Better Than

"I recently became a member of an exclusive club." comedian Dane Cook announced to an arena full of his adoring fans, "It's the 'I dropped my phone in a toilet full of pee' club." The audience erupted in laughter at the premise, some I'm sure, also members of that same elite group. Well, today, I'm happy to announce that I did NOT drop my cell phone into a toilet bowl full of my own urine. However, considering this is a day in which I got shit on, it's only fitting that I be pissed on, as well.

My boss was in town, from his home base in Calgary. It's actually pretty great working for a company where your boss is one province away. There aren't any shenanigans taking place, but it's nice to not have someone breathing down your neck at every waking turn. I've been employed with this company for a little over six months now. When I signed my contract at the beginning of my tenure, I was promised a review at six months, with a $1 raise. I thought this was great, considering my previous job would nickel and dime you to death with measly twenty-five cent "slaps in the face" (as I called them). So when my boss-man rolled into town, I thought this was the opportunity to receive that raise.

I first received a sheet from him, on which had several words on it. Shit like "creativity" and "attendance" and other words associated with my position. I was to rate myself between 1 and 5, one being really shitty and five being absolutely perfect. I filled it out, being brutally honest where I thought I needed to be, and he did the same, adding comments on each line. Then shortly after lunch, I sat down with him to discuss what we'd written.

Apparently my being "brutally honest" paled in comparison to his read on me and my situation. He ranked me pretty f*cking low on most of the points. However, in discussing my take on them, I managed to change his mind more than once. Closer to four or five times, to be perfectly honest. He liked that I recognized where I needed to improve and adjusted the scores accordingly. After our talk, I felt relieved. It was one of the best reviews I'd ever had. Not like my former employer who'd rake you over the coals, then not offer up any guidance on how to improve. While basking in my accomplishments, I hesitated for a moment then asked about my raise, to which the boss-man responded, "I discussed it with B__ (who is the manager for western Canada), and we both agree that we're going to pass on giving it to you for now."

He saw that I was physically taken aback by this comment. "It's not that you don't deserve one," he explained, "it's just the sales are down in this branch." That's f*ckin' horse shit, I thought. Of course, the sales are down. There's ONLY two f*cking people working here. One's an idiot and the other's me, who doesn't know what the f*ck he's doing. "Maybe in the new year," he explained.

"Okay." I said, thinking that was a hell of a shot to take. I like to think, and he seemingly agreed, that although my knowledge and experience is limited in the hydraulics field, I've done rather well in the short time that I've been associated with this company. Although, getting shit on for something out of my hands, really doesn't seem fair.

So fast forward to my coming home. I had to go to the bathroom really bad. I had the first inklings that something was afoot, when I was at the grocery store. Being one who has an increasingly short span of opportunity between my body's alerting my brain to the need for bladder evacuation, I knew that my window was decreasing exponentially. Generally, not to share too much information with you, when my body "says" pee, I need to get to a bathroom quick! The same goes for the other end of the spectrum too, only I have a little longer window there because of the ability to clench my butt cheeks together. Stop the "turtling-effect", so-to-speak. But this was definitely urinary-related.

I rushed home, the best I could, obeying posted traffic speed limits all the while. Thank Christ the kiddies are out of school when I come home from work. I got into the garage and retrieved all my shit out of the trunk, and headed into the house. Times growing more and more desperate. There was now a little sidle and skip step in my walk, as I sang my ever-popular song, "Jeffy's Gotta Pee!" The lyrics are real simple. It goes like this. "Jeffy's gotta pee! Jeffy's gotta pee! Oh my god, does Jeffy gotta pee!" [repeat, second verse - same as the first!]

Now if anyone's read my previous blog, you'll know that I f*cked my leg up pretty f*cking bad the other day, after a nasty fall at work. The doctor says it's a groin pull and I'll take her word on that, but it feels more like a tearing of my quadricep. I haven't any strength in it and every step I take feels like flesh being violently torn from the bone, like watching a lioness tear into a wildebeest. So no matter how much volume I was giving the song, trying to make it down the stairs and to the bathroom was now a desperate battle, followed by removing my shorts 'n' underwear.... I'll spare you the details.

The end result was not pleasant. I sat on the seat, inspecting the aftermath. The only conclusion I could succumb to was "It figures that on a day that I'd get shit on, I'd get pissed on as well."

One proverb that I often repeat to those around me, seems eerily fitting here is "It's better to be pissed off, than pissed on." Now I can admit to being both.