Day Thirty-Seven to Day Sixty-Seven. My Ears Are Burning.

I haven't written in a really long time because I've been incredibly angry with work in the last month for a variety of reasons. I know it’s my issue, that I determine my attitude, that’s it’s my job to be happy but…and isn’t there always a BUT… I work with jack asses, and although I shouldn’t take on their bullshit, I do, because these people are deplorable – and it makes me unhappy to be surrounded by such nonsense. And yes I am currently looking for a new job, but in the meantime, this is what I’ve heard in the last month and I am not exaggerating in the least, actually I wish I was:

Am I sending this fax to a terrorist?

-          The name of the recipient was Hussain.

What’s the name of that chink agent that used to work here?

Us Jews should get blue collar jobs.

Did you see the tit’s on that one?

Why are they crying? Didn’t they find them?

-     In response to a co-worker who found her missing sister after the disaster in Japan.

Oh, you’re smart I can talk to you now.

-     When I responded that I was actively reading certain classics, and basically read books in general.

Deplorable? No?

Oy.To.The.Vey.

Day Thirty Seven. Get That Billionaire On The Phone!

I had the most interesting day today. Oh yes, I did.  After I made some coffee, Mr. Black screamed from his desk (which is less than 10 feet from mine) “GET IN HERE” – I don’t think I will EVER get use to being screamed at like that. E.V.E.R.  I meandered into this office and Mr. Black goes into a lengthy explanation that his friend, a very wealthy friend needs a home with a helipad because he’s sick and tired of sitting in traffic. I am too, but not quite sure that my 60 X 100 property can handle a helicopter, note to self: get helipad dimensions. But I digress. Nevertheless, Mr. Black has a bee in his bonnet, he knows of a house that has a helipad – it’s the home that Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie rented while filming a movie - the home is valued at 40 million dollars and Mr. Black wants his friend to buy this house, it’s not on the market, but… he wants him to buy it and buy it NOW!

My mission for the day: find the name of the owners of this home. Okay, interesting assignment. I like research, and I love a project that I can sink my teeth into. There was nothing else going on in the office except for the fact that I had to make another pot of coffee, so I got right on it. I got the address, went on a bazillion public record sites, and I just started googling the shit out of this house. I got nowhere. Nowhere.  In between my dead-end searches, and making coffee Mr. Black bellowed from this office  “ANYTHING? ANYTHING?” – This only heightened my desire to find the information; I was like a puppy trying to please its master. Digging deep I used my research skills from my legal eagle days and pulled some tricks out of my hat. I started making phone calls, and actually worked backwards by finding interesting things about the house to google.  I googled the name of the yacht’s, planes, dogs anything associated with the home – this my fine feathered friends uncovered a lot of information more than I really needed to know. I found strip clubs, sex hot lines, phone companies, media companies and some medical companies, actually thousands of corporations tied to this home and at this point I couldn’t even comprehend the depth, and the amount of zero’s associated with this property owner. Like a bloodhound, I kept sniffing around, and kept getting closer and closer to the answer. It was the first time since I began working that I was having fun in this insane asylum.

And then… I got it. I FINALLY found the needle in the hay stack. I felt like Willy Wonka when he found the golden ticket! I was so proud of myself, wagging my tail, golden ticket in my hand.  I had the name! I had the name! I couldn’t even believe it.  A Name! A Name!  I got it!  I couldn’t wait to tell Mr. Black but he left the office so I texted him: “The owner of the home is a Kuwaiti billionaire, 10^th richest person on the Forbes list”.  Immediately I got pinged back:  “Get him on the phone, tell him I have a buyer for his home”. WHAT? Really?  You want me to call a Kuwaiti billionaire? Seriously?  Really? Did I read that right? I checked my phone again, yep, it says to call him. Ummm, okay, I’ll get right on that but if my memory serves me right,  it’s a Kuwaiti Billionaire, you’re a Jew - right there there’s a HUGE conflict but besides that getting a Kuwaiti billionaire on the phone is probably as easy as calling the God, it ain’t happening!  I mean I have a ton of tricks up my sleeve, but this was out of my reach.  The question my friends is does Mr. Black really think I could actually flip through the white pages and find a Kuwaiti billionaire?

HELLO is ANYONE home?

Oy. To. The. Vey.

Day Thirty-One-to-Thirty-Six - Virtual Smirtual.

Mr. "I am going to own the world", who believes in his own little head that he is the leader in luxury real estate and setting the standard in real estate and technology REFUSES to take on a virtual techno-website-branding whiz that knows more about website technology, presentation development, branding, and what makes this man tick because he's a self-indulgent, micro-manager and needs to "SEE" what he's paying for. Moron. Moron. Moron.

That's difference between a successfull business owner and someone just playing the part: you need to believe and trust in your business, and employees, which he is incapable of doing.

Oy.To.The.Vey.

Day Thirty-One. I will OWN the World.

Mr. Black stood at my desk today and said "In six-months I am going to OWN the world." BA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA.

He's serious. Seriously insane but serious.

Oy.To.The.Vey.

Day Twenty-Five to Thirty. Bad Attitude.

Mr. Black said I had a bad attitude, and he is right on the money. What he forgets is that I work for women that abuse me; so I am a bit angry, argumentative, and at some times I can be very hostile. He isn't in the office long enough to know that I get treated like shit, that I get spoken to like a dummy and that these women, I do believe, believe I am at their beck & call.  Also, he fails to realize that I've been working without heat for two weeks, that I can't do my job because the bills aren't being paid, and that well, I am not happy here. This makes for a angry girl.

Mr. Black is never in the office and by the time Mr. Black actually gets to the office, I am spent, fried, done. I can't separate the two, because he can be demanding as well. But I guess I should work on my attitude because even though I am a angry youngish girl, I don't want to be disresptectful, because I am definitly not that girl, woman, gal, whatever.

A change of attitude might be good for me too, being this angry isn't good for my complexion.

Oy.To.The.Vey.

Day Twenty-Four. The Intern.

The intern stopped by my desk and tells me that he's working with another agent in our office on the next next million dollar idea, I ask him what that idea is and he said he didn't remember he has to call the agent. Priceless. 

Oy.To.The.Vey. 

Oh and still no heat - a full week. NICE!!!

Day Twenty One through Twenty Three. Heat.

The office has NO HEAT for three days. Fingers frozen. Couldn't type a post at all, fingers would of fell off.

Oy.To.The.Vey.