Tuesday, November 10, 2009

There's A Box on the Fridge

My current employer is a dream come true. Besides the salary, the location and people cannot be beat. I honestly love my job.

The last employer I had was fun. The commute was the worst thing imaginable, but the people I worked with made me want to be there. I just couldn't beat the camaraderie or fun had on basically a daily basis.

Our manager, though, was a little off. She had some issues with moods, and there were stories. Of things being thrown at people. Like large soup cans. Because she was having a bad day.

I don't think I ever crossed her directly. But I did spend time with people she thought were a bad influence because they didn't do what she wanted.

She was notorious for setting her own ours. Our department operated from 6am to 5pm, Monday through Friday. We knew that if she was there before 9 there was an emergency, and I think there was a period where we may not have seen her for several days. There was the ability to work from home, and I think she took advantage of it as often as it was possible.

The floor plan for the department was pretty open. When you stepped off the elevator, you were in direct view of one end of the department, and her arrival was quietly made known to those of us who had to be a little more careful than others.

And I cannot tell you how much I laughed when I realized that the whispering of "Coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs!" was the officially warning for her arrival. People who were not in the know always looked at us oddly over this, but it never failed to bring a smile to a stressful situation.

Leaving there was hard. The commute was killing me, and I had to make a break. My last day was sad, I couldn't help but want to cry. But when I arrived at work they had gotten me a gift:

A box of Cocoa Puffs, autographed by our little group of misfits.

It made the move from our apartment to the house we are renting now, and will make the trip to VA. And every time I look at it, the memories of the whispered warning and the giggling faces makes me wish I could go back and do it one more time with that group of people. They were the greatest, and I am so glad that I can still call them friends.

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