Oh so sweet Friday
It's feeling more and more like I'm taking a run up from the edge of Sunday and leaping over the week, barely grasping the fringe of 6 PM, Friday.
He made it again. On a dreaded 13th, no less.
With my work ethic, though, I can't see myself in that position for much longer. I work in the international affairs dept. of a patents and trademarks agency. It's a relatively small company, employing about 25 people, and if we receive a phone call from outside the country with the caller insisting on English, well... People go ape shit looking for yours truly. Now that's pathetic for a business enterprise which was built up by foreign clients.
Take my boss. The bullshit maestro just bought a Volvo for around sixty grand €, only because freelancers have come and gone, translating page after page of these patent applications sent over by big ass pharmaceutical companies. Back then, I'm told, it was fascinating to watch the place snowballing gradually to it's current breadth. So many people have been instrumental during this period, building Jimbo his secure perpetual motion machine. The instrumental people are probably none the better for it. Somewhere there's a graduate student, a divorced gal, whatever, who has bills to pay, kids to feed, and who once upon a time slid in a building block while passing through. This guy just sits there and enjoys his hair on the phone while the sacks visibly throb. Then he wonders why we're all so lethargic and unwilling to get some work done. Duh!
I file the applications, translate the PCT National Phase specifications, wait on the pending, take international calls, take care of the tri-monthly bulletin, design tid bits for the website and copies for our ads, fix comp. problems...
But JIMBO gets the VOLVO!
At least his wife's fat