I just LOVE being a lackey!!

Good things about working in a position that is un-defined and useless:

I get to go on my blog and play crosswords all day!

Bad things about working in a position that is un-defined and useless:

People can make me do pretty much anything that they don't have the time to do. And I mean anything.

Today I was asked to "pop over to Grand and Toy and pick up a little order."

Bees Knees, I thought. I get to go frolic in the sunshine! So off I set, on what I expected to be a pleasant jaunt in the sun. How mistaken, how foolish I was.

First, a word of advice; if someone asks you to go somewhere, and you have only the vaguest clue where that somewhere is... look it up on a map. Don't just set off in the hopes of finding it "sometime".

I got to what I thought was the Grand and Toy I was looking for, only to discover it was closed... and it was a Staples.

Not worried yet, I trotted back to the office, secretly congratulating myself on getting to go on yet ANOTHER excursion, further ignoring the inconsequential work waiting back at my desk.

After looking up "Grand and Toy Vancouver" in Google, I headed out again, certain in my destination. I leisurely strolled the 6 blocks, shedding my sweater and soakingup the rays. It was quite warm... in fact... it was hot. I was mildly displeased when I noticed an acrid scent and realised it was my own sweat. Eurgh!

The cashier, upon hearing my errand, shook her head in bewilderment and said "Um.. we don't have an order for you... are you sure it was this Grand and Toy?"

"Uhhh... no? How many Grand and Toys are there in downtown Vancouver?"

"We have 6 locations in Vancouver, ma'am."

Fuck.

SIX locations? And did she just call me MA'AM? What the bloody fuck?

"Oookay, well which one is closest to here?" I asked.

"Hm, I suppose you could try the one in Bental Centre? Or maybe the one on Pender? Or what about Yaletown? Those are the closest ones to here, ma'am."

"Okey dokes, matron, thanks for the info!" I called over my shoulder as I ran off to find the next G&T. Spinning this outing into a 15 minute relax-a-thon is one thing... being lost for over half an hour is another.

After being turned away at yet another G&T, I finally found the store I was looking for.

"You got a car?" asked flamboyantly gay youth behind the counter.

"No... not with me." I replied, alarm bells clanging higgeldy piggeldy in my brain. And with good reason, it turned out.

"Ooo, girl, you got your work cut OUT for you!" squealed the youth, dragging a box around the counter roughly the size of a small refrigerator.

Shit. And might I add, Fuck.

The box was every bit as heavy as it looked, and I staggered the 4 blocks back to my office building, panting and sweating and generally cursing the government and all it's employees.

I can assure you, I never want to see a G&T again, unless it's in my hand, on the rocks, with a twist of lime.