We're Blaming the Smell on Loud Guy

I’m having ARM flashbacks this week like some kind of bad acid trip. First Easy asked me to charter him a helicopter to and from the Hamptons. Sure thing, I’ll just call up my guy…what, you don’t have a private aviation guy’s number memorized from your previous job? Oh. Hm. Weird.

So, I left a voicemail for my guy saying, “Hi, I’m no longer working for ARM, thank goodness, but I need to charter a helicopter…” and he called me back laughing. Really, after all the ridiculous flight arrangements I asked this man to make for ARM it was a miracle he called me back at all. Did you know that helicopters are an expensive way to travel? It would take me an entire month to make what Easy would spend on two hours of total flight time!

I like working for Easy because when I gave him the obscenely expensive quote he replied, “Ha, I might have to drive!” See? Bizarro ARM.

The flashback didn’t end with the extravagant transportation plans and my occasionally-useful mental Rolodex. I also received an email from The Queen of Darkness, the new ARM Assistant, asking me a question about one of his upcoming trips that I planned before quitting. Sure, I didn’t enjoy working with her, and she’s a bit of an odd duck with her long straggly hair, haunted house cell phone ring and a vehement dedication to wearing all black, all the time, but I don’t wish her anything but the best of luck in that role.

When I quit as his assistant in May, ARM struck a deal with me that I’d leave my contact information in case The Queen of Darkness needs help in the future and in return, he would pay me an unspecified monetary bonus at the end of June. My hopes weren’t high (he’s a cheapskate, after all) but I would have helped her anyway because I’m a decent person, so I agreed.

It’s August 15. Are we at all shocked that I haven’t seen a penny of that bonus?

Well, I upheld my end of the bargain, so I emailed him, skipped the pleasantries and asked when I can expect the bonus in the mail. That was Monday; still no response. After another week he’ll get a follow-up “maybe you overlooked my earlier email” email and I’ll attach a delivery and read receipt. And after that…well my mental Rolodex also still includes his personal credit card information and Social Security number. Just saying.

C just said to me, “Walk over here past my cubicle and tell me if it smells like poo.”

Sure enough, the area under the vent by her desk smells like a bathroom. Not like a someone-farted-smell, but like a toilet-that-hasn’t-been-cleaned-in-a-while-smell. Way to stink, Nice Hedge Fund.