NB Diaries: Chapter 6

It’s been a while since the last time I wrote about New Boss, but that does not mean there’s been a shortage of interesting conversations. In fact, there have been so many conversations that I almost don’t know where to start. I feel like I should carry a tape recorder with me at all times.  These days, it’s not unusual for me to spend at least one day a week in her office for an hour or three, just listening to her stories. I’ve heard about her experience of taking the CPA exams in a covered barn in the pouring rain and about her entry-level jobs at several accounting firms. She’s told me about living with her husband and their wedding at the courthouse. She drew me a diagram of her gigantic walk-in closet and told me about the shelves collapsing about a year ago because of too many shoes piled on top. (No, the shelves have not been fixed yet.) She dotes on her two nephews that live in town and still goes to visit her mom.  I know that she doesn’t like to go outside the house unless it’s to go to work or to see family, but she and her husband keep all of their bird feeders full of food so their cats can watch the birds. Their bird bath is heated too so the birds can still come in the winter. 

 Last Friday I found myself walking to her office, report in hand, around 9:15. Before I realized it, it was almost time for lunch and we were still talking! It always starts with something work-related and then, maybe because I’m so nosy, we trail off to something she collects or somewhere she’s been or something she’s interested in.

 Friday’s conversation actually started in my cubicle over a work issue, when we got in a bit of a discussion over the pronunciation of the word “asterisk.”

 NB: You could draw it up like this and maybe put an ASS-TER-RISK by this… Me (interrupting): What’d you just say? NB: What? You don’t know what an ASS-TER-RISK is? Me: It’s ASSTRICK.

 Ok, ok, before you go and join her side, let me just say that I know how the word is spelled. I realize there’s an S before the K at the end. But most people don’t pronounce it that way (at least not around here). And they certainly don’t make it sound like three different words like she did.

 NB ended up going back to her office while my coworkers still laughed about me trying to correct her. Two were laughing at me for being wrong; the other was telling me he was getting ready to defend my pronunciation of the word.

 Five minutes later I, along with the rest of my team, received a series of four emails.  The first was the definition from definition.reference.com and the second was an audio file of how to pronounce the word.

 Third email: Even Lil Wayne knows how to pronounce “ASTERISK.”

 And the fourth, after she could still hear me arguing that my pronunciation was right: Girl, you were wrong. Just give it up, you’re making yourself look like a fool!

 I quickly prepared the report she had asked for, minus the asterisk, and took it to her office. We reviewed it together; she was pleased. 

And then - and I can’t for the life of me remember how – the conversation turned to her admitting that she had googled me (and my coworkers, too). Now, I don’t really think this is all that weird (let’s face it, I googled her too), but it was a little weird that she admitted it to me. She knew Doc’s name and commented on the china we registered for  - apparently its still online. She knew the day we got married and where I went to school. 

My heart started pounding as I asked her about what all she found. I was terrified that somehow she had found this blog. (Maybe she did and just didn’t let on. Hi, NB?)  She did say that I was pretty boring and there wasn't anything interesting. 

She found my facebook profile but was upset that I had it set to private so she could only see my profile picture and nothing else. 

And then, THEN!, that’s when she hurt my feelings. She told me I did not look good in my profile picture. 

But she didn’t stop there (I have thick-ish skin, I could handle that). She went on for 5 or 10 minutes about how much she disliked my sunglasses and how awful they look on me. 

NB: They’re way too big of frames, which is outdated. Me: That’s kinda the point. I think it’s funny how big they are. NB: They are completely unflattering to your face. Your face is small and those frames are huge. Me: But I like them. NB: I don’t care if you like them, they look stupid. 

And on and on and on. One of my coworkers was actually present for that part of the conversation, so I have a witness that I’m not making this up. She seriously did not like my sunglasses. 

Are they really that bad?


Anyway, I jokingly told a couple of friends about it over the weekend as if she’d hurt my feelings, but truth be told, I was over it by the time lunch was over. I still like the glasses and I will wear them proudly! 

Needless to say, by this morning (Tuesday) the whole ordeal was long forgotten. NB was out of the office yesterday and I really just hadn’t thought about it at all.

 Until I got this email:

 To: Lucy@workemail.com From: NB@newboss.com Date: Tuesday, 9:29am

 Subject: I didn’t mean what I said about your sunglasses.

 They are really cute. Sometimes I act like a jerk. Plus, you are so awesome, I have to make up stuff to kid you about.

 I’m sorry.

 New Boss

  So, there you go: my sunglasses are cute and I’m awesome.