Someone at Payroll a couple of blocks away told my cube-mate this morning that the ax was already falling over here.
Not on 12W. At least not the North End. Not yet, anyway. I suppose the Human Resources SWAT team can only clean out one nest of terrorists, I mean, group of employees, at a time. One fellow on the South End got the word ahead of time, and has been taking his personal days. Anyone who is canned will get paid for his accrued vacation, but not for personal days. I don't know about sick time. As a part-timer I don't get any. Sick time, I mean.
Morale is not very high today, I must admit. Then again, it's lent. As the priest said to Mae West, whose townhouse opposite my more humble abode is something called Hineni, an evangelistic effort to recall Jews to Judaism. I think I would be more responsive to Ms. West, at least in her prime. I do wish I had her video of "Minnie the Moocher."
In other news I got my hair cut yesterday, for the first time in many, many months. "You have a lot of hair," said the Russian barber. "For somebody your age."
Next time it's the barber school on Third Avenue, a couple of blocks south of
Hallowe'en Adventure. Where I can always buy a bald wig. So I can look my age.