My Week 226: All About The Bordens

On Friday, I was sitting at my desk at the secret agency when my phone screen suddenly lit up. I looked over, and there was a text message. I immediately stopped what I was doing to investigate, because no one ever texts me except the people I work with, and I was AT work. And I don’t mean to imply that I’m unpopular or live a very lonely existence—it’s just that Ken still insists on using Blackberry Messenger like a 90 year-old man and Kate only uses Facebook Messenger, because god forbid a daughter should actually ever call her mother. As for the rest of my family, they DO call me at work, usually during meetings and whatnot, causing me to rush out in terror, worried that the worst has happened, only to be asked to come to dinner on the weekend.

So I sat there for a moment, pondering the possibilities, and then opened up the message. It said, “Just checking if you’re available for a job.” I was immediately intrigued. Of course, I already have a very good job, but I’m only an “Acting” Manager, and there’s always the risk that one day, I’ll have to stop acting like one, and actually BECOME one. So I thought for a moment, and then wrote back, “Ooh, what kind of job?!” I’ll admit that I may have sounded a little over-excited, but tone is hard over text, and I wanted to convey a sense of child-like wonder as well as tremendous enthusiasm. I waited breathlessly for a reply. Nothing. Had I overplayed my hand? Still nothing. To pass the time, I went to the website of the company that the text had come from. There were some very interesting jobs available there: Medical Sales Representative, Relationship Banker, Records Management Specialist, Unloader…I didn’t know what some of these were, but they all sounded very life-fulfilling.

It was almost lunchtime, so I went to heat up my leftovers. When I came back, there was an ominous reply. “It’s a warehouse job”.

Suddenly, it occurred to me that perhaps this wasn’t a job, but was, in fact, a “job”. Was I being offered the opportunity to commit some kind of crime? And then it all made sense: Medical Sales Representative must be code for Drug Dealer. Relationship Banker? That was obviously running an Escort Agency. Records Management Specialist, I guessed, would be something akin to a Mob Accountant. Unloaders…unloaded stolen goods. What had I gotten myself into?

But then, I had a thought. I was always trying to challenge myself to try new things, things that I would never normally do. And a “warehouse job” was certainly something I’d never entertained before, but why not? I mean, I don’t know much about heists, but there are a LOT of movies out there about them, and if Sandra Bullock could do it, why couldn’t I? I regularly organize and oversee an annual event involving more than 1500 people at a large convention centre—how hard could it be to rob ONE warehouse? And the best part was that the secret agency had its OWN warehouse that I could practice on! But wait. The one thing I knew from watching all those heist movies was that a good warehouse job always involved a team. Luckily, I had a team, and a very efficient and intelligent team at that. And the best part was that we wouldn’t need any type of weapon because they are all very fit, kind of like ninjas, if the way they sneak up on me in my office is any indication. I was getting an Oceans 8 vibe from the whole scenario, and started thinking about next steps, the most imperative of which was that I needed information: how big was the warehouse, where was it located, what was the security guard’s schedule, how many cameras were there, and so on.

I took a deep breath. Yes, I was going all in. “Send me the specs. I’ll get my team together,” I wrote back. I imagined them at the other end of the conversation, giving each other quiet high fives and saying, “It’s on. Mydangblog is getting her team together. Send the file with the blueprints.” While I waited for what I assumed would be a VERY appreciative response, I realized that I hadn’t even asked about pay, like how many bundles of Bordens I was going to get (Bordens are the Canadian equivalent of Benjamins, but only 76 cents to the dollar). But while I was picturing a large leather case, and all those shiny Bordens, the reply came: “What do you mean?”

It suddenly occurred to me that, perhaps, I had badly misjudged the offer. I wrote back, “Is this a job, or a ‘job’?” Again, the answer came back: “What?” I did the only thing I could do, and replied, “Wrong number.”

And then I had an epiphany. The message was for Shane, “Blayz for Dayz” Shane who had apparently owned my phone number before me, whose girlfriend still tried to Facetime me, whose mother left me angry texts demanding that he call her right away, whose friends like to play soccer and smoke weed. I felt terrible—not only had I missed out on what might have been a VERY lucrative opportunity, I had also probably gotten Shane fired from his temp job. I hope he doesn’t have to resort to crime to pay his bills. But if he does, I know where he can find a team.

62 thoughts on “My Week 226: All About The Bordens

  1. Lmao, I love your response. Sending you the specs might have started a chain reaction and you might have had to see this through, lol. I worked in a warehouse , in fact I worked that job for about six years. I learned a lot from the warehouse team and my boss, it was a great professional experience. As for “Blaze for Dayz” Shane all I can say is, his loss. He missed out on a potentially very 007 type warehouse “job”, just sayin’.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. So it reasonably follows that Shane will update his employee phone number in their records, which will be good for him, continuing the trend wherein he already isn’t getting contacted by that girlfriend, who was no good for him anyway, nor harassed by his toxic mother, nor hooked up with a good weed dealer. You quite possibly just fixed his life. I’m sorry that it was at the cost of an adventure for you, though!

    Liked by 3 people

  3. It’s too bad the ‘job’ didn’t involve dealing with someone’s family. You’re quite the expert at that—in fact I think Shane, or “Mr. for Dayz” as they know him around the warehouse, should be paying you for dealing with his mother,
    You and Ken and the rest could even be the Canadian version of the Sopranos, sitting around in a Tim Horton’s plotting ways to put on a nice party for someone’s mother and just raking in the Bordens and loonies.

    Liked by 3 people

  4. I love this so much. Your response could not have been more perfect! I also have fantasies of pulling off heists with a team a’la Ocean’s 8, so this is right up my alley. It takes everything I have to not yell, “Everyone on the floor!” anytime I walk into a bank. 😁

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Excited to be following you! This particular story made me laugh with the Hope of a shared imagination in our mundane job (or I use to have a mundane career)…

    Imagine where our stories could intertwine now that I am an Animal Control Officer?

    Liked by 2 people

  6. Allen St. Clair says:

    This reminds me of the time I was contacted by a producer at A&E about appearing in a documentary about Tourette Syndrome because one of his researchers assumed I had it because I mentioned it in a blog post ONCE. So, I had the enviable (yes, enviable) task of explaining to a television producer that I had said it was a joke about how many times I say the “F word” on a daily basis. He simply wished me the best in my future endeavors. The researcher might have gotten fired, I didn’t bother to ask.

    Liked by 3 people

  7. It’s a shame it went that way because it did sound like the start of some kind of cool action movie where you’d be jetting off to some sexy European island in a motor boat to have it out with some very sophisticated baddies.

    In the movies, the right response to the initial line about the job would have been “That’s all behind me. I’m done with that life. My husband made me promise.”

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Suzanne, God I’m glad you have your blog and that I get to read it! You are hysterical and I’m pleased to be one of your posse! Let me know when we’re on for a “job.” You take the Bordens and I’ll take the Benjamins! Nudge, nudge, wink, wink! Mona

    Liked by 3 people

  9. OK, you’re Sandra Bullock, so can I be Cate Blanchett? Normally she isnt a super-fave of mine, but she was pretty bad (bad = good, of course) in Oceans 8. People who don’t update their phone numbers make me nuts—says the mom of two boys who inherited numbers formerly belonging to shady characters or possibly mere looooooosers. Ugh.

    Liked by 2 people

  10. 😊I had a fantastic time reading this. Your response was genius, got me cracking! I hope Shane didn’t get fired from his temp job. You’re an awesomely creative writer & you’ve created a great platform to share your experiences and wisdom.

    Liked by 1 person

  11. Bless you, Suzanne — only you could turn a wrong-number text into a comic-heist caper!

    And I think it’s only fair to point out, speaking as someone who’s worked in a warehouse, that it’s nothing like Ocean’s Eleven. If you’re going to blog about this stuff, please try to get your facts right…

    Liked by 1 person

  12. And there’s me trying to think of a good reason to get a mobile (cell) phone other than being able to communicate with my bank (other methods, like talking to them directly, have failed)… I think I’m sold on this. Hey – I can talk to strangers and confuse them more than I already do! I bet you wish you’d taken that job…!

    Liked by 1 person

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