The phone rang and something told me not to pick it up. But, I always do. And it's usually bad.
"Hello, Thundermaker?"
"Yes?"
(A few years back, just for kicks and giggles, I told the people at work that my Najavo name is "Thundermaker." I told them I wanted to be referred to by everyone in the office from thereon as "Thundermaker." They didn't object for a second or even bother to ask any questions. Within 24 hours, there was a company-wide memo and everyone was calling me "Thundermaker.")
"This is Bunny Hope in Accounting."
"Hi, Bunny."
"Hi, Th-th-undermaker," she was having trouble saying the name without laughing. "I am calling about a certain piece of office furniture that you ordered for your cubicle."
"Yes?"
"Well, it's a $40,000 piece of furniture (see photo) with gilded doors. Don't you think that's a little expensive for a writer's office?" Her voice was borderline snarky.
"Hey, it's imaged perceived, mission achieved. You know what I am saying?"
'Uh, not really," Bunny said, obviously not feeling me.
"If you want to play with the big boys, ya gotta pay the freight."
"What?"
"Don't do the crime if you can't do the time?" I was starting to sound desperate.
"Listen, Thunderboy, if you want to order office furniture that is more suitable for someone at your level within this company, something nice and reasonably priced, take a look at www.ofconcepts.com. In the meantime, your gold cabinets are going back. Maybe Larry Ellison might like them."
"But, Bunny..."
click.
(I hate accountants)
