I have a small group of work wives. For 364 days a year (excluding holidays) I am basically their servant. I am the butt of their jokes, the object of their ire and the person who takes care of their every whim and need. Almost daily I am met with comments like “Why do you hate us?”, “Why is your internet so slow?”, “How come you brought her something and the rest of us didn’t get anything?”, “Don’t judge us!”, “Why are you such a skonka?”, etc. As awful as that sounds, I do love them. They make me smile.
As it turns out, they love me, too. I walked into work today and found that my desk had been altered slightly…
Here’s a close-up of the centerpiece:
The sugar station, as I like to call it (goodbye Big Skeezy Challenge! See you tomorrow):
The back of the birthday card:
And, of course, they knew exactly what this would end up as:
This is the one day a year I appear to have the upper hand. Of course, once they read this that will change. “Oh you think you have the upper hand, huh?” “Why do you make us sound so terrible?” “Stop being such a skonka!”
I love you, too, ladies. Thank you!