I was on call last night and I finally got to sleep around 1am when my beeper went off. The message said, "Call Jamie frm..."
That was it.
So I sat there in a half-asleep daze for about 10 minutes wondering who the hell Jamie is and why they didn't give me a damn phone number to call. Finally, my brain kicked in and I called dispatch. They gave me the proper information and we all lived happily ever after.
Well, some of us.
I am working on the proposal. Six days and counting to deadline. Several chapters are completed in the book.
Stinky Jimmy got demoted to a regular investigator probably because of the nasty email he sent the corporate office (and forwarded to all of his supervisors) telling them what evil bastards (that was a quote, Mom) they are.
Which, I suppose, is why I got a regional position with my company...to cover some of his territory.
Jimmy called me late on Wednesday night sounding susupiciously drunk while I was still in California visiting Light-Haired Man. He wished me luck and told me to watch my back. That's two of my former bosses that have been demoted. I think that perhaps I should ride this wave just a little bit further before bailing.
Damn. I'm going to miss Stinky Jimmy in Boston on Monday and Tuesday. Him breathing on me and making me pass out from the stench was the only thing that made those supervisor meetings tolerable.