Friday, May 4, 2007

Calling all emergency personel...

Just when I thought I couldn’t move up anymore in my current job, I get handed new responsibilities. Today, I got named the floor warden. It could have been my striking good looks, or most likely, the fact I sit in a fish bowl so was the easiest target to ask. I tried to think of a reason why I couldn’t be the warden. (I goof off way too much. I’ll be the first to head home given any opportunity. If the building is shaking, I’m getting the fuck out.) But nothing speakable to someone I didn’t know came to mind. So, he handed me the groovy yellow flashlight, a whistle, a map of where to go and promises of bringing me a bright orange vest. Who can resist a woman in an orange vest? I mean really, it says SEX. In prison. Or by the side of the road with the surveyer. Hot.

Being the floor warden is a big responsibility if there is an emergency. Although, the fire guy told me that I don’t have to make sure everyone gets out. I just need to make sure they KNOW to get out. I’m down with that. I figure I can blow the whistle, scream, “FIRE (or earthquake or terrorist)! GET THE HELL OUT OF THE BUILDING!” and head out to safety. I can account for the fools when I’m safe.

I went around my huge floor (all 10 of us) and made sure all of the assistants knew where to go in case of an emergency. Only one smart executive cared to know where this spot might be. My boss even laughed about it. He won’t be laughing when we can’t find him because he is in the wrong parking lot and people are headed into a burning building to find him, or maybe he will. I told the other assistants they are responsible for informing their bosses of the emergency plan. I mean, let’s be realistic here. I was the kid who wanted to sneak home during fire drills in high school. I was the girl who sat under the piano during sorority meetings because I could lay down and no one would notice. I make fun of people in authority roles (is this authority?). I’m hardly the type to be floor warden. But I will rock that orange vest. Now, if they’d only give me a hard hat.

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