Two amazing things happened this past week. I spent four days in Bar Harbor, Maine – perhaps the most beautiful place on the face of the Earth (despite being very biased, I may not be that far from the truth) and the trailer for The Walking Dead’s fourth season was released.
I returned to work on Thursday to find just how eerily similar to that preseason trailer my office had become.
Before we get to that, though, I must tell you about the single, most disgusting personality that I had the misfortune of meeting while up in Maine.
My lovely girlfriend and I – and she thought I’d never manage to work her into a blog post – rented bicycles for a day and rode around Acadia National Park. I highly recommend you do the same. Just not with my girlfriend. She’s mine.
Anyway, possessiveness aside, we had until 6:00 PM to return our rental bikes, and we figured we’d make it back in plenty of time when we left the shop around 2:00.
Well, was I ever SORELY mistaken.
It’s about a 90 minute ride (that’s an hour and a half for you non-time savvy people) from the beginning of the park to the famous Jordan Pond House up in the woods where you can stuff your face with food and not feel guilty about it because you just rode a bicycle there.
What an amazing concept.
Due to the overwhelmingly beautiful scenery of Acadia and our compulsive need to take a picture every 10-15 minutes, we ended up not sitting down to eat until 4:00 PM. Okay, no big deal, just don’t take forever eating and we’ll be all set...
Who has not taken forever eating something they didn’t have to worry about eating? You eat way more quickly when you know you shouldn’t be eating something, disallowing your body and your mind the time to maybe make that gut-wrenching decision to stop eating the entire Oreo cheesecake.
But when you know you can eat something for the pure enjoyment, you enjoy the heck out of it. That meal is getting dragged out for as long as possible. It’s science.
And that’s what happened. I paid our check and looked down at my phone to see that HOLY BALLS IT’S ALREADY FIVE O’CLOCK.
We figured, “Hey, we’re active people, we can cut a leisurely bike ride by 30-40 minutes no problem. No more extended photography sessions and we’re good.”
Unfortunately we then proceeded to take a wrong turn out of the restaurant – I won’t say whose fault that was – and wasted another 15 minutes getting back to where we started. Great. We have 45 minutes to ride 8.5 miles back to the shuttle that takes bikers back and forth from the entrance of the park to the bike shop. That’s doable, maybe.
We made it to the shuttle area at 5:57. Eight and a half miles. Forty-two minutes. That’s like Lance Armstrong pace. Pre-cancer and pre-steroid Lance Armstrong. EXCEPT FASTER.
That’s when we acquainted ourselves with the ever so lovely sign that read:
“Shuttle runs daily from 8:00 AM to 5:00 PM :)”
I don’t know what they’re smiling about...
This led to a crazed, 4-mile bike ride back to the town, that actually felt reminiscent of the Tour de France, in… get this… 15 minutes to get back to the bike shop. Out of breath; covered in dirt, sweat, and horse poop; and our butts engulfed in flame after riding on what was the hardest bicycle seats ever fashioned… We got there before they were closed! Woo!
I walked in and waited as some old gasbag of a guy talked to the lady at the counter about Christ knows what. Finally I get up there and she says to me, “It’s after 6, that’s gonna be $10 per bike as a late fee.”
Now, I’ve never hit a woman before, in public or private. But this woman must have had testicles the size of bicycle wheels if she thought she could outright say that to my face. I don’t understand why people wield this fake sense of power around as if they’re important.
Especially you, Grouchy McGrouchface. I’m talking about you. Get a real job instead of being such a hardo on customers that are 15 minutes late with their rentals. It’s not like they were broken or returned a week late. We’re talking 15 minutes here. Fif. Teen. You weren’t even closed for the day yet, I don’t understand.
So I pulled out $10, put it on the table, and said have a nice day.
Yes, you read that correctly. $10. Which would be $10 short. Now who’s got testicles the size of bicycle wheels. Actually I don’t want that. That’s beyond unhealthy.
WOW, that was quite the digression. Anyway, that was my vacation. I came back on Thursday to find that I work with a bunch of animals.
I walk over to my desk to find that my chair is gone, the batteries to wireless mouse are gone, and my Wi-Fi cable had been taken. Animals, I tell you. And this was ONE WEEK after I just got that mouse. As it was, I had been doing the billing for an entire company on a little dinky laptop, so when I was so graciously awarded with a mouse (which oh my goodness, has been such a godsend).
They went right for the jugular and I was gone for only three days. They’re no better than zombies. My office was like an old, beat up car that had been scrapped for parts. By ruthless zombies.
By the end of the day Friday, here’s how things had played out.
Story: Borrowed for emergency purposes when another cable snapped.
Status: Returned first thing Thursday morning. Atta boy Tom.
Story: Taken to remediate back issues stemming from another chair.
Status: Guess who now has the chair with the reputation for developing back issues. Yup.
Story: Scavenged for selfish and lazy purposes.
People suck. Challenge accepted.
All photos/screenshots by Jake Miller/Gavel Media.
This blog and all of its previous entries have been completely satirical in their intent. All names have been changed, but to be honest - half of the people you've come to know and love were completely made up. Also, much of my content was made up to entertain you wonderful readers because, let's be honest, who wants to read about me actually doing work at work.