Oh, right. It is a nail.
This morning, I came out of a meeting to see my phone's voicemail light flashing, accusingly, at me. When I finally got around to listening to the message - I am convinced that people only leave messages when they have something bad to tell me - I was left with the task of figuring out how to deal with the fact that my car, who had left my garage with four lovely and inflated tires, had somehow become crippled and was now listing to one side.
Lorne (my boss), and Fabian, Stefan and John, (in charge of all things facility related at my office) (insert "How many people does it take to change a tire?" joke here) (and "How many parenthetical asides does this sentence need?" joke here), helped me take off it's floppy, deflated shoe, and put on the donut that I had in my truck.
The tire? Had a big old nail stuck in it.
The donut? Yeah, it was flat too.
Lorne and I piled, with tire, into his car to get it all a-patched up. Which took 2.5 hours. By the time I shanghaied Fabian and John to take me back to pick it up and slap it back onto my car, it was time to run home and deflate myself. But not before stopping to pick up hilarious, and possibly horrible tasting, Halloween themed cookies to give the boys tomorrow morning as thanks for their above the call of duty help.
I don't know how many times I can say this, but the people I work with are #1 Awesome.
The end.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Is That A Nail In Your Tire, Or Are You...
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
I feel like it's work's way of telling me that I need to work from home more often.
Bonus, though, was that Fabian got to tell me a story about a waitress that insisted on showing his table her tits. Dude!
Yeah, what is with you and the parking lot?? So glad the nice guys were on hand to help. I'd've helped too if I'd known those snazzeh cookies were part of the deal! Niiiiice.
Post a Comment