I should staple my wallet to my butt.
With all the nonsense going on at work, I was hoping Friday would be reasonably calm, and I'd be able to go home early (since I stayed a few hours late on Wednesday).
Well no, that's not the way things work. The way things work is, I realized I wasn't going to make the 7:12 express, so I decided to drive to work instead, use the car during lunch to run some errands, and go home early. Then I consulted my CalTrain schedule and realized if I caught the 7:56 "bullet" train to San Mateo, I could then wait ten minutes and take a train back one stop to Hayward Park, which is my work stop, and be at work by 9. If I didn't make it to the station on time, I'd drive.
So, I started out for work thinking I'd probably drive, and put my wallet in my sweatshirt pocket so I wouldn't be sitting on it the whole time. Got to the station and realized I still had a couple minutes before the train left, so I parked and walked briskly to the platform. When I got to the bottom of the stairs that lead up to the platform, I heard an automated voice say "the doors are about to close", so I decided to sprint, taking two and three stairs at a time, just to see the doors close on me. I was like "oh, c'mon, it is NOT 7:56 yet!", and a guy next to me was standing there saying the same thing. After a minute the doors opened again and we clambered aboard. Found a seat and read my newspaper all the way to San Mateo. As I was walking down the aisle to get out, I casually put my hands in my jacket pockets, felt my phone, my car keys, and... uh... oh shit, where's my wallet? My hand went right to my back pocket. Nope, nothing there. Oh fuck, did I put the wallet on the passenger seat of my car? Did it... oh shit oh shit... fall out on those damn stairs? Is it still sitting on the couch at home? Am I that big a space cadet? FUCK! I ran back down the aisle, where the guy who was sitting next to me helped me look around and under the seats. Nope, no wallet there. So it had to be in the house or car or stairs. Realizing I probably had about 5 seconds left before the train started rolling again, I ran back down the aisle and leaped out of the train as the doors shut behind me.
So now I'm in San Mateo, checking my pockets again futilely, looking in my briefcase, hoping against hope a wallet would magically appear. There was nothing else I could do. Skipping work to go back home was not an option, not today. So I caught the southbound train back to my work stop and trudged to work. All I could think about as I scrambled to get all the financial reports out was "Oh man, I hope that dumb wallet is sitting in the car and no one sees it there. If it's on the stairs I'm so fucked.".
Friday would have been frustrating even without the missing wallet. One of the other senior accountants turned a morning doctor's appointment into an all-day absence (and man is she going to get shit for making an appointment during close week, and make it impossible for any of us to do the same in the future), the staff accountant who was supposed to serve out his last week with us before starting his new job elsewhere pulled a short-timer's syndrome thing and stayed home "sick" Wed-Fri, although he somehow managed to stay healthy long enough to come in at 3pm and clear out his desk (asshole), and the budget manager spent the entire morning in my Director's office weeping about how one of her employees put in his two weeks, so he was unavailable to us when we needed him most. I wound up doing a bunch of work for the missing senior on top of my own stuff. Then my CFO decided to make a small change to revenue last minute, meaning I had to redo ALL my reports, the ones I had just compiled and sent out. Nice.
Then, as I was preparing that last minute entry, my work phone rang. I expected it was probably the CFO with even more changes, or his assistant who had been calling me all day because she still doesn't know how to use the software we've had for almost a year now, or who knows what other manager with a problem. But no, I pick up and hear a lot of commotion on the other end (kids yelling or something) and then a heavily accented female voice asking "Michael"? "Yes, this is Michael Weaver in Finance." "Hello, my name is Fatosh. One of my tenants found your wallet at Tamien, on the stairs".
Holy crap, it WAS on the stairs! By all rights, it should be long gone, my bank account cleared out, the $8 inside being spent on Lotto tickets or cigarettes, my AMEX card # making its way across the globe thanks to the lovely asshole criminals on teh interwebs, topped off by a Best Buy spending spree. And don't forget the membership to Club One, Costco, and AAA. Throw in a $10 Jamba Juice card to refresh yourself after a day of criminal activity, and you're all set thanks to Space Cadet and First Spaz Michael Weaver, who keeps his beloved wallet in a wide open hoodie pocket on casual Fridays.
So of course all I could think of was picking up my wallet, thanking God and good luck for letting a decent honest woman find my wallet instead of the usual teens waiting for the bus or who knows who else goes up and down those stairs constantly. I was hoping to leave work an hour early and retrieve it, but that last minute CFO entry meant I was stuck taking the normal 5:45 train home.
So anyway, got back to my car, plugged Fatosh's address into the navi, got my wallet back (Fatosh's husband was a very nice fellow I must say Ed Grimley-style), drove to the nearby Outback, sat down at the bar and ordered a beer, a steak, and a motherfuckin' sundae. Best prime rib I've had in ages, too. Excellent way to end a shitty ol' day.
Oh yeah, I was having breakfast with my friend Brenda this morning at Cup & Saucer, and my cell rings. It shows an extension for the Director's work number. wtf? uh-oh. what now? on a Saturday? seriously? wtf. Sounds like both my bosses are at work, asking me about an entry I made for unrealized gain/loss. Why is the Foundation's restricted unrealized gain/loss being coded to the investment revenue accounting units? Don't those hit the P&L? OMG! So I had to explain, while the waitress is waiting to take my order, that no, those particular units do NOT hit the P&L. It looks like they would, but they don't, because such is the confusing nature of our new accounting system. Those units hit equity instead, but I'm the only one who understands the new methodology so now I get calls on Saturday morning, apparently. Weekends are mine, leave me alone, work people.
So yeah, next week should be a HOOT.
Well no, that's not the way things work. The way things work is, I realized I wasn't going to make the 7:12 express, so I decided to drive to work instead, use the car during lunch to run some errands, and go home early. Then I consulted my CalTrain schedule and realized if I caught the 7:56 "bullet" train to San Mateo, I could then wait ten minutes and take a train back one stop to Hayward Park, which is my work stop, and be at work by 9. If I didn't make it to the station on time, I'd drive.
So, I started out for work thinking I'd probably drive, and put my wallet in my sweatshirt pocket so I wouldn't be sitting on it the whole time. Got to the station and realized I still had a couple minutes before the train left, so I parked and walked briskly to the platform. When I got to the bottom of the stairs that lead up to the platform, I heard an automated voice say "the doors are about to close", so I decided to sprint, taking two and three stairs at a time, just to see the doors close on me. I was like "oh, c'mon, it is NOT 7:56 yet!", and a guy next to me was standing there saying the same thing. After a minute the doors opened again and we clambered aboard. Found a seat and read my newspaper all the way to San Mateo. As I was walking down the aisle to get out, I casually put my hands in my jacket pockets, felt my phone, my car keys, and... uh... oh shit, where's my wallet? My hand went right to my back pocket. Nope, nothing there. Oh fuck, did I put the wallet on the passenger seat of my car? Did it... oh shit oh shit... fall out on those damn stairs? Is it still sitting on the couch at home? Am I that big a space cadet? FUCK! I ran back down the aisle, where the guy who was sitting next to me helped me look around and under the seats. Nope, no wallet there. So it had to be in the house or car or stairs. Realizing I probably had about 5 seconds left before the train started rolling again, I ran back down the aisle and leaped out of the train as the doors shut behind me.
So now I'm in San Mateo, checking my pockets again futilely, looking in my briefcase, hoping against hope a wallet would magically appear. There was nothing else I could do. Skipping work to go back home was not an option, not today. So I caught the southbound train back to my work stop and trudged to work. All I could think about as I scrambled to get all the financial reports out was "Oh man, I hope that dumb wallet is sitting in the car and no one sees it there. If it's on the stairs I'm so fucked.".
Friday would have been frustrating even without the missing wallet. One of the other senior accountants turned a morning doctor's appointment into an all-day absence (and man is she going to get shit for making an appointment during close week, and make it impossible for any of us to do the same in the future), the staff accountant who was supposed to serve out his last week with us before starting his new job elsewhere pulled a short-timer's syndrome thing and stayed home "sick" Wed-Fri, although he somehow managed to stay healthy long enough to come in at 3pm and clear out his desk (asshole), and the budget manager spent the entire morning in my Director's office weeping about how one of her employees put in his two weeks, so he was unavailable to us when we needed him most. I wound up doing a bunch of work for the missing senior on top of my own stuff. Then my CFO decided to make a small change to revenue last minute, meaning I had to redo ALL my reports, the ones I had just compiled and sent out. Nice.
Then, as I was preparing that last minute entry, my work phone rang. I expected it was probably the CFO with even more changes, or his assistant who had been calling me all day because she still doesn't know how to use the software we've had for almost a year now, or who knows what other manager with a problem. But no, I pick up and hear a lot of commotion on the other end (kids yelling or something) and then a heavily accented female voice asking "Michael"? "Yes, this is Michael Weaver in Finance." "Hello, my name is Fatosh. One of my tenants found your wallet at Tamien, on the stairs".
Holy crap, it WAS on the stairs! By all rights, it should be long gone, my bank account cleared out, the $8 inside being spent on Lotto tickets or cigarettes, my AMEX card # making its way across the globe thanks to the lovely asshole criminals on teh interwebs, topped off by a Best Buy spending spree. And don't forget the membership to Club One, Costco, and AAA. Throw in a $10 Jamba Juice card to refresh yourself after a day of criminal activity, and you're all set thanks to Space Cadet and First Spaz Michael Weaver, who keeps his beloved wallet in a wide open hoodie pocket on casual Fridays.
So of course all I could think of was picking up my wallet, thanking God and good luck for letting a decent honest woman find my wallet instead of the usual teens waiting for the bus or who knows who else goes up and down those stairs constantly. I was hoping to leave work an hour early and retrieve it, but that last minute CFO entry meant I was stuck taking the normal 5:45 train home.
So anyway, got back to my car, plugged Fatosh's address into the navi, got my wallet back (Fatosh's husband was a very nice fellow I must say Ed Grimley-style), drove to the nearby Outback, sat down at the bar and ordered a beer, a steak, and a motherfuckin' sundae. Best prime rib I've had in ages, too. Excellent way to end a shitty ol' day.
Oh yeah, I was having breakfast with my friend Brenda this morning at Cup & Saucer, and my cell rings. It shows an extension for the Director's work number. wtf? uh-oh. what now? on a Saturday? seriously? wtf. Sounds like both my bosses are at work, asking me about an entry I made for unrealized gain/loss. Why is the Foundation's restricted unrealized gain/loss being coded to the investment revenue accounting units? Don't those hit the P&L? OMG! So I had to explain, while the waitress is waiting to take my order, that no, those particular units do NOT hit the P&L. It looks like they would, but they don't, because such is the confusing nature of our new accounting system. Those units hit equity instead, but I'm the only one who understands the new methodology so now I get calls on Saturday morning, apparently. Weekends are mine, leave me alone, work people.
So yeah, next week should be a HOOT.