So yesterday, after a horrendously long work day of trying to tie up loose-ends before taking two weeks off to hang out with my brother, I was a bit late heading for the train and somewhat harried when it came time to “clock out.” (I also resent the fact that I have to punch a time-clock at all, but everybody except top management has to do it, so I generally don’t whine about it…much.)
At any rate, this time-clock is fairly complex (I suspect it launches rockets, monitors the position of weather satellites and tracks female staffers’ menstrual cycles, but I can’t prove it) and the instructions for how to use it are in Swedish, which means I’ve never really bothered learning its advanced functions. So as is my usual M.O. , I forgot to push the button indicating that I wasn’t just “out”, but on vacation…something that really honks off the ladies in payroll.
I realized my mistake the moment I made it, and reacted with the Swedish equivalent of loud and drawn-out “Oh Shit! (Vad fan!) just as the CEO emerged from the mailroom adjacent to the resented time-clock.
I COULD HAVE DIED and began apologizing all over myself before I realized that he was only pretending to be horrified. He laughed all the way back to his office, and actually complimented both my pronounciation and inflection…though I took that with a grain of salt since he’s from Spain.
So I’m thinking that cussing like a Swedish longshoreman in front of the CEO was not the most auspicious way to start my vacation. On the other hand, my boss’s boss saw me clocking out at 10 minutes to six on a Friday…so maybe it wasn’t a total career-killer?