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« Maricruz | Main | Working Remotely »

Ceiling Tiles

Since the 30th floor has more offices with 15X15 ceiling tiles (and above) than any other floor, it was decided that more executives should be occupying those offices and the middle managers like myself should be moved out. 

Executives at this company count ceiling tiles to determine who's got the bigger and better office.  I had a 16X17 ceiling tile office.  It was always interesting to watch someone with a higher title than me count the tiles as they spoke to me in my office.

Most of them ended the conversation pissed off once they'd gotten the final tally.

On Friday my team and I moved from the 30th floor to the 25th floor. 

The good news is that Mulhausen and Fernandez will both remain on the newly crowned executive floor. And since offices on that floor will only be occupied by Directors and above, Smithee will stay there with them. Dinton has also now been moved to the floor and will occupy my old office.

So two of the largest offices in the building will be occupied by an executive who doesn't exist and another executive who hasn't been seen for months.

Since the floor we're moving to does not have a large enough space for my entire team of 23, half my team will be located all the way on the other side of the building.

At lunchtime, I went over to Target and bought a scooter. Going from one end of the floor to the other takes a long time. But not with a scooter.

We share the floor with Marketing. I don't think they like my scooter.

The good thing about sharing the floor with a non-I.T. department is that the female talent ratio shoots way up. And Marketing tends to be the best department for hot women because it doesn't take much to get a marketing degree.

I'm not saying hot women aren't smart; I'm saying hot women are lazy. 

A tight ass and a bodacious set of ta-tas gets you everything in life. Why work for anything if you can get the same thing by just smiling and showing some cleavage? 

As I was whizzing by International Marketing, I noticed a dark haired Latina woman wearing dark red lipstick over plump, pouty lips, a white blouse and a blue skirt with slit up the back nearly all the way to her crack.

I found out her name is Maricruz.

I haven't spoken to her yet, but she will become a member of my user pool. I know this because she looked at me. Not just any look. It's the look I'm very familiar with; it's the look I love to get.

I was riding by on my scooter and skidded to a stop when I saw her. I smiled and there it was:

Fuck me.

Reader Comments (2)

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August 10, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterVincent

I love how you put a story together. And how you end it. Heh.

August 12, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterWinter

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