BLACK SHOE DIARY:
THE DAILY MUSINGS
OF SHURUKU UMEZAWA:
JUNIOR SALESMAN,
NINJA—
INSTALLMENT THREE.
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Monday, April 30
The insulting antics of relentless enemy co-workers continue. Upon engaging my computer machine this morning, I found my screen saver had been changed from its usual picture of a placid Yellowstone sunset to a disquietingly crude image of late comedian Chris Farley from the movie poster for Beverly Hills Ninja.
The personal affronts I am accustomed to by this point, but this cinematic assault on the stealth art I cannot abide. A fat ninja? I was incredulous. Obesity is hardly conducive to "the skill of going unperceived." Leave it to those rapscallions in Hollywood to totally besmirch that which is sacred with one simple casting error.
Out of curiosity, I rented the film. It had its moments.
Tuesday, May 1
The office environment can be a dangerous battleground. Even for one steeped in the deadly craft of ninjutsu.
Kitchen policy states (though in a slightly less eloquent manner): When one removes a cold bottled water from the refrigerator, one must immediately replace it with a room-temperature one from the supply closet, thus ensuring an ample inventory of cold, crisp refreshment for all.
As would any honorable warrior, I obey at all times the rules put before me. Yet, last week, receptionist Fran complained to office manager Ken that she had witnessed my transgression of this ordinance. Given receptionist Fran's seniority over me—and, it is my understanding, her lax sexual tendencies—office manager Ken chose to side with her and proceeded to verbally castigate me for a crime I did not commit.
Damn you, Fran. I wonder, too, if you will have the audacity to blame me for the now headless family photos affixed to the wall at your work station, cut with the razor-sharp precision only a well-tapered samurai sword can achieve.
Something tells me no.
Wednesday, May 2
Initially, I had considered the prospect of business travel as a potential perk to the sales job. After my first trip, however, I have discovered this assumption was erroneous.
Intern Karen, who is responsible for booking all office travel accommodations, approached me two weeks before our scheduled appointment in Phoenix. "Will a Ramada Inn be OK?" she inquired. "It's a great deal," she added. "Whatever is most financially beneficial to the company," I replied. "OK," she continued, "in that case, I'll book you a queen suite at the Ramada, and get you on the 7:30 America West flight into Phoenix. They've got a hub there." Feeling excited but slightly emasculated by the prospect of staying in a queen's living quarters, yet embarrassed about not knowing what this "hub" was, I was eager to end the conversation. "Fine," I agreed.
I have battled entire armadas, but never a force as inhuman and unrelentingly evil as the Ramada. I had to call six times for extra towels, the air conditioning was broken, and the chair was horribly soft and uncomfortable—not at all similar to the rigid chair I sleep in at home.
As for the air travel, I cannot summon the words to translate my disgust and displeasure with the egregious delays and terrible in-flight food, and so will just quote fellow salesman and frequent business traveler Ron Rodriguez: "America Worst."
Indeed, Ron. Indeed.
Thursday, May 3
During lunchtime conversation with various co-workers, the subject of weaponry was broached. Being an expert on this matter, I decided to "kick some knowledge," as they say in hip-hop music. Imagine my chagrin when intern Evan inquired as to my expertise on a certain "hand-held apparatus" (his words) I had simply never heard of. Needless to say, as a ninja, I felt rather ashamed at my ignorance.
Mental note: Need to research "bukkake."
Friday, May 4
I.I.F.T.G. (It is Friday, thank God.) I have noticed that on Fridays some of the firm's more indolent employees take premature leave of their duties—or "sneak out early"—in a direct dereliction of their vocational responsibilities.
Normally, I would never consider such a thing. After this week, though, I am left with the unbearable urge to leave this place, and am thus deliberating a sneak of my own ...
I am fairly certain I won't be caught.
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Read installments
one and two.
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OTHER McSWEENEY'S FEATURES:
- - - -
Black Shoe Diary: The Daily Musings of Shuruku Umezawa: Junior Salesman, Ninja—Installment Three By Eric Feezell
Carnac the Jaded By Chris Sartinsky
My Father, as Owner of His Fantasy Baseball Team, Has a Meeting With His Players to Explore Their Concerns About Front-Office Management By Kate Kershner
Thank You, Thank You, a Thousand Thank-Yous, and More
My Choral Dilemma By Jim Stallard
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