Friday, January 4, 2013

Given The Pink Slip... But I Don't Even Work Here!

If there's anything that worries me more than the idea of getting canned... it's getting canned cold-hearted.  So, imagine the uptick in my heart rate when I received the following text:
I don't know what to say... I've thoroughly enjoyed my time as B----- B-----'s housekeeper.  All those base-boards cleaned. The sweet smell of my potato rolls baking in the oven.  The clogged toilets of Mrs. B-----'s kids bathrooms.  It was like a Morton Salt Can stuck in the pipes! And I, Rosie, had the good fortune of being the sweet lady who enjoyed chipping away little Johnny B------'s intestinal meat loaf. Have I mentioned all the ironing and washing and drying? Good Times x Infinity=Rosie's Days as the B-----'s housekeeper! 

Sending the little one's out into the world each day while Mrs. B----- dealt with her apple-tini hangover; erasing those voice mails from Mrs. B------'s tennis "instructor" so Mr. B----- wouldn't discover a new kind of "love" was being made on the courts; making sure Mr. B----- had a thermos full of Dewar's rather than Community just so he could tolerate another day at the firm... all part of Rosie being Rosie!!

Thank goodness Mrs. B----- took the time and effort to inform me of my employable demise via text! How impersonal would a face-to-face meeting or a phone conversation been? That's even too messy for ol' Rosie to clean up! Mrs. B----- must be a Bobby Petrino fan!

So, Mrs. B-----... thanks for firing me via text message this afternoon... I only had one problem with this message.

I'm not Rosie.

Would love to see the look on B-----'s face when she answers the door and finds Rosie, feather duster in her holster, mop in hand, ready for a day of service! Talk about your LOL and OMG!!