February 28, 2011
Don't Make Faces
Random Lady at Work: I cannot stop eating these seaweed snacks from Trader Joe's!
PW: You're eating seaweed on purpose?
RLaW: They're really good! C'mon -- try one!
PW: Ew! Seaweed isn't food. Unless you're a manatee. Seaweed is what people eat when they are trapped on a deserted island, and their only choice is to die or eat seaweed, so they eat the seaweed, but they're still thinking about just letting themselves die of starvation because they are eating seaweed.
RLaW: ... My mom always told me that, when someone offers you something you don't want to eat, you just say, "No, thank you," and don't make faces or noises.
PW: Well, I felt like you needed more information. For your own sake.
Posted at 05:29 PM | Comments (1)February 24, 2011
My Second Full Week of Work: Part II
Thursday
Last Thursday was a big day for me. It was my first big in-house event that I planned for Vy.
Now, I've done a few meetings before -- the hunting down of the perfect conference room, the careful choosing of the menus, the nightmare of the speakerphones -- but I always had Alpha to help me. And, if I'm 100% honest, I always had her to blame if it didn't go exactly smoothly.
But this time, it was all me, baby. I had to design the room set-up, which had to accommodate:
a) a speaker
b) break-out groups
c) buffet lunch
d) a short DVD presentation
e) special, fancy dessert
I had to... nod authoritatively and say, "Looks good," when the meeting planner showed me the proposed menu. (Yeah, we have people at work whose sole purpose in life is to make our travel and meetings easier. It is HEAVEN. So much so that I gave one of them a Supergirl Barbie. Yeah, she's that good.)
I had to put linen tablecloths on tables.
I had to hunt down, within the building:
a) an extra tablecloth
b) seven flip charts
c) 20 flip chart markers (yes, they require special markers)
d) three easels
I had to decide on three different cakes from a gourmet bakery... okay, that part wasn't so hard.
Anyhoo, excruciatingly-long story slightly-less-long, I passed my meeting audition. It went off without a hitch, and I learned that Vy basically wants to give me a task and then not hear about it again until I'm done with it. Which is fine by me because it just gives me more opportunities to make decisions and prove that I am worthy of the Blue Fairy making me into a real employee!
Friday
My predecessor used to be a kindergarten teacher, which may explain her need to explain everything to me very, very slowly, and in story form, beginning with a detailed history of anything I may ask her about. Bless her little heart, she is giving me adult-onset A.D.H.D.
I, on the other hand, am quick. I make decisions quickly. I learn quickly. I work quickly (when properly motivated). I can look at a task and instantly see what it will take to complete it. Yeah, I'm bragging a little, but I'm not graceful and I'm not beautiful, so let me just have this one thing, will ya?
Twice on Friday, I made Vy do the hard blink of surprise (she's not very emotive, so I have to watch for smaller clues). Twice she gave me some small task two do. Twice she came back to tell me that it wasn't that important and not to spend too much time on it.
And twice I got to say, "I didn't; it's already on your desk."
And if that weren't enough to send me into fits of smugness, I also edited and formatted a huge, important, secret, 120-page document for her, and got it done by quittin' time. (I also added page breaks after the different sections, about which she commented, "Oh, good -- that was driving me crazy." Have I found a sister in O.C.D.?!)
At the end of it all, when the document had to sent to the various secret agents with clearance to read it, I heard Vy say to Lord God King of the Company, "We have this done because of Wenchie."
Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww, yyyeeeaaahhh.
Posted at 07:59 AM | Comments (5)February 21, 2011
My Second Full Week of Work: Part I
Monday
Did you know that the words to "My Wild, Irish Rose" are kinda racey? Especially for the time it was written! Like everyone else in the world under the age of 70, I only knew the first four bars, usually heard in movies and t.v. shows in exaggerated, drunkenly singing. But here's the last quarter of the first verse:
And someday, for my sake,
She may let me take
The bloom from my wild, Irish rose!
He's totally hoping to deflower her, right? I like how he says, "For my sake." Good to let her know that she shouldn't expect much from the experience. Thanks for the warning, selfish lover!
Know how I know all this? Because last Monday was Valentine's Day, and in an effort to distract everyone at work from the fact that things have gotten even worse, HR Troll #1 came up with Love Songs in the Lobby. And guess who was singing them?
Yeah. Me. And another lady and two guys. A quartet of people singing in the lobby of an office building at eight in the morning. A capella. The things I do for that place! Hey, beats sitting in a cubicle, I guess. Especially when the cubicle I was sitting in was STILL a temporary cubicle.
At some point during our singing, my new boss, Vy, walked in. She didn't pause to listen or grab a piece of Valentine chocolate. Nor did she compliment me later on what was probably crappy singing anyway, so it's nice to see that she's not insincere, right? But she did give me permission to do it, so I guess that's something.
Tuesday
On the 15th, halfway into the first month of my new job, I was still not occupying the cubicle that went with the position. And despite it being the biggest cube I've ever had -- with it's own private printer -- my impatience wasn't just about the prestige. See, it's harder to do one's job when
a.) someone else is sitting conveniently right outside one's boss' office so that it doesn't occur to one's boss that one is the person one's boss should be asking to do things, and
b.) one isn't anywhere near the files and records and materials that one needs in order to do one's job.
Very annoying, indeed.
But Tuesday was the day that we were told we would be moved, and I was VERY excited. I think my predecessor was even looking forward to it,... UNTIL. She remembered that Vy had a WebEx meeting set for 2:00, and it just WOULDN'T BE HUMANLY POSSIBLE to switch our cubes AND host a WebEx meeting in the same eight-hour period.
Can I just say? My predecessor is a lovely human being. But she moves at the speed of tectonic plates and spends much of her day completely baffled and overwhelmed by her situation. It's no wonder she had a heart attack last year.
Immediately, she wanted to tell I.T. that we couldn't POSSIBLY move our computers and phones that day, but I was determined to talk her down off the ledge. It took thirty minutes of negotiations. I had to come up with THREE -- not one, not two, but THREE -- alternate plans, in case our computers weren't working at 2:00.
Plan D was to literally go to my house and use my home computer. That's how certain this woman was that everything was going to go horribly awry, and on no one day in the history of the world have two events ever happened that didn't result in utter catastrophe and the destruction of life as we know it.
Know how long it took for them to switch our cubes? Including her boxes and boxes of personal crap (and files from her old boss five years ago because she never throws anything out)? Go on, guess.
Three minutes. Including the time it took for us to make sure our computers and phones were working properly in their new homes.
Wednesday
Was awesome. Aware of my deep, pathological need to PURGE my new cubicle, Vy was out of the office for the day and encouraged me to use the day to do just that. Let's be honest -- she was probably tired of looking at the mess.
In cleaning out a small cabinet, two small drawers, and one big file drawer of surplus office supplies, I found:
* Return address labels bearing the name of a guy who retired five years ago.
* Rubber gloves.
* A non-working solar calculator.
* Herbal tea with a 2008 expiration date.
* Enough paperclips to circle the earth three times.
Plus, binders and files going back to 1987, the year I graduated high school. Video tapes. Not DVD's -- video tapes. Along with cassette tapes and floppy disks. My desk is a time capsule!
From my actual desk surface, I moved many binders to the bookcase, and many stacked files to the file drawer. Ya know, where they belong. I'm not done purging the files, but at least I have a clear workspace. Which is what a desk surface is for.
Oh, wait, I forgot about the most convenient of all storage places: the floor. There are 27 binders stacked on my floor, dated 2007 through 2009, which is apparently MY job to figure out what to do with them because my predecessor apparently didn't have any time. Frankly, that's like if I sold my house without cleaning out my basement or garage. Your shit is not MY responsiblity, lady!
Except that, yeah, it is. Because if I wait for HER to do it, it will still be here when I retire... or fly a plane into the building.
Posted at 10:26 AM | Comments (3)February 15, 2011
Quite Literally Phoning It In
A little formatting, absolutely no editing...
i am a lazy tote-of-excrement, so i am text-blogging from my couch while watching ru paul's drag race.
my nails remain nekked. it's become so tedious, i'm not even gonna mention it again until they ARE painted.
omg. one of the queens just used the word "aqualine" in a sentence. correctly. she's my new fav, even tho she's fugly. i'm a whore for a vocabulary.
husband could not be more annoyed with me, texting during the show i'm making him watch.
i'm so busy at the new job, i didn't even have time to check my email OR my facebook. i'm wondering if this is my new reality.
day-um. aqualine chick just said "she has nellie oleson syndrome." can she come live with me?
next commercial, i have to lose the bra and moisturize my face. go!
husband got me some vosges haut chocolate, chocolate covered caramel marshmallows. they are, insanely, like $3 apiece. for reals. its crazed. but i am at a point in my life where i'd rather have one gourmet chocolate than a bag of dove promises.
at least, that's what i try to tell myself when i'm inhaling nestle tollhouse chocolate chips right from the bag before bed. but i guess sometimes you just need a feedbag of faux happiness, ya know?
hmmm, can i make cookies tomorrow, even tho i brought cupcakes to work on monday? my book "nice girls don't get the corner office" says to NEVER bring baked goods to work. so conflicted!
so this raja guy on ru paul -- is he one of the make-up artists on america's next top model? he looks familiar. and i'm pretty sure it's not because i met him at joe's last bday party. sadly, gina the drag queen wasn't there this year. i don't know enough drag queens.
seriously, i am so intimidated by my new job, there's been no time for anything funny to happen. where is my muse when i need one?
and now, a list of all the crap my predecessor left behind in her old cubicle for me:
sunflower seeds, loose, not packaged.
a cubic yard of mailing labels, various sizes.
a webcam that arrived by mail a year ago, which she never bothered to investigate.
a two-inch binder of catering menus. oh, of only there was some magical electronic central place to find a variety of catering menus...
Yeah. I'll blog this weekend. I just have to re-adjust to life on the top floor. It's kicking my ass more than I remembered. Of course, I'm older now...Posted at 08:11 PM | Comments (1)Jeebus, what's with all the elipses today?
February 07, 2011
The Joys of Spam
I always enjoy getting comments from my dearest friends -- Bigger Penis, Credit Card, and Porno Tube. They always have such interesting advice and links for me. Or sometimes, they send me an except from their diary. Like this, actually posted in my comments section:
She felt her G-spot electrified. When Manuel began to moan and she or he sensed superb pleasure, she moaned too. They're pump went right into a severe doggy style hardcore. For every pound for pound sensation was a superb excitement. She could not maintain it any longer, she releases his crystal obvious juicy mineral whilst Manuel maintain on for his existence exploded like a volcanic eruption. ~ South Africa Pussy
Oh, dear. Let's break this down. Mom, go make popcorn.
[Did your Moms do that, too? Send you into the kitchen to make popcorn, just when the movie on t.v. was heating up? To this day, foreplay makes me crave butter and salt.]
"She felt her G-spot electrified."
Cattle prod? Stun gun? Hey, whatever consenting adults wanna do, right?
"When Manuel began to moan and she or he sensed superb pleasure, she moaned too."
I've always known Manuel to be a man's name, but apparently, the author is unclear as to whether Manuel is male or female.
"They're pump went right into a severe doggy style hardcore."
Huh. Well, the sentence starts off weak, but it finishes strong, so I'm gonna allow it.
"For every pound for pound sensation was a superb excitement."
Is that a fat joke?
"She could not maintain it any longer, she releases his crystal obvious juicy mineral whilst Manuel maintain on for his existence exploded like a volcanic eruption."
Well, this just confirms my suspicion -- English is not the author's first language. Or their third, for that matter. And yet, they manage to use the oft-ignored word whilst correctly. I'm confused. Also, why mineral crystals? Is Manuel sick, or possibly dehydrated?
"~ South Africa Pussy"
Is South Africa where the kids are going for good, exotic pussy now? Because when I was going up, it was France or Asia. And really, don't the women of South Africa have enough to worry about without being the subject of weird, poorly-written erotica?
Just stick to the French chicks when you're masturbating, okay, people? They're used to it.
Posted at 05:33 PM | Comments (4)February 03, 2011
Kinda, Sorta an Honor
Okay, weird, vague fairy tales aside, I figured I should give y'all the straight poop on my newest venture back into the cesspoll from wence I fled.
Last Tuesday, January 25, H.R. Troll #2 left a message for me. I didn't get it until late in the afternoon because I was living it up at the mall with Billi and the Kidlets, shopping for Husband's birthday.
Upon hearing the message -- which was simply "Call me back," -- I immediately called every person I know in the organization, asking them what they know about who might be hiring. The last thing I want is another measely temp job paying me way less than I'm worth, so if that was the case, I wanted to be able to steel myself to turn it down. These things take some talking oneself into sometimes.
I kept hitting informational dead ends,... until I called PhD Boss.
PW: Dude. What have you heard about anyone in the building hiring?
PhD: Um... Hang on for a minute, will ya?
PW: [hangs on for about a minute and a half, wondering where the hell he went]
PhD: Okay. Head Boss and I have known that this was in the works for about six weeks, but you didn't hear it from us.
What?! They had knowledge of all this for six weeks and didn't tell me?! What good is it having friends in high places if they aren't going to tell me what's coming down the pike?
But I didn't think it was prudent to chew-out someone who was about to help me at his own peril, so I just listened. Turns out, the person I would be working directly under is... The Vice President of the Entire Company. (I think I have called her Vy in past posts, so I will continue with that.) The Rev. Dr. Vy.
Holy crap. Not only is she Second in Command of an organization that essentially serves millions of people and an impeccable dresser, but she's is one of the TWO people in the organization who are allowed to choose their own support staff.
And she. Chose. ME.
I am as stunned as you are, ladies and gents. Not only does my awesome reputation reach incredibly far into the stratousphere, but they have FINALLY recognized that I deserve a position of PRESTIGE. A position worthy of my VAST SPHERE OF TALENTS AND SKILLS. And here, I thought they would remain blind to me forever. Seriously. Floored here.
PhD had no further details for me, but I didn't need them. If they were willing to elevate me from underpaid, underappreciated underdog, I was willing to listen. So I called HRT2 back.
She asked me, "Would you be willing to take another position?"
And I told her, "Well, I'd be willing to discuss another position. But I'm not going to accept until I know the details."
So she said she'd call me back with the details the next day. Really? You called me without knowing any details? After this being "in the works" for six weeks? What the hell? Why the pointless preliminary call?
By noon the next day, they still hadn't called, so I went to the grocery store. And of course, HRT2 called while I was in the pasta aisle.
She told me I'd be working for Vy on a six month contract and making 50% more than what they were previously paying me. Ho. Lee. Crap. I was way happy about the money -- still am! -- but I was less thrilled with the whole six-month-contract bullshit. So I asked what happens in six months.
Well, the organization is still going through a period of change, and the position may change, i.e. more responsibilities, or less responsibilities, or different responsibilities. And it's true. The laying off of so many people has really put the place into way more of a tailspin than they expected, so I buy that.
But really -- could they add anything to an administrative assistant position that I couldn't do? NO. So I asked for a guarantee, but HRT2 couldn't give that because, if the position changes, she is "obligated" to open it up to the people who've been laid off. So, yeah. I may have to go through an interview process for a job that I already have.
It makes no sense, and it smells like flaming dog doo to me, so I asked if I could call her back in a couple hours with my answer. Then it was her turn to be floored.
"I'm... shocked to hear you say that. And I have to tell you -- you were the only person that we considered for this position."
And if that wasn't painful enough for her to have to tell me, she went on and on singing my praises, buttering me up. Boy, Vy must've made it very clear to her that I was the one she wanted. Must've almost killed HRT2 to have to convince me -- let alone admit to herself -- how valuable I am to the organization.
I wandered around the frozen food aisle, confused and torn and upset and way too emotional to make an objective decision. I couldn't even decide what pizza to bring home!
But when I got home, I realized I'd have to be stupid to turn down money that good. And I have six months to convince Vy that, should it come down to interviews, they will be merely a formality because she can't live without me.
And if the worst happens -- if I have to go through interviews and MY job is given to someone else for personal and/or political reasons. Well, at least the most recent position on my resumé will be a damn impressive one, and my most recent salary will be the same. It'll give me a better jumping-off point, if nothing else.
In the meantime, I was able to buy some nice clothes, and I got TWO snow days in my first week of work. Yeah, it's all pretty much downhill from here.
Posted at 04:57 PM | Comments (0)