Vengeance Is A Dish Best Served Fat

I'm supposed to be working right now.  I've got the pile of files I brought home with me to work on scattered at my feet and instead of opening the first one, I'm sitting on the floor with a glass of wine, mentally flipping off that pile of files.  This is the 4th night in a row a stack of work has followed me home and I'm not having it.  They've officially worn out their welcome.  Instead, I'm going to blog about Christmas.  Part One.  The work part.  Oh it's scintillating, just you wait!  (No, it's not.  But there are pictures!)

This year our bosses decided to risk taking us (the entire sales department) out in public and treated us to dinner at Christophers.  The classy kind of joint where I wouldn't take a date unless they promised to put out. 

Instead of doing a gift exchange, we drew names in advance and were asked to anonymously compliment whoever we drew.  I got one of the sales reps and composed an incredibly touching and heartfelt haiku.  I'm pretty sure I saw tears of appreciation welling up in his eyes.  Or maybe he was just drunk.  Or maybe I was.

Then I heard my name.  Naturally, my ears perked up, ready to soak in the accolades and worship that were surely about to come my way. 

This is the "anonymous compliment" that was read aloud at the table:

"Dawn is a perfect fit in the sales/sales support team.  She has thick skin, can take a punch, not overly hormonal and comes to work most days.

Here are a few of Dawn's best traits:

She's funny.
She has a good sense of humor.
She gets things done.
She complains but at least it's to your face.
She isn't afraid to eat.
She is willing to come to work without makeup, which isn't show floor worthy but she eventually gets it done by 1:00pm.
She is loyal.
She is legit.
She is a great employee."

At the bottom it was signed in pen "Love ya Dawn.  Jon".  With a smiley face.  Cause that made it all better.

I hate to admit it but he had the entire table roaring and I was laughing so hard I was crying.  But still...asshole.

Which naturally brings us around to Toph.  Parking downtown is obnoxious.  I entered in the wrong parking stall number when paying for my parking.  I stuck the receipt in my windshield anyway hoping the meter maid didn't totally suck.

Dinner was progressing slowly so Toph volunteered to check my meter.  I don't know if I've mentioned this before but Toph is a bit of a germaphobe.  He won't even use the same fridge as the rest of the department and never mind actually allowing someone to use his mouse or keyboard for half a second.  In fact, for Christmas I gave him a travel size bottle of antibacterial gel with a note that said "May your Christmas be as sterile as your soul" or something like that. 

He was irritated that I'd actually put some thought into and his response, "Gone is the dried up scabby cave troll I've come to know", gladdened my heart.

While he was out checking the meter, our food arrived.  Since he was being such a gentlemen, and being that it was Christmas, I decided to return the favor is making sure his food was as perfect as he deserved.  By licking it.

  Jon was kind enough to snap the pic and save it until after the meal.  In the off chance you're feeling badly for little Toph, let me present exhibit, ohhh I dunno, 73?

Exhibit #73 in which Toph is an asshole.

 He texted me this obnoxious gloating picture of my parking ticket.  (Which I forgot to pay and is now up to $55)  I responded letting him know this would undoubtedly make it's way into the blog.

His typical, charming Toph reply, "Why the fuck else would I send anything to you?  My fans need to see my handsome face from time to time".

Re-pug-nant.

Which brings us back to Christmas.  Everyone has their own special way of celebrating Christmas.  The sales department?  We steal.  And then exact vengeance. 

I've previously mentioned the company recently moved.  All kinds of stuff got lost in the move.  Filing cabinets, printers, hope. 

As well as chair mats.  Toph ended up with a cracked, sad little broke-down chair mat that he knew wasn't his.  It eventually came out that his has been pilfered from right under his nose.  (Or more likely during one of his 20 smoke breaks.)  By Jon.

Who came in to work the next morning to find his cracked, sad little broke-down chair mat had been returned to him.

 

 Jon signed up for a gym membership at the place right across the street from us and now spends every lunch break working out.

Jon is not fat.

Christmas is awesome.

Toph is still an asshole.