Last Tuesday was Boss’s Day.  I don’t know who thought that one up, but I’ll bet it was Hallmark or somebody else planning to make a buck off of it.  I have a hard time celebrating Boss's day.  Now Insubordination Day I could go for.  Don't get me wrong, I like my boss, but it’s not a day I would remember.  The only day I regularly remember is Friday.  Needless to say, I didn’t buy him anything nor did the rest of the group.  However, when I saw it on my calendar I figured I’d make it memorable for him.  So I gathered up some junk that was cluttering my office, a nut bowl, a bottle of antibacterial soap that had changed colors, a jar of Folgers instant coffee that was about ¼ full and at least 8 years old,.  Then I went around and got the others to contribute.  We got a pink paper clip, a jar of powdered lemonade with about two tablespoons in it, some Kit-Kats in a tiny little gift bag that had “Glenda” written on it, a half roll of Life Savers (from last Christmas), a bag of rancid peanuts, a stress reliever ball, a dead hard drive, a muffin fan, a Dum-Dum sucker with a wad of pocket lint stuck on the stick, a 4 year old tin of “ManageMints”, a bottle of hand lotion, a turkey made out of a pine cone and construction paper (obviously by a preschooler), a Special K candy bar, a broken wrist pad from a keyboard tray, a Zip Drive disk, a couple of binder clips, a strap for a memory stick and some other really cool stuff.

    We all went into his office and I made a presentation with everybody else smiling and pointing out what they provided.  He looked at us and grinned slightly.  I reminded him that it’s the thought that counts.  I was out of the office the next day, but when I returned I found the nut bowl had been returned to my office.  Then I realized most of the items were back at their original owners’ desks.  I went to his office and saw that he had kept the hand lotion, the antibacterial soap, the instant coffee and the pine cone turkey.  I was shocked.  This is exactly why we shouldn’t have Boss’s Day...you can never please them.

    Changing the subject...I worked for the US Treasury Department for a short while many moons ago.  I’m not going to say in what capacity, but trust me, it was nothing glamorous.  Several other employees and I had to spend a number of days working at the state mental hospital.  They put us in a conference room (instead of a padded cell as would have been appropriate) and we reviewed records...THOUSANDS of records.

    Anyway, one day as we sat there looking through files, we heard a scuffle going on at the admissions desk.  Someone identified them self as a sheriff’s deputy and we could hear a group of folks talking.  It sounded like they were admitting someone involuntarily but we couldn’t really tell for sure.  Suddenly in a very loud voice we heard a man sing, “ONE LITTLE, TWO LITTLE, THREE LITTLE INDIANS!”  One of the older ladies in the room with us got a very startled look on her face, obviously grasping the gravity of the situation and said, “Bless his heart!”, then started laughing uncontrollably.  You had to be there I guess.

    Another interesting thing was that every afternoon when it was time to go, there were guys standing around in the parking lot asking for rides.  I thought this type of activity would be something they would try to prevent, but several years later I had the occasion to go back out there on business once again.  As before, when I got ready to leave, there were guys standing around wanting to catch a ride.  Being Southern I find it difficult to be inhospitable (especially at a hospital), but as sure as you give someone a ride, they’d be a murderer or psychopath or something and then YOUR picture would be the one that showed up on TV as an accomplice in the escape.