December 13th, 2005


Silverdee & The Half-Wit Prince

I hate this day each year. It is the last day to get the invoices paid so they hit the current budget. I enter the invoices so I am at the mercy of poorly organized people who wait until the last minute to get their work done.

This year's festival of foibles was made extra-special because I was counting on a pair of high dollar invoices from The Half-Wit Prince. I feel I know what it would be like to work with George Bush after dealing with this simpleton. He wears his downhome ignorance like a badge of honor, refuses to learn anything new and no one really knows what he actually accomplishes during the course of any business day.

Why is he still employed by my company? He was once protected by The Half-Wit Queen but she was forced to abdicate her throne and is rumored to be currently pursuing a reign of terror with FEMA-not even close to kidding about that one. The Prince is now regularly asked to actually get things done by his new boss and the many chinks in his professional armor are rapidly being exposed.

I had to call him to request that he grace us with his princely presence in the office so he could finish up his work. His Highness handed me the second-to-last invoice of the year at 3:30PM today and when I entered it, the error messages were blinding. He had not completed several steps in the mysterious process known as project management so it looked quite possible that tens of thousands of dollars would be left unspent from his royal coffers.

He wanted to leave after making one phone call to resolve the issues. I told him that I would continue toiling tirelessly until I knew for certain whether or not I could get the invoice entered and I strongly yet tactfully suggested that he hang around and deal with his majestic mess. He had to actually stay well past 4PM (the royal feathers get quite ruffled if he has to stay a moment past his self-designated magic hour) to resolve the problems.

The Half-Wit Prince had the audacity to exclaim at one point that he was the victim of a commoners' conspiracy because no one notified him that today was the year-end payment deadline. A co-worker told him about something known as an internal financial memo that shares this knowledge with one and all throughout corporate land. It comes out more than once if he would bother reading that newfangled invention known as e-mail.

The minute he got word that the troubles were over he vaulted out of the door. He did not even bother to wait a few extra moments to make sure the invoice did go through okay. I was almost tempted to wait about twenty minutes when I knew he was well into his imperial progress homeward and tell him that it was still not working out. But this lowly subject wanted to go home and have a White Russian as my reward for a hard day's labor.
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