Working Girl

Lauren, aka Hammer Head, Concussion Kid, Lulu, needed a  summer job. Lauren could build the great wall, she could mow the midwest, she could haul the manure for every horse in every crown race. She cannot however, clean her friggin' room. This is my fault. It is a mutated gene that I have passed along. The child has no chance, so long as she lives home.

The chap that does the landscaping, plowing and any other work needed at my office is Paul, let's call him Sponge Bob, it fits. I asked Paul's wife if he was in need of help and she thought maybe perhaps he might be, maybe.

Today Paul called and wondered if Lauren was still in need of work. "No Paul, Wall street called and she's off managing a hedge fund and a shrubbery 401k. Bugger off!" Actually I said yes and told him she was quite interested.  He was driving so he couldn't take down her number. I hung up rang her and gave her the update then texted Paul her number. (ain't technology a god send???).

About an hour later Lauren calls me, "Paul called me. He wants me to work tomorrow. He asked me if I knew what the weather forecast was??" Yup, that's Paul.

I've made her a fluffer-nutter, packed Doritos and will include a vitamin water and a cream puff - the girl should rub her hands together when she opens he lunch and who doesn't love that? That's my job! :)

Congrats Lulu! I'm proud!

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