009: leaky face

Sadly, I am still sick.

In a perfect world I would have been able to stay home the past two days and further rest and recuperate. In a perfect world, I would not have just moved into a new position at the clog factory, and the woman who the bulk of responsibilities I will be taking on would not be leaving the clog factory in less than 10 days.

In a perfect world, I would not need to spend as much time with her as I can to find a clue, and generally figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do as the new "employee relations manager"

Since we don't live in a perfect world, I have been living in a haze of cold medicine, antibiotics and coffee to make it through the last couple of days at the clog shop.

Peachy.

Today, I was scheduled for a meeting with an outside vendor, pretty important to just all of the employees in our company. About an hour or so before the meeting I was busy reviewing a report when I looked down and realized that my nose, which has lost all sense of feeling, and has become a cannon for snot, was leaking blood all down the front of my shirt and on to my pants.

Realizing the time, and my now blood covered shirt, I panicked about how the hell I was going to make this meeting with vendor. I envision Jason Vorhees walking into a meeting with a new vendor. "Hi, I'm fatmarc, the new guy, I just got done slaughtering some small animals, let me shake your hand!"

I can't be the new guy showing up with a blood covered shirt.

I grab my nose, stop the bleeding, and call Monkey. She gives me instructions to get the blood out. I head to the bathroom, strip off my shirt and begin scrubbing the blood off of my shirt.

One of the guys from the warehouse comes into the bathroom as I'm standing there shirtless, scrubbing away at the blood, and trying to get it cleaned up.

He was unfazed. He says to me, "hey man, what's going on?"

Me a little frantic, " uh, howdy, little blood problem here..."

He seems to notice that I'm not wearing a shirt and in fact washing it in the sink.

He offers up, "you can scrub it, but CSI can still find the dna..."

He dives into a stall to drop a load, or text his girlfriend.

I think to myself, "great either he thinks the new HR guy just killed somebody at lunch or that I have a huge coke problem, freaking brilliant." I get the blood out, and rush to try and get my shirt dry. I tell the fellow in the stall to have a great afternoon as I walk out of the bathroom.

Shirt dried, No blood to be seen for the meeting with the vendor. Meeting went well.

not a perfect world, but damn today, I'll fucking take it.

got a new round of drugs to start on to try and clear up whatever sinus/allergy/swineflu I have going on. We see how that works out. Someday I might even ride a bike again.

respect.
fatmarc

"Thanks for coming, please stay for the end credits, if you're wondering who the best boy is, it's somebody's nephew, um, don't forget to validate your parking, and to all you good people in the Midwest, sorry we said fuck so much. "