Once upon a time . . .
I thought goats were cute. As well as cats. . .
Then I had the worst 120 days in a job in my life! I worked for a local hospital and transferred to a new department. The department was responsible for hospital involvement in the community. Health fairs, screenings, prescription programs and so on. I loved the idea of being involved, in doing more than sitting behind a desk just answering a phone.
The new “boss” I had known only in an acquaintance sort of way for a good 15 years. I knew she was a little eccentric but she had always been so kind and pleasant.
I interviewed, was offered the position and accepted.
The week before I was to begin the new job, I started receiving unsolicited feedback on this move. Things like “you know about her and the cats don’t you?” Yes, I had heard about the cats – hard not to when she had started feeding so many strays at the office a health hazard had begun. But so what, she loves cats, I know lots of people who like cats.
“You heard about the mouse problem over there?” Nope. “they (the office) complained about the mouse problem, traps were placed, but then they would unset them – it was inhumane, they (the boss and her cronies) fed them instead” and not poison. At the end of the story, maintenance finally had to place poison in other spots to get rid of the rodents.
A former boss that had climbed the corporate ladder called. She had heard and her question was “you know she is crazy? Certifiable?” Now this was an alarm, but this came the Friday before the Monday I was to start. This comment was not a comment this person would make being mean or light hearted, which is not the type of person she is.
It is not in me to go back on something like that. I had accepted the job, I was to begin on the following Monday. Let your yes be yes and no be no – to the new office I would go!
Monday I awoke rather excited to see what would come of the new day and new setting. I arrived 15 minutes early. The office staff started arriving 15 minutes late. The boss ran in carrying an arm full of yarn (with, hay maybe, sticking out), knitting needles and papers, all in a frenzy, shaking her head, "I have to be at a meeting I will be back later," and out the door she went. Out the door went the others. Out the door went her two cronies – I call them the Siamese Cats. Remember the “we are Siamese if you please” cats in the Disney movie? How they watched and snooped and created trouble? Yup, that would be these two.
By 8:30 I was alone. That is when the tears rolled and I knew in my gut I had made the worst job choice (even with a failed business – that 120 days was the worse) ever.
Turns out she was always frenzied. Those balls of yarn and knitting needles? She always had them and was always kinitting. She knitted in meetings. She knitted in her back office as she verbally annihilated the folks she had most recently interacted with. What did she knit? Death blankets for any dying cats at her home. She took in all kinds of cats, but mainly those with leukemia, which she would order cancer drugs from Canada to doctor them with. When she knew they weren’t living much longer, the knitting would hit a new level of energy and intensity. We often wondered if her internal rage would ever let loose of those needles and they would go flying at her target.
The hays stuff sticking out of yarn, bags, or clinging to her trousers? It was hay. From the goats in her home. No not at her home. In her home. Not that that has to be a problem, other than we are in the hot south and the idea of a sweaty flea infested wild animal baying through the house leaving droppings just had a grossness to it. And yes, there were droppings scattered – pictures were displayed in her office of her family with goats in the house and droppings everywhere.
Now, to any readers that have goats taking up residence in their home, this is not to say that it is not possible. But with this particular household, it was gross. This was not temporary due to illness or extreme weather condition. The goats had full run of the house and there were plenty of hygiene issues with ALL inhabitants of the home.
Let me inject, here, another comment I received. A co-worker’s husband heard about this job move. He asked me if I had met her life partner yet. I had not. He had had to deal with the fellow where he worked and said he looked like he belonged with the Grateful Dead. Now I conjured up some Jolly Harley Davidson riding dude. I was a little off with my vision. As well as my interpretation of what I was being told. Yes, he had fuzzy gray hair. Yes, he might could pass for a biker dude. But that was not it. It was the odor. He smelled like the dead!
He did not bath but once a week. The household also did not embrace the use of deodorant, due to the possible link with cancer. I did mention this is the hotter than hades South and this 120 days was from May until September? Good, just wanted to be sure that part was there.
Now in this office also worked a few other people (3 to be exact) that were quite blown away by all we saw and smelled. There was one quite entertaining fella. He had worked for a time with, and testified against, a D.C. Mayor that committed a well publicized faux pas. He added to the daily events by giving me the background of crazy antics that occurred before my joining in their nightmare.
He told of the day he came in the office, jumped into his work, came back into the area with the copy machine and realized something else was in there. As he turned and looked down, there stood a goat!
Now there was much more about this adventure – the dumpster diving, the paranoia, the Osha order, the parnoia, the police chase thru the pecan grove, misappropriation of funds, the paranoia, Jeffrey Dalmer ties, the eight year old that would curl up into a ball on the floor if spoken to. The list went on and on.
And during this time, there grew a dislike of goats. Strange, I suppose that was a transfer of some feelings or the other.
But in bloggyland I have come across goat owners. Goat owners that make the bearded garbage disposals actually cute and back equivalent with any other farm animal, well chickens are still rather too dirty . . .
Anyway, Didilyn way over on the cool side in Oregon, with her wonderful little niche with horses and dogs, also has some goats. I so enjoy her posts. Recently she had a cute little post about a goat. The Homely Goat touched that ahhhh part of my heart and some affection was returned for the four legged bleater .
But this picture by Didilyn takes the cake, how can you not smile and enjoy?!?
Looks more peaceful than I ever would have thought of with goats.
“If you’re short of trouble, take a goat.”
~ Finnish saying