The horror. THE HORROR!!!!!!
My drunken mama applied at my company. For a job. At my company. A job here where I work.
I just have this horrible brain picture of her sleeping with all of the execs… or worse, the guy who waters the plants, and then coming into work drunk. Or, more likely, not coming in at all.
The humanity. Gah.
I am just so completely horrified that I don’t even know what to do. She came over to my house and wanted my help creating a resume. Which I did. The road to hell is paved with good intentions.
She swears up and down that she really really wants to get into a nice company with good benefits, which, to be honest, fits my company pretty well. And both Mo and myself work here. And we’ve both advanced pretty quickly and drive nice cars. I think that she thinks we work in a typing pool as secretaries or something. She keeps telling me that she’s taking computer courses while I try to hide my complete and utter horror.
I suppose that almost everyone has issues. I mean, would you want your mother working with you? I’m actually lucky… My job is in a totally different area, thus, I wouldn’t have to worry about dysfunctional contamination. Mo, unfortunately, would be working with her more closely.
As God as my witness, I don’t know what to do. I mean, how can you sabotage your own mother’s attempts to make her own life more stabile? I’m standing at a crossroads, where in one direction, there’s a big vat of poo and Satan sitting on the lifeguard seat and in the other direction a sign which says “Remove clothes here” in front of a vast field of razors, broken glass, and dirty medical waste, followed by a lake of boiling lemon juice and possibly salt as well.
I’m hoping for a quick and painless death before she gets an interview. Perhaps something involving a martyred act. Possibly I’ll set myself on fire in Mal*wart, in defiance of pervasive cheap plastic crap.
