Serial liars do it because they can

Little Bookman is a liar and everyone knows it.

But no one calls him on it.

Take today for instance: Tuesday is usually my peace day in Wonderland because Bookman ain't here. So, imagine my disgust when I walked in and there it was.
Not so awesome sauce!

Anyway, I clock in get ready to start my day —or start reading the new Beverly Jenkins book, to be honest—and my manager asks me if I'm taking a day off this week.

*Blank stare*

Why not ask me if I'm going drink coffee today? WTF? He goes on to say that Little Bookman was under the impression that we were going to alternate days off. 

If that were the case, why would I be here now, was my initial thought. Then I remembered something: Little Bookman and I used to have the same day off before everyone else jumped ship. We, in front of the manager, said I'd be off on Wednesdays and Buffalo Butt would take Tuesdays. This alternating crap is something this mother. . . .must have dreamed up while eating a bucket of chicken and drooling.

Allegedly, there is a house closing this week. And here's the thing, had you asked if we could switch days, I might have agreed.

OK, total honest, hell no I wouldn't have. But at least I would've known what kind of bullshit that was coming up this morning. I mean, seriously, you lie like the dirty under the rug and no one calls you on it.

Until today. I told the manager, we never agreed to anything like that and hell yes, I'm taking my day off —because I have a job interview.

*Drops the mic, logs on to Careerbuilder.com.*

When the wife shows up . . .Creepy coworker STFU

Here at Wonderland, we work with an outside company for some of our jobs.
There is always one dude with this company that's just creepy. You can ignore it because you don't see them everyday.

But every time you see him, he makes some kind of borderline sexual remark. Oh, black looks so good on you.

You're too pretty to be mad.

I pull all the honeys.

Obviously your mirror is showing you something different than what the world sees.
Insert Kanye shrug.

So, the other day I was eating in the cafeteria, because it was free and the way my checking account is set up, I can't turn down a free meal. So, Creep McGee walks in with a woman. Check that, his woman. His wife.

He shot me a look that was like, please, please don't say anything. The old me, the one who liked drama in the work place, would've have said —What do you think of my outfit?

But watching the sweat build on his five finger forehead as I sat that slowly eating my salad and carrot sticks was so much fun.

Then I went to get my drink refill and she was at the drink machine. Nice lady. I spoke to her and told her that the tea here isn't good. Go for the fruit punch. Then I went back to my table and tossed my tray.

He still hasn't said a word. I wish the wife was here everyday!

Lies my coworker told me . . .

Mondays are hard enough with out having to deal with someone's flights of fancy. Well, that's what my day has been like today. Little Bookman started the day with a Quaker Oats bowl full of lies.

Sunday, he said, he was in a motorcycle accident.

But when he walked into Wonderland, 38 minutes late, there wasn't a visible scratch on him. Is he made of teflon?
The story about the accident changed depending on who he told it to — it happened after church. But he had on his riding pants and jacket.
Really? That's how we go to church these days?

In one story, he had to get his pants leg cut off. But there was no damage, yet doctors said he'd have some swelling. But they didn't give him crutches. He was hobbling around on a cane. Moaning with each painful step.

So, where's the pain medicine?

 After all, a jeep pulled out in front of you and crashed your little boy motorcycle and this is the second accident that you've had this month!

As it turns out, he's not taking any pain meds, but he was hurting so badly that he dipped about fifteen minutes after arriving to work. Could it be that the fact that the manager isn't here made his pain worsen.

So, then another coworker comes over and says, did Little Bookman send you a Linkedin profile request.
I nodded.
"Did you look at it?"
"Nope."
"Oh my, it say he's a senior consultant at Wonderland. That he has two engineering degrees and he got them both in four years."
Really?
So, you even lie on your Linkedin profile — as if people aren't going to check! And it you are THAT smart, why are you here?
It's too early in the week to be reading from the book of lies!

So, I've decided to list the lies Little Bookman has been caught in since I started at Wonderland:

1. My mama had a stroke. 
2. I'm married.
3. I'm late (On Martin Luther King Jr. Day) because I had to take my son to school.
4. My girlfriend had a hysterectomy. 
5. I'm closing on a house (this has been used three times).
6. I did security at the Super Bowl.
7. Today is my dad's birthday (twice in one year).
8. My mama had another stroke.
9. We had a lot of people in here last Super Bowl Sunday (Wonderland is thankfully closed on Sundays) 
10. I speak Spanish. (All I've ever heard him say is Si.) 

Scammed at Wonderland

I've been debating telling this story, but every day it gets funnier and funnier.
I can't help it, I got to tell it.
Guess it's the reporter/storyteller in me.

So, pregnant lady comes into Wonderland and Little Bookman waits on her. She purchases a product. Little Bookman, as per usual, doesn't get everything he needs from this woman.

Well, when he gets the items that he needs to finalize the purchase, it turns out that everything --and I mean EVERYTHING --is fraudulent.

Ever read an Eric Jerome Dickey book with the character Arizona in it? Yep, that's just what this chick did in real life.

So, cops have been called and Little Bookman is walking around looking like Boo-Boo the fool.

I know you're wondering why this is funny to me. Well, I'm going to tell you. See, Little Bookman loves to talk about this military intelligence background he has. Um-huh. If he's what the military is using to catch terrorists, no wonder we're losing.

There were several red flags, but Honey Boo Boo Chile ignored them. Why? Because he's an asshole and a liar. That's why he got got!

#BitchBaby: How in the world did Shonda and crew meet my coworkers?

Things are bad at Wonderland. So bad that the Mad Hatter, AKA the owner, sold the place. Who knows what kind of Voldermort owners will be running this hell hole next.

While polishing my resume Thursday night, I was watching the hit series, How To Get Away With Murder and heard the perfect description of my coworkers and bosses.

#Bitchbaby.

Oh, yeah. If Bitchbaby is in the dictionary, Mr. Poodle's face is right next to it, followed by Little Bookman — who is skating on thin ice with me today.  I have to keep telling myself, Orange is NOT the New Black.

I'm not about that jail life, especially when I know this fucktard is doing shit to piss me off on purpose. So, did I dump a half of cup of coffee in his seat? Maybe I did, or maybe he just pissed himself.

Anyway, when I heard the term Bitchbaby, I knew exactly what they meant. Someone alway complaining, but wants all the glory. That's these folks to a T!

I think for the rest of the day, I'm going to practice my resting bitch face, which will probably morph into this:

By the way, Happy Saturday.

When you don't care for someone, his breathing just annoys you

It's been a minute since I've had something to say about Wonderland. I've been trying to turn lemons into lemonade.

What I really want to do is squeeze lemon juice in little Bookman's eyes. When you lie as easily as you breathe, it just makes it hard to deal with you —even on those rare occasions where I have to talk at this clown.

Let me take you back to Monday. I woke up late, needed to shower, get dressed and make it to work without being super duper late.
I wore a dress. It wasn't a mini dress, but it wasn't a maxi dress either. Knee skimming.

I get to Wonderland and there is no water for coffee. So, in my dress, I go get this big ass water bottle to hook up to the coffee machine — which is the best thing about this place. I'm strong, but that thing is heavy. I get to the machine, I'm about to hook it up and here comes Bookman.
"Let me that for you."

I'm thinking, you SOB, you could've gotten this when I was struggling carrying this shit. I shot back, "I got it."

He goes to the manager and then the manager calls me into the office and tells me that I need to be careful when bending over. He prefaces this by saying,  "This is a sensitive subject and I should probably have someone in here. . ."
I asked him if he wanted me to go home and change since my skirt length was such a problem. He said no. I told him, I'll gladly go home.

Anyway. Little Bookman, who has halitosis and smokes, which causes his breath to smell like the inside of a dead man's ass, tells another coworker that the manager was the one who said something about my skirt and he didn't know why I was mad because he was trying to help me out.

Nah, son. You're being a pervy perv perv!