Barb F., my very first prison boss (1992-96), was roasted in the most unusual way. It started in the employee lunchroom the week prior to Thanksgiving amongst the overtaxed microwaves.
The Athletic Director had been conversing with the Librarian, and although they spoke quietly, other employees couldn’t help but join in. Truthfully, I can’t even remember the gist of their conversation. Perhaps it had something to do with a critical decision our boss made, a decision that had negatively impacted us. It’s a widely known fact that in corrections everyone tries to protect their turf by searching for easy non-confrontational ways to handle specific duties; maybe, on this particular occasion, we couldn’t find one.
I guess the most memorable part of the conversation, the part that triggered a series of <<<gulp>>> unfortunate events, happened at approximately the same time as the School Psychologist’s arrival for lunch.
“Barb’s a real turkey,” the A.D. complained. “I wouldn’t be surprised if her birthday’s on Thanksgiving.”
“Someone should get her a birthday card,” the Librarian added.
“Whose birthday is it?” Irene, the aforementioned School Psychologist, asked. She headed straight for the vending machines in search of a low-cal meal.
“Barb F’s,” someone must’ve answered.
I thought nothing of it. People need to blow off steam. It wasn’t until the last work day before Thanksgiving that I discovered what had happened. My boss called me into her office. “I’m a bit puzzled,” she said. She slid a Hallmark card across her desk. “For some reason, Irene thinks it’s my birthday.”
I knew not to laugh. I tried to act just as puzzled as her. “That’s bizarre,” I said.
Next came the steeple—that gesture with the hands used to show superiority. “Why would she think that?”
I did what a majority of us would do in this type of situation—I played stupid and waited for the perfect time to excuse myself, and then I booked.
At the close of my workday, Irene visited my classroom. “You’re not gonna believe what I did,” she said. Her face was all hot, as if she’d been exercising; which couldn’t be further from the truth.
“You gave Barb a birthday card and it's not her birthday.” I told her about my private meeting.
“Why didn’t you stop me? Why didn’t you say something?”
“Hey, if you would’ve passed the card around, then maybe I would’ve put a kibosh to it.”
“You mean it never got to you?”
I guess my boss had tried playing the odds by interrogating someone who hadn’t actually signed the card. I knew how the rest of it went: each explanation centering on Irene’s request of their signatures.
Have a wonderful Thanksgiving everyone, and if it happens to be your birthday, don’t get offended, it’s time to cook a turkey!
11 comments:
ha! She shouldn't even be upset about that. Of course, as she saw herself as being a superior, she still had to get to the bottom of it.
But in the end, what could she do? Maybe make some lives a little harder... but could you imagine her trying to actually discipline somebody over a birthday card? It's the perfect setup.
Hey JR, Have a wonderful thanksgiving. I am cooking, so cross your fingers for me. Jodi
It is the best sort of whack at the turkey's who think they are wonderful managers. Going for to them who didn't sign the card...seems pretty obtuse to me. Just another way to create division among the rank and file.
Now that was a cool thanksgiving story. With your job, you will never, ever run out of stories!
Hey good-looking,
I see what you have cooking! Hope you're having a great holiday -- still enjoying your pithy writing as always!
A song by Canadian Jann Arden:
"How come jerks don't know they're jerks?
And in my apartment builind of 99 tenants, we all seem to interact.
There are a lot of jerks.
And some of them are so much like your psychologist...On the verge of madness...Which sort of triggers the madness of the self and it all goes around
Maybe we're all doing time or something.
Sometimes the pranks fly like turkeys...just ask Les Nessman.
Happy TG, Jim.
Very funny. Remember the 70s, when people were called "jive turkeys" and just plain old turkeys?
Happy Bird Up Day!
OMG! That has to be one of the best jokes ever. I'm glad there wasn't a big fuss.
Happy Thanksgiving.
She should consider this...Better even to be though of as having been born on Thanksgiving than, like me, to actually have been born on Yom Kippur, the Jewish day of atonement. I'd much rather consider giving thanks for my birthday, than atoning for anything.
To what lengths will some go?
Hey, hope you had a great Thanksgiving. I'm still eating dressing and pie the day after. Will look a lot like Santa Claus by the time Christmas rolls around. D
Post a Comment