Duplicitous cripples necessitating pony warfare.
July 31, 2006
There is a new lady at my work. I suspect she is evil and crazy.Now I am not one for snap judgements…no that’s not true, I almost exclusively make snap judgements, but in this case I feel wholly justified. Let me paint you a picture here: I arrived at the office slightly late, as I stopped to help a homeless reclaim his shattered dignity, and briskly made my way to my desk. My seasoned co-workers warmly greeted me and entreated that I stop and chat a while. I acknowledged their greetings but begged off conversation, as I am brooding man of mystery who must always remain apart, alone and unknowable, until the end. Just as I was about to settle in my boss, a cool lady, announced we had a new hire and suggested I introduce myself.
The initial introduction was fine. She was older lady, seemed alert and capable, a serious sort that would handle her business. Then my boss pointed out her tiny black dog in a fluorescent vest “Hey check out her adorable dog”". I did so. He looked up at me with eyes full of love, my heart swelled up two sizes, I reached out to pet the creature that would take away all the pain in my life… she hurled he self in front of me and declaimed “NO!, that’s a working dog and you’re not allowed to pay any attention to him”. Stunned at the turnaround I looked down at his little pink fluorescent vest and sure as spoken, written in bold black letters, was “I’m a working dog, please don’t pet me”. (It’s bad enough to drive away any source of affection but do they have to write it in the first person, as if he were so desperate to maintain his professionalism that the dog himself demanded they silk screen a warning on him).
Ok, I figured “maybe she’s blind or something, I can forgive her hideous cruelty”. So I watched her working, watched her reading the tiny ticketing screen with out issues, watched her listen attentively and pick up everything, watched her pick out my every fault and deed with her searching gaze. She can see fine, hear fine, and I am fairly sure the dog is not there to taste her food and report on it’s quality… so why? Why scam your way into getting a special handicap dog that you can bring to work, just to force it suffer through neglect and spirit crushing office conversation. My conclusion: She is feeling impaired. She has a black heart and sociopathic lack of conscience so the dog is there under court mandate to warn if she about to do something callous and hurtful, that to her soulless perception would seem a harmless act.
This has left me in the untenable position of having a wonderful dog, which loves me, six feet away yet I cannot touch or acknowledge in it any way. I just started thinking about the little guy and her dark chi swelled forth and stung my eyes. The only solution I can reckon is to engage in a little workplace Reductio ad absurdum and see if I can turn the tables.
First thing tomorrow I go down to my crooked doctor and get me a prescription for one of them massage ponies. I’ll stand the creepy bastard up behind my chair and have him work my traps and back, letting out little moans of pleasure “Oh yeah pony, do it two times, you touch me so wrong but it feels so good “, all day long. And not only will I not share my massage pony, they can’t look at it, talk to it, or speak of it to there friends. After a few weeks of that trip I can see the workplace policy on special pets undergoing a sudden paradigm shift.
I can only hope this forces her to become a less evil person and not drive her to smother her dog in thwarted rage.
July 31, 2006 at 5:08 pm
“My conclusion: She is feeling impaired. She has a black heart and sociopathic lack of conscience so the dog is there under court mandate to warn if she about to do something callous and hurtful, that to her soulless perception would seem a harmless act.”
I nearly fell off my chair laughing after reading that part. WTF is wrong with that lady? And why can’t the dog be petted? It’s fucked-up is what!
July 31, 2006 at 5:18 pm
As she explained it to my boss the dog cannot be pet as the human contact uncrushes it spirit. As such it becomes less viglant in its duties, nebulous though they be, and prone to disobediance. Much like a battered spouse the dog self esteem much be eroded by social isolation in order to remain in enthralled.
August 1, 2006 at 1:52 pm
I know you’re not supposed to distract a guide dog while it’s working, but usually if you are in a social or low vigilance situation the dog’s person will let you pet them. If this woman won’t even let you pet the dog when she is sitting still for long periods of time that sounds just WRONG. You should call Canadian Guide Dogs for the Blind and see what they have to say about it.
Or you could just get the massage pony to kick some sense into the woman. Grrrr.
August 1, 2006 at 4:54 pm
Maybe it’s a seizure dog?
August 2, 2006 at 3:57 pm
I must know the dog’s intended purpose. I will not rest until then…
Well, maybe just a little snooze after lunch.
August 2, 2006 at 3:59 pm
PS -
“…as I am a brooding man of mystery who must always remain apart, alone and unknowable, until the end.”
Lines like that are designed to win a Gap’s heart.
August 2, 2006 at 7:15 pm
John Gap!
You old manatee theif, if I’d known bloggin would bring you out from the shadow I would have started months ago.
August 3, 2006 at 7:25 pm
I didn’t even have to leave the shadow either. I can read it perfectly from here.
August 22, 2006 at 11:28 am
[...] Over the course of the next few months Pawtucket and I’s relationship began to deteriorate. His constant lies, petty theft, and fire breathing gradually alienated me. (He may have been lying about the fire breathing.) He started running with a bad crowd; Jim Jim the one eyed massage pony, that kid down the hall who never held the door open for me, and a Lemur named “Stab master Pluto”. I tried my best to re-establish our bond but that bastard monkey had become so cold and dismissive. The last straw was the day I came home to find that filthy Pony wearing my glasses and using my Razor. When I asked him to stop he danced about mimicking me in his nasal horsey voice. Pawtucket just laughed, it was too much. Also the Lemur stabbed me twenty times. It was decided that we should go our separate ways. [...]
August 25, 2006 at 8:23 pm
[...] See Duplicitous cripples necessitating pony warfare. for earlier work troubles. [...]
September 5, 2006 at 11:53 am
[...] Letter 2 - On Massage Ponies Are Massage ponies real? If so where can I get one? [...]
October 19, 2006 at 1:57 pm
[...] Duplictious Cripples [...]
October 19, 2006 at 2:04 pm
[...] Comments Duplicitous cripples necessitating pony warfare. « Beats Entropy on To kill a king?Bring your kids to work day: Part 1 « Beats Entropy on Limited technical skillsBring your kidsto work day: Part 1 « Beats Entropy on Duplicitous cripples necessitating pony warfare.sabratoothtiger on Passive Depressive #4Jive on Top 8 mistakes I’ve recently made [...]
October 19, 2006 at 2:04 pm
[...] Recent Comments To kill a king? « Beats Entropy on Duplicitous cripples necessitating pony warfare.Duplicitous cripples necessitating pony warfare. « Beats Entropy on To kill a king?Bring your kids to work day: Part 1 « Beats Entropy on Limited technical skillsBring your kids to work day: Part 1 « Beats Entropy on Duplicitous cripples necessitating pony warfare.sabratoothtiger on Passive Depressive #4 [...]