Anyway, I wish that was the only retarded thing I did yesterday, but alas, it wasn't. I locked a door at the office that has only one key, that happens to currently be MIA. We can't get into any of the counseling rooms right now. Guess who is in big trouble? Not me, it was an honest mistake. Whoever lost the key is in trouble.
Have you ever noticed how odd toilets look? I mean, really? Am I really just that weird? Who decided to sit down and invent that...and why couldn't they look a little bit spiffier (yes, I just invented that word)?
I downloaded Top Chef the game onto my computer last night (wow I need a life). I'm addicted. And thank goodness I'm just canny enough to bypass the system and get more than the normal 60-mins free (which is crap, by the way). How did I do it? Why would I tell you?
My life is incredibly boring, I guess. Look at what I write about: toilets and comptuer secrets. Anyone out there who leads a more exciting life, let me know! Maybe I'll start looking into something like a double life. Working for the CIA could be fun. Would they let me in? Maybe I'm too clumsy to work for them. What if they have a clause against people who trip over their own feet? Its possible, anything is.
I realize I have been keeping the at-work gossip to myself. How selfish of me! There is this client, we'll call him Bob. Anyway, Bob comes in twice a week, not because he needs to, merely because he wants to. Bob isnt' entirely unfortunate looking and is fairly conversational. However, I know better than to fall for his quasi-decent-charm. Here's what I know: He. Is. Creepy. I would wave a large, oversized red flag if I received a request from counseling from a young gentleman (term used loosely), who will only see a white female intern, every day of the week. No one living out in society needs to see someone everyday. Only someone with a serious issue (and by serious, I mean living in a mental health facility), needs to even think about therapy every day. But what do we say? Come on in, whatever you like! Long story short, I don't like being here alone when he comes in.
Next story: This is about a man we shall call Shakey ( as this is what he makes me do). Anyway, I had heard stories of his supreme creepiness, but never experienced it myself...until now. He is in the office, staring down a girl who could be no more than thirteen. He has the most disturbing look on his face. He keeps getting up and moving closer to her. I want to scream "child, come in here and wait until another adult is here!" or "creepy man, LEAVE!". None of these options are appropriate, so I find myself continually watching and guarding the situation.
I may end up becoming a superhero in my own right. And you will have all the first-hand details. Forget making reminder calls, filling out billing sheets, or pulling files...there's a life to save!
