My boss turned around and said the phrase I hate the most yet hear her voice utter to me several times a day, "Working Girl One, can you do me a faaavuh?"
"Yes, Boss," I replied with a smile but not without a quick roll of the eyes before swiveling around on my chair to face her. I never ask what the favor is because I have no choice and because she's never really asking me for a favor - this is just her way of telling me what she needs me to do.
She handed me a piece of paper with what could only be described as chicken scratch scribbled upon it. On it was a client's name and the address of a kosher deli on the Upper East Side. My boss asked me to have two quarts of chicken soup delivered to her client's home because she was home sick and missing a meeting. Of course, I have all the time in the world to do this. It's not like I have to mail out 50 plus copies of our March issue with personalized letters, prepare for one of my new bosses to start tomorrow, and check Pink is the New Blog or anything.
I also had to track down the client's home address in order to accomplish this task because while my boss claims to be good friends with this lady, she doesn't have any of her information. Of course not, that would be too easy. The client is a well-known senior vice president at a well-known media agency in Manhattan, so finding her address wasn't going to be as simple as looking on whitepages.com. I e-mailed the administrative assistant at the client's office. She ignored my e-mail (beotch). I asked my boss if she was positive that she didn't have her client's home address. She confirmed that she did not.
Finally, I went to whitepages.com. But, I was convinced she wouldn't be listed.
False. She was, indeed, listed.
When I called the deli they most likely thought I was a creepy girlfriend sending my sick boyfriend chicken soup. Not only was I ordering chicken soup as a "gift" for someone, I also wanted a note sent with it - of the "hope you feel better!" variety. I completed the favor, all while rolling my eyes, thinking about how much of a suck-up my boss was being to this client and how ridiculous it is that she continually asks me to do these tasks.
Sure enough, a half hour later when the chicken soup was delivered, my boss received an e-mail from her client graciously thanking and applauding my boss for knowing exactly what she needed to get better. Upon hearing this, I turned away from my boss and rolled my eyes. However not before replying in my most cheery worker bee voice, "Oh good! That was such a great idea!"