#18. Day 8: Out of the Frying Pan......

Somehow, somewhere I missed a day in this vercachkte narrative....and I haven't been writing for a while. Maybe I needed to catch my breath before I wrote it all out. Sorry about that. Anyway..... this is what happened next...:

Ahem... So I signed out of CLS. Land of inept whaleassian, bubbleheaded monkeys. I know, I know, what do I really think? I have signed into Logistics yesterday. I kiss the ground they walk on so far. I went back to the Bellemont and said my goodbyes. kiss kiss, hug hug. Glad as hell to be gone from that mess. I find out that the powers that be are sending "Simon and Lois" home. I am pissed. They were hung out to dry.

A little while later, there I was, happily ensconced in headquarters doing Boss's bidding. Oh. Boss: He's just great. I love him to death so far. Kinda stringy, kinda built, kinda medium height. Nice hands and arms. No hair. Wears a cap most all of the time in the off chance that we won't notice the lack of coverage. No such luck. He has piercing blue eyes which do make you forget from time to time that he's hiding under his hat, but everyone knows that he's way bald. No squirming out of that. Wouldn't even notice if he didn't try to distract you from it so hard. Boss's been married for thirty five years. Wow! You've gotta love, admire and respect that. I voiced my homage on the subject, and he wistfully turned, looked at me and said, "yeah.. but I missed a lot". Oh geez, like what? Dating?? I won't even start in on that, because you will be listening to me rant for a week. I like the guy. Can you tell?

Aaaaaannnyway, Big Daddy. Big Daddy is Boss' boss. and everyone elses' boss too. Big D is quiet. He is about 69. Tall as a bean pole, lanky, big ears, glasses and also bald. No hat though. A slow and quiet speaker. Big Daddy is very deliberate. You prick up your ears and listen when he speaks. Everyone listens when he speaks. Some of the department are a little teeny tiny bit, ok, seriously intimidated even. Come to find out, that Daddy was a full damn Colonel in the Army. More on that later. In the three few hours I have been on the job, Big D and I have become best friends.

In my first hour on the job last night, Big Daddy had asked Boss what he thought my new job was? Boss' reply was that I was his , "New Man Friday". Daddy's reply was that he was going to watch boss very carefully, and if he thought that Boss wasn't using me in the very best possible way, I was gonna be Daddy's,"New Man Friday". Men fighting over me already, (kidding!). I just love these guys.

Deep in my new work, intent on doing well, I was trotting across headquarters, formerly known as "the old WalMart", when I run into the Hornet. I expect a nice smiley, "hi", "how're ya doin", to which I would reply, "hi", "I'm doin' great, hows about you?" Didn't happen. I live in a fantasy world. What I got was the Hornet coming to a full screeching halt, look of shock and horror spreading across her face as she realized just who was in front of her. Immediately a finger was raised at my mug and the screech of screeches emanated in an escalating scale of notes from her widening pie hole, "YOU!!!!! ??? What are YOU doing here?????!!!! YOU WERE SENT HOME!!!!!!" Well hell, that was news to me, and I said so. "Uh, well, no, I wasn't". Seemed pretty obvious to me that I wasn't, as I was standing there plain as day right in front of her ever reddening nose.

"YES YOU WERE!!!! YOU WERE SENT HOME!!!! THAT WAS TAKEN CARE OF!!!!!!!!!! YOU WERE SENT HOME!!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!!!!!!!!!??????????" Hmmm.....now here was a dilemma. Apparently Hornet got her antennae crossed somewhere,her stinger was in a full twist and it seemed as though I was about to ruin her day, if I hadn't already. Fact is, "Home" was never discussed with me by anyone at any time, unless it was on Hornet-time over a couple of margaritas with the rest of the idiots-as-managers-team, without my scintillating presence gracing the event of course. I figured she was delusional. The delusion continued.

I told her that in fact, (as was self evident to my way of thinking), that I had not been sent home, in fact, I had transferred departments over to Logistics. her unfortunate hallucination continued: "YOU DIDN'T TRANSFER!!!!! YOU WERE SENT HOME!!!!!" Apparently, on the planet Hornet, saying it makes it so. Not on my planet. Not only did I not vanish in a puff of smoke in response to her certainty that I was not really there standing toe to hoof with her, I told her that I had transferred yesterday, and that everyone knew it, and that her staff had signed off on it without even reading the transfer. Did that just for fun, and because I could. It was in lieu of laughing in her face and saying F-you, because she was being a total public lunatic.

Her response was, "YOU!!!!! OVER THERE!!!!!!!!(mandatory finger snap, pointing at me, pointing at her desk. Damn. You think these people got their basic training from the Shirrelles? Snap snap, shuffle shuffle dooo-wop doo-wop.), GO OVER TO MY DESK AND SIT THERE!!!!!!!!! " Sigh. Schnauser once more. When will it end? Instead of heading for her desk, I started to walk towards my new desk. Hornet-from-hell stops dead, in at least a semblance of total shock, and asks where I think I am going???? I reply that, " I am going to get my things." Duh.

Get my things while she shrieks over to Client Services on the nutball mission from Hornetvile. I tell Boss, "Hornet wants to send me home, I have no idea what the hell is going on" He looks at me, shocked and questioning, but I don't wait to explain, what the hell would I say anyway, that Hornet was having a bad drug flashback and believed that I did not exist in the HQ hive, when all empirical evidence pointed to the contrary?

Instead, I turned and slauntered over to Hornet-home tout de suite. From my perch in the Hornet's nest, I could see Hornet in CLS waving her hands and ranting at a group that includes Chicken Little, "LB" and the Viper. Soon she is in my new department, all CLS psychopaths in tow, waving her hands at Boss, Big Daddy and available others. Her screeches carry to where I am sitting 300 feet away. Always happy to make an impression on someone new.

As I sat there, "Merri Sheri" from Public Affairs cruises by and shoots me a questioning look. I tell her that I don't know what's going on, but that Hornet wants to send me home. She asks if I have already transfered? I nod yes. She asks if the transfer has already been signed? I answer again in the affirmative. She then gets this positively devilish grin in her face, and clasping her hands in the universal gesture of "goody goody", gleefully tells me that there is nothing Hornet can do about it, as I have legitimately transferred to another department. "Merri" is from Iowa, and looks like your maiden aunt, so her assisting in putting one over on the Hornet is doubly delicious.

Hornet is screwed, I ain't goin' anywhere. Besides which, it soon becomes clear that my new department and my new bosses haven't turned turtle on me. They have to my shock and unending pleasure, remarkably gone against the screaming lot of harridans, and instead gone with their guts and refused to turn me over or out. The fitting completion to Hornet's bad dream. When I realize all of this, I try mightily not to flatten my ears against my head, close my eyes into slits, flare my nostrils and grin like a hyena.

Soon, "Partay" sashays over, sits oozily next to me and asks what someone with my "talent", is, "doing in the Red Cross"? I assume she is being ironic, as I can't imagine after all that she and her witless department have said and done, that she can possibly be serious. Of course, if she is serious, that sums up the problems the ARC is having in a nutshell. Nut-shell being a very fitting word considering the circumstances. They can't imagine what anyone with any intelligence is doing in their organization. Wonder why they are having trouble? I don't bother to answer her. Soon enough the rest of the gang is at the table. "LB", looking balefully basset-like and Hornet in full thwarted fury.

Hornet hunkers over, looking for all the world like Richard Nixon at his worst and makes an almost laughable declaration: “You have been manipulating the system!”. Well that was news to me. "Manipulating the system" eh? Dang, if I had known, I would have manipulated it into giving me thousands of unearned RC dollars instead of just manipulationg it into providing much needed information to clients and volunteers. Who knew? I did ask her with some surprise, “uh....to what end?” She replied, that I was, “ out of control, and that no one could figure out what I was doing at any time.” No surprise there. If you have your head up your nether parts,then you are unlikely to know what is going on around you. Is that news to anyone?. I did manage to point out, without laughing out loud, that every time I had been at headquarters, it was on the instruction of my site manager, "Simon", which I was certain he would confirm. If anyone in all of the time I had been requesting logistical support at headquarters had bothered to call him, they would have known that.

I did happen to mention, manipulative genius that I am, that not only did I have an excellent review from the Bellemont, but that Public Affairs had printed up dang near 14,000 fliers and posters, that little ol' me had independently written in my cot at night in the shelter, all the while going up through official channels, who didn't know what the hell I was doing, because they weren't paying attention, and didn't care anyhow. All of which were approved by Ms Hornet herself, and that she, the supreme Hornet, had instructed those posters and fliers that I had written in my spare time be placed at most of the client service sites and shelters across the country. OOOPS!!! Hate it when that happens, don't you?

Unable to resist rubbing it in, I did let drop, that everything I did was conducted within the proper chain of command. Note to self: I have got to stop pissing off small minded, unhappy, middle aged, fat women. Even though it does provide a small sense of amusement, it is not in the end, in my best interest.

The truth is, I have never worked for or with any of the managers that found me "troublesome". Not Hornet, not Chicken Little, not the-moron-who-lives-without-a-brain, "Deliah", not "LB", not "Carrie", or even the Viper. My Site Managers, as well as the HQ Health Services professionals, on-site Mental Health professionals, EMT’s , site supervisors as well as the Public Affairs Department, had all complimented me repeatedly on what little I was able to accomplish, both on site and off.

Based on the supreme Red Hornet's statements, it is my belief that not only did CLS Management not understand that what I was doing went properly up the chain of command, they did not trouble themselves to find out. Quelle surprise. Add that to the list of ineptitudes that make up my former department. The whole lot of them seem to operate most comfortably on personal assumption rather than fact. No surprise then that the ARC is on the news every night in a negative light. Let me introduce you to the monkeys that have taken over the zoo.

Ah Hornet, Hornet, Hornet, alas....the next hubristic statement just about sums up the professional atmosphere and intellectual depth of the sorry department that I had so recently left to sniff my dust. Ol' Red Hornet turns to me, leans in and says: “I don’t know if you are off of your meds or what?” I went to pat ol' grits for brains pea pickin pollen eater, on her hairy little arm, but she flinched. None the less, I assured her that I do not take medication, all the while wondering to myself what meds she had forgotten to take to make a statement like that in front of witnesses. Whoa doggies.

The next question had me on the floor. Hornet asked , what I do in “real life”........whoopsy....

I quietly and concisely told Ms McHornet, that I am the President of two multinational landholding corporations, CEO of two other multinational landholding corporations, and chairman of the board of directors for those same four companies. Believe it or not, that is the truth. it is what I do day in and day out as a result of my father croaking and leaving me with a monumental mess of an entangled legacy. It consists of those companies. FInally, working for nothing pays off in the oddest of ways.

To clarify solely for anyone reading this: Due to the lack of anyone else stepping up to the plate, I am President of "Port X, SA" and "XYZ- France S.A." In addition, I am CEO of "MNO Club S.A." and "Companie des XYZ Occidentales SA. " although it is true, and I am not giving the blogging public the actual names of my companies, I will tell you that "S.A." stands for “Societé Anonime. That designates us as a corporation with considerable assets, as opposed to a small business, or a Quiznos franchise. I am in fact, chairman of the board of directors of all four entities. We have stockholders. The stocks are not publicly traded, although they are registered with the French Stock Exchange. The companies are collectively called “The XYZ Group”. We are based out of Paris France, and St Martin in the French West Indies. I also own a jewelry design and manufacturing company in the US called Byzantia. In my now spare time, I make jewelry, but then most of you already knew that part..

Excuse the expression, but Hornet's eyes positively bugged out at this info, and she sputteringly indicated that she didn’t believe me. "LB" and "Partay", wisely remained silent throughout this . I sighed, and held up my cell phone. I noted that I had three law firms in my employ on speed dial. That although it would cost me upwards of $450 for the call, and one of them would be unreachable as it was in France, in another time zone, she was welcome to contact them and confirm my position. She declined. She did say though that I, "didn't look like a CEO". Well thank god for one small favor.

She then asked me if I had a secretary. I have an assistant. No one in this century has ever called Yawovi a secretary. Not to quibble, I said, “of sorts”. Ms Hornetski then asked me if anyone in my companies could access me, or did they have to go through my "secretary" I informed Ms out-of-touch-bug, that my companies have been together for 37 years. That I, and my father before me who held the same positions, were accessible to any employee at any time. That all employees and stockholders had all of our numbers including my home phone number. That I had confidence in the abilities of my employees, and valued creative input from my small staff. It was a concept foreign to Ms Stinging Insect, who instead indicated that she again was not sure that she believed me. It was fast becoming a tedious interview a while ago.

Ol' Bug Eyes looked at me, and again repeated the “meds” comment, then she told me she was going to, “be blunt”. As if she hadn’t been before. Hornet then tilted towards me and intimated the following revelation. She perkily stated, “We have treated you like crap. I will admit that, but since we have treated you like crap, why would you want to stay?” She repeated that statement several times, in case I may have missed it the first time, or perhaps because she wanted to assure herself that she really was making that absurd remark aloud.

Truthfully, I was shocked into silence. Apparently, Bug Breath did not get the memo telling her that I was not there for her, but rather for the clients. I do not remember what exactly I said. I remember distinctly the conversation that I was having with myself in my head, about her and her kind needing to soon be an integral part of a publicly televised Auto de Fe, but wisely chose not to express that. I did tell her rather diplomatically if I do say so myself, that only a handful of her personal staff had treated me poorly, and that I believed in my short time, I had accomplished quite a few positive things. I also left out the , "despite all of you" part.

Ms Hornet regarded me long and hard. Finally stating, “I can’t figure out if you are a loon, or too good to be true”. I couldn't figure out if she had escaped from an asylum, or if this was just par for the ARC paid staff. I replied somewhat disingenuously that, “ perhaps I was a little of both”. Thinking to myself that I must be out of my effing mind to put up with this crap. On the other hand, I also realized that in this situation, I was an anonymous volunteer. Instead of simply donating money, I had for some masochistic reason purposely placed myself in this position. I had done such a silly thing because I had wanted to contribute first hand and see first hand how the Red Cross was run. I certainly found out. Now that was a good idea wasn't it?

So Ms Stripey-Butt regarded me, and then turned to "Partay" and "LB". "LB" true to form, had yet to express a word. If the Hornet was going down, LB" had no plans to go with her. The Red Hornet took a deep breath, and told them that “she was going to go with her gut, and let me stay”. Having already been apprised of the parameters by "Ms Sheri", I remained silent. Gloating, but silent. No one spoke. Hornet turned to her cohorts and asked if, “everyone is all right with that?…… On a scale of one to ten?” No one replied. I returned, escorted by Hornet cerimoniously to my department where she insisted on introducing me to people I had already met.


I took my seat at my desk, and no one said a word. I went back to work. Game, Set, Match.The rest of the day was uneventful. I got to know the rest of the crew, and they got to know me. I hoped that they wouldn't be sorry that they kept me. I planned to make it up to them for their trouble.

That evening, I got stuck carpooling with "Bob" the missing Marx Brother. He wanted to go and see the Mississippi, and I was too tired to say no. We went off to some idiotic riverboat replica casino on the water, full of lights and sounds and smoke and idiots flushing their money away.

The Mississippi was beautiful though. I watched it for a while, and thought about the old days. The plantations, the south, the war the slaves and the things and people that had gone up and down this river and was awed. 'Bob" not withstanding. I watched the sun set and ate yet another bad fried meal, where my choice of wine was red or white, with a boob in the seat in front of me, and it still didn't manage to diminish the experience. It had been a long day. I felt as though I had done battle with the forces of evil and won.

Of course, it wasn't that simple. I had done battle, but it was only with the ongoing forces of stupidity and bureaucracy, and what the heck had I won? the chance to stick around and get kicked around some more. So who was the dummy in this scenario? You be the judge.



Ready for some more stories? We are now into part two.



Best,



Lisa