Big Wig Business Man Gives Me Hope For My Career

Being a public relations manager, I love writing and new challenges. The day-to-day duties can be somewhat monotonous, so I was beyond excited to join a special project team with a new company for a few months. I showed up on my first day, computer ready, ideas flowing and eager to be a valuable member of the team.

“Alright everyone,” said Jim, aka Big Wig (BW) from Australia brought in to head this new project. “We need a press release for tomorrow’s sale.”

“I’ll do it,” I said eagerly. “I’ve already started it and—“

“Ken—can you do it?,” BW interrupted.

“No problem mate,” said Ken, the 28-year old online manager.

“We need some coffee,” said BW, looking at me. “Would you mind?”

“Oh, okay,” I said awkwardly. Maybe it’s a cultural difference.

“Sugar?”

**NEXT DAY - 9AM - BOARD ROOM**

“For tomorrow’s online promotion,” started BW, “we need some copy written for our online banner ads.”

“I have it done,” I said cheerfully, opening my computer. “Last night I just wrote the copy and thought of---.”

“Ken,” interjected BW, “Can you have Robby draft it?”

“But Robby is on holiday until Friday,” stated Ken. “And we need it tomorrow.”

“No need to bother Robby on holiday,” I said reassuringly. “I have the copy done, I did it last night! It’s very creative and it speaks to the consumer on a—”

“Call Robby,” said BW directly to Ken. “I’ll get the deadline extended.”

**TWO MONTHS LATER - 9AM - BOARD ROOM**

“Have a seat everyone,” said BW starting the meeting. “It’s more crowded than usual, we invited our agency to join us.”

As I sat down, I introduced myself to the person next to me.

“Nice to meet you,” I started. “I’m—”

“Excuse me?,” interrupted BW, staring at me. “Would you mind getting Ken a chair?”

“Oh, sure,” I sighed. I left the room and rolled in Ken’s chair, but to find him already sitting in mine.

“Welcome folks! For the past two months the small team here has been working very hard,” said BW. “It’s great to have you all here to discuss tomorrow’s big launch.”

“Now, first things first,” continued BW looking at Ken. “How’s the press release coming?”

“I have it right here!” I said, flaring up my arms waving the release.

“I did it yesterday,” I said excitedly. “I did it because I’m on this team to write the press releases. So here it is, it’s all done. Right here..” I rushed over and handed him the paper.

BW glares at me. He takes the paper and reads it.

“Umm,” he said.

“Is it alright?” I asked.

“Did you write this or Ken?” he questioned suspiciously.

“I did,” I said.

“Wow,” said a very miffed BW.

“Is it OK?” I asked.

BW looks up at me and says,

“You just might have a career in PR afterall….”

I’ve been in PR for 5 years.

Hunky Husband vs Craigslist Furniture Seller: “What Kind of Douche Bag Puts His Espresso Cup on a White Desk?”

Now that I’ve been married for one month (yes…a lot has happened since my text break-up days) I’m ready to shop at grown-up stores like Pottery Barn. I’ve been jonesing for the White Bedford Corner Desk in white antique finish—it is my dream desk. But I don’t want to pay the top dollar PB wants… so naturally I’ve been stalking Craigslist to find a White one.

Ring, ring.

“Hey honey,” answered Hunky Husband.

“Guess what?!” I squealed. “I found the dream desk on Craigslist!”

“Oh yeah?” said HH. “What’s the story?”

“Corner desk with matching chair,” I started.

“So far so good….,” said HH.

“Two-drawer -file cabinets and desk protector,” I read. “For $600..”

“Awesome…” said HH.

“The only downside is that its espresso stained,” I added. “But I can get over that, it comes with the chair and protector – which is usually $1,200.”

“Hmm,” said HH suddenly distracted. “Oh shit! I’m late for a meeting. Talk to you tonight—love you.”

**5 hours later **

“So, I emailed the Craigslist guy,” I said. “And he dropped the price to $550,” I said.

“Yeah,” huffed HH. “I’m sure he did”.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Is that guy high or something?!” said HH.

“He didn’t mention it,” I said. “Why?”

“I mean the guy thinks he can sell a desk with freakin’ coffee stains all over it,” said HH. “I mean –“

“Hey hun-“ I interjected.

“..What kind of douche bag puts his espresso cup on a white desk everyday and just lets it stain?” said HH. “And then tries to sell it for $600?!”

“Well—“ I said.

“What an idiot! Why didn’t he put a coaster down?” he ranted. “Geez..didn’t he notice little coffee rings all over the place?”

“Babe—“ I said.

“There’s no way in hell we’re buying it,” HH said shaking his head. “Yeah?”

“The desk isn’t white,” I explained. “Espresso stain is the color of the wood.”

“Oh,” said HH.

I’m in the doghouse with my dog sitter: "Would you like walking around with 3-days of poop caked to your butt?”

My 43-year old dog sitter is a bit of a hoarder and a hermit. She has racks and racks of clothes in the middle of her living room and has yard sales every week, but never lets anyone buy anything. She's also obsessed with her dog Blossom and all other dogs. Whether she's telling me the latest on puppy news or telling me the latest neighborhood 'doggie gossip,' I always leave her place with a lesson. Always.

Knock. Knock.

“Hi Maureen” I said. “I’m here to pick up Paige.”

“Just a minute,” said Maureen with a lisp. “How was Palm Springs?”

“It was great, very hot,” I said outside her door. “Thanks so much for watching Paige, was she good?”

“Ummmmm….well,” said Maureen unlocking her six deadbolts. Her thick red frizzy hair was greasier than usual. She wore her usual stained gray t-shirt and matching gray stretch pants.

“She played really well with Blossom and shared toys…”she said.

“That’s great” I replied.

“So, when you dropped her off there was poop all over her butt,” she said bluntly.

“Excuse me?” I asked very surprised.

“Poop was caked all over her butt,” stated Maureen. “It was all sticky in her hair—it was like super glue.”

“Oh, geez,” I said.

“I had to cut it out with my sewing scissors,” said Maureen.

“Wow, sewing scissors?” I said trying to recall 3 days earlier. “I don’t remember there being a ‘situation’ when I dropped her off. I wonder how that happened.”

Maureen stared me down for about 20 seconds.

“It happened because you didn’t wipe her butt,” she said very annoyed.

“Oh, Maureen, I’m sorry” I said awkwardly. “But…she is a dog and goes to the bathroom outside..."

“Baby-wipe her butt,” she said simply.

Maureen roller her eyes and said, “I mean, would you like walking around with 3-days of poop caked to your butt?”

“No,” I replied. "I wouldn't."