Vice-Boss

Vice Boss calls this morning. See the Contessa nod. She rolls her eyes and then narrows them, shooting daggers into the mouthpiece. She slams the phone into the receiver. God. She says. First of all, as we all know, the Vice-Boss is a douche bag liar, but really. Don't say you are at your internist's office when One can clearly hear hair dryers going and the clinking of spoons in demitasses. Ask the Contesssa if she could actually hear the drinking of coffee. She admits, no, but she knew exactly where the Vice Boss was. She would stake her life on the probability that the Vice-Boss will waltz in later with newly highlighted hair. The Contessa says, That's not all. Apparently she (vice-boss) wasn't paid last pay period so she wants me to make sure that her payment goes through. Who doesn't notice right away if she doesn't get paid? the contessa asks rhetorically. Somehow end up agreeing to call payroll for the Contessa. (The last time the contessa called the payroll people there was yelling and then a flurry of emailed recriminations followed by emailed apologies after which the Contessa swore (colorfully if not quite logically) that her voice would never darken their phones again.) Call up payroll. After staying on hold for so long that have heard same Ella Fitzgerald recording three times in a row, a Man gets on the phone. Asks for the Vice-Boss's social. Give social security number with vauge feeling that do not care for the shortening of the phrase. The Man says, O. Ask, Did you figure out what went wrong? The man says, She'd dead. Adds unhelpfully, That's why she didn't get paid. Assure him that the Vice-Boss is not dead (inwardly have unkind thought, but naturally, as don't want to appear psychotic, keep to self). The Man very firm. Says, according to his computer, she is dead. Has been so since the beginning of January. Tell him that my coworker, the Contessa, who he well knows, just talked to her. The Man says, can we Prove it? See that proceeding in this vein very unhelpful. Hang up. Tell the Contessa, who becomes hysterical. Wipes tears away from eyes. Hysteria spreads to me and laugh until stomach muscles start to hurt. The Vice-Boss arrives at noon, hair looking freshened up. Is not pleased when told of her status. The Contessa begins brisk recitations of messages left for the Vice Boss in obvious attempt to stave off fresh attack of the giggles. Own tactic is to file papers on desk, which has usual effect of sucking all joy out of life.