Tuesday – Working For Big Daddy
Mar. 16th, 2010 05:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermore.
.
.
In our office, W. owns everything and calls the shots. He is the boss of my boss, and entrepreneur behind all of the enterprises that operate under this roof. There are 4 different companies in the office condo I work in, and everyone answers to W. Behind his back, I call him “Big Daddy.” Big Daddy owns the building I work in, as well as all the little businesses inside of it. It is part of a complex of office condos he is constructing. They are all nicely decorated and landscaped. The signage is low key and tasteful. The landscaping is lush (or at least it will be once everything snaps out of its winter dormancy). The crown molding in my cubicle is Big Daddy’s touch. I sit in the kind of high-backed leather office chair usually reserved for executives, because all the chairs in my office are of that kind. Big Daddy likes people to be impressed when they walk in.
Big Daddy does not come into the office every day. He spends part of his time at his office in another business condo unit just like this one in a town west of Houston in another development of his just like this one, but without a lake in the middle of it. The lake, to me, looks like retention pond with a fountain in the middle of it to make it fancy. Houston is prone to flooding, so whenever a business paves over a piece of each a retention pond has to be put in to take in the water that the soil will no longer be absorbing.
He has other businesses he runs out of the Westside office. When he comes into the office where I work he sits in the conference room, with its grand marble conference table and its walnut stained paneled walls. He can spread out in there. He has no phone extension. When anyone calls and asks for Big Daddy on my company’s phone line, it is a solicitor. Any person who wants to talk to him already has his cell phone number. I don’t have his cell phone number. Sometimes a caller will just ask for “the owner of the company,” thinking that since this is a small business the owner must be be close at hand. This owner has a multiple small businesses in addition to being self employed. When someone calls asking for either Big Daddy or The Owner, I cooly ask them if I can take a message. They always say they will just call back the next day when we will have the same conversation over again, verbatim. Today, one surprised me. The call was out of Sacramento, California, though the caller ID did tell me the name of the company.
“May I speak with [Big Daddy]?” a young man asked.
“He’s not available. May I take a message?”
“That’s okay. What do you get when you cross an elephant with a rhinoceros?”
“I have no idea.”
“You’re close. You get an El-eph-fino.” He said the last word with a Spanish flair, like he was saying El Fino.
I paused. If the joke had been funny, I may have laughed politely. I was trying to figure out if it even made sense, though, and I think silently. I'm pretty sure it doesn't make any sense. “Okay…”
“That’s all right. Have a great day, pretty lady.”
“Thanks. You, too,” I said, still bemused. I suppose I do have a nice phone voice, though its presumptive of him to assume the rest of me is as nice. He'll probably call back tomorrow. I wonder if I'll get another riddle when he does? Regardless, he won't get through to Big Daddy.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
.
.
In our office, W. owns everything and calls the shots. He is the boss of my boss, and entrepreneur behind all of the enterprises that operate under this roof. There are 4 different companies in the office condo I work in, and everyone answers to W. Behind his back, I call him “Big Daddy.” Big Daddy owns the building I work in, as well as all the little businesses inside of it. It is part of a complex of office condos he is constructing. They are all nicely decorated and landscaped. The signage is low key and tasteful. The landscaping is lush (or at least it will be once everything snaps out of its winter dormancy). The crown molding in my cubicle is Big Daddy’s touch. I sit in the kind of high-backed leather office chair usually reserved for executives, because all the chairs in my office are of that kind. Big Daddy likes people to be impressed when they walk in.
Big Daddy does not come into the office every day. He spends part of his time at his office in another business condo unit just like this one in a town west of Houston in another development of his just like this one, but without a lake in the middle of it. The lake, to me, looks like retention pond with a fountain in the middle of it to make it fancy. Houston is prone to flooding, so whenever a business paves over a piece of each a retention pond has to be put in to take in the water that the soil will no longer be absorbing.
He has other businesses he runs out of the Westside office. When he comes into the office where I work he sits in the conference room, with its grand marble conference table and its walnut stained paneled walls. He can spread out in there. He has no phone extension. When anyone calls and asks for Big Daddy on my company’s phone line, it is a solicitor. Any person who wants to talk to him already has his cell phone number. I don’t have his cell phone number. Sometimes a caller will just ask for “the owner of the company,” thinking that since this is a small business the owner must be be close at hand. This owner has a multiple small businesses in addition to being self employed. When someone calls asking for either Big Daddy or The Owner, I cooly ask them if I can take a message. They always say they will just call back the next day when we will have the same conversation over again, verbatim. Today, one surprised me. The call was out of Sacramento, California, though the caller ID did tell me the name of the company.
“May I speak with [Big Daddy]?” a young man asked.
“He’s not available. May I take a message?”
“That’s okay. What do you get when you cross an elephant with a rhinoceros?”
“I have no idea.”
“You’re close. You get an El-eph-fino.” He said the last word with a Spanish flair, like he was saying El Fino.
I paused. If the joke had been funny, I may have laughed politely. I was trying to figure out if it even made sense, though, and I think silently. I'm pretty sure it doesn't make any sense. “Okay…”
“That’s all right. Have a great day, pretty lady.”
“Thanks. You, too,” I said, still bemused. I suppose I do have a nice phone voice, though its presumptive of him to assume the rest of me is as nice. He'll probably call back tomorrow. I wonder if I'll get another riddle when he does? Regardless, he won't get through to Big Daddy.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-03-17 02:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-17 01:37 pm (UTC)Hey, don't you have a test you're supposed to be studying for? Thinking back to my college days, I'm thinking your house and desk are a bit tidier than it usually is.
no subject
Date: 2010-03-17 05:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-17 01:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-17 01:04 pm (UTC)What do you get when you cross an elephant with a rhino?
The answer to which is supposed to rhyme with, "Hell if I know!"
no subject
Date: 2010-03-17 01:32 pm (UTC)It's still stupid.
If he calls back today, I want a better joke. :P
no subject
Date: 2010-03-18 01:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-19 02:45 am (UTC)BTW, he didn't call today. Maybe tomorrow he will.