Goddamned hilarity at work today, and I'm the one responsible. In spite of whatever the cubicle-dwelling pansies in the "inclusivity task force" have to say about it. We're Ops, we actually work for a living, so fuck those wastes' of payroll.
Anyway. Company I work for is global. We've got a Lead Operator (read: Foreman. Oh no, I used the "man" suffix. Yes, the polo-shirt and Birkenstock kiddies would and have complained) from Japan. They'd have said the proper term is "Foreperson." I know this because they've actually fucking said it with a straight face. I troll them by discussing the history of Mankind. Her name is, and as an honest Mass Effect vet I shit you not, Kasumi Goto. Yes, she knows the references, has played the games, and can pull off the cosplay perfectly. Awesome gal. Gives shit as well as she gets, is smarter than any of the jackasses kissing "team leader" ass out on the carpet, can drink as heavy as she lifts, which is pretty dammed impressive for such a small lady, and stands by her Ops Apes up to and including taking very solid grievances over Covid pay to the visiting CEO since the plant manager will huff and turn up her nose at the mere idea of people that don't hold degrees in Business arts (lower case deliberate) being allowed to say anything to "real professionals."
Yeah. It's one of those workplaces. Apes strong together.
Anyway. It was her birthday today. All us shift-work animals that actually make the money for the company decided each to get her a sub-20$ gift for fun because we all love her. Also provided an ice cream cake and root beer, since she's fully assimilated and loves it like we do. Seriously. Kasumi is the most competent, driven, and intelligent Foreman (oh no!) I've ever had the pleasure to work with. She gets into screaming matches when the engineers complain about how we can't put 145 tons into a 140-ton tank or how us following their plans and dictates means they're the ones on the line when shit goes wrong after we tell them it will and they order it anyway, not us. Fucking 20's kids that think their meetings can bend reality. And yes, even the office pukes in their 40's and 50's qualify as "20's kids" since they're so utterly fucking divorced from reality.
Not like we know what we're doing or anything. Just saying. Love seeing the look on those idiots' faces when they fall flat on them after being warned. Repeatedly.
Anyway. Best Bosslady's birthday. I remembered a throwaway quip she'd made a couple months ago while shooting the shit in the parking lot, lamenting that there isn't a single damned decent Ramen joint in the entire fucking midwest, and she missed that taste of the old country, calories be damned. So me, being the eternally attentive, sensitive, and Gentlemanly sort, decided to "fix" that in the most trolling way imaginable.
Yes. I gift-wrapped a 24 pack of Maruchan. Baked Chicken flavor. When I handed it to her, I made mention of remembering how she missed it. Upon opening it, she busted out laughing, then threw it at me and called me an asshole. After I handed it back, utterly playing up the wounded look, she said thanks for reminding her of her college days a whole decade ago.
Took her out for a drink later. She actually asked if I was hitting on her. Responded that I was so clumsy at that she'd probably smack me as a learning lesson if I tried, so no, I wasn't. Instead she laughed, poked me in the sternum, and said we'd talk over the weekend.
Best boss ever.