Interview with a Turkey

Posted on November 19, 2016 by Sheila Moss

turkey-birdGood day, Mr. Turkey. Thank you for agreeing to speak with us about life in the turkey shed and the approaching holiday season.

1. What sort of goals in life does a turkey have?

Well, I’ve been on a very strict diet lately. We turkeys have to really watch our weight at this time of the year or we could end up in hot water. My actual goal is to shrivel up to about the size of a feather duster.

2. Do you try to keep a positive attitude?

Oh yes, I’ve been lucky so far, made it though several Thanksgivings already.  Just have to hide behind the door when you see them coming with the meat thermometer.

3. Do you have any significant relationships?

Well, I’m not exactly a lovebird as I’m too old and fat to spread my tail feathers and strut. The missus does have some good-looking thighs, though, and plenty of white meat in the right places.

4. What do you think about the Thanksgiving holiday?

Well, I’m a vegetarian myself.  However, if you really want to know what being thankful is, visit the turkey shed on the day after Thanksgiving and talk to some of the turkeys that are still around. 

5. Do you ever think you would like to move to a place where they don’t celebrate Thanksgiving?

What I’d really like to do is be a guerrilla turkey, live in the wild, and carry a gun to protect myself.  They eat turkeys everywhere.  Some places just spread it out through the year a bit more.

6. Are turkeys the only animals with this type of situation?

No, chickens have it pretty rough too.  They are always in season.  So are pigs and cows… which are much more delicious than turkey, by the way.

7. How do you deal with the constant challenge of unpredictable situations?

The only thing unpredictable is when — and with how much cranberry sauce on the side. How would you like it, never knowing if you will be deep-fried, roasted, or made into lunchmeat?

8. Don’t you like being a turkey?

Well, I’ve never been anything else, so that’s a bit hard to answer.  I just wish those Pilgrims had never started this Thanksgiving stuff.

9. But, you must get a warm feeling from being wanted?

I try to avoid feeling warm, to tell the truth.  I’m afraid that if I get too warm it may be a bad sign, especially if it’s at 325 degrees.  Some days I have to check my popup timer just to be sure that I’m still alive.

10. Overall, would you say you are satisfied with your life?

There are a lot of things I’d like to accomplish before I go, like revenge against the meat industry, for instance.  But I try not to dwell on those thoughts.

12. Do you try to make a good impression on others?

Are you kidding?  I smoke cigars just to make me cough so they will think I’m too sick to slaughter.  I may be a turkey but I’m not stupid!

12. But, don’t you believe that a turkey that isn’t consumed is useless?

Useless? I’ll tell you what’s useless. This stupid interview is what’s useless. Just get out of my beak. You are starting to really ruffle my feathers.

Well, maybe we better call it a day.  I’ve got to hurry home and get ready for Thanksgiving.  All the relatives are coming, and… er… I guess maybe one of your relatives as well.

So… that’s it from the turkey shed, folks.  Thanks for the interview. Good luck, and I hope you will be around for a follow-up next year!

Copyright 2005 Sheila Moss
Posted in Creatures, Food, Holidays, Humor | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Old Stuff

Posted on November 16, 2016 by Sheila Moss

womanWhen I looked in the mirror today, I seemed to be getting older and fatter. How can that be? After all, old age is something that happens to other people, not to me. The stiff joints and the aches, however, are constant aggravations that keep insisting that I’m not as young as I used to be.

Can it be that youth is something that eventually becomes obsolete? But I’ve always tried to fight the aging process, kicking and screaming – or should I say dieting and dreading?

Could it mean that I’m getting old when my kids start complaining about getting gray hair? It was only a few years ago that they were still at home, running inside sweaty and full of sand from the sandbox, putting sticky handprints on everything and forgetting to shut the refrigerator door. How can it be that my daughter says she found a gray hair yesterday and pulled it out? Oh my, it can’t be that long ago.

I can’t even remember the onslaught of my own gray hair. Of course, I’ve always tinted my tresses to what the advertisements tell me is a more attractive hue. The years just keep going by while I stay exactly the same – at least that is what I thought. The makeup has become a bit more of a necessity and a bit less of a frivolous luxury, but I am rather glad that the oily skin problem became a dry skin problem. At least I don’t have to worry about zits any more.

The fine print is more and more difficult to read and deciphering it is almost impossible to see unless I wear my eyeglasses, regardless of how much I squint. Why is the print on medicine bottles so small anyhow? There ought to be a law. I’m fought the small print conspiracy for a while with contact lenses. But alas, I’m beginning to lose the reading glasses battle even with contacts. I’ve always had crummy eyesight, though, ever since I was a kid. It couldn’t be old age, which is something that happens to other people.

It is probably the settled life and absence of activity that has caused my hips to widen and the food to settle in different places. I used to be able to eat anything I wanted without gaining an ounce, in fact, I was always on the thin side. Then one day I looked down and saw them – thunder thighs! I don’t understand. Why me?

Other people seem not to be fighting obesity nearly as hard as I am. From the looks of the leftovers that came to the office in lunches on Monday morning, some people must spend all weekend frying chicken. I’m determined, however, not to be a member of the herds of baby elephants that get on the office elevator with their big behinds and big lunch bags.

In spite of watching my diet, the small, insignificant aches of younger years are becoming more accentuated, and I am always wondering what will start hurting next. Creams, pills, and vitamins have become a way of life. A certain amount of arthritis is a constant companion, though not a welcome one.

Hormones keep away “the change” while I dread the day the doctor decides I am getting a bit too old for them. Hormones are the fountain of youth, the giver of smooth, elastic skin, the keeper of femininity. It is not the loss of the ability to procreate that seems so dreadful. God knows, I’ve given my share to the population explosion already. It’s just that these creeping wrinkles must belong to someone else. Old age is something that happens to other people.

I’ve accumulated more possessions than I will ever use, and wonder why I ever wanted all this stuff anyhow. Yet, I keep hanging on to my “stuff,” afraid to let go.

I don’t mind the birthdays that keep rolling by, even though I have quit acknowledging them. It is only that I used to be able to go shopping without becoming tired. Now my knees hurt and I need to go to the restroom. But, I believe I can hold back age a while longer with enough pills and makeup.

I’m still almost positive that old age is something that happens to other people. I can’t possibly be just like everyone else.

Copyright 2001 Sheila Moss
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Turkeys Unite!

Posted on November 13, 2016 by Sheila Moss

turkeys.jpg

Turkeys unite! It’s time to panic! They are killing us by the millions. We must run while there is still time! Look around you – do you see any turkeys that you knew a year ago?

They are breeding us to increase the size of our plump white breasts and meaty legs. Did you think that your fine physique was merely a gift of nature? Thanksgiving is just around the corner. Millions will die.

Run! Escape while there is still time! We can no longer fly like our wild forefathers could; therefore we must run, no matter how hard it seems. Three hundred million of us will be consumed in a year. We can stop this slaughter of the innocent if we act now.

They have taken away our hormone and steroid injections to keep us weak. They are artificially inseminating our females because we have grown too fat and tired to do the job ourselves. Our hens are being turned into egg machines. When they lay 88 eggs and are totally exhausted, they are sent to market.

Do you think you are free just because you are allowed to run loose in a poultry barn? Are you happy merely because you are not kept in a cage? Wake up, turkeys! They want you to be happy – happy and fat!

Don’t touch that corn and soy meal! They are not being kind to you. They are fattening you up for the kill. You have been bred selectively to have white feathers so your skin will not have spots. Forty-five million of us will end up on the dining room table. Our hens are even more likely to be sent to the ovens than male turkeys.

Does that mean male turkeys are safe? Hardly. Tom turkeys will end up as processed lunchmeat, turkey ham, turkey burgers, or even as pet food. You will be consumed not only during holidays, but all year long. They like you because your meat is low fat and mild tasting. Don’t you deserve better than this?

So, you think you can flee to another place, another country where Thanksgiving is not celebrated? Wrong! Other countries eat our kind too. Israel consumes more turkey than the United States. France and England also have a hunger for fowl. Actually, no place in the world is completely safe.

We must flee! It is time for panic! We must act while there is time. Escape any way you can. They will not expect you to be hostile. Use the element of surprise. Remember that you have beaks and claws, even if they have been trimmed. Do not be fooled and think that you are safe because you have food, fresh water, and a roof over your head.

Turkeys are true American birds. In the tradition of America, show them how we can fight against injustice. We must let them know that turkeys have rights. We must become activists in our own defense. Feathers may fly, but we cannot be deterred until justice is served (instead of us). We must flock together for the sake of our unborn poults in the incubator.

No bird is safe, especially at this time of the year. Rally together now. Let ‘em eat cranberries. Let ‘em eat sweet potatoes. Let ‘em eat anything but us!

This year let the turkeys have something to be thankful for.

Copyright 2002 Sheila Moss
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Eluding the Bug

Posted on November 7, 2016 by Sheila Moss

woman with a cold or allergy

Cold and flu season seems to be early this year. Everyone is coughing, hacking and sneezing already. But, I feel GREAT! With everyone else around me getting sick, however, I’m really afraid that I’m going to catch the bug too.

“No, NO! I don’t want to be sick! Keep your germs away from me!”

“I don’t feel too good today,” declares my honey, “I feel feverish and my throat hurts. I think I’ll call in sick to work. My head aches!”

“Oh, no! It’s going to get me next — I just know it,” I think.

“Sorry, dear,” as I turn my cheek to avoid a goodbye kiss and pop a Vitamin C on my way out the door.

On the office elevator, someone sneezes and I try to hold my breath, turning only slightly blue before I reach my floor and stagger out, gasping for fresh, unpolluted, disease-free air.

“I was really sick yesterday, but I feel fine today,” says a co-worker, blowing her nose, as I take two steps backwards. Why don’t people stay home when they are sick? All they are doing is infecting the rest of us.

“Cough, cough,” says my boss on the telephone. “I’m sick and can’t make it in today.”

“Sorry, hope you feel better soon,” as I spray my telephone with disinfectant and hope that germs can’t get to me over the phone lines.

“Germs! They are everywhere! I just know I’m going to get sick,” as I go to the restroom to wash my hands again. Hand washing is supposed to be the best way to get rid of germs and avoid colds and flu, isn’t it?

Someone coughs in the cubicle next to me. I make the sign of the cross.

“Flu shots will be given December 10,” I read on a flyer. I thought flu shots were supposed to be given in October, before flu season? I’m not sure I can make it until December,” as I begin crossing off the first of the many days left on the calendar until December.

I feel my forehead to see if I’m hot. Nope, seem to be okay. Maybe I can hold out after all. I put on my sweater to keep from getting chilled.

Another coworker comes by to deliver a stack of papers. ” Boy, my allergies are really acting up. Must be the weather,” she says in a hoarse, raspy voice as she clears her throat. “I think I’m getting bronchitis!”

I wonder if I should don my rubber gloves and face mask or save them for a really serious threat? Too late, I’ve already touched the papers she gave me. I grab the bottle of hand sanitizer with Aloe and Vitamin E. “Kills 99.99% of germs,” it proclaims on the label. “Hope the .11% that gets through is not very contagious.”

What’s a body to do? People seem to just insist on spreading their germs around. How am I supposed to stay well? Maybe I’m just being paranoid. Maybe I won’t get sick. Yeah, and maybe pigs can fly!

“KERCHOO!!!” The cubicle wall buckles from the other side. What was THAT? Is everybody in the place sick but me?

In terror, I cover my nose with a tissue, grab the disinfectant and spray the air. Health officials estimate there will be 25-50 million cases of flu this winter. About 20,000 people die from influenza every year.

I decide to deploy my secret anti-cold weapon and open a package of menthol cough drops, just in case I need them.

We’ve been in a state of panic over terrorists? From the way things are going, it looks as if I stand a much better chance of being done in by the common cold.

Copyright 2001 Sheila Moss

 

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Where Are Things When You Need Them?

Posted on November 4, 2016 by Sheila Moss

stuff.jpg

Band-Aids are always the wrong size.  Why do they put so many of those little tiny ones in a box of assorted sizes?  They are not big enough for an average cut on a finger.  But get a scratch on the face and want a little one, and the box has only the large ones left.

Where are things when you need them?

Change – My purse gets full of loose change that somehow gets out of my wallet.  But when I need a quarter for the parking meter, I can never find any change.

Where are things when you need them?

Tools – If I need a regular screwdriver, I have only a Phillips.  And, of course, if it is a Phillips screw I need to tighten, all the screwdrivers in the house are the regular kind.  How do they do this?

Where are things when you need them?

Drinking Glasses – There are so many glasses, jelly jars, and souvenir mugs that the cabinet door won’t close – until I need a glass of water to take a pill.  Then everything is in the dishwasher except a child’s training cup.

Where are things when you need them?

Remote Control  – I never, ever use the one for the DVD player.  It gathers dust on top of the entertainment center – until the electricity goes out and I need it to reprogram it.  Of course, it is missing!

Where are things when you need them?

Keys – I try to have three keys since they are so easy to lose:  One for the key chain, one for the extra set, and one “just in case.”  Then when the day comes that both sets of keys are misplaced, the “just in case” key is nowhere to be found.

Where are things when you need them?

Shoes are left everywhere: by the bed, in the bathroom, by the door.  But when I need that one certain pair of shoes, somehow they ended up in the closet where I will never think to look for them in a million years.

Where are things when you need them?

I.D. is always in my wallet until one day I need to cash a check.  I look through everything: credit cards, insurance cards, membership cards, registration cards, doctor and dental appointment cards.  Everything is there but my driver’s license – until I get back to the car where it magically re-appears in my wallet.

Where are things when you need them?

Light Bulbs – I always have an extra package… somewhere.  I know that sooner or later a bulb is going to burn out. But until I figure out where “somewhere” is, I will have to steal one from the lamp again.

Where are things when you need them?

Coat Hangers – They hang empty in the closet, dozens of them the fall on the floor of the closet, they hang empty on door knobs.  But when I take clothes from the dryer and need to hang something up, the coat hangers are suddenly all full, not an empty one any place.

Where are things when you need them?

Safety Pins – Everyone has safety pins!  So why is it that when a hem rips or a button pops and I need one fast, there are none anywhere in the house?

Where are things when you need them?

Envelopes – Ever want to mail a letter and not be able to find an envelope?  Frustrating!  Is that why bills come with envelopes enclosed – so there is no excuse?  If so, they should enclose a stamp also.

I can’t figure it out.  Some sort of Murphy’s Law at work, I suppose.  “If it can get lost, it will.”  Everything is there until I really need it.  Am I disorganized and just unable to find stuff, or am I over organized and unable to find things that are not where they are supposed to be?

Maybe I need a big closet labeled “Stuff That Gets Lost”  I could fill it up with Scotch tape, matches, rubber bands, unmatched socks… Oh, forget it!  There is no closet big enough for all that stuff.  And if there was, it would be so full I couldn’t find anything. I’ve never quite been able to figure it out.

Where are things when you need them?

Copyright Sheila Moss 2001

 

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The Doctor Will See You Now

Posted on November 1, 2016 by Sheila Moss

airport

I went to the doctor yesterday. Somehow doctor’s offices just don’t seem to be what they used to be. They have become so automated that I felt like I should be on a conveyor belt — or maybe on one of those people movers like they have in airports where you jump onto a moving sidewalk and continue through the terminal without stopping.

“Hello, I’m here for my appointment.”

“Sign in on the clipboard,” says the receptionist, as she runs my insurance card through the copy machine. “We have 26 doctors and hundreds of patients every day. We are completely automated now.” I will transfer your insurance information to your nurse’s computer.

I hop onto the moving sidewalk and proceed into the waiting area, grabbing an old-fashioned magazine from a table as we pass. I flip through the pages and watch the other patients who look up from their cell phones and disappear through a door as their names are called. Finally, the sidewalk approaches the entrance. I toss my magazine aside as my name is called, and I proceed through the door where a nurse reads my insurance information from a laptop computer on wheels.

“First room on the left,” she says as the conveyer belt slides me through the triage office. “Any changes in your meds? Are you still taking, this, that, and the other,” as she reads off the list from my electronic medical record.

“Yes, yes, yes”, I say. She does a quick blood pressure check, takes my temperature, and my weight flashes before my eyes in red digital numbers.

Before I can ask any questions, the sidewalk moves me to the hallway where a long row of chairs waits for the unlucky patients pulled off of the assembly line for various medical tests. I proceed slowly past them down the hall until I come to an empty examination room.

“The doctor will be with you in a moment.”

The sidewalk proceeds into the exam room. The doctor enters in a white coat looking at my medical chart on the iPad in his hand.

“How are you today?”

“I feel pretty good,” I say.

The doctor frowns. Wrong answer, I conclude.

I try again as the conveyer belt moves me towards the back of the room and the stainless steel sink with the funny faucet. I pass the countertop full of cotton balls, tongue depressors, long swabs and rubber gloves. I wonder where it will take me if I don’t get the answer right.

“I’m not tense any more… I’m sleeping better… and I don’t have any nausea at all.”

“Good!” he smiles. “We will leave you on the same medication.”

I feel relieved as I move forward past the examination table without stopping. The doctor enters the updated information into his iPad as I head out the door. “We will transfer your prescriptions to your drug store electronically.” he says.

“Come back in three months,” he calls. I nod and wave goodbye as the conveyer belt  heads up the steep incline toward the large exit sign, and then drops rapidly down the long hall to the check-out desk while I hold on for dear life.

As I reach bottom, a medical clerk stares into a computer screen that flashes the story of my life, medically and financially. “We will file this with your insurance company,” she says as fingers fly and computer keys click.

“I’ll make an appointment for your next visit.” She passes me a printout with my appointment and an assistant holds my hand as I jump off the assembly line and back into reality.

I head for the elevator to the parking garage feeling a little shaken and wondering what in the heck happened. Was that for real or did I just imagine it? But I must have been at the doctor’s office -– I have already received an email on my cell phone reminding me of my next appointment.

Maybe I’m sicker than I thought -– or maybe I’m okay, and it’s the medical world that needs a reality check. Somehow I feel that it won’t be long until machines do my entire check-up with a people scanner and I will not see the doctor at all.

Copyright 2001-2016 Sheila Moss
Updated

 

Okay, I admit I may have exaggerated a bit here… but not much.  Do you ever feel like I did in this story?

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The Haunted Home Tour

Posted on October 29, 2016 by Sheila Moss

 

haunted-houseWe are inviting you here today for our “Open House and Home Tour” of this prime piece of real estate. It is an excellent buy, and we would like to get a little life back into this house and get the market moving.

First of all, we will view the foyer. Don’t worry about the splattered wallpaper — that can always be changed. Notice the lovely carpeting. The former owners favored a red color. We are not sure why. You will find elegant blood-red carpets throughout the house.

Entering the main living area, you will notice the beautiful oil paintings hanging on the wall. We don’t know who the people in the paintings are. Probably they are all dead anyhow, so don’t worry about it.

There is a slight draft in here that makes it a bit chilly at this time of the year, but think how pleasant it will be during the hot summer months. It’s probably just a back draft from the fireplace, don’t you think?

You will notice that the mirrors in the house create an illusion of shadows moving about the rooms. Remember that it is only a reflection and nothing at all that we need to be concerned about.

The previous owner left the beautiful grand piano that you see by the bay windows. This piano can practically play itself. In fact, some people believe they have heard it doing so, but it must have been their imagination as the music always stops whenever someone comes to investigate.

The beautiful grandfather clock is not running, and you will need to have it repaired; however, it is a priceless antique and is included with the home. You may notice that all of the clocks in the house have stopped at midnight. Probably they just need to be wound and reset.

From the dining room there is a beautiful view of the garden. You will love the beautiful lilies and the view of the bottomless lake. We also have wildlife. There are many caves in this area, and you may enjoy seeing the bats flying out of them at dusk.

The kitchen has been totally remodeled and has all the latest conveniences. The former owner collected kitchen knives and you can see that much of the fabulous collection remains. The pantry has meat hooks that will work well for hanging pots and pans. Notice the interesting antique marble floor with names and dates carved on some of the tiles.

Up the staircase we will find the bedrooms. Don’t mind if there are few cobwebs hanging here and there. The place hasn’t been cleaned in a while. It doesn’t get many visitors. Apparently someone is looking after it, though, as there are faint footprints in the dust.

This back bedroom belonged to the owner’s daughter, who unfortunately passed away in a tragic accident when she fell down the stairs. The stairs to the basement are very dark and steep so we never take our clients down there unless they are deadly serious about making this house their permanent residence.

And that concludes our tour of this home. The owner is very anxious to sell and will consider any reasonable offer. You are welcome to hang around as long as you want. Our real estate company will not be responsible for accidents — especially after dark.

Copyright 2005 Sheila Moss

 

NOTE: Yes, yes, this is my Halloween offering. Hope you are in the spirit for it.

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The Pro Hockey Game

Posted on October 27, 2016 by Sheila Moss
Embed from Getty Images

I went to my first hockey game the other day. I’m not exactly sure why we are playing this Canadian sport here in the South, but it seems to have caught on. We even have our own pro team here in Nashville called the Predators. They play in the arena called the Gaylord Center. Their logo is a funny looking cat with Dracula-like fangs. It is supposed to be a saber tooth tiger, I guess.

Anyhow, the Preds played pretty well, or the Penguins played pretty badly, cause the Preds smeared ‘em 5-0. According to my friend, who understands the game and sprung for the tickets, it was because the Penguins did not have their regular goalie. Sounds like a rationalization to me, but no sense rubbing in a loss.

At first I half expected the players to go into a Double Axel or a Triple Salchow, but it never happened. They sat on the ice and stretched their legs then skated around hitting the puck with their sticks. They seemed to be having a lot more fun down there on the ice than I was having so high up in the stands I was dizzy from the thin air.

The thing I really liked was that I could actually see the puck. On TV I never can. I really can’t understand what my friend sees in the game, but then he is a man and men like all sorts of dumb things, like football, for example.

Hockey is a little bit like football and a little bit like basketball, and a whole lot like soccer – except different. I learned to passionately hate hockey in a northern high school where I was forced to play field hockey in girls’ physical education. We ran up and down that stupid field, freezing to death in our blue bloomer gym suits and ugly shin guards, with our hair flying, noses running, and hockey sticks dragging.

Exercise was supposed to be good for us. Also, the school board sprung to buy that expensive equipment and, by golly, it was gonna be used. But that was in the “bad old days.” Ice hockey, of course, is much faster, which makes it a different sport entirely.

They seemed to do a lot of banging into each other on skates, pushing, shoving, elbowing and generally rough-housing. This sometimes resulted in the players forgetting about the game and just resorting to fist fights. The referees seemed to generally just let ‘em slug it out and then send them both to the penalty box to cool down, like kids in time out.

The audience liked the fights better than the game. Sometimes minor shoving incidents turned into fights and more serious pushing matches went unnoticed. There was not a lot of logic as to what was worth fighting over. My friend says it depends on the players, some are fighters and some are not and sometimes fights can just result from previous grudges.

Anyhow, I munched popcorn and watched the overhead screen, which reminded us to cheer, stomp, or whatever was deemed appropriate for the occasion. Like all pro sports nowadays, the game itself is not considered entertaining enough to amuse the audience for long.

The main focus was the big overhead screen, which also shot pictures of fans being fans. The fans liked to ham it up for the camera as soon as they saw their mugs on the screen. I could not figure out where all those yokels were that were kissing and waving to the folks in the audience and began to suspect they were pre-recorded, at least in part.

Some people really got into it. They had season tickets and knew all the other season ticket holders. They screamed for every goal and cheered like it really mattered who won. Guess that is what it was all about, feeling like they are a part of something and having the catharsis of cheering and yelling.

I did manage to pass by the T-shirts without buying one, but I did not turn down the free promotional posters that were being passed out. Who knows, in the unlikely event that I ever do actually become a hockey fan, it might just come in handy.

Copyright 2001 Sheila Moss
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Office Dynamics

Posted on October 27, 2016 by Sheila Moss

office_girls

It’s hard now to remember how it all began. It seems to have started when people who were not exactly homogeneous, or the type of people who would choose each other to “hang around with,” were forced by circumstance into close daily contact through the coincidence of their common employment situation.

The first thing you know, a sort of petty competition began between those who worked together, and in a mere matter of weeks, it inflated into a full-fledged rivalry – a competition of pettiness:

Round 1

Mary takes a sick day, Alice takes a “me too” day, Carol takes a “get even” day, Betty takes a spite day, and Linda takes an “I’m not letting them get away with this” day.

Round 2

Alice starts a rumor about Betty, so Mary snitches to the boss. Carol updates her resume ’cause she’s getting outta here if that’s the way they are going to act. And Linda? Well, she locks herself in the restroom for an hour to get away from it all.

Round 3

Linda signs up for a new computer class to improve her skills, so Alice, not to be outdone, decides to take two night classes. Betty, meanwhile, decides (again) that this is the perfect time for her to go back to school for a college degree. Carol pouts and listens to self-improvement tapes with headphones on, while Mary, being practical, sends off on the Internet for a degree (or two) in the field of her choice.

Round 4

Mary comes to work with a great new tote bag. Alice decides she really could use a new computer bag for her laptop. Linda buys a new leather brief case which Carol likes so well that she gets one also -– monogrammed. Betty being a person of immaculate taste gets a new leather Gucci briefcase with combination lock and matching shoes, in soft glove leather.

Round 5

Alice buys a new dress; Mary has her hair cut and styled; Betty wears a mini skirt; Linda buys a whole new wardrobe; and in a desperate bid for attention, Carol wears red -– every day of the week.

Round 6

Linda is excited because she has just taken an important call from the media. Alice says “that’s nothing” because just the other day she had a call from an important political figure. Betty recalls that she once had a call from a major movie star, who asked for her name and undoubtedly still plans to call back. Carol had call from Elvis. We don’t believe her either, but that’s what she said.

Round 7

Betty got a new telephone, in color, with all sorts of buttons to push. Alice figured it was a good time to ask for that computer she has been wanting. Mary really needed a new chair, pink to match her office. Carol just wants it all: a new computer, an ergonomic chair, and a desk light. (Why not as long as she is asking?)

Round 8

Linda decided that being called an “assistant” is a compliment. Alice says that only being called a “loyal employee” is a compliment. Mary says that being told you are “efficient” at your job is a compliment. Carol is sure that being “too busy to go to the bathroom” is the only thing that matters, and Betty pouts because receiving no compliments must mean she is not important.

Round 9

Carol is angry because she has to open the mail and Alice doesn’t. Alice is angry because she had to key a batch of letters, and all Carol does is open mail. Betty is angry because the copy machine broke down and she had to call the repairman. Mary is angry because the supplies she ordered didn’t come. Linda is angry because the fax machine cartridge ran out and she was stuck with changing it.

Round 10

Betty takes a coffee break. Alice takes a smoke break. Linda takes a power walk. Carol takes mail run. Mary, well, she is out to lunch.

Round 11

Mary calls her husband; so Alice calls her boyfriend. Betty places a singles ad; Carol calls her lover — and Linda calls her husband and her lover (the slut).

Round 12

Betty is planning her annual vacation. Alice decides she is going to Disney World this year. Mary thinks a Caribbean cruise might be nice. Linda says she might be going to Europe. And, just to be different, Carol is going on an African Adventure Safari. That ought to show em!

Round 13

Mary loses 5 pounds, so Alice loses 10. Betty joins Weight Watchers; Carol joins Jenny Craig; and Linda goes on a crash diet and drinks nothing but Slim Fast for all three meals -– till she crashes.

The boss, who has been trying to ignore it, becomes exasperated and says all this petty bickering needs to stop. Everyone agrees that the others have a problem, however, each knows that the bickering is entirely the fault of everyone else. Each agrees that all the others need to “shape up” and stop behaving in such an inappropriate way.

The next day Alice brings donuts; Mary brings cookies (homemade); Betty orders in a pizza for lunch. Carol suggests they all go out after work some time. However, Linda says making coffee is not in her job description and they can all make their own.

The office keeps on functioning like it always has, and the petty bickering, like the empty coffeepot, remains entirely the responsibility of someone else.

Copyright 2001 Sheila Moss

Author’s Note: any resemblance to persons you know or offices where you have worked is purely coincidental, and you really ought to get a life.

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The Adventurer

Posted on October 25, 2016 by Sheila Moss

mountainsI used to think that I would like to be an adventurer. I would go to South America and travel the muddy Amazon in a dugout canoe, outrunning any crocodiles that might show their ugly heads. I would camp out in the jungle and befriend the natives who would guide me along the way.

I thought that I would climb a mountain. It didn’t have to be Mt. Everest, any tall mountain would do. I would be a rock climber and tie myself by a rope to someone else. In case I slipped, they could keep me from falling to the river below. I would climb to the top and stand on the highest peak and look out over the clouds.

I thought that I might go to Egypt and ride a camel across the Sahara. It had to be the Sahara. Only the largest desert with the highest sand dunes would do. I would wear a handkerchief under my hat and pretend to be a member of the Foreign Legion. I would go for hours, days, without water until I came to an oasis where I would quench my parched throat just in the nick of time.

I thought I might go to the Arctic and fend off wolves and polar bears while living in a house of ice like a native, wrapped up in animal skins to avoid hypothermia and pondering the aurora borealis. Or, I might choose Africa and live in the jungle, studying gorillas like Dian Fossey. I would be a world-class wildlife naturalist and photograph giraffes, tigers, and elephants.

But now as I grow older, I know that I will never do any of these things. I will never go around the world in a hot air balloon or have exotic adventures beyond my wildest dream. I will never sail the seven seas or deep sea dive for treasure or go on safari in the African bush or save the environment for future generations.

And if, per chance, I win the lottery and go off to Switzerland to climb the Matterhorn, they could never say I did it because I was young and foolish and did not know the danger. They would say it was because I was old and senile. They would say that I was a dreamer, a child who never grew up. They would say that I was an irrational old woman. They would shake their heads and click their tongues about a grandma who rides roller coasters. They would call it an identity crisis, menopause, the change of life.

But I would not mind at all because I’ve spent my whole life worrying about what other people think. I would know that while the body grows old, the heart stays young and does not have to acknowledge impossibility.

And who are THEY anyhow? I don’t know, but THEY remind me a whole lot of those crocodiles on the Amazon.

Copyright 2001 Sheila Moss

What’s on your bucket list?

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