My Boss Strikes Again

Free AI web copilot to create summaries, insights and extended knowledge, download it at here

997

Abstract

boss about the demise of the furnace and how I should BRING SPACE HEATERS ASAP.Uh, sorry, no. Busy watching my mom die, you self-centered POS.By the way — I told you so.I replied, “Open all of the taps, slight stream. Will prevent pipes from freezing.” I thought this was common knowledge, but apparently not.I replied, “Go to Walmart and buy space heaters.” Again, duh.He wants me to bring my personal space heaters (“or your mom’s?”) to the office.Sorry, but I’m using my space heaters in the brief periods of time I’m actually in my house and not, as mentioned earlier, sitting in a nursing home watching my mom die.How the fact that he won’t keep up HIS PROPERTY becomes MY PROBLEM is beyond me.Did I mention we have a tenant? God only knows what he’s going to do. A new furnace won’t be here until the weekend.The windchill is -1

Options

5.Sucks to be him.A good landlord would pay for a motel room, but that seems unlikely. Instead, I guess we’re just going to run space heaters 24 hours a day for the next four days which sounds SUPER SAFE AND NOT AT ALL PROBLEMATIC.There’s a gas fireplace in the waiting room, which is also broken and you basically have to reach into the fire to turn it on and off.Have at it.I can practically guarantee that my boss will disappear for the rest of the week and leave the rest of us to get by however we can.Meaning me. Everybody else will just stay home, but I don’t exactly have that option. I go to the office to get some small break from gestures broadly all of this and to work my second job since my laptop at home won’t turn off anymore. I’m sure that’s normal.I won’t even say, “Things can’t get any worse,” because clearly, they can.</article></body>

My Boss Strikes Again

His timing is impeccable.

Number of months ago that my boss was told we need a new furnace at the office: 8.

Number of times I reminded him: 3.

Amount of money he spent on his recent European vacation instead of replacing the furnace: $30,000.

Number of times the furnace died: 1.

Time of death: Today.

First it apparently caught on fire and emitted a hideous, acrid, burning plastic smell that probably gave me brain cancer, and then it died.

Hershey and I retreated to the nursing home which, despite the Covid outbreak, still seems safer than my office right now.

That’s where I got the text from my boss about the demise of the furnace and how I should BRING SPACE HEATERS ASAP.

Uh, sorry, no. Busy watching my mom die, you self-centered POS.

By the way — I told you so.

I replied, “Open all of the taps, slight stream. Will prevent pipes from freezing.” I thought this was common knowledge, but apparently not.

I replied, “Go to Walmart and buy space heaters.” Again, duh.

He wants me to bring my personal space heaters (“or your mom’s?”) to the office.

Sorry, but I’m using my space heaters in the brief periods of time I’m actually in my house and not, as mentioned earlier, sitting in a nursing home watching my mom die.

How the fact that he won’t keep up HIS PROPERTY becomes MY PROBLEM is beyond me.

Did I mention we have a tenant? God only knows what he’s going to do. A new furnace won’t be here until the weekend.

The windchill is -15.

Sucks to be him.

A good landlord would pay for a motel room, but that seems unlikely. Instead, I guess we’re just going to run space heaters 24 hours a day for the next four days which sounds SUPER SAFE AND NOT AT ALL PROBLEMATIC.

There’s a gas fireplace in the waiting room, which is also broken and you basically have to reach into the fire to turn it on and off.

Have at it.

I can practically guarantee that my boss will disappear for the rest of the week and leave the rest of us to get by however we can.

Meaning me. Everybody else will just stay home, but I don’t exactly have that option. I go to the office to get some small break from *gestures broadly* all of this and to work my second job since my laptop at home won’t turn off anymore. I’m sure that’s normal.

I won’t even say, “Things can’t get any worse,” because clearly, they can.