My 18-hour Assistant.

By Matt Baumgartner

Her name was Mary. And she quit after 18 hours.

I have cold medicines that last longer.

I’m not quite sure what happened, but this is how it all went down.

About a month ago, a cute girl in a polka dot dress and red heels shows up for an interview. I thought, “wow, I can really get on board with this outfit!” You’re hired. She said, “one problem, I can’t start for a month.” I said, “that sucks. But I’ll wait. In the meantime, I’ll send you a list of what your responsibilities will be.”

The month came and went. And Mary started at 11:00am, which I thought was a respectful time to start. I’m not a morning person.

I had emailed her asking her to dress business casual, and she showed up in a tank top and flip flops. Which was strange because I think my exact words in the email were “dress business casual, not like a tank top and flip flops.” In her defense it was 88 degrees outside on Monday and her outfit is considered business casual for a lifeguard.

We went over the tasks I expected her to perform. I gave her “Admin” status on all my Facebook and Twitter business accounts. I gave her keys to my house and automobiles. She received her very own AMEX Gold Card in her name. I took her to the dog park to show here where the dogs exercise while I am away. And I taught her how to roll a fat, tight joint.

We were besties.

At the end of her first day, I had to leave for NYC. She kindly drove me to the train station, and she drove off in my car. I thought, “I have a good feeling about Mary.” However, I also had a good feeling about Jessica & Nick, and the academy award for Best Picture going to Brokeback Mountain.

The following day, also known as Day 2, I got a message from my friend John asking to borrow the car. I said, “no problem. Let me just get ahold of Mary and she can get the key for you.” So I call Mary. No answer. I text Mary. no response. I call again. and again. I am now technically stalking Mary. Like so many failed relationships in the past, I send her one final text, “I really need you to call me.”

About 45 minutes later she calls. “Sorry, I didn’t hear my phone.”

What?

Something didn’t sound right. She sounded frantic on the phone. She said she was in the dog park with the dogs, and naturally I thought, “Great. Frank pooped in her purse and now she’s upset.” We ended the phone conversation and that was the last time I spoke to Mary.

I received an email from her yesterday where she basically gave me her 2 weeks notice her, ummm, her notice.

My exact response was “WOW.”

Evidently, she thought the job was all graphic design, and not so much personal assisting. Which is weird because when a list of job responsibilities includes “keep fridge stocked with ‘Utica Club’”, you would think it wouldn’t be just a graphic design job.

But Mary quit and I assume went back to her last job. I guess the allure of working with me wasn’t as strong as her last cubicle job which she told me she hated. So apparently, working with me is worse than an unhappy job. :(

In my defense, I don’t think 18 hours is enough to appreciate the position. It normally takes weeks to realize what a totally insane bag o’ fun I am. And is going to the Honest Weight Co-Op to buy skim milk once a week really that bad? I mean, c’mon. who doesn’t love picking up dog shit??! It’s so soft and warm!

So there you have it.

The good news is that Mary has been replaced. and I have a wonderful new assistant / friend / therapist / Friday Puppy postess named Nina, and she is doing a wonderful job.

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