5/12/05

5:48 pm. Only at a meeting of private investigators would you hear somebody yell across a room, "Hey, Joe! Remember that time I spilled a cup of pee in your car seat?"

Joe. He was my boss before I became a supervisor. Joe is about 65 years old and he can't remember his own name sometimes. On April 3rd, for example, he scheduled me to work a job on March 25th. And then there was the time that he thought he was calling to cuss out Investigator Frank, his employee, but he was actually calling Senior Vice President Frank, the number two guy in the company. SVP Frank probably wouldn't have minded if it wasn't for the three prior cussing outs that he got in the name of Investigator Frank. And then today Joe showed up to the meeting an hour late. Fortunately, the senior management tolerate it well. The CEO had us tape a sign to the door saying that any late investigators were fired.

Of course, there are some advantages to having a senile boss. Whenever he calls and says something like, say, "Polly! What is this travel request to Puerto Rico??" I just answer, "Boss, you approved that over the phone a week ago. Don't you remember?" And he'll sit there for a second and then say, "Oh. Okay then."

So now I'm probably going to work two cases in Puerto Rico sometime within the next month.

Oh, yes. Life is good.

And it better be good because as soon as I die I'm going straight to hell for messing with an old man's mind.

I will miss Joe. And not just because he was easy to take advantage of. I will also miss him because his breath doesn't stink like the inside of a corpse. Which is more than I can say for my new boss. My new boss, Jimmy, looks like a mafia lacky. Tan skin, overweight, heavy accent, perfectly arranged silver hair combed back from his face. Salt of the Earth and a great guy. And I mean that.

But then Jimmy opens his mouth. If Jimmy WERE in the mafia, his name would be "Stinky Jimmy" or "Jimmy the Mouth" or "Please Don't Breath On Me Jimmy Because You're Making Me Throw Up A Little In My Mouth". Something like that.

Through the gaping spaces between his only remaining front tooth, you can practically see the stench curling out in malignant plumes. That first hit immediately makes your eyes water. Within a few minutes you feel dizzy. After a half hour you pass out. Which is okay if you are sitting in meetings for 8 hours. Another advantage (I was delighted to find upon return to my room) is that my hair has developed a lovely curl after being perfumed in rancid death all day.