Seth had a difficult time waking up this morning. Since it's hard to do math whilst semi-comatose, we got in the car and went out searching for science supplies. That's how I found myself talking to my boss' husband whilst driving through one of the most
dangerous intersections in Indianapolis.
Honestly, when one hears one's boss' spouse on the other end of the phone, the first thing you think is "oh my GOD, she's dead, and who is going to run the department?" It's kind of like your life, along with your immediate resignation, flashes before your eyes, actually. I think I may've thrown up a little in my mouth.
Turned out there was no disaster; the hubby was just in jail. I breathed a big sigh of relief when I realized not only that the boss was still kicking -- and working -- but that her hubby had just gotten tossed in the clink as a fundraiser for the Muscular Dystrophy Association. I have no idea what his "cell" looked like, and he had no idea how much bail money was involved, but it was pretty funny to hear his pitch. Matter of fact, he sounded pretty darn comfy, kinda like he had Rita Hayworth hanging on the wall, and a rock hammer in his Bible. Heck, Morgan Freeman was probably sitting right next to him, for all I could tell.
My response, of course, was to question if my participation would be reflected on my performance appraisal. Gotta watch out for ourselves, folks, when the boss is involved. He made no guarantees, so I ponied up for the cause, and I'm pretty sure that he's now a free man. If not, it's a good thing I already got my raise for the year. Maybe I'll use it to buy this cameo and doily trimmed jailbird coat, from The Vintage Zoo, on etsy. But hey, the power suit doesn't mean I want the boss' job, that's for sure. I just want to look cute for the po-po.