Grown Up Day

There's a big problem at work and I just found it out.
There's no Account Manager here.
There's no Account Executive.
There's no Vice President.
There' me.

And I am literally resisting the urge to call the vendor obsessively until my contact there is forced to pick up.
Ask any of my ex-boyfriends, I am RELENTLESS when I want to say something.
I will call four hundred times until you pick up.
I will have you paged.
I will get in my Bitchin' Honda and start driving so that I can walk into your office and appear in your cubicle, like the scariest ghost you have ever, ever seen.
I hate being ignored when there is something major going on and although I will cop to having "chicken little" syndrome, I am totally fisted, with a five-finger spread and a flail (Shout out!) If I canít get a hold of these people and find out:
A. If it's true.
B How pervasive the problem is. Let me re-phrase that:
Find out if the problem is going to affect ALL 532 PEOPLE FOR WHOM I AM RESPONSIBLE ALL BY MYSELF ON THIS ITEM. And without disclosure, I joke about being a Corporate 'Ho and stuff but what I do probably directly impacts your life if you are employed in Tucson, AZ and various national addresses.
C. Find out when it is going to be corrected.
D. Figure out how to tell people that they can't get the stuff they might need to get and if they do want to get it, they are going to need to take a special piece of paper with them to the store.
A piece of paper that comes from my desk and that while it may look authoritative and professional, is actually shaking with timidity and crossing its finger, waiting to be discovered to be found out as a loser who is playing at being a grown-up.

And so now my plan is to stalk the vendor down in exactly the same way I would stalk down an errant boyfriend.
Errant being subjective, of course.

Plus, and most importantly, this could mean that I donít get my Flex Day Off tomorrow.
And let me tell you that when you are working from 7:30 until 6:30 or 7 every damn day for months on end at the salary at which I am working, in order to kiss a ton of ass and prove that you are capable.....
You REALLY need that extra day off.
You neeeeeeeed to sleep in.
You neeeeeeed to go get coffee.
You neeeeed to play with your dog.
You need to do your laundry and put the dishes away and generally take a break from the all-day mind marathon that you somehow got registered for, even though you're not really sure that you trained properly for it.

My Flex Day Off is about as crucial to me as breathing.
Which, frankly, I am not doing so well right now.

arizonasarah at 2:15 p.m.

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