Reminiscing and Hating

Since most of my posts revolve around my time spent in purgatory at the Company of Soul-sucking Hades, where I slaved for years for Cruella de Ville, Papa Smurf and lastly Mr. Panty Waist, today it’s only fitting, for a change, that I talk about my escape from this life-sucking house of evil, three years ago this very week.

And I didn’t even get a Ticker Tape parade.

I lost my job on a Tuesday. It was unexpected, yet…not, since I’d had practically nothing to do for about six months. Plus I worked for Mr. Panty Waist and I hated him and my hatred wasn’t exactly a huge trade secret, unlike the reason I hadn’t yet murdered him and fed his dismembered body to the pigeons.

The morning following my departure, I was giddy and high on life and the fact I no longer had to watch The Cobra yank boogers out of his nose daily, or field Mr. Panty Waist’s excuses for just about everything.

I had hated that job with a rabid passion, and yes, I knew I needed to get out of there, before my brain rotted away to dust, but I hadn’t actually expected to be going quite so soon. Still, with nothing going on, two of my three bosses were leaving while the other was a Significantly Giant Twat, which I do realize is an insult to respectable twats everywhere and I apologize.

So, I was “laid off”. Really it was just a fancy way of saying “fired”. The only difference is it came with a severance payment and I qualified for unemployment. I didn’t feel any more bitter than usual – except at Panty Waist because hello – I’d been laid off, I hadn’t bumped my head or anything.

Incidentally he was the one who told me I was no longer going to be working there. The whole time he was talking I leaned back on the back legs of my chair and grinned at him which I think put him off his stride a bit because he was fidgeting like Britney Spears in the Snack Cake aisle at Wal-Mart.

I went home and immediately signed him up for some very adult porn sites and felt a whole lot better. I did this because I am very mature and also because I knew they’d send him links he was stupid enough to click on then he could have a glorious meltdown when seventeen windows would open all at once showing ladies’ (and men’s!) naughty bits at varying angles having various things done to them with foreign objects and hopefully this would give him a heart attack.

A couple of days later, the old coot was out of town so I went back in to the office to collect my stuff and sign my redundancy statement that cleared my “generous” severance payment. Mr. Panty Waist had stressed over and over how “generous” it was. Because they liked me you see. Generous, generous, generous. It was ok. Standard. It didn’t exactly make me Bill Gates but it wasn’t bad.

Then I went to say goodbye to the handful of people there who I called friends and we bitched about company morale and management. When I left for good, I felt elated. Not sad. Not regretful. Well…that’s not entirely true. I did have one regret – that I didn’t swallow a box of Wheaties before going up there, so I could take an industrial sized dump on Panty Waist’s chair, but hey, you can’t expect me to remember everything!

So I collected my few bits and pieces and my plants. I’ve never been renowned for having a “green thumb” – in fact I’m infamous for draining the life out of anything that photosynthesizes within about an hour in my company – but my three office plants were rather dear to me and not just because, against all the odds they’d somehow survived multiple years of me.

One, a straggly viney type thing, I had fished out of the garbage about two years earlier, where someone had dumped it mercilessly in a fit of spring cleaning. I nursed it back to health and talked to it and it grew and grew until it took over the entire 6th floor of our building and required its own zip code. It routinely used to knock pencils off my desk and swallow chihuahuas! I have that plant to this day and it still won’t die. I keep it away from the cats.

The second plant was a gift from the Soul-Sucking Company from Hades for some occasion about three years before. At the time I left, it had already “died” around 22 times but it always came back. It was sort of like the psycho masked guy from “Halloween”. Just when you think it’s drawn its last breath, you come in next morning and it’s there in a frilly apron, making the coffee.

The third plant I liked to call “Pablo” for reasons that escape me now but that quite possibly involved alcohol in copious quantities. Pablo was exotic, large, spiky and forbidding and looked like he possibly speared then gobbled up small children for a mid-morning snack. He sported two big, red, desert type flowers and the attitude of a Hell’s Angel with a hangover. He was known in the office as “Killer”. I used to hide behind Pablo and make lewd gestures when Panty Waist was annoying the bejeezus out of me, which was every two minutes.

Anyway, I loaded my plants into my “granny cart” – the sort we New Yorkers like to use for grocery shopping because we don’t have new-fangled things like cars – and wheeled him home, three miles down Fifth Avenue, through throngs of stupefied tourists who were trying to figure out if I was a bag lady, a crazy person or a florist.

At least one of those things was correct.


17 Responses to “Reminiscing and Hating”

  1. The Lady Who Doesn't Lunch: Says:

    I have been fired numerous times but was never lucky enough(or a good enough employee) to be laid off with a severence package. In all instances I cried my fool head off but afterwards felt light as ether (from all the mushrooms I ate when the crying jag was over).

    The first time I got fired it was by my bosses wife after he kissed me on the lips during a bizarre “let me give you a ride home” incident that I was stupid enough to tell her about.

    I’m not nearly as cute or gullable as I used to be and less likely to be put in that position again. I also keep my mouth shut and know the value of mentioning sexual harrassment laws early on in my employment.

    This comment was way longer than I originally intended. Gonna get some coffee now.

  2. The Guv'ner Says:

    Whoa, Lady, that sounds like quite the story! And it figures some douche who’s your BOSS puts the moves on YOU yet you’re the one who ends up fired.

    I tried for a moment to imagine kissing Mr. Panty Waist and gagged. Thank God I haven’t had breakfast or it would be on my keyboard now while my head twirled like the little chick in the Exorcist.

  3. gizmorox Says:

    I have a tiny plastic cactus toy that is named Felipe on my desk. That’s as close as I dare get to plants. Also, I didn’t name him but inherited him from the Most Gorgeous Coworker in History.

  4. Teri Says:

    you’re still bitter, aren’t you?

    That was a funny ass story, the plants took center stage, though!

    folks really do need therapy after jobs like that. how can all the evil people end up working at the same place? karma? what?

  5. The Guv'ner Says:

    See Giz, your story is all about love and congeniality. Whereas MINE is about hate and evil plants. You obviously are a more centered loving individual than I.

    Felipe. Awesome.

  6. The Guv'ner Says:

    Teri: I am TOTALLY not kidding, I’m as shocked as anyone else about the asshole quota at that place. I mean it was EVERY PERSON just about. My friend the Evil Queen and I would huddle at lunch times marveling over how dysfunctional the place was. Now she’s 1000 miles away in Florida and I work somewhere else and we STILL email each other regularly about that evil, heinous place!

    Those plants were great though. I mean only I could have non regulation plants that defied physics.

  7. The Guv'ner Says:

    …or biology even.

  8. pistols at dawn Says:

    I would like to get fired with a severance package very much. Hey, Pistols: why don’t we pay you to not work here anymore?

    A boy can dream…

  9. The Guv'ner Says:

    You know Pistols, since you put it like that, it was kind of a sweet deal…

    And now, three years later I get to bitch openly about it all in here (with the slightly vain hope that one day someone from that place that I hate will read it and go, “Wait…this sounds really familiar”.

  10. Chris Says:

    A florist… Wasn’t Ian Anderson a florist? Oh. FLAUTIST. Sorry. I knew he was playing around with something there.

    As me sainted Pappy used to say, “You can lead a horticulture, but you can’t make her think.”

    I like plants and flowers and stuff, but I must have bad breath or something ’cause they all die and that makes me feel bad.

  11. The Guv'ner Says:

    Chris: I’ll have some of what you’re having.

    Plants practically dive from a 12th floor window when they see me coming. Some people just make them thrive but me…it’s like I’m plant poison. And I LIKE plants a lot!

  12. Laaw-yuhr Says:

    Enjoy the wonders of unemployment now with me! Blogging! TV! Cake Baking! We will have to hang out.

  13. The Guv'ner Says:

    Ha, if only. Sadly this unemployment occurred three years ago in my last job – I have been working someplace else ever since :).

    But that did sound like a fine plan….I mean CAKE! And should I ever be unemployed again I will be doing all those things immediately.

  14. WendyB Says:


  15. The Guv'ner Says:

    Why thank you Miss WB! It started off as an “I will tell this story” and very quickly deteriorated into bitterness! 🙂 God I hated that place. It was like having someone lift the world off my shoulders when I got out. Suddenly the sky was blue again! Boy, what drama queen. 🙂

  16. katrocket Says:

    “fidgeting like Britney Spears in the Snack Cake aisle at Wal-Mart” is hilarious!

  17. The Guv'ner Says:

    Let’s face it, old Brit has the words “Little Debbie” tattooed on her person somewhere, I am convinced of it. 🙂

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