Coworker Update Numero Nove #BreakingAway9

I ditch my ride La Machina Stupida and acquire a new 2018 Maserati Granturismo Convertible. I drive my one way commute of 135.85 kilometers in 30 minutes.





There is something going on because some of the complainettes have stopped by my office to see how things are going and how can we work better together. I’m suspicious because the Head Complainer has set up a meeting request on my calendario.

I have taken down all the art in my office and added a single 10”x12” picture of il Maestro Puccini. He is hanging right above one of the guest chairs in the center of the large wall across from my desk.

I accept the meeting request. HC comes into my office and with her comes a cold breeze. Great she has now invaded another of my human senses. As many of you know I am always cold, because it is a scientific fact that I have a lower body temperature than the majority of you. So having her in my office makes me feel colder.

HC lists her grudges against me. I pretend to listen but I’m distracted because it looks like il Maestro is smelling her head. I wonder what he smells? My bet is Sulphur.

After her list of grudges is recited, I say, “you know, let’s set a follow-up meeting so we can discuss this further.” I think, “Yeah like never, I’m on the road the for the next six months, go ahead and try to schedule something with me.”

After she leaves I try to understand what bugs her about me. I close my eyes and begin to think. I hear a sound a scratchy voice like an old recording. What there it is again. Il Maestro is talking to me.

He says, “You have performed my music and read my operas. Think about it.”

“Il Maestro honestly it’s all Italian to me. “ I explain, “I just played my part the way the conductor interpreted the music. I would just wait around until I needed to play. I never left the stage though, not like those two trumpet players at La Scala last year who left the orchestra pit to go smoke cigarettes.”

He yells, “STRONZI! Ever hear this one?

Q: What do you call two arrogant trumpet players?
A: brass-holes. 

Last week they came back from smoking and asked the French Horn player where they were in the score. So the horn player screws with them and points to the wrong bar. So of course they missed their entrance.”

I ask, “Is that why you barely wrote for the trumpet?"

He replies,
“Q: Did you hear about the trumpeter who played in tune?
A: Neither did I. Switch to the French Horn kid. Come on, her motivation is GELOSIA."

I immediately go on AMAZON and order an Italian horn to ward off the evil eye.

#BreakingAway #MyInspiration