Today was the last day for the woman who sits behind me. The flighty woman who is missing some major brain cells and doesn’t know how to do her job. Yeah, she’s leaving. I’m really torn up about it. I’m not sure which I’ll miss most: her lack of common sense or her cell phone with the “Marry the Night” ringtone. Or maybe her frizzy hair. It’ll be tough on Monday when I don’t have to listen to her tell me about her cat or how cute her son is or how difficult it is to walk and chew gum at the same time. Somehow, I’ll make it through.
This morning her boss, who is hot as sin, had a little going away party for her. There were bagels, and muffins, and breakfast pastries. Carb-o-licious! One teeny tiny problem: she’s Jewish and observing Passover. Not a single thing at her own party that she could eat. Not one single thing.
Um, what kind of boss does that? I know he knows she’s Jewish. I overheard them talk about it the other day! I swear this was the exact conversation:
- Him: What did you do for Easter this weekend?
- Her: I’m Jewish. We don’t celebrate Easter, but we’re in the midst of Passover.
- Him: Oh. Right. So no Peeps for you. [stupid laugh] Tell me about what you do for Passover.
- Her: [launches into a boring monologue about giving up leavened bread for a week and the plight of the Jews and lamb’s blood on the door and how God wanted the first born son.]
- Him: So you can’t eat bread for a week?
- Her: Nope. Not until next weekend.
- Him: That sucks!
- Her: It’s not so bad. It’s only a few days, not like Lent where you have to give up something for 40 days.
- Him: Wow. That’s tough! So what did you give up for Lent?
Hot? Yes. Bright? No.