Thursdays at the company are unusually hectic because it's report day. That is the blessed day when you get to tally up the numbers by 5 p.m. and send them to the boss' mean assistant, a.k.a me.
If the saying is that the devil wears Prada, then she must wear the softest ballet flats ever. Because then the upstairs staff won't be alerted to the determined tap-tap-tap that her heels make before entering the office, giving them no time to look appropriately busy crunching the numbers.
I apparently need to step up the mean act because the numbers still don't come in by 5 pm. Or by 7:30 pm. Or by 9:59 pm. This all adds up to me hanging out at the office till midnight to pull the report together.
But I'm being too cranky about it. This needs some positive uplifting. Ok. Fine. I'll rename OCIT to "Oh Christmas It's Thursday!" And yes, Christmas, simply because it starts with C. And no, it doesn't make sense. Let me know if you can come up with a better alternative.
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