A Seven Week Study in Administrative Assistant Rigby

Week 1:

Reporting for my first day of work.

Week 2:

Settling into office life with Sister.

Week 3:

If you want to talk to Sister, you have to get through me first.

Week 4:

Break time!

Week 5:

Real estate shopping for a new desk area.

Week 6:

Can I have a raise?

Week 7:

A fluffy towel to snooze on while I invade more and more of Sister's personal space.

 

Week 7:  Behind the Scenes

The look I give Sister when she accidentally drops her phone on me while I'm sleeping.

Defending My Turf

I might be devoting most of my time these days to being the full time Administrative Assistant to Sister and part time Administrative Assistant to Ma and Pa, but that doesn't mean that my responsibilities as Head of Security can be neglected.

Recently, an intruder got a little too close for comfort for me and I had to take matters into my own paws.

It's a dangerous world out there with interlopers just itching to take over when one least expects it.  To that I say, "not on my watch, mourning dove.  Not on my watch!"

Video Conferencing

Monday is my seven-week anniversary as Sister’s Administrative Assistant and I think I’m proving to be a great employee if I do say so myself.  I constantly check in with her, I make sure that she remains unstressed by insisting that she rubs my ears regularly, and I ensure that she has (and shares with me) a proper lunch each day.  Sure, there’s some challenges we’ve had to face—Sister occasionally forgets to drag my desk (pillow) into her office, I’ve missed out on a lot of naps, and Sister has threatened to file a complaint with HR because I keep stealing her shoes—but that happens in all offices, right?

But aside from discovering that I’m an impressive Administrative Assistant, I have also learned something else about myself:  I love video conferencing.

I know.  I know.  Most people hate video conferencing.  They hate being on camera, they hate being recorded, and they hate having to try to look put together when in reality they haven’t worn anything fancier than daytime pajamas in weeks.

But me?  As my loyal readers know, I'm always ready for my closeup.  Sure, my family thinks I'm in need of a bath, but I know that my fur is always luxurious and flowing and looks even better when caked in dirt and covered in grass stains (it adds a level of ruggedness).

I'm also a known ham when it comes to any kind of photography (think of how naturally posing comes to me) and any ham worth his salt knows when the camera starts rolling and I'm no different.  A minute after a video conference begins, I wake up from my nap (I was on break) and, if I’m not already there, make my way to Sister’s make-shift office.  If the door is open, I walk in, but if I discover that the door is closed, I bark my super high pitched bark and refuse to stop until Sister excuses herself from the meeting and opens the door (it’s a reputation thing—if she doesn’t let me in her co-workers will think less of her for letting me bark so piteously).  Once inside the room, I climb over my desk, step on Sister's binders, and force myself between her and her desk.  But despite all this, I'm still out of range of the webcam, so I drape myself as far into Sister’s lap as possible (usually my chin is dripping from a recent drink of water) and lift my snout up in the air.  By doing all this, I can just make my way into the frame.

And oh boy do I know when I’ve succeeded.  Suddenly, all conversation (usually boring since the meeting is rarely about food) ceases and the computer speakers issue forth with a wave of "oohs" and "ahhs."

"Rigby!" I hear.

"Puppy!"

"What a cutie!"

"What's his name?"

"He's so beautiful!"

"Is he a Golden?"

It’s wonderful!  Sure, it would be better if all those admirers were in the room with me, rubbing my belly and scratching my ears, but that wouldn't be the socially responsible thing to do right now.  Sometimes, depending on the conference, Sister even lowers the webcam so that I can appear fully on screen without having to stretch.  Needless to say, that’s when the virtual room explodes.  All I can say is that I’m sure that my cuteness is responsible for countless deals Sister has made over the last month and a half.

Pa and Me

From the sounds of it, I have many more days and weeks as Sister’s Administrative Assistant in front of me, and I can only hope that I have just as many video conferences in my future as well.  But before anyone becomes concerned about me working too hard and stretching myself too thin, please know that I make sure to enjoy the simple things in life every day: I invade Pa’s personal space, I steal Ma’s napkin each night at dinner, I am wildly concerned whenever my family plays Wii Sports (I am not a fan), and I will always consider stealing Sister’s shoes a hobby rather than a job.

Working 9 to 5 (What A Way to Make A Living)

I was wrong.

There, I admit it.

I was completely and totally wrong.

What was I wrong about?  For all my life I've been under the impression that my family were over-exaggerating when they'd come home from work tired.  Going to work always sounded like a piece of cake to me--an experience filled with fun and games.  I mean, work has vending machines, and coffee and lunch breaks, and you get to ride in a car to get to and from there each day.  And judging by the conversations Sister has told me about, everyone spends the entire day talking about their four-legged roommates (how else do I keep up with the comings and goings of Mecki, Bastille, and Baci?).  I ask you, how bad could work be?

But, after a week of working as Sister's Administrative Assistant (while also keeping an eye on Ma who was also working from home), I've come to realize that they are very much entitled to be tired.

Here's what I learned after one week of employment:

1. There are no nap times.  Sure, I sneaked in a few, dare I say, "cat naps," at my desk while Sister worked (my desk is my pillow which was placed next to Sister's desk in the Land of No), but neither Sister or Ma took a nap and as a result, neither could I, properly.  I'm surprised.  They are away from the house for eight solid hours and they don't get one single nap!
2. When someone is working, they don't necessarily have the time to rub my ears and tummy whenever I feel the need.  Case in point, last Wednesday Sister was on the phone and I scurried over for an ear rub.  Well, not only did Sister only rub my ears briefly, but she also apologized to the person she was on the phone with when I gave a "yip" of annoyance for not giving me her complete attention.  What nerve!
3. Working brings about rather unreasonable rules.  Apparently, I'm not allowed to lick computers or shred pieces of paper with passwords written on them.  Unreasonable I say!  Unreasonable!

My First Day At Work

Still, despite these new found revelations and rules, I'm a hard worker and a good Administrative Assistant.  As soon as Sister starts her computer up in the morning, I report to my desk and stay there by her side the entire day unless I'm checking to see how Ma is doing upstairs on her computer or barking to go out.  And when the day is done and Sister turns off her computer, I am completely and totally exhausted--a shadow of my former self.  If I weren't covered in glamorous golden fur, you'd see that I have dark circles under my eyes.

But there has been a new development.  I found out this weekend that Pa will be working, on and off, from home as well starting next week.  Now I'll have all three of my humans hanging around the house.

I'll never rest again!

I Got A Job!

Starting today, Sister is going to be working from home for a little while which means that I'm going to be her new Administrative Assistant. 

Here I am dressed for my first day at work.

Do you think it's too soon to ask for a raise?

The Scary Land of No

Every couple of hours, I, the devilishly handsome pup with flowing blonde hair, a winning personality, and a bright toothy smile (with dimples, don’t forget the dimples), does a loop around the house to make sure that everything is in its place and that food isn’t being consumed without me.

During one recent walk through, I happened to glance into the first floor Land of No and saw something truly great, sort after, and spectacular about ten feet into the room. But there was one problem. How was I going to reach what caught my eye?

Me and Pa in my Crate

As my loyal readers know, I’ve had a long and complicated relationship with the Land of No. When I was a wee pup, all the fun and easily destroyed things that my family wanted to keep away from my pearly white teeth were stored there; protected 24/7 by a big scary baby gate. Then, when I was a little older, the gate came down, the room was cleaned, and my crate brought inside essentially making the Land of No my own personal bedroom. One might have assumed that that would be a wonderful arrangement, however it didn’t go over well because there was some bad juju in that room which freaked me out (even Pa sitting in my create with me did not ward off the devils living in that room). My crate was soon removed and the room remained open to me, however, I never warmed back up to it again (especially after Mittens the hamster, who lived in the room, made a run at me in her hamster ball).

But as scary as the room was, I really wanted what I saw, so I took a deep breath and a cautious step over the threshold. I stretched my neck toward my heart’s desire, but I came up short. I took another cautious step forward, way deeper into the room than I was really comfortable with, and once again stretched. My chin went forward, my chest leaned in, and even my tail stretched outward though in the wrong direction (I never particularly liked that tail—it always seemed to have a mind of its own). Unfortunately, try as I might, I once again came up ridiculously short of my goal.

Thwarted, I backed out of the room to the safety of the hallway. Was I really going to have to pretend that I didn’t see what I saw?

However, seconds before turning away, I got an idea. If I wasn’t able to reach my goal myself, then I would get someone else to help me; I just needed to find a willing assistant.

First, I called out with a low growl and received no response. Next, I issued a single deep bark. Still nothing. Finally, I whipped out my not so secret weapon: a series of high-pitched yips. My high-pitched bark makes the hair on my family’s neck stand on end so there was no way that they would ignore me if I used it.

And just as I predicted, immediately following the first three high pitched yips, Ma came running to figure out what all the fuss was about. Noticing that I was shuffling uncomfortably at the threshold, Ma walked into the Land of No and told me to “check it out” (code for there’s nothing scary here). Cautiously, I followed her into the room and made a beeline for my prize: a pair of Sister’s shoes.

Shoe in mouth, I quickly turned and skidded my way out of the room like the Land of No ghost was hot on my tail. Ma shouted “hey!” as I reached the safety of the hallway and followed after me as I scurried toward the living room.

Ma eventually caught up to me and the shoe in the living room where she made me give it up. Needless to say, I was not happy with this turn of events. I had called on Ma to help me retrieve the shoe—not to take it away from me once I had liberated it.

Honestly, you just can’t get good help nowadays.

A Drinking Problem

Rigby's Bottle

I always meet people at the door with a toy.  I mean, in my eyes, it's only polite.  My one rule, however, is that you can admire my toy, you can look at it with your eyes, but I will never ever let you have it (unless, of course, if you bring me a suitable item to trade for it like a nice piece of cheese or a pair of slippers).

Recently, I met Sister at the door with my squeaky beer bottle.

Now, of course, she's telling people that I have a "problem."

Thanks a lot Sister!