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Just Another Way to Get Myself Fired

Speaking of screwing up at work — see the last post, in case you missed that particular embarrassing little gem — I’m watching The Professional right now. On DVD. My wife bought it for me for Valentine’s Day, because she kicks all kinds of ass.

(Yeah, I know. I’ll tie it back in to the work thing. Keep your pantaloons on, there, Fredo.)

So, anyway, things are always going screwy at work, one way or another. I’m a programmer, and somehow I got stuck with babysitting this crap-ass legacy system for our group. I don’t know how, exactly — maybe I pissed somebody off, or lost a drunken bet I don’t remember. Or maybe it’s just karma, for all the annoying shit I’ve done in my life. Who knows?

Anyway, this system sucks ostrich ass. Feathers and all, seriously. It’s full of holes, fragile as hell, and everyone who was around when the bastard was built is gone now. Probably in loony bins somewhere, but that’s not the point. The point is, between this thing going down every ten minutes, and all the shit at work that I actually break myself, people are constantly running into my office, asking why some thing or other isn’t working, or why they get an error screen, or why their mothers never loved them.

I’m supposed to have all the answers, somehow. And I can see the people coming, with that look on their face. Concern. Anger. Fear.

(And a little bit of horny. Hey, I’m a sexy programmer — who can blame them?)

Anyway, back in the real world… when they come down the hall, looking for me — with that look — I always want to say the same thing to them. I never say it, but I always, always, always want to. The same quote, from The Professional. From Stansfield, to Mathilda, in the mens’ room in the DEA office, just the way he said it in the movie:

‘What filthy piece of… shit did I do now?‘

Classic. One day I’ll say it. Probably to one of the bosses, in a fit of wild, giggly abandon. And they’ll either get it, and say, ‘Hey, cool flick. And don’t talk to me like that, you douchebag.‘ Or they won’t get it, and I’ll be fired. Still — it’ll be cool. I just thought I’d share.

Okay, that’s it, then. I’m signing off, so I can watch the fireworks at the end of the movie. Man, that scene at the end with the Sting song always gets me. Who says romance is dead?