beetrock

Today marks the day when I part with my fourth boss. JJ will always have a special place in my heart as the great number 4 – a digit full of value and evenness. My first boss will go into history as the smelly Russian, my second as the wisest boss ever, my third as the nicest. JJ will go into history as the crazy-dancing-Rican boss. “Take you by surprise with my mad coffee energy” boss. “Don’t talk to me you are too hung over” boss. “Don’t mess with her whiskey ginger” boss. “Smell my armpit” boss. And of course, “please sent a package to Mr. S-o S-w-e-e-z-le, I think he is Asian” boss.

I mean who would not weep at a loss of such a stud as their fearless leader? To think that I once wrote in my journal as a con for taking a new job: “potentially won’t get along with boss,” because I assumed JJ was a football player who ate cow leg for breakfast and listened to Aerosmith. To think that JJ was anything but funny, supportive and a genius…(insert tragic whimpering here)… with occasional insertion of typical male jerk …(insert being hit on the head by JJ here)… but mostly an even-tempered angel…(insert large bills here)

In truth loosing a boss like JJ is depressing. Not only am I at a loss for direction in my meaningless labors, I am also feeling orphaned in every way possible. Loosing JJ as a boss is like finishing a good book, knowing that there is no sequel. Loosing JJ is like having a pet fish die, or drowning your cell phone in the toilet. Basically it’s one of the worst things EVER.