Why I Won't Get Promoted

We had an "all-hands" meeting at work this afternoon. I wish they'd call it something different because whenever I hear the expression I get a funny mental picture of dismembered hands gathered around in a half-circle, shuffling nervously from pinky to pointer, listening as the leader hand drawls out office business in a monotone. That's a good indicator of my maturity level.

As I walked down the hall to the meeting, my boss, who was following me at a distance, called to me with laughter in his voice: "Joey, wait! Wait! You can't be serious! Is that a joke?"

I was flummoxed. "Huh?" I intoned, turning to face him.

"No, turn around!" he laughed. And, to my utter and complete horror, he reached behind me and pulled from my pants a long, snaking strand of toilet paper. He was guffawing pretty heavily now. My mind was racing. Should I play it off like I did it on purpose, trying to be funny at the all-hands? Or do I tell the truth -- that I had a long piece of T.P. hanging out of my pants since late morning and didn't have a clue?

I put my tail between my legs and played the honest card. "Well, I'm pretty much fully humiliated right now," I admitted. "I mean, you're my boss, and you just pulled like three feet of toilet paper out of my underwear." He laughed a good belly laugh, I faked a chuckle (it's still not that funny to me), and we went to the all-hands. Fortunately he's going on vacation for a month, so hopefully he'll forget about it by the time he gets back. My self-esteem depends on it.

On a administrative note, I won't be able to upload any pictures until we get internet at our house in another two weeks. After my work day, I use my work computer to do the essentials (you know, check the bank accounts, check the email, check the Voltron fan site), but we get instantly vaporized if we try to upload anything onto the work computers. So, apologies for the blocks of text, but, as the philosopher once said, "A thousand words paints a picture."