Life at Widget Co

Widget Co is a rather odd place to work. Don’t get me wrong, I really like it here. I work with great people who make it fun to come to work everyday. Well, at least, I'm sure it's more fun than mining coal 200 feet underground in earthquake country with nothing but coal-dusty gruel to eat and one’s own urine to drink.

Today was a typical Wednesday. I got up, got dressed, came to work, and turned on my computer. I got some work done on a filing, answered some emails, and before I knew it, it was 11am. Time for the Widget Co Law Department Country Western BBQ! Of course!

I went downstairs to the little park area that separates the reserved parking lot (the gold-paved lot, lined with cherry blossoms and roofed by rainbows, where senior attorneys such as Yours Truly get to park) from the lame-o parking lot (made of loose gravel and surrounded by a flaming moat full of snapping turtles) where the riff-raff (including lesser attorneys) park. Down in the park, there was a lovely BBQ set up, with long tables lined with burgers, hot dogs, chili, cookies, fruit, lemonade, baked beans, potato salad, etc. A very nice assortment of quite yummy food.

After collecting my food, I went over to a table my friends had staked out. I noticed that, like always, the attorneys sat with attorneys, the staff sat with staff, paralegals sat with paralegals, etc. Very self-segregated. It always reminds me of 4th grade, when I learned that boys have cooties, and thus girls only sat with girls and boys were left alone to pick their noses elsewhere. Of course, in 4th grade, I was confused about why cooties were bad (I knew they were by how others said the word, but...), because we used to play this family game called Cootie, and they were adorable. For those of you who were children in the 70s:

Anyway, once most people were served, the line dancing started. Yes, line dancing. With an instructor. In the parking lot. I like to be a participator in things (because I know I'm a dork, and if you're gonna be a dork, you might as well enjoy yourself and embrace your dorkitude), so I danced a couple songs, sweating like a pig and moving like a fat tired cootie covered in molasses and thumb tacks attempting to swing dance in an ultra-high gravity environment. Fun, but ugly.

Fortunately, as far as I know, there is no video of the spectacle. The same is not true for my coworker. I took my camera, with it’s crappy video capability, and made sure that his endeavor in work-related line dancing would live ... FOREVER!. I even arranged for it to be posted to the Law Dept. intranet. I know, I’m evil. I give you Connor, the whiter-than-me Irishman dancing a line dance. He’s now been nicknamed “Shimmy.”

Of course, it’s not all fun and games here. We also work. And we take things – especially safety – very seriously. Leon, one of the managing attorneys here, just got back today from vacation in Mexico. Yes Mexico, home of the chimichanga, tequila, and the swine flu. Of course, several of his colleagues made sure that it was safe for him to return to work. I’m not sure what all the exam entailed, and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know. Poor Leon. Welcome home, guy! Hehe.
Now, back to work. I’m pretty sure I can get something done in the remaining hour before I leave early.