This thing is anonymous
For obvious reasons as we get closer, and deeper into my subject matter.
Day 13, Monday. Jenni StoryofMyLifetheBlog.blogspot.com, asks that we write a public apology today. She doesn’t care if we use wit, seriousness or go dirt-deep into our creative side. She just asks us to apologize.
I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve got an inventory and a laundry list that could fill Hades, if you know what I mean. Okay, I do have to admit though, deep-down, I don’t consider myself vindictive or malicious, although, as we all know, it is not so much how we see ourselves that matter, but how others receive us. We all come with history packages, the demons that carved us into the reality that stand before the world each day, part and parcel. I said I was going to be anonymous, that I wasn’t vindictive and I tried my best not to be malicious, but when a certain boss I once worked for held expectations that were beyond any humans reach of conquering, well, I did what I am want to do, I tried anyway.
M, be sure you lock your desk, remove all incidentals from the desktop before doing so. Place your mechanical pencil in THIS tray. Not the one behind it, or elsewhere within the drawer of your desk. (I should note, I tend to be quite meticulous, hell, I’m downright compulsive/obsessive on the clean-freak thing._
No. I was not working a secret mission for the CIA, FBI, the Farm Bureau or any other government agency, although I did have security clearances (in an early employment and had also been cleared to work with this agency, i.e., background checks, etc.). So, to make this short and as snappy as I can, because I am windy and repetitive, let me just quickly glaze over the facts that were required of the other five people that worked within the same department:
“Oh hell ya, that picture looks nice on your desk! Do you collect those? Wow! Where’d you find that? Did the kids make that for you? I like the assortment of pens and pencils you have.! (His endless list of platitudes…i cannot roll my eyes, further, they are now stuck in the back of my head!)
So, here is my apology to Mr. R.D., where ever you reside, and whomever became your future employer, because, yes, I heard they phased your position, OUT. (Remember, I quit. Gave notice. Left a spot-less desk, and even-handed over that mechanical pencil you took a fancy to.).
I hope you are doing well. I just want you to know that I will always enjoy my memories of winning the trophy that the American Airlines Plane Talkers Toastmasters presented to me (upon many occasions, if you recall), and that box of Kleenex. The two items that I kept atop the clean desk each evening, as I locked it, but not initially. (Remember, Ron, no one else had to lock their desk, much less clean it, and I’m not sure how many mechanical pencils they had, but I fear it may have been more than one.) Awe to heck with it. Let’s face this and get over it, you and me. Let’s bury my hatchet. I’ll dig the hole and throw that danged thing in, but you have to sit here and listen to me spew my ugliness.
Do you recall the day one of the big-wig managers (A/A), came by to congratulate me on winning one of those speeches? Ahh, I didn’t think so, but I’ll never forget the look on your face when Mr. Big-Wig asked me where my trophy was and I blurted out:
“Oh, Ron does not allow items upon my desk, during, or after work.” Those words fell so fast that I didn’t have time to think about how vile and ill-willed they must have sounded to you. But I do remember the aftermath. When the gentleman looked at you, smiling and said,
“You don’t let her enjoy her awards?”
Now, I’ve got to admit, this is where I get a little brain-fogged. But knowing how important that desk was to you, I’m sure I bent my head forward and began slave-driving toward ninety. I seriously do not recall what occurred next between the two of you, other than you both disappeared from my doorway. Time would follow and I would/recall visitors from time to time. They came to view my Kleenex box, smile at that cheap trophy, and say something along the lines of:
“Job well done!”
And finally, I get to the apology part. This is where I say, from that day forward I could give a CHIT about what you thought about the two things that I allowed going forward. The Kleenex and the trophy.
I hope you are well. All I ask is this: Can I send you a mechanical pencil? Brand-new, any brand you want. Any color, any lead size. I will award it to you as ceremoniously as that gold pen and pencil set that your superior awarded me. One of the leaders of “XYZ”.
Your Obsessive/Compulsive former employee. (On site, contract.)
P.S. I did not feel it necessary to edit and precisely articulate this message. I somehow understand no matter how I wipe this thing, it’s still not going to be as clean or sufficient enough to meet your standards. It does meet mine, though.