried her utmost to wriggle out of it. She had deferred over and over again and this was her final summons.

Being Cruella, however, she was under the impression that a different set of rules applied for beings of a “higher stature” such as herself, so she dutifully had our CFO and her personal butt-boy, The Cobra, call to try and convince them that really, Cruella was not at all necessary for any of their little trials as she was busy doing important things (like visiting a small Korean lady for a pedicure).

Naturally, the courts had heard it all before. In fact, if I was the person who worked for the jury selection department I would personally make it my life’s work to write a book about the most inventive excuses people give for excusing themselves from performing their civic duty. This court was having none of it. It was really sort of beautiful. You can pay thousands to a lady to carry a baby in her womb for you for nine months, you can buy shares in a private jet and spend summers on a yacht in the Mediterranean with a spoiled billionaire to sun your wrinkled old frame, but lady, when Uncle Sam wants YOU, no amount of cajoling or bullying will prevent you from hauling your spoiled carcass downtown, pronto.

This being Cruella, a woman physically incapable of doing anything for herself, she had to take The Cobra along with her for moral support, to explain the big words and to basically have someone to take the whole miserable ordeal out on. If it had been anyone else, I would have felt such overwhelming pity for the person’s having to spend such long periods of time in close proximity to her that my heart would ache with the volume of it. However, since it was the Cobra I just prayed she was assigned to a case the approximate length of the OJ trial.

Anyway, a few days after the jury duty episode, Cruella had to go to the DMV to renew her driver’s license which had already expired. I wasn’t aware she even had a license as she has people drive her everywhere. The mere thought of her in control of a moving vehicle is only slightly less scary than the thought of a buzz-cutted Britney Spears, naked, swinging by her knees from a chandelier with a baby in one hand and an Uzi in the other. (on reflection, I realize this sounds like a plausible scene – set in slo-mo – in a Robert Rodriquez/Quentin Tarantino movie).

So, she did what she always does; she took The Cobra with her to the DMV then sat out in the car with her driver, while Cobra went in, stood in line for 20 minutes and finally is told that in the United States, people have to come and renew their license themselves. So Cobra tells the guy that his boss is “a very important person” and can’t possibly come in to a government facility where there are nasty germs, fluorescent lights and people of dubious national origins. The DMV guy, presumably of dubious national origin himself, completely unfazed, replied “I don’t care if she’s the Queen of England, if she wants a license, she better get her ass in here, now!”

So a glowering Cruella had to haul her stupid, pampered, fur-coat clad ego inside and do all the necessaries herself, including having a photo taken that made her look like someone was ramming a Swiffer up her back passage.

Isn’t that a beautiful story? I love it. In moments I’m feeling a little fragile emotionally, I imagine this scenario and immediately I’m full of the joys of life.

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13 Responses to “A Cruella Fate”

  1. Leonesse Says:

    Does she also think that she is good to the ‘little people’ and downtrodden? Yeah, I had one of those. “I have all this, and yet I volunteer to go to those charity meetings that serve Salmon Mousse and set up gala fundraisers and tell Buffy and Muffy how important it is to help the less fortunate. Now will you please create a calendar with all of their activities and then print one copy of his, one copy of hers, then print me a one copy of both combined, hers in red ink, his in blue, mine in black?”

    I told you, Guv, you have opened up Leonesse’s Box (didn’t we go there once already on Pistols blog?) and that corporate stuff is never pretty. Always petty, never pretty.

  2. pistols at dawn Says:

    That photo would only be better if it was of the Swiffer.

    Also, are the drug cartels buying children? And will they offer $.04?

  3. The Guv'ner Says:

    Leo: The less you say about “your box” in front of Pistols the better your life will be! :):)

    And yes! She served on a hospital board! But employed illegals as house staff no doubt for two bucks an hour. And if I had printed every effing stupid colour-coded piece of shite she’d asked there would be no trees left in the entire world.

  4. The Guv'ner Says:

    PAD: Last I heard they offered ten bucks if the kid was old enough to be “all service”.

    Was that out of line?

    Look on Craigslist: SWIFFER, SLIGHTLY USED, FREE TO GOOD HOLE…I MEAN HOME.

  5. katrocket Says:

    That’s some sweet justice!

    But seriously, they would really make the Queen of England line up her own licence, or do you think he was just saying that?

    And who’s the Cobra? Have you written about him before? I must have missed it!

  6. Chris Says:

    It was a cold, rainy early November morning. The air was just warm enough to keep the sleet from truly freezing enough to earn the name, resulting in the 40 mile per hour wind whipping slush into my face. “Is there any way this can get worse?” I thought to myself. “The car’s dead, I don’t have any money to get it fixed, I’m walking to my dead-end job — the same job that doesn’t pay me enough to buy a new goddam battery. And I have a hole in my boot, too. This can’t get worse. It just can’t.”

    About that time it got worse. My boss pulled up in his Jaguar. “Ho ho, certainly is a wet day. Do you need a ride? You must be having car problems, ho ho.” I obediently got into the Jaguar. Nice. Pretty car. Heated leather seats. Nice.

    “You know, I’m probably going to have to take the car to the shop and have them do something to that seat now that you’ve sat on the leather. You’re dripping all over. Keep your feet on the mat. Do you know how much it costs to get that carpet cleaned?”

    I don’t have enough money to get a battery for my 1992 Geo Prism, nor can I afford to fix the hole in my boot because my boss NEEDS the money to have someone else wipe off the seats in his car.

    Bugs me to this day.

    On a completely unrelated note — that mine that collapsed in Wyoming a week or two ago, killing several miners… Turns out the boss was trying to cut corners and took advantage of the Bush administration’s fondness for letting big business run rampant over the workers and took some of the safety equipment out of the mine. During the funeral for one of the miners killed in the tragedy, a man got up to speak about the deceased and ended his eulogy by handing the mine owner a dollar. “Here. I guess you need this.”

  7. The Guv'ner Says:

    IF I haven’t mentioned his sleaze The Cobra before, be warned. I WILL. Despicible little toad of a man. You made me curious. I have to now go back and check because not mentioning him till now would be an injustice on the scale of evil:importance.

  8. The Guv'ner Says:

    Chris: OMG. I would cock-punch your boss for at least an hour (wearing a balaclava helmet hat naturally, I wouldn’t want him recognizing me!) after that car episode. What an ass.

    As for the mine thing: that is AWFUL. It reminds me of last week here in NYC, near my home actually in lower Manhattan, some firemen responded to a fire at the World Trade Center site (one of the buildings destroyed in 9/11 which was due for demolition) in which a worker had discarded a cigarette and WOOSH! Fire. The tragedy was two of those firemen died because the company in charge of the demolition had disconnected the standpipe that supplies the water to the building that is used by yes….THE FIRE DEPARTMENT. So basically they were trapped by the fire with no water to put it out.

    Shit is flying in NYC over this. especially since two days later, same building, fire dept. again – large piece of building falls off the top and hits two more firemen, critically injuring them. Nice!

  9. T Says:

    As long as you don’t have to socialize with her, then it’s OK. I get the same attitude with Bert,–Mr. Hottie-Tottie Curb Painter!

  10. The Idea Of Progress Says:

    I am in love with your blog, and I’ve only read two entries. Consider yourself added to the blogroll.

  11. The Guv'ner Says:

    Why thank you! It’s funny you should say that as I was about to add you to MINE!

    You should know of my psychic abilities… (I just found out myself) 🙂

  12. wildcatsthree Says:

    Life at the office–ain’t it great!
    Chris

  13. The Guv'ner Says:

    It’s certainly great if you love dealing with morons and divas all day long, yes! :):)

    Or if you’re in love with office supplies. In which case, pervert!

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