Last Friday I was beyond stoked to have a full (albeit it unpaid) week off work. Nine days if you count weekends. And I do. I count them hard. I had big plans. Irish House. Holland Heineken House. German Fan Fest. Drinking in public. Whatever. As long as I was wearing red and white (or orange for Holland) it didn't really matter where we were drinking...er where we were.
So Saturday, the weather was unbelievable. Like perfect west coast day. The Boyfriend and I headed out at 1 to enjoy the atmosphere. Walked around, took in the atmosphere and before we knew it we were in line for The Irish House. Don't know how that happened. Turns out that the Record was also in line. About 3 people in front of us. Kizmet. So now there were 4 of us (me, The Boyfriend, the Record and her friend J) and we were all equally ready to cause mayhem.
As soon as you walk into The Irish House you smell beer. Stale beer. Home. We lined up for drinks and sent J to stalk...find a table and an hour after arrival we were set.
The rest of the night included the same guy hitting on The Boyfriend and me (on opposite sides of the venue), J and the Record getting requests for pictures all night (they had awesome shirts, blue with white lettering that just said "Eh?"), the discovery of a cowbell app for the iphone (seriously is there anything that phone can't do?), an empty wallet, more space for activities, and more cowbell. I felt like I was there all night but when we finally cried uncle it was actually only 9.30. We had been drinking for 7 hours.
Well turns out some more friends were on their way to The Irish House but even with Irish passports there was no way they were getting in. So we met up with them, walked around and found our way into a bar where the band warned visiting Americans to "be careful with the beer, its stronger up here". Its true.
A couple of hours later we had had enough and walked to catch a bus. And good thing we did. Because about an hour after we caught that bus translink decided to do what they do best (fail at life) and shut down transit leaving thousands stranded downtown. Good on you translink.
Then Sunday never happened.
Monday the weather was still amazing and it was time to be with my people. I painted my toes and fingers orange, put on my orange t-shirt and met up with The Boyfriend's cousin and his wife to spend a little time downtown before heading out to the Heineken Holland House. Good choice.
We saw the cauldron again (didn't mention that for Saturday- the crowds were insane and basically I just wanted to leave- I don't like people, which may surprise you) and it was much less awful than last time--less people it being Monday and most people were in office jail. Oh we saw Plushchenko too! You know, the egotistical Russian ice skater that awarded himself a platinum medal? Yeah- we saw him.
Finally, finally, we were on the way to my people, without getting on an airplane. Got out there no problem, were hoping to follow the wave of orange we keep hearing about, but in the end had to look for old school street signs. Boo.
But finally we made it and spent the day marvelling at the ice cold Heineken that really does taste so much better when its actually from Holland, satisfying our months old cravings for krokets and fries with mayonnaise, converting those that didn't know about these wonders, and generally getting tipsy among my people, most of whom were over 70. Later on the young people showed up, but we're semi-old and didn't want to wait in line, so early it was and overall we were satisfied.
We were there for about 7 hours and left.
And this is where the problems started. On the way home I started to feel the hints of a sore throat. I assumed it was just my delicate throat scarred from all the beer drinking (I usually stick with my much smoother friend vodka). By the time we got home, I was headachey as well, but assumed that it was withdrawal.
I did not sleep. Woke up Tuesday full on sick. Headache, sore throat, stuffed nose, fever- everything. Wednesday and Thursday were much the same. Today is the first day that I can really sit up without getting dizzy.
The worst part? I'm not getting paid this week! After all this, I could have taken a personal day Monday and called in sick the rest of the week!
The Universe is a cruel cruel mistress.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
I'm Going to Be With My People
Well folks, this week I am not at work. I am not getting paid either, but the important thing is that I am not at work. I will be taking the chance this week to walk around the city and actually experience what the Olympics has to offer in the way of parties. We went to the Irish house this weekend (everything you have heard about that is true) and today we are going to be with my people. The Dutch. I'm hoping to be able to post some of my war stories here for you, so that you feel like a) I haven't abandoned you completely and b) you are kind of experiencing it too.
And before I go, I leave you with a super flattering slice of Dutchness. Sven Kramer. He's a good looking guy, he's basically a demi-god in the Netherlands and well..this is what happens.
Don't think they're all like that but I think its kind of funny, which probably says more about me than him.
I will drink to all you Cubicle dwellers today.
And before I go, I leave you with a super flattering slice of Dutchness. Sven Kramer. He's a good looking guy, he's basically a demi-god in the Netherlands and well..this is what happens.
Don't think they're all like that but I think its kind of funny, which probably says more about me than him.
I will drink to all you Cubicle dwellers today.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Password Prose
I have been waiting for 2 weeks now to change my one computer password to match my other computer password. My life has been made oh so much more difficult by having to remember that I have 2 different passwords for my computers at 6 in the morning. You would think that this would be a simple thing to get through, but at 6 in the morning putting your pants on is not simple, let alone remembering words and stuff.
I guess I put my pants on more around 5 in the morning...and yes, they are on right. Bonus round points for me (one time I came to work and my tights were on inside out).
I went to try and find that post where I had my tights on inside out to make a fancy link for you...but I couldn't do it. If I can't, chances are you can't, but I encourage you all to try.
So yeah, passwords. What's that about? In my real life I pretty much have the exact same password for everything. It came about after a particularly frustrating university email sign up process where I needed a password that didn't make a word, had numbers and some other criterion.
Well I'm not a nonsensical password kinda gal. I need order, definitely need a word, and I'm not particularly fond of numbers. I spent about 2 hours in the basement silently screaming at the computer (maybe not so silent), begging the system to just please let this one work. Finally I had it. A particularly genius combination of initials and dates.
And it has been my password for everything ever since.
But this password does not work at...work (forgive me? Its early).
And our passwords, obviously, change every 3 months. Sometimes they assign the password (for our old operating system, the HR trainer had used my name as an example of how to sign up and made my password, password, and I have never been able to change it), and others we are left to our own devices to figure one out.
The format is, at least, simple. Basically a word, capitalized first letter and a number. I think it also has to be at least 6 characters. Fairly standard.
When I was working in the bank I chose authors and a number. Austen01, Bronte02, Dickens03 etc. I had to have read some work by the author. So couldn't choose Hawthorne for example. I like having a theme. Now I'm choosing cities I have visited. But some are very tricky to type. For example, although a cool place, never choose Casablanca as your password. Very high level of correct-password-typing-difficulty.
Anyway, since last summer we have each had 2 different computers (unless you are Veronica, then you get 4. She has 4 monitors, she does not have 4 computers, but don't tell her that) and one time the passwords changed at the same time.
And since then...not so much. So now my one computer is stuck on...let's say London and the other one is already ahead in...Madrid. In my sleep induced dumba$$-ness I can never remember which is which. And am constantly locking myself out.
More and more I become like my mother (in a good way, I love you Mom). My momma has the same password for everything because she doesn't have room in her brain for minutae like passwords. Well she did have the same password for everything until my 12 year old brother decided to break into itunes with my mom's password and download a bunch of music on her credit card. Twelve year olds are bada$$ like that.
Anyway, point is, passwords are a pain. Why can't I just scan my fingerprints or something? Much simpler. I'd leave my computer unlocked but whenever Maurice does that I send emails in his name...things that say "I suck my thumb" etc so leaving my computer unlocked is even riskier.
Good post today right? Really developed thought process, there was a theme. Well done me.
I know I know. But the good news is that at least this is the last of the early morning posts. Admit it though, there is something romantic about reading something that was written as the sun rose.
OK fine, there isn't.
Enjoy your weekend!
I guess I put my pants on more around 5 in the morning...and yes, they are on right. Bonus round points for me (one time I came to work and my tights were on inside out).
I went to try and find that post where I had my tights on inside out to make a fancy link for you...but I couldn't do it. If I can't, chances are you can't, but I encourage you all to try.
So yeah, passwords. What's that about? In my real life I pretty much have the exact same password for everything. It came about after a particularly frustrating university email sign up process where I needed a password that didn't make a word, had numbers and some other criterion.
Well I'm not a nonsensical password kinda gal. I need order, definitely need a word, and I'm not particularly fond of numbers. I spent about 2 hours in the basement silently screaming at the computer (maybe not so silent), begging the system to just please let this one work. Finally I had it. A particularly genius combination of initials and dates.
And it has been my password for everything ever since.
But this password does not work at...work (forgive me? Its early).
And our passwords, obviously, change every 3 months. Sometimes they assign the password (for our old operating system, the HR trainer had used my name as an example of how to sign up and made my password, password, and I have never been able to change it), and others we are left to our own devices to figure one out.
The format is, at least, simple. Basically a word, capitalized first letter and a number. I think it also has to be at least 6 characters. Fairly standard.
When I was working in the bank I chose authors and a number. Austen01, Bronte02, Dickens03 etc. I had to have read some work by the author. So couldn't choose Hawthorne for example. I like having a theme. Now I'm choosing cities I have visited. But some are very tricky to type. For example, although a cool place, never choose Casablanca as your password. Very high level of correct-password-typing-difficulty.
Anyway, since last summer we have each had 2 different computers (unless you are Veronica, then you get 4. She has 4 monitors, she does not have 4 computers, but don't tell her that) and one time the passwords changed at the same time.
And since then...not so much. So now my one computer is stuck on...let's say London and the other one is already ahead in...Madrid. In my sleep induced dumba$$-ness I can never remember which is which. And am constantly locking myself out.
More and more I become like my mother (in a good way, I love you Mom). My momma has the same password for everything because she doesn't have room in her brain for minutae like passwords. Well she did have the same password for everything until my 12 year old brother decided to break into itunes with my mom's password and download a bunch of music on her credit card. Twelve year olds are bada$$ like that.
Anyway, point is, passwords are a pain. Why can't I just scan my fingerprints or something? Much simpler. I'd leave my computer unlocked but whenever Maurice does that I send emails in his name...things that say "I suck my thumb" etc so leaving my computer unlocked is even riskier.
Good post today right? Really developed thought process, there was a theme. Well done me.
I know I know. But the good news is that at least this is the last of the early morning posts. Admit it though, there is something romantic about reading something that was written as the sun rose.
OK fine, there isn't.
Enjoy your weekend!
Thursday, February 18, 2010
My Brain Is On Strike
You know how sometimes you sit down to write a post and you totally have a story or some thoughts to relate? You sit down and it just all comes flowing out of you, you can't type it out fast enough?
This is not one of those mornings.
I am beyond exhausted and a side effect of this exhaustion, for me, is a complete lack of brain function. My brain is on strike. It refuses to be witty or funny or make any kind of sense at all. It doesn't let me engage with people in the morning, or even concentrate long enough to let me read on the bus (an activity the rest of me so enjoys).
It does, however, let me watch TV. As long as there is no actual thinking involved. I'm strangely OK with this, seeing as I enjoy some pretty crap TV. The Bachelor, 16 and Pregnant, American Idol, Toddlers and Tiaras (if I get the chance)-- if its classified as crap TV, I probably love it.
Remember how yesterday I said that I was going to go home and watch 16 and Pregnant and make myself feel better? Totally worked. That girl was a mess. And the guy didn't do anything- no really, he left. So I guess things aren't so bad in the Cubicle.
Except that its all relative.
It worked temporarily anyway.
This was one of those mornings that the alarm went off way too quickly. The Boyfriend slept like the dead. Ready for this classy guy? He said to me this morning that he could have slept til 10 this morning, that Friday night he's going to have a bath and a beer (which he did last night before bed and apparently this is the secret to his sleep success) and maybe pop some pills, really sleep hard.
I'm so proud.
He also said that I was like an angry retard in the morning. And I know that's totally not PC and I try really hard not to say the word because I really don't like it. But its early and my brain has no filter and against my better judgement I've been laughing ever since.
Nobody died in the making of this morning though, which I always consider a plus. In fact, I think I caught my male bus driver (a big-boned fellow) reading a romance novel while he waited at the bus loop. How can that not make you happy? Oh and Johnny Weir skates tonight. And although he is American, I can't even hold that against him. Because I'm pretty convinced that he is my soulmate. I just read that he spends a lot of time listening to Edith Piaf and I'm not going to lie, I have about 36 of her greatest hits on my ipod and in honour of Johnny Weir, I'm listening to that today.
(Although want to hear something messed up? So I downloaded the album off itunes and I'm listening to just the album and the last song...is Elton John. WTF? Guess I got a bonus song? Weird)
Now I'm going to admit something extraordinarily stupid on my part. Anna brought in an article on Johnny Weir this morning (thank you Brian) and the title was something like "Johnny Weir with a D" and I could not figure out the joke. I was like "Johnny Deir? Is that like a movie character?" Yeah, I wish I was joking. But it wasn't until I wrote out the word weird just now that I got the joke.
I think that this last part, more than anything else that I could say to you, illustrates my broken brain. I need more sleep. And maybe a red bull. But the smell of red bull makes me want vodka. So maybe tea would be a better option. Or I should just go round the corner and have a redbull vodka. I'm sure its open before 7. I'm even more sure that its completely legal to sell alcohol that early in the day.
Yeah, that last part was sarcasm. That part of my brain still works. Thank God.
This is not one of those mornings.
I am beyond exhausted and a side effect of this exhaustion, for me, is a complete lack of brain function. My brain is on strike. It refuses to be witty or funny or make any kind of sense at all. It doesn't let me engage with people in the morning, or even concentrate long enough to let me read on the bus (an activity the rest of me so enjoys).
It does, however, let me watch TV. As long as there is no actual thinking involved. I'm strangely OK with this, seeing as I enjoy some pretty crap TV. The Bachelor, 16 and Pregnant, American Idol, Toddlers and Tiaras (if I get the chance)-- if its classified as crap TV, I probably love it.
Remember how yesterday I said that I was going to go home and watch 16 and Pregnant and make myself feel better? Totally worked. That girl was a mess. And the guy didn't do anything- no really, he left. So I guess things aren't so bad in the Cubicle.
Except that its all relative.
It worked temporarily anyway.
This was one of those mornings that the alarm went off way too quickly. The Boyfriend slept like the dead. Ready for this classy guy? He said to me this morning that he could have slept til 10 this morning, that Friday night he's going to have a bath and a beer (which he did last night before bed and apparently this is the secret to his sleep success) and maybe pop some pills, really sleep hard.
I'm so proud.
He also said that I was like an angry retard in the morning. And I know that's totally not PC and I try really hard not to say the word because I really don't like it. But its early and my brain has no filter and against my better judgement I've been laughing ever since.
Nobody died in the making of this morning though, which I always consider a plus. In fact, I think I caught my male bus driver (a big-boned fellow) reading a romance novel while he waited at the bus loop. How can that not make you happy? Oh and Johnny Weir skates tonight. And although he is American, I can't even hold that against him. Because I'm pretty convinced that he is my soulmate. I just read that he spends a lot of time listening to Edith Piaf and I'm not going to lie, I have about 36 of her greatest hits on my ipod and in honour of Johnny Weir, I'm listening to that today.
(Although want to hear something messed up? So I downloaded the album off itunes and I'm listening to just the album and the last song...is Elton John. WTF? Guess I got a bonus song? Weird)
Now I'm going to admit something extraordinarily stupid on my part. Anna brought in an article on Johnny Weir this morning (thank you Brian) and the title was something like "Johnny Weir with a D" and I could not figure out the joke. I was like "Johnny Deir? Is that like a movie character?" Yeah, I wish I was joking. But it wasn't until I wrote out the word weird just now that I got the joke.
I think that this last part, more than anything else that I could say to you, illustrates my broken brain. I need more sleep. And maybe a red bull. But the smell of red bull makes me want vodka. So maybe tea would be a better option. Or I should just go round the corner and have a redbull vodka. I'm sure its open before 7. I'm even more sure that its completely legal to sell alcohol that early in the day.
Yeah, that last part was sarcasm. That part of my brain still works. Thank God.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Doc, Dopey, Sleepy, Bashful, Happy, Sneezy,...GRUMPY
I know that Canada won another gold medal last night and that the Canadian men's hockey team totally dominated Team Norway, but I am in the worst mood.
Like I seriously would like to punch someone in the face. Anyone. I don't even care who it is. It would just be so satisfying right now. So if you have someone in your life that you feel needs to be punched in the face, send them my way. We will both feel better.
These early mornings are making me nuts.
How will I make it through another 2 mornings? I should clarify. How will I make it through another 2 mornings without murdering an innocent?
Its not looking good.
Why do people talk at 6.30? I enjoy a good conversation as much as the next person, but do you know what I don't enjoy? People talking at 6.30 in the morning. There is just no need for it. Let's all play the quiet game. First one to talk loses.
I couldn't even be nice to The Boyfriend when he called to see if I got to work OK. He left the house (we don't actually live in a house. Its an apartment, but it just feels more right to say house) before me so he's sort of been up longer (he's been functioning longer anyway) but I can't bother to be nice. Just don't have the energy. But its OK- he knows that I'm an a-hole in the morning. He won't take it personally.
I'm just not one of those people that gets out of bed and is automatically awake. I mean, legally, I'm awake. I can walk and grunt and go through the motions of being a real person. But I'm actually still asleep and any attempt to coax me out of my sleep will end badly. Its like Stepbrothers - you don't wake up a sleepwalker or you will get pushed down the stairs.
Wow, ok I think I need to watch that movie again. So many life lessons.
Even the imagery of Dale and Brennan sleep walking isn't enough to jog me out of my snark attack.
When I get home this afternoon (this is the one good thing about starting at the dawn's buttcrack) I'm going to watch a new episode of 16 and Pregnant and make myself feel better about the sh*t state of my professional life. Like, at least I have a job. And no baby. And more importantly, no dumba** boyfriend that spends $300 on a playstation instead of a crib. Gary.
Where was I?
Oh right, the people talking. Like its not bad enough that I am rudely awakened by my alarm clock at 5am (slept in this morning people!), now I have to sit her and listen to Veronica try and figure out an email that she sent out yesterday that doesn't make any sense? Like its my fault that I'm not understanding?
How do you spell orange?
(For those of you not in the know, that's a kind of Mean Girls reference. I hate explaining references- go watch it!)
Basically I'm conflicted. On the one hand I am hating that the Olympics are in my city and messing up my day. I hate waking up early. I hate walking to the bus in complete darkness hoping not to get raped or attacked by a coyote (I know, coyotes are wimps, but they still have teeth! And I imagine they can be kind of sharp). I hate that my bus in the morning is full (at 6am, what the what!?). I hate that my bus is full in the afternoon. Mostly I hate the early mornings and the inflexibility of my management "team" to allow me to skip my breaks and just get out of here. John.
But on the other hand I'm loving the spirit of the city. The gold medals. The parties (although as yet, I have only heard about them. Next week I will experience them). All the people coming to the city to have fun. I love all that.
I just wish I didn't have to wake up so early to get around it all.
So if you see me on the street in the morning (you won't know it because you don't know what I look like) don't put your fingers near my face, don't smile at me, don't ask me for directions. Wait until after noon. Or you might die.
PS Let's be Twitter friends so that we can constantly stay in touch about our emotional needs. Sounds awesome no?
Like I seriously would like to punch someone in the face. Anyone. I don't even care who it is. It would just be so satisfying right now. So if you have someone in your life that you feel needs to be punched in the face, send them my way. We will both feel better.
These early mornings are making me nuts.
How will I make it through another 2 mornings? I should clarify. How will I make it through another 2 mornings without murdering an innocent?
Its not looking good.
Why do people talk at 6.30? I enjoy a good conversation as much as the next person, but do you know what I don't enjoy? People talking at 6.30 in the morning. There is just no need for it. Let's all play the quiet game. First one to talk loses.
I couldn't even be nice to The Boyfriend when he called to see if I got to work OK. He left the house (we don't actually live in a house. Its an apartment, but it just feels more right to say house) before me so he's sort of been up longer (he's been functioning longer anyway) but I can't bother to be nice. Just don't have the energy. But its OK- he knows that I'm an a-hole in the morning. He won't take it personally.
I'm just not one of those people that gets out of bed and is automatically awake. I mean, legally, I'm awake. I can walk and grunt and go through the motions of being a real person. But I'm actually still asleep and any attempt to coax me out of my sleep will end badly. Its like Stepbrothers - you don't wake up a sleepwalker or you will get pushed down the stairs.
Wow, ok I think I need to watch that movie again. So many life lessons.
Even the imagery of Dale and Brennan sleep walking isn't enough to jog me out of my snark attack.
When I get home this afternoon (this is the one good thing about starting at the dawn's buttcrack) I'm going to watch a new episode of 16 and Pregnant and make myself feel better about the sh*t state of my professional life. Like, at least I have a job. And no baby. And more importantly, no dumba** boyfriend that spends $300 on a playstation instead of a crib. Gary.
Where was I?
Oh right, the people talking. Like its not bad enough that I am rudely awakened by my alarm clock at 5am (slept in this morning people!), now I have to sit her and listen to Veronica try and figure out an email that she sent out yesterday that doesn't make any sense? Like its my fault that I'm not understanding?
How do you spell orange?
(For those of you not in the know, that's a kind of Mean Girls reference. I hate explaining references- go watch it!)
Basically I'm conflicted. On the one hand I am hating that the Olympics are in my city and messing up my day. I hate waking up early. I hate walking to the bus in complete darkness hoping not to get raped or attacked by a coyote (I know, coyotes are wimps, but they still have teeth! And I imagine they can be kind of sharp). I hate that my bus in the morning is full (at 6am, what the what!?). I hate that my bus is full in the afternoon. Mostly I hate the early mornings and the inflexibility of my management "team" to allow me to skip my breaks and just get out of here. John.
But on the other hand I'm loving the spirit of the city. The gold medals. The parties (although as yet, I have only heard about them. Next week I will experience them). All the people coming to the city to have fun. I love all that.
I just wish I didn't have to wake up so early to get around it all.
So if you see me on the street in the morning (you won't know it because you don't know what I look like) don't put your fingers near my face, don't smile at me, don't ask me for directions. Wait until after noon. Or you might die.
PS Let's be Twitter friends so that we can constantly stay in touch about our emotional needs. Sounds awesome no?
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Why I Hate The Bus- An Essay By Me
I can hear someone chewing. In the end they will talk about me, the one that went balistic one day because a co-worker was chewing too loudly.
But I think the judge will understand.
Its not even 7am and my nerves are already completely shot to hell, my patience is already worn out and my tolerance for any bullsh*t is zero.
I'm excited about today.
I really tried to be anyway. I have my performance evaluation this morning so I figured that I should be in some kind of chipper mood, play their game in an effort to get the raise that I have been waiting for for the last year and a half.
It started with the fact that being in severe pain last night (god its great to be a girl. F*ck you Mother Nature) I neglected to set my alarm for 4.30. I think its just completely against my nature to be waking up that early and my subconscious just won't stand for it. Luckily The Boyfriend stirred at 4.42 and I had the presence of mind to look at the clock. And then stare at it trying to figure out what it meant. And then jump out of bed with my heart racing.
But, crisis averted.
So I got dressed (clothes were all laid out last night, genius), had breakfast, brushed my teeth, watched a little morning programming and left the house with the aim of catching the bus at 5.22 like yesterday. It was pouring rain. I don't think you know the meaning of pouring rain unless you live on the west coast. You think you do, but you don't. I waited in the car (The Boyfriend drove me to the stop because this 5.22 bus doesn't make it to all the regular stops) until 5.17 and then got out under the careful supervision of The Boyfriend (its all dark and scary and he doesn't like me to be out there alone).
Well 5.22 comes and goes. So does 5.25. And 5.30. At which point The Boyfriend yells at me that he has to leave me or he will be late for work. I wave him off. I am now standing alone in the dark, its raining, and I'm semi-surrounded by forest. I could easily be killed (although I don't think anyone would be foolish enough to take me on at 5.30am). I wait.
And wait.
And wait some more.
I'm freezing to death. And I wait.
I call the transit authority.
The woman on the line tells me that there is no 5.22 bus and the next one will come at 5.41. I ask her how I managed to catch the 5.22 bus yesterday at this same stop (literally on the dot at 5.22)- does it only run on Mondays(imagine a heavy handed approach to sarcasm on that last question)? Her explanation? Perhaps the 4.52 bus was running late.
Is it acceptable for buses to run a half hour behind schedule now?
I'm told that the only way for me to get to work for 6am is to take the bus at 4.52. I finally got on the bus at 5.45. Wearing my impressed face. But like amped up to uber impressed. I wore that expression on my face the whole way into work, stared every newcomer down so they wouldn't sit next to me. Because honestly, I don't think that I could have handled a smelly person, or someone shaking out their umbrella at me or someone listening to really loud really bad music. I just couldn't do it.
So no one sat next to me.
And here I am. Got here at 6.20. Plan to not take one of my breaks and a half hour lunch and still leave at 1.30. Because honestly, they can take those other 5 minutes and shove them up their a$$.
And really, this all comes back to John. If he wasn't so insistent on "business as usual" then maybe I wouldnt have to readjust my entire schedule to make sure I was still here for 8 hours a day. And translink wouldn't have had the opportunity to screw me. Or he could have given me a guarantee that I wouldn't be penalized for a transit mistake, like I asked him. I hate him a lot.
And in just over an hour I get to hang out with him and discuss my performance so you know this day is just going to get 100 times better from here.
Please send me good thoughts. I want a raise. I deserve a f*cking raise.
I need tea.
But I think the judge will understand.
Its not even 7am and my nerves are already completely shot to hell, my patience is already worn out and my tolerance for any bullsh*t is zero.
I'm excited about today.
I really tried to be anyway. I have my performance evaluation this morning so I figured that I should be in some kind of chipper mood, play their game in an effort to get the raise that I have been waiting for for the last year and a half.
It started with the fact that being in severe pain last night (god its great to be a girl. F*ck you Mother Nature) I neglected to set my alarm for 4.30. I think its just completely against my nature to be waking up that early and my subconscious just won't stand for it. Luckily The Boyfriend stirred at 4.42 and I had the presence of mind to look at the clock. And then stare at it trying to figure out what it meant. And then jump out of bed with my heart racing.
But, crisis averted.
So I got dressed (clothes were all laid out last night, genius), had breakfast, brushed my teeth, watched a little morning programming and left the house with the aim of catching the bus at 5.22 like yesterday. It was pouring rain. I don't think you know the meaning of pouring rain unless you live on the west coast. You think you do, but you don't. I waited in the car (The Boyfriend drove me to the stop because this 5.22 bus doesn't make it to all the regular stops) until 5.17 and then got out under the careful supervision of The Boyfriend (its all dark and scary and he doesn't like me to be out there alone).
Well 5.22 comes and goes. So does 5.25. And 5.30. At which point The Boyfriend yells at me that he has to leave me or he will be late for work. I wave him off. I am now standing alone in the dark, its raining, and I'm semi-surrounded by forest. I could easily be killed (although I don't think anyone would be foolish enough to take me on at 5.30am). I wait.
And wait.
And wait some more.
I'm freezing to death. And I wait.
I call the transit authority.
The woman on the line tells me that there is no 5.22 bus and the next one will come at 5.41. I ask her how I managed to catch the 5.22 bus yesterday at this same stop (literally on the dot at 5.22)- does it only run on Mondays(imagine a heavy handed approach to sarcasm on that last question)? Her explanation? Perhaps the 4.52 bus was running late.
Is it acceptable for buses to run a half hour behind schedule now?
I'm told that the only way for me to get to work for 6am is to take the bus at 4.52. I finally got on the bus at 5.45. Wearing my impressed face. But like amped up to uber impressed. I wore that expression on my face the whole way into work, stared every newcomer down so they wouldn't sit next to me. Because honestly, I don't think that I could have handled a smelly person, or someone shaking out their umbrella at me or someone listening to really loud really bad music. I just couldn't do it.
So no one sat next to me.
And here I am. Got here at 6.20. Plan to not take one of my breaks and a half hour lunch and still leave at 1.30. Because honestly, they can take those other 5 minutes and shove them up their a$$.
And really, this all comes back to John. If he wasn't so insistent on "business as usual" then maybe I wouldnt have to readjust my entire schedule to make sure I was still here for 8 hours a day. And translink wouldn't have had the opportunity to screw me. Or he could have given me a guarantee that I wouldn't be penalized for a transit mistake, like I asked him. I hate him a lot.
And in just over an hour I get to hang out with him and discuss my performance so you know this day is just going to get 100 times better from here.
Please send me good thoughts. I want a raise. I deserve a f*cking raise.
I need tea.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Oh Yes, I Still Have To Work Today
While the rest of North America sleeps quietly in their beds, the good citizens of British Columbia carry the mantle of the working man for you all.
That's right kids, BC does not have a holiday this fine Monday morning. So while the rest of you enjoy Family Day or President's Day, think of us in BC toiling away under some pretty maddening conditions.
I was up at 4.35. To work in an office. No one should have to get up that early to work in an office. That is ridiculous. But here I am. Business as usual. Except for the fact that its 6.30.
All because of the Olympics. Which so far, haven't been too bad. I mean there has been the amazingness of Alexandre Bilodeau becoming the first Canadian to win gold on home soil. I have an Alexandre and Frederic Bilodeau hangover. Seriously makes me cry even now, thinking about it. So proud.
And you would think that my pride in this truly amazing example of Canadianess would make me slightly less snarky. But you would be wrong.
Because while Sunday's golden celebrations definitely took the edge off the Olympic dream, there was a whole lot of other mess we got ourselves into.
There was that moment, when the whole world was holding its collective breath waiting for the Olympic cauldron to come out of the floor so that our world class Canadian athletes could light it together and it failed. Hydraulics problem. Then there were the protesters on Friday night that prevented The Boyfriend from coming home til the wee hours of the morning. And me, the good girlfriend that I am (and also a bundle of nerves, unable to actually really find out where he was or what he was doing), waiting up for him.
Oh and then the d-bag rioters on Saturday morning, smashing windows and heckling pedestrians in an effort to...what exactly? Rally the city behind your cause? Probably shouldn't go destroying the city. Might get more people behind you. Dipshits. Thankfully The Boyfriend didn't get called out for that one- but the reports did get his frantic mother to call us and find out what was happening.
But other than that. So far so good. I'm itching to get out there and actually feel the pride in the crowd. The city has seriously lost its collective mind to the Olympics. Its hard to believe- Vancouverites are, in general, pretty damn stoic. Instead (I'm not really a huge fan of crowds, all those people forgetting the concept of personal space, not a good scene for me) we curled up on the couch and watched as much as CTV would let us. (Anyone else feel like CTV is really jumping around and cutting off events right when you start getting into it?)
OK because this is technically an office type blog, let me just share with you the gist of an email that we all got on Friday. Apparently we were too excited, wearing red and white and waking up at the CRACK OF DAWN to not get stuck downtown. How horribly rude of us all. So Amy sends out another copy of the email she has been sending out once a week for 6 weeks. Covers where we are, lateness blah blah blah. Then this little gem: "I know a lot of you are excited about the Olympics, but remember that it is "Business as Usual"...no matter what shift you work"
This, ladies and gentlemen, is reason 1,037 why I need a new job. And we are getting so much closer every day.
Anyway if you're in Vancouver, I hope you're enjoying some of the festivities (even though you have to work)! And if you're watching on TV, I hope you think we're putting on an alright show.
Oh oh OH and follow me on twitter so that we can have make real time snarky comments. VEG and I did that all weekend. And I feel like we bonded some more.
That's right kids, BC does not have a holiday this fine Monday morning. So while the rest of you enjoy Family Day or President's Day, think of us in BC toiling away under some pretty maddening conditions.
I was up at 4.35. To work in an office. No one should have to get up that early to work in an office. That is ridiculous. But here I am. Business as usual. Except for the fact that its 6.30.
All because of the Olympics. Which so far, haven't been too bad. I mean there has been the amazingness of Alexandre Bilodeau becoming the first Canadian to win gold on home soil. I have an Alexandre and Frederic Bilodeau hangover. Seriously makes me cry even now, thinking about it. So proud.
And you would think that my pride in this truly amazing example of Canadianess would make me slightly less snarky. But you would be wrong.
Because while Sunday's golden celebrations definitely took the edge off the Olympic dream, there was a whole lot of other mess we got ourselves into.
There was that moment, when the whole world was holding its collective breath waiting for the Olympic cauldron to come out of the floor so that our world class Canadian athletes could light it together and it failed. Hydraulics problem. Then there were the protesters on Friday night that prevented The Boyfriend from coming home til the wee hours of the morning. And me, the good girlfriend that I am (and also a bundle of nerves, unable to actually really find out where he was or what he was doing), waiting up for him.
Oh and then the d-bag rioters on Saturday morning, smashing windows and heckling pedestrians in an effort to...what exactly? Rally the city behind your cause? Probably shouldn't go destroying the city. Might get more people behind you. Dipshits. Thankfully The Boyfriend didn't get called out for that one- but the reports did get his frantic mother to call us and find out what was happening.
But other than that. So far so good. I'm itching to get out there and actually feel the pride in the crowd. The city has seriously lost its collective mind to the Olympics. Its hard to believe- Vancouverites are, in general, pretty damn stoic. Instead (I'm not really a huge fan of crowds, all those people forgetting the concept of personal space, not a good scene for me) we curled up on the couch and watched as much as CTV would let us. (Anyone else feel like CTV is really jumping around and cutting off events right when you start getting into it?)
OK because this is technically an office type blog, let me just share with you the gist of an email that we all got on Friday. Apparently we were too excited, wearing red and white and waking up at the CRACK OF DAWN to not get stuck downtown. How horribly rude of us all. So Amy sends out another copy of the email she has been sending out once a week for 6 weeks. Covers where we are, lateness blah blah blah. Then this little gem: "I know a lot of you are excited about the Olympics, but remember that it is "Business as Usual"...no matter what shift you work"
This, ladies and gentlemen, is reason 1,037 why I need a new job. And we are getting so much closer every day.
Anyway if you're in Vancouver, I hope you're enjoying some of the festivities (even though you have to work)! And if you're watching on TV, I hope you think we're putting on an alright show.
Oh oh OH and follow me on twitter so that we can have make real time snarky comments. VEG and I did that all weekend. And I feel like we bonded some more.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Olympic Fever? Me?
I think I might have some explaining to do.
First of all, if I could please direct your attention to the right side of the screen, just scroll down a little. Do you see it? Yes, right there. I got Twitter. Embarassing no? I would still love to follow you, and you could follow me and we could be a big happy family...or something like that. Barney sings it so much better.
Anyway. The Twitter thing has been mulled over and not entered into lightly. But the thing is, Twitter is changing the way the world gets information. And I'm getting to the point where I will be looking for a new job, and why not add "Twitter Expert" onto my resume? It can't hurt.
Unless I'm interviewing with the only anti-Twitter company left out there.
I'm also hoping to get the blog out to a wider audience. Because...well, why not?
So that's the Twitter.
Now more 'splaining.
For weeks, I have been screaming and yelling at the Olympics to leave my city alone. The traffic closures, all the extra people (I mean, Welcome to Vancouver), the money we bled to get this far etc. I was totally against the Olympics (in my city).
I'm not really sure what happened but I can barely contain my excitement at this point.
I think it had something to do with the Torch Relay arriving back in Vancouver. People are losing their sh*t to see this torch. They are painting their faces, arriving at torch sites early, screaming, wearing red and white and running alongside torchbearers that have included Michael Buble, Shania Twain, Steve Nash and even The Governator this morning (which btw, I don't understand. He's not Canadian, he stole our energy and he tried to prevent Hollywood from making movies up here...so why the a$$ kissing?).
In less than an hour, the Olympic Flame (the Olympic Flame people! That international symbol of athleticism, cooperation and awesomeness) will be about 3 blocks from here at the Art Gallery.
I'm going to see the Olympic Flame, carried by Walter Gretzky. Yes, the Great One's father.
And I'm excited.
And I can't even help it. I'm like a little kid. Seriously, if they have face painting, I'm sold. The Boyfriend was working with the Torch yesterday and he brought me back a little souvenir Torch. So I'm going to bring that and wave it around. Jealous? You should be. Stoked? You know I am.
And then, tonight, the city officially welcomes the world. I mean we have unofficially been welcoming you lot for days and weeks. But now its official. So much speculation. Who will light the cauldron (Wayne Gretzky? Betty Fox? It should be Betty Fox- she's local [she's Terry Fox's mom])? Who will sing the anthem? Celine? Sarah?
Someone awesome.
(I have been looking at a lot of the speculation online about the people that could be performing. And I read one comment from a reader and they were all "Its good to know that Canada has talent". Like really? You're surprised? We're awesome up here.)
So no Cubicle drama on here today. Save it for another day. Just Olympic fever. Never thought I would get to this point, but its seriously impossible not to feel it.
Do you believe?
(hahahaha I couldn't help myself. SO lame).
First of all, if I could please direct your attention to the right side of the screen, just scroll down a little. Do you see it? Yes, right there. I got Twitter. Embarassing no? I would still love to follow you, and you could follow me and we could be a big happy family...or something like that. Barney sings it so much better.
Anyway. The Twitter thing has been mulled over and not entered into lightly. But the thing is, Twitter is changing the way the world gets information. And I'm getting to the point where I will be looking for a new job, and why not add "Twitter Expert" onto my resume? It can't hurt.
Unless I'm interviewing with the only anti-Twitter company left out there.
I'm also hoping to get the blog out to a wider audience. Because...well, why not?
So that's the Twitter.
Now more 'splaining.
For weeks, I have been screaming and yelling at the Olympics to leave my city alone. The traffic closures, all the extra people (I mean, Welcome to Vancouver), the money we bled to get this far etc. I was totally against the Olympics (in my city).
I'm not really sure what happened but I can barely contain my excitement at this point.
I think it had something to do with the Torch Relay arriving back in Vancouver. People are losing their sh*t to see this torch. They are painting their faces, arriving at torch sites early, screaming, wearing red and white and running alongside torchbearers that have included Michael Buble, Shania Twain, Steve Nash and even The Governator this morning (which btw, I don't understand. He's not Canadian, he stole our energy and he tried to prevent Hollywood from making movies up here...so why the a$$ kissing?).
In less than an hour, the Olympic Flame (the Olympic Flame people! That international symbol of athleticism, cooperation and awesomeness) will be about 3 blocks from here at the Art Gallery.
I'm going to see the Olympic Flame, carried by Walter Gretzky. Yes, the Great One's father.
And I'm excited.
And I can't even help it. I'm like a little kid. Seriously, if they have face painting, I'm sold. The Boyfriend was working with the Torch yesterday and he brought me back a little souvenir Torch. So I'm going to bring that and wave it around. Jealous? You should be. Stoked? You know I am.
And then, tonight, the city officially welcomes the world. I mean we have unofficially been welcoming you lot for days and weeks. But now its official. So much speculation. Who will light the cauldron (Wayne Gretzky? Betty Fox? It should be Betty Fox- she's local [she's Terry Fox's mom])? Who will sing the anthem? Celine? Sarah?
Someone awesome.
(I have been looking at a lot of the speculation online about the people that could be performing. And I read one comment from a reader and they were all "Its good to know that Canada has talent". Like really? You're surprised? We're awesome up here.)
So no Cubicle drama on here today. Save it for another day. Just Olympic fever. Never thought I would get to this point, but its seriously impossible not to feel it.
Do you believe?
(hahahaha I couldn't help myself. SO lame).
Thursday, February 11, 2010
A Stampeding Herd of Rhinos
Meetings. My very favourite part of working in this office are the meetings we get to have.
I should have put the sarcasm button on there. My bad.
I do not, in fact, like meetings. They are a waste of time and resources. There are very few times when a meeting is actually necessary, especially for an entire department. If you're working on a special project, then perhaps a pow-wow is in order to make sure everyone is on the same page. If you are a d-bag manager with no first name and you are quitting, then by all means have a meeting to celebrate the joyous news. But otherwise, send an email.
Yesterday, we had a "team" meeting. I say "team" because there really is nothing coherent or team-like about this department. Its a collection of people paid to be here at the same time, doing roughly the same work. The day before that we had a meeting also. Two back-to-back meetings after a several months-long meeting drought (not strictly true, but I was sick the last time they had a department meeting. Coincidence? Of course!).
These 2 meetings could not have been more different.
The first was scheduled to last 15 minutes and barely lasted 10. They wanted to discuss the profit sharing that we still get from our old company (the one that sold us last summer). I thought they actually had some numbers for us. Not so much as it turned out. Just wanted to tell us that we would get it for January-August and that the announcement would come on Friday. And then trickle down to us. We already knew this. Except the part about Friday.
So we learned...almost nothing. Probably more an email situation.
Yesterday's meeting was scheduled to last 30 minutes and went on for an hour and a half. Into my lunch. Guess how impressed I was. The meeting was led by John, who isn't even in charge of the department but likes to think that he is.
For the first 30 minutes John did a recap of all the job titles in the new company and how they translated to what we had been used to. Please note that we have already been apprised of all this. We also talked about our Performance Reviews that are coming up. My favourite part of that? Twofold. 1. No cost of living increase, salary increase is based solely on merit. Since John is running the show, this does not bode well for me. 2. We have to rate our own performance, and then John and Amy will rate it and we will discuss. You may think that this means we can compromise on any discrepancies, but you would be wrong. In the end, whatever John thinks is more or less law. And translates into how much I get to earn. Again, this does not bode well for me.
Because it was John speaking, I had a hard time focusing. You know that part in Stepbrothers at the Catalina Wine Mixer where Rob Riggle tells Will Ferrell that he doesn't like his face and he just wants to punch him in the face and he better rearrange his face because it bothers him so much and if he didn't then Rob Riggle would rearrange it for him? That's how I felt during the meeting. I don't like John's face. I hate his voice even more. And he's so fidgety, I just want to shake him. And then hit him in the face.
So I did the next best thing. I spent a good 20 minutes or so thinking up violent ways for John to get seriously maimed or die. I made his head explode. He got kicked in the balls. A crazy person from the "audience" ran up and stabbed him. A herd of rhinos trampled him (is it a herd?). A blowdart got him in the neck and he passed out. The roof collapsed on him. There was an Old West gun battle and he lost. You get the idea. It was amusing.
Almost as amusing as the part about dress code during the Olympics. We all have to rearrange our schedules so that we can "maintain levels of service" and practice "business as usual". But because we will get to work at the a$$crack of dawn, a little leniency is called for in the dress department no? Maybe jeans? No. Dress code doesn't change- oh but its not John that doesn't want it. He's totally cool with it. Its John's boss that is "vehemently opposed" to it. Like he even asked. He then goes into a whole thing about dress code normally, that we're not allowed to wear jeans ever (except on Fridays), while the IT guy is sitting there in jeans. I guess John realized it because he was all, well IT has a special pass because he is crawling under desks all day.
I wanted to ask about the Accounting department, who also wear jeans whenever they want to, but didn't. They weren't there, so they didn't get the memo. But I'm sure they wouldn't care anyway.
And somehow the dress code discussion turned into a sermon on respecting each other in the work place, how some people are really sensitive to food smells, and perfume, and others can't work when people are talking (really?? REALLY?) etc etc etc. Not sure what this all had to do with dress code but it was fun to try and guess. And trade "what the f*ck" looks with Anna.
In the end, an hour and a half of meeting (times 24 people) killed about 4 workdays worth of productivity, so I guess good job all around. Obviously it was a well thought out meeting and I'm really glad to have been there.
Except I would have rather been anywhere else. Like lost in the desert without water.
I should have put the sarcasm button on there. My bad.
I do not, in fact, like meetings. They are a waste of time and resources. There are very few times when a meeting is actually necessary, especially for an entire department. If you're working on a special project, then perhaps a pow-wow is in order to make sure everyone is on the same page. If you are a d-bag manager with no first name and you are quitting, then by all means have a meeting to celebrate the joyous news. But otherwise, send an email.
Yesterday, we had a "team" meeting. I say "team" because there really is nothing coherent or team-like about this department. Its a collection of people paid to be here at the same time, doing roughly the same work. The day before that we had a meeting also. Two back-to-back meetings after a several months-long meeting drought (not strictly true, but I was sick the last time they had a department meeting. Coincidence? Of course!).
These 2 meetings could not have been more different.
The first was scheduled to last 15 minutes and barely lasted 10. They wanted to discuss the profit sharing that we still get from our old company (the one that sold us last summer). I thought they actually had some numbers for us. Not so much as it turned out. Just wanted to tell us that we would get it for January-August and that the announcement would come on Friday. And then trickle down to us. We already knew this. Except the part about Friday.
So we learned...almost nothing. Probably more an email situation.
Yesterday's meeting was scheduled to last 30 minutes and went on for an hour and a half. Into my lunch. Guess how impressed I was. The meeting was led by John, who isn't even in charge of the department but likes to think that he is.
For the first 30 minutes John did a recap of all the job titles in the new company and how they translated to what we had been used to. Please note that we have already been apprised of all this. We also talked about our Performance Reviews that are coming up. My favourite part of that? Twofold. 1. No cost of living increase, salary increase is based solely on merit. Since John is running the show, this does not bode well for me. 2. We have to rate our own performance, and then John and Amy will rate it and we will discuss. You may think that this means we can compromise on any discrepancies, but you would be wrong. In the end, whatever John thinks is more or less law. And translates into how much I get to earn. Again, this does not bode well for me.
Because it was John speaking, I had a hard time focusing. You know that part in Stepbrothers at the Catalina Wine Mixer where Rob Riggle tells Will Ferrell that he doesn't like his face and he just wants to punch him in the face and he better rearrange his face because it bothers him so much and if he didn't then Rob Riggle would rearrange it for him? That's how I felt during the meeting. I don't like John's face. I hate his voice even more. And he's so fidgety, I just want to shake him. And then hit him in the face.
So I did the next best thing. I spent a good 20 minutes or so thinking up violent ways for John to get seriously maimed or die. I made his head explode. He got kicked in the balls. A crazy person from the "audience" ran up and stabbed him. A herd of rhinos trampled him (is it a herd?). A blowdart got him in the neck and he passed out. The roof collapsed on him. There was an Old West gun battle and he lost. You get the idea. It was amusing.
Almost as amusing as the part about dress code during the Olympics. We all have to rearrange our schedules so that we can "maintain levels of service" and practice "business as usual". But because we will get to work at the a$$crack of dawn, a little leniency is called for in the dress department no? Maybe jeans? No. Dress code doesn't change- oh but its not John that doesn't want it. He's totally cool with it. Its John's boss that is "vehemently opposed" to it. Like he even asked. He then goes into a whole thing about dress code normally, that we're not allowed to wear jeans ever (except on Fridays), while the IT guy is sitting there in jeans. I guess John realized it because he was all, well IT has a special pass because he is crawling under desks all day.
I wanted to ask about the Accounting department, who also wear jeans whenever they want to, but didn't. They weren't there, so they didn't get the memo. But I'm sure they wouldn't care anyway.
And somehow the dress code discussion turned into a sermon on respecting each other in the work place, how some people are really sensitive to food smells, and perfume, and others can't work when people are talking (really?? REALLY?) etc etc etc. Not sure what this all had to do with dress code but it was fun to try and guess. And trade "what the f*ck" looks with Anna.
In the end, an hour and a half of meeting (times 24 people) killed about 4 workdays worth of productivity, so I guess good job all around. Obviously it was a well thought out meeting and I'm really glad to have been there.
Except I would have rather been anywhere else. Like lost in the desert without water.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
The E-mail Buddy
Another early morning. I jumped the gun yesterday when I said that the day was going by quickly. Keep in mind I was writing at 7.30 in the morning. I'm usually on the bus at that time, just kind of zoned out. I think I was delirious, just happy to have made it to work early without any major mishaps.
This morning went smoother? Well my alarm went off like it was supposed to, so I was already ahead of the game. Caught some of the Today show this morning. I know they are on TV all the time. But now, Meredith and Matt and Ann (I love Ann) are in Vancouver! I could literally walk over and harass...see them right now that's how close they are. I won't. I'm sure security is tight and I doubt Amy would let me...but the point is I could.
I guess the problem with these heinously early mornings, is that I haven't yet learned any real coping mechanisms. For a regular day, I have Anna to entertain me (emailing me about Hannah Montana...trust me, it was relevant), the Record to email with and of course, you lot to write to. In a weird, one-sided way. But right now, The Record is still fighting lights laid out by Inbred Drunk City Planners, Anna is somewhere on the skytrain, trying not to touch anything (or get touched by anyone. Or get herpes. Welcome to Vancouver), and none of the blogs that I follow has posted anything I haven't already posted.
OK segue, are you ready...
Of all my coping mechanisms, perhaps the most effective has been the emailing (kind of reminds me of an old school essay, that segue) I always have an email buddy. First it was Claire. Occasionally Mary-Kate will drop me a line, the Swede too. My cousin is always good for it. These days The Record steps up in a big way.
Point is, an email buddy is necessary to escape the crazy that is the Cubicle.
But not just any email buddy will do. You see, entertaining emailing is almost an art form. You must be funny, yet observant, empathetic, yet informative. Sounds like a lot of work no? It is. But you can do it. Because I have come up with some...I don't want to say rules, I don't want these to feel rigid...lets go with guidelines.
Guideline #1. Choose Wisely. Like choosing co-worker friends, an email buddy is a big committment. You don't want to make the wrong choice and be forever receiving chain emails that warn your genitals will turn green and fall off if you don't forward it to 5 people. Choose someone you already know, someone that has at least some time to kill every day, someone that has a similar sense of humour, who will understand (and not be offended by) sarcasm in print. Tricky.
Guideline #2. Start Generally. Becoming an email buddy can be intimidating so start slowly. Discuss the weather- did it affectyour commute? Is it unseasonably warm? Relate some amusing office anecdotes- did someone burp in the lunchroom? Fall off their chair? Did you see someone with a crazy haircut on the bus (didn't shaving under and leaving long on top die with the 90s?)? Once you start covering these generalities, you will start to find more interesting commonalities and that's where the real fun begins.
Guideline #3. Gain Your Buddy's Trust. In the beginning a new email buddy can feel very vulnerable, so in order to cement your status, you will have to do something to earn your buddy's trust. Maybe you have information about a Torch Relay that no one else does- share it. Maybe you know something about a mutual friend -pass it along. Obviously your email buddy plays by the same rules, and will keep your secret. After all, an email buddy relationship is a 2 way street.
Guideline #4. Gossip. Now that you are firmly established in an email buddy relationship, the fun stuff starts! But sometimes, nothing is really happening in real life. The office is boring, the weather is normal, no freaks on transit. What to do? Turn to celebrities. There's never a slow day in Hollywood (and if it is, they just make sh*t up). Quickly take a look at People.com or my favourite, laineygossip.com and find something. Maybe the Kardashians are fighting, maybe Brangelina adopted a new kid, maybe Madonna did something more messed up to her face. Something will have happened. Find it and discuss!
Guideline #5 Real Life Plans. By now you have shared something special for a number of weeks. Its time to take your relationship to the next level and plan real life outings. Maybe this isn't a stretch, perhaps your email buddy is your best friend in real life. In that case, you're ahead of the game. But more often, its someone that you don't see very often, used to work with, or a friend of a friend finding themselves in a similar work situation. And since you are champs at the written word, talk about everything in your daily lives, the time has come to translate that into a real life friendship. Start small- coffee, a drink, shopping. Go from there.
Follow these guidelines and you'll not only have a coping mechanism for every day in hell, but you might even make a real life friend.
Until that friend decides to volunteer and leave you in the lurch until March 1st.
PS Guideline #6 Delete Delete Delete! Always delete the emails you send and the emails you receive. And make sure to empty that trash!
This morning went smoother? Well my alarm went off like it was supposed to, so I was already ahead of the game. Caught some of the Today show this morning. I know they are on TV all the time. But now, Meredith and Matt and Ann (I love Ann) are in Vancouver! I could literally walk over and harass...see them right now that's how close they are. I won't. I'm sure security is tight and I doubt Amy would let me...but the point is I could.
I guess the problem with these heinously early mornings, is that I haven't yet learned any real coping mechanisms. For a regular day, I have Anna to entertain me (emailing me about Hannah Montana...trust me, it was relevant), the Record to email with and of course, you lot to write to. In a weird, one-sided way. But right now, The Record is still fighting lights laid out by Inbred Drunk City Planners, Anna is somewhere on the skytrain, trying not to touch anything (or get touched by anyone. Or get herpes. Welcome to Vancouver), and none of the blogs that I follow has posted anything I haven't already posted.
OK segue, are you ready...
Of all my coping mechanisms, perhaps the most effective has been the emailing (kind of reminds me of an old school essay, that segue) I always have an email buddy. First it was Claire. Occasionally Mary-Kate will drop me a line, the Swede too. My cousin is always good for it. These days The Record steps up in a big way.
Point is, an email buddy is necessary to escape the crazy that is the Cubicle.
But not just any email buddy will do. You see, entertaining emailing is almost an art form. You must be funny, yet observant, empathetic, yet informative. Sounds like a lot of work no? It is. But you can do it. Because I have come up with some...I don't want to say rules, I don't want these to feel rigid...lets go with guidelines.
Guideline #1. Choose Wisely. Like choosing co-worker friends, an email buddy is a big committment. You don't want to make the wrong choice and be forever receiving chain emails that warn your genitals will turn green and fall off if you don't forward it to 5 people. Choose someone you already know, someone that has at least some time to kill every day, someone that has a similar sense of humour, who will understand (and not be offended by) sarcasm in print. Tricky.
Guideline #2. Start Generally. Becoming an email buddy can be intimidating so start slowly. Discuss the weather- did it affectyour commute? Is it unseasonably warm? Relate some amusing office anecdotes- did someone burp in the lunchroom? Fall off their chair? Did you see someone with a crazy haircut on the bus (didn't shaving under and leaving long on top die with the 90s?)? Once you start covering these generalities, you will start to find more interesting commonalities and that's where the real fun begins.
Guideline #3. Gain Your Buddy's Trust. In the beginning a new email buddy can feel very vulnerable, so in order to cement your status, you will have to do something to earn your buddy's trust. Maybe you have information about a Torch Relay that no one else does- share it. Maybe you know something about a mutual friend -pass it along. Obviously your email buddy plays by the same rules, and will keep your secret. After all, an email buddy relationship is a 2 way street.
Guideline #4. Gossip. Now that you are firmly established in an email buddy relationship, the fun stuff starts! But sometimes, nothing is really happening in real life. The office is boring, the weather is normal, no freaks on transit. What to do? Turn to celebrities. There's never a slow day in Hollywood (and if it is, they just make sh*t up). Quickly take a look at People.com or my favourite, laineygossip.com and find something. Maybe the Kardashians are fighting, maybe Brangelina adopted a new kid, maybe Madonna did something more messed up to her face. Something will have happened. Find it and discuss!
Guideline #5 Real Life Plans. By now you have shared something special for a number of weeks. Its time to take your relationship to the next level and plan real life outings. Maybe this isn't a stretch, perhaps your email buddy is your best friend in real life. In that case, you're ahead of the game. But more often, its someone that you don't see very often, used to work with, or a friend of a friend finding themselves in a similar work situation. And since you are champs at the written word, talk about everything in your daily lives, the time has come to translate that into a real life friendship. Start small- coffee, a drink, shopping. Go from there.
Follow these guidelines and you'll not only have a coping mechanism for every day in hell, but you might even make a real life friend.
Until that friend decides to volunteer and leave you in the lurch until March 1st.
PS Guideline #6 Delete Delete Delete! Always delete the emails you send and the emails you receive. And make sure to empty that trash!
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
I Didn't Kill Anyone On The Way To Work
Its creepy to be at work so early in the morning. And alone. Stepping over sleeping homeless men is one thing...being alone with your thoughts, hearing rustling and immediately jumping to the conclusion that an awake homeless man is in your office, is something else entirely.
It was also really dark on my way to work this morning, a good 2 hours before the sunrise. There is this path that I take to get to the bus that the strata doesn't see fit to light in any way--walking through that this morning I was convinced I was going to get raped.
But I didn't. Yay!
Here's what I expected of this early start: I would barely be able to keep my eyes open, any little thing would set me off and time would move at its habitual snail's pace.
So far, none of these things are true.
Oh, it was hard to open my eyes (I was dreaming something about owning Olympic viewing runs and sending out invites...don't know what that means really...and yes I'm aware that that makes no sense) when the alarm went off. I should clarify that it wasn't my alarm that went off. It was The Boyfriend's at 5.15. He got out of bed and I knew that I needed to get up in another 15 minutes. But I had my own alarm for that. Thank God this wasn't every other morning where I am able to fall back into a deep sleep waiting for my alarm. Today I was semi-consciously waiting for the alarm to go off. I assumed that I had snoozed it for 20 minutes.
I hadn't.
The volume was off.
Smart.
Miraculously I still managed to get up and ready on time. Even watched a little local news banter. One anchor was near Holland House learning Dutch phrases. This amused me. Something amused me before 6am. Confusing no? I quickly checked the bus timetable- the bus arrived at my stop at 6.10. So I left at 6. Apparently I have never timed how long it takes to walk to the bus stop from my house. I'd say that it took about 3 minutes. Which left me shivering at the bus stop for 7 whole minutes. And then...some a-hole who budged the line took my seat.
That's right, I have a seat. Every day, same seat.
Today, Captain D-bag took it. I might have even glared at him as I walked past. I couldn't help it. But I didn't snap. Baby steps people.
Anyway I guess crack of dawn mornings agree with me because I feel almost chipper this morning. Its nice to be at work, in the city, when there is almost no one else around (I should clarify that the niceness is not being at work, its that there is almost no one else around). The quiet is almost (almost) peaceful and reassuring. Almost. I don't feel like I need to run out and get any kind of caffeine. I'm not even suppressing any kind of murderous urge. I just am.
I guess I'm growing as a person.
More likely, there is just no one around to f*ck up my day. Yet.
What else did I say about my expectations? Time moving slowly. Just the opposite in fact. Time is going by pretty quickly. I still need to figure out when I'm taking my breaks (I got here at 6.50, so I'm leaving at 2.50, but I normally take my lunch from 1.30-2.30...gotta sort that out) but all in all, maybe the early mornings won't be as bad as I thought?
Yeah OK, you're right. Wait and see how I feel after work. Probably horrible. When I first started working as a gym receptionist and had to be at work for 5.15, the mornings I managed just fine. It was when 8pm rolled around that I started to fall apart. I couldn't go out on weekends anymore because there was no guarantee that I wouldn't fall asleep at the wheel driving home. I've never been one to appreciate any form of sleep deprivation.
I think we might have talked about that before.
I would like to leave things here on a high note, but I think I'm starting to feel some side effects of my early start: brain malfunction. Should make for a fun day. Perhaps I will mess with Maurice (yesterday I actually referred to him as Maurice in front of him...that's not his actual name...I think I was the only one that noticed though). Stay tuned- something amusing could come of it.
It was also really dark on my way to work this morning, a good 2 hours before the sunrise. There is this path that I take to get to the bus that the strata doesn't see fit to light in any way--walking through that this morning I was convinced I was going to get raped.
But I didn't. Yay!
Here's what I expected of this early start: I would barely be able to keep my eyes open, any little thing would set me off and time would move at its habitual snail's pace.
So far, none of these things are true.
Oh, it was hard to open my eyes (I was dreaming something about owning Olympic viewing runs and sending out invites...don't know what that means really...and yes I'm aware that that makes no sense) when the alarm went off. I should clarify that it wasn't my alarm that went off. It was The Boyfriend's at 5.15. He got out of bed and I knew that I needed to get up in another 15 minutes. But I had my own alarm for that. Thank God this wasn't every other morning where I am able to fall back into a deep sleep waiting for my alarm. Today I was semi-consciously waiting for the alarm to go off. I assumed that I had snoozed it for 20 minutes.
I hadn't.
The volume was off.
Smart.
Miraculously I still managed to get up and ready on time. Even watched a little local news banter. One anchor was near Holland House learning Dutch phrases. This amused me. Something amused me before 6am. Confusing no? I quickly checked the bus timetable- the bus arrived at my stop at 6.10. So I left at 6. Apparently I have never timed how long it takes to walk to the bus stop from my house. I'd say that it took about 3 minutes. Which left me shivering at the bus stop for 7 whole minutes. And then...some a-hole who budged the line took my seat.
That's right, I have a seat. Every day, same seat.
Today, Captain D-bag took it. I might have even glared at him as I walked past. I couldn't help it. But I didn't snap. Baby steps people.
Anyway I guess crack of dawn mornings agree with me because I feel almost chipper this morning. Its nice to be at work, in the city, when there is almost no one else around (I should clarify that the niceness is not being at work, its that there is almost no one else around). The quiet is almost (almost) peaceful and reassuring. Almost. I don't feel like I need to run out and get any kind of caffeine. I'm not even suppressing any kind of murderous urge. I just am.
I guess I'm growing as a person.
More likely, there is just no one around to f*ck up my day. Yet.
What else did I say about my expectations? Time moving slowly. Just the opposite in fact. Time is going by pretty quickly. I still need to figure out when I'm taking my breaks (I got here at 6.50, so I'm leaving at 2.50, but I normally take my lunch from 1.30-2.30...gotta sort that out) but all in all, maybe the early mornings won't be as bad as I thought?
Yeah OK, you're right. Wait and see how I feel after work. Probably horrible. When I first started working as a gym receptionist and had to be at work for 5.15, the mornings I managed just fine. It was when 8pm rolled around that I started to fall apart. I couldn't go out on weekends anymore because there was no guarantee that I wouldn't fall asleep at the wheel driving home. I've never been one to appreciate any form of sleep deprivation.
I think we might have talked about that before.
I would like to leave things here on a high note, but I think I'm starting to feel some side effects of my early start: brain malfunction. Should make for a fun day. Perhaps I will mess with Maurice (yesterday I actually referred to him as Maurice in front of him...that's not his actual name...I think I was the only one that noticed though). Stay tuned- something amusing could come of it.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Ramblings Of An Insane Cubicle Dweller
I thought that I had kicked my Starbucks habit.I mean, they kept f*cking up, so I told myself that I was done. I was even going to write a post last week about how I was a recovering Starbucksaholic.
But I guess its a good thing that I held off because this morning I totally fell off the wagon.
And it tastes so good.
Even though apparently I no longer drink a grandevanillaearlgreyteamisto, now its known as an earlgreytealatte or something else that means exactly the same thing. Why Starbucks? Why? Why do you mess with people before they have had their caffeine? Such a dangerous game you play.
I don't think that I need to tell you that today is my least favourite day of the week. I think by now, you are aware of this. Unless you are new, and then, welcome to my very least favourite day of the week. I'm quite fond of Fridays. Saturdays. And Sundays until about 8:30pm when I can start to feel Monday creeping up on me.
Where am I going with this. Nowhere fast really. Did you miss me on Friday? I did leave you a present. I can't tell you how impressed I was with me that I managed to post a youtube video. I'm getting all technologically savvy in my old age.
Before you start ragging on me, telling me that I'm not old, let me remind you that its all about context. If you are older than me, then yes, I guess I'm not old. But if you are a 13 year old girl that knows everything, like my little sister, then I am ancient. So old. And you take great pleasure in reminding me of this as I huff and puff and move your sh*t into your new house.
Wow, how did that happen? Sorry.
Moving on.
To what? I'm not sure. Shall we talk about what happened in the office while I was away? Whenever Anna or I are away, we keep a kind of log of things that the other missed and then email it at the end of the day. My favourite things are:
1. That Veronica didn't notice that I wasn't in the office until 11.45. I mean, OK I left the message with Amy, but don't they talk to each other? Since I'm so important, and they needed to have discussions about how indispensable I was before they could tell me that I was able to have a week off unpaid (as a reward), I thought that they would notice my absence more. I was wrong. I'm not sure whether to be hurt or not? Do I care enough?
2. That my printer was returned to me on Friday and it took an email from Anna telling me that this happened for me to notice. Despite the fact that when I walked in this morning Maurice was loading the printer. Oh Monday, you make a fool out of me. Now that the printer is back, it needs more paper. Plain paper-- I guess Maurice was loading preprinted paper. Should I load it? Or wait for Maurice to do it? I feel like this morning I don't care enough to do it myself. Let's just wait for Maurice.
OK folks, I have one week to mentally prepare myself for next week's adjusted schedule. For a non- morning person (seriously, people have died) does anyone have any thoughts on how to get through next week's early-a$$ mornings without mortally wounding anyone? I need all the help I can get (I think this post is evidence enough of my weak mental state these days).
PS Maurice totally refilled the printer. He's my b*tch and he doesn't even know it.
But I guess its a good thing that I held off because this morning I totally fell off the wagon.
And it tastes so good.
Even though apparently I no longer drink a grandevanillaearlgreyteamisto, now its known as an earlgreytealatte or something else that means exactly the same thing. Why Starbucks? Why? Why do you mess with people before they have had their caffeine? Such a dangerous game you play.
I don't think that I need to tell you that today is my least favourite day of the week. I think by now, you are aware of this. Unless you are new, and then, welcome to my very least favourite day of the week. I'm quite fond of Fridays. Saturdays. And Sundays until about 8:30pm when I can start to feel Monday creeping up on me.
Where am I going with this. Nowhere fast really. Did you miss me on Friday? I did leave you a present. I can't tell you how impressed I was with me that I managed to post a youtube video. I'm getting all technologically savvy in my old age.
Before you start ragging on me, telling me that I'm not old, let me remind you that its all about context. If you are older than me, then yes, I guess I'm not old. But if you are a 13 year old girl that knows everything, like my little sister, then I am ancient. So old. And you take great pleasure in reminding me of this as I huff and puff and move your sh*t into your new house.
Wow, how did that happen? Sorry.
Moving on.
To what? I'm not sure. Shall we talk about what happened in the office while I was away? Whenever Anna or I are away, we keep a kind of log of things that the other missed and then email it at the end of the day. My favourite things are:
1. That Veronica didn't notice that I wasn't in the office until 11.45. I mean, OK I left the message with Amy, but don't they talk to each other? Since I'm so important, and they needed to have discussions about how indispensable I was before they could tell me that I was able to have a week off unpaid (as a reward), I thought that they would notice my absence more. I was wrong. I'm not sure whether to be hurt or not? Do I care enough?
2. That my printer was returned to me on Friday and it took an email from Anna telling me that this happened for me to notice. Despite the fact that when I walked in this morning Maurice was loading the printer. Oh Monday, you make a fool out of me. Now that the printer is back, it needs more paper. Plain paper-- I guess Maurice was loading preprinted paper. Should I load it? Or wait for Maurice to do it? I feel like this morning I don't care enough to do it myself. Let's just wait for Maurice.
OK folks, I have one week to mentally prepare myself for next week's adjusted schedule. For a non- morning person (seriously, people have died) does anyone have any thoughts on how to get through next week's early-a$$ mornings without mortally wounding anyone? I need all the help I can get (I think this post is evidence enough of my weak mental state these days).
PS Maurice totally refilled the printer. He's my b*tch and he doesn't even know it.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Happy Weekend
I'm not at work, but I wanted to leave you all a little something to start your weekend. As promised (if this works) here is the careerbuilder.com commercial that made me laugh so hard. This should give you a visual understanding of what I go through on a daily basis.
Happy Weekend! Make it count!
Happy Weekend! Make it count!
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Cubicle Rehab
This job has messed with my head for over 2 years now (as of January 29th) and although I look forward to the day when I walk in here with a letter of resignation and tell John to suck it (or something else equally lady-like) I'm apprehensive about how I will survive in a new environment.
I guess you are wondering what the hell is wrong with me? I complain each and every day about how much I hate it here and how I can't wait to get a new job and now I'm suddenly worried about this glorious prospect?
I know.
But hear me out.
Once upon a time, before Satan saw fit to make me his b*tch, I had a good work ethic. I came to work, smiled, did my job and then some, never took vacation, never got sick so never took sick days and just all around was a pleasure and a joy to work with. Seriously. Ask anyone that knew me then.
Now. I assume that when there is a meeting, its bad news. I am constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, I can't help myself from making snarky comments (just follow it up with "Just Kidding!" if the reaction is not what you intended), I listen to music on my ipod in an effort to drown out all co-worker sound or the threat of co-worker interaction, and worst of all- I look for any reason to take sick days. Whenever I can. I honestly plan them.
How will I survive in a regular workplace? I am told that there exist these mythical places where one doesn't spend the majority of the day fantasizing about quitting or punching people in the face. Or where the boss actually wants to know your thoughts, and listens to what you have to say. I've even heard that sometimes, when you're sick, your boss calls and makes sure that you're ok, or sends a fruit basket.
A fruit basket.
The only time Amy ever called me when I was sick was when The Boyfriend was suspected of having swine flu upon our return from Mexico and Amy called to tell me not to come into work.
Clearly I need some kind of therapy before I'm released back into the real world.
So here's what I'm thinking: Cubicle Rehab.
I know how this would work- I watch Intervention. First people would notice that I was out of control so they would get together and write me letters, telling me that they love me and that I am being given a gift, and I don't have to live like this anymore.
Then I would be enrolled in some kind of awesome rehab facility in California, Florida, New Mexico, or Arizona. And I would fly there with a nurse so that they could make sure that I wasn't going to die from all the toxic hatred in my body (before we left I would make them let me have one more hit of anger, perhaps a really violent fantasy about manager deaths). Once I got to where I was going, I would begin counseling.
We would talk about why I started working here in the first place, how the way I was treated wasn't right, but that it also wasn't my fault and that I can't let it make me a dried up bitter old woman before my time, that the anger is killing me etc.
Eventually I would start to smile more, years would be taken off my face and I would get a pet. And then I would be able to work in an office where people were allowed to talk to each other and it wouldn't sent me into the fetal position. A place of business that I enjoyed coming to almost every day (I'm still a realist), working on projects I enjoyed, where John isn't f*cking me over every chance he gets and there are no more tears on sunday nights.
Seriously- I think I will need this. Maybe we can set up some kind of funding? Make it happen? I mean, there have to be more people like me right? I know some, in my office. Although I would say that I'm easily the worst offender.
Now before we end this for today, I watched the Superbowl's Greatest Commercials last night (almost all of which I hadn't seen because I live in Canada and CTV cuts into all the feeds and airs their sh*tty commercials) and there were a few hilarious ones that I totally related to. They were for job search engines. I will try to find them and post them on here because I think we will all enjoy. I'm hoping that some dormant technology gene will suddenly wake up and this will work out, but it might end up being links. Or, just play by play descriptions for no one's reading pleasure.
I'm not really sure why I needed to add that...could have been a surprise. I guess I felt like the post was kind of short and I needed a few more words.
Mission accomplished.
I guess you are wondering what the hell is wrong with me? I complain each and every day about how much I hate it here and how I can't wait to get a new job and now I'm suddenly worried about this glorious prospect?
I know.
But hear me out.
Once upon a time, before Satan saw fit to make me his b*tch, I had a good work ethic. I came to work, smiled, did my job and then some, never took vacation, never got sick so never took sick days and just all around was a pleasure and a joy to work with. Seriously. Ask anyone that knew me then.
Now. I assume that when there is a meeting, its bad news. I am constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, I can't help myself from making snarky comments (just follow it up with "Just Kidding!" if the reaction is not what you intended), I listen to music on my ipod in an effort to drown out all co-worker sound or the threat of co-worker interaction, and worst of all- I look for any reason to take sick days. Whenever I can. I honestly plan them.
How will I survive in a regular workplace? I am told that there exist these mythical places where one doesn't spend the majority of the day fantasizing about quitting or punching people in the face. Or where the boss actually wants to know your thoughts, and listens to what you have to say. I've even heard that sometimes, when you're sick, your boss calls and makes sure that you're ok, or sends a fruit basket.
A fruit basket.
The only time Amy ever called me when I was sick was when The Boyfriend was suspected of having swine flu upon our return from Mexico and Amy called to tell me not to come into work.
Clearly I need some kind of therapy before I'm released back into the real world.
So here's what I'm thinking: Cubicle Rehab.
I know how this would work- I watch Intervention. First people would notice that I was out of control so they would get together and write me letters, telling me that they love me and that I am being given a gift, and I don't have to live like this anymore.
Then I would be enrolled in some kind of awesome rehab facility in California, Florida, New Mexico, or Arizona. And I would fly there with a nurse so that they could make sure that I wasn't going to die from all the toxic hatred in my body (before we left I would make them let me have one more hit of anger, perhaps a really violent fantasy about manager deaths). Once I got to where I was going, I would begin counseling.
We would talk about why I started working here in the first place, how the way I was treated wasn't right, but that it also wasn't my fault and that I can't let it make me a dried up bitter old woman before my time, that the anger is killing me etc.
Eventually I would start to smile more, years would be taken off my face and I would get a pet. And then I would be able to work in an office where people were allowed to talk to each other and it wouldn't sent me into the fetal position. A place of business that I enjoyed coming to almost every day (I'm still a realist), working on projects I enjoyed, where John isn't f*cking me over every chance he gets and there are no more tears on sunday nights.
Seriously- I think I will need this. Maybe we can set up some kind of funding? Make it happen? I mean, there have to be more people like me right? I know some, in my office. Although I would say that I'm easily the worst offender.
Now before we end this for today, I watched the Superbowl's Greatest Commercials last night (almost all of which I hadn't seen because I live in Canada and CTV cuts into all the feeds and airs their sh*tty commercials) and there were a few hilarious ones that I totally related to. They were for job search engines. I will try to find them and post them on here because I think we will all enjoy. I'm hoping that some dormant technology gene will suddenly wake up and this will work out, but it might end up being links. Or, just play by play descriptions for no one's reading pleasure.
I'm not really sure why I needed to add that...could have been a surprise. I guess I felt like the post was kind of short and I needed a few more words.
Mission accomplished.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Good Riddance
I didn't sleep well last night, my legs are incredibly sore (sans shoes I hobble like an old woman with bow legs, hawt), and I'm bored already. This does not bode well for today.
Sure its Hump Day and I should be thrilled that I'm almost on the other side of this week.
But mostly I'm disgruntled that I work here, my bus was rerouted again (construction this time), and my city is starting to fill up with irritatingly chipper Olympic volunteers.
Only one good thing is going to come of these Olympics and they call it the Heineken Holland House. During my unpaid week off, I will be drinking there, dressed in orange, doing my best to get on some kind of camera that will transmit my image to Amsterdam someway. Should be amusing. I think I even feel a little bit of excitement about it, which is weird since it has to do with the Olympics.
But let's not get too ahead of ourselves. That's still 3 weeks away. And in the meantime here I am, tired, sore and cranky.
I bet you are all wondering how my pizza reward went off eh? Oh man it was amazing. All that pizza, all that bonding, the feeling of being appreciated warming the very cockles of my heart. Nothing could be better.
Except sticking white hot needles in my eyes.
First of all, way to let me know that the pizza had arrived guys. I really appreciated the heads up. By the time I realized that everyone had left for pizza all the good pizzas were gone and I was left with some kind of nasty pepperoni concoction, cheese and something with a meatball. They couldn't just let us eat the pizza either, they had to make a little speech about teamwork and stuff. I would fill you in on more of the speech details but a) I wasn't listening and b) if I had remembered, would you really care? Exactly.
Now, this "reward" was for our department and one other department for all the work we did on this project to get everything caught up. So why was the accounting department digging in? Did they contribute? No? They didn't? That's what I thought- move along accounting department. You already get to more or less set your own hours and wear jeans when you want to, now you want free pizza? Sit down.
Finally- if they thought that I was going to spend my lunch hour, my precious hour of non-work time, sitting in the lunch room with supervisors and managers pretending to laugh at heinous jokes, or lapsing into work-time stories--they were sadly mistaken. I took pizza, and then I left. I'm not repeating a potluck or birthday cake situation. I don't want to bond with the "team", I want to leave it.
While we're on the subject, how is pizza a reward? A free pizza is something that excites first graders. An appropriate work reward in my mind would be a raise. Or time off. Maybe give us a Friday afternoon off. No? Course not. That would actually be appreciated and we might start to have some faith in the powers that be. They just don't seem to understand the concept that happy employees are productive employees. They are more of the school that if you keep them down, keep cracking that whip, you have control. And when you have control, things get done.
Wrong.
But enjoy running the department into the ground while you try and get a handle on this technique.
As far as I can tell the only good thing about this week is that John is away for almost all of it. Good riddance.
Sure its Hump Day and I should be thrilled that I'm almost on the other side of this week.
But mostly I'm disgruntled that I work here, my bus was rerouted again (construction this time), and my city is starting to fill up with irritatingly chipper Olympic volunteers.
Only one good thing is going to come of these Olympics and they call it the Heineken Holland House. During my unpaid week off, I will be drinking there, dressed in orange, doing my best to get on some kind of camera that will transmit my image to Amsterdam someway. Should be amusing. I think I even feel a little bit of excitement about it, which is weird since it has to do with the Olympics.
But let's not get too ahead of ourselves. That's still 3 weeks away. And in the meantime here I am, tired, sore and cranky.
I bet you are all wondering how my pizza reward went off eh? Oh man it was amazing. All that pizza, all that bonding, the feeling of being appreciated warming the very cockles of my heart. Nothing could be better.
Except sticking white hot needles in my eyes.
First of all, way to let me know that the pizza had arrived guys. I really appreciated the heads up. By the time I realized that everyone had left for pizza all the good pizzas were gone and I was left with some kind of nasty pepperoni concoction, cheese and something with a meatball. They couldn't just let us eat the pizza either, they had to make a little speech about teamwork and stuff. I would fill you in on more of the speech details but a) I wasn't listening and b) if I had remembered, would you really care? Exactly.
Now, this "reward" was for our department and one other department for all the work we did on this project to get everything caught up. So why was the accounting department digging in? Did they contribute? No? They didn't? That's what I thought- move along accounting department. You already get to more or less set your own hours and wear jeans when you want to, now you want free pizza? Sit down.
Finally- if they thought that I was going to spend my lunch hour, my precious hour of non-work time, sitting in the lunch room with supervisors and managers pretending to laugh at heinous jokes, or lapsing into work-time stories--they were sadly mistaken. I took pizza, and then I left. I'm not repeating a potluck or birthday cake situation. I don't want to bond with the "team", I want to leave it.
While we're on the subject, how is pizza a reward? A free pizza is something that excites first graders. An appropriate work reward in my mind would be a raise. Or time off. Maybe give us a Friday afternoon off. No? Course not. That would actually be appreciated and we might start to have some faith in the powers that be. They just don't seem to understand the concept that happy employees are productive employees. They are more of the school that if you keep them down, keep cracking that whip, you have control. And when you have control, things get done.
Wrong.
But enjoy running the department into the ground while you try and get a handle on this technique.
As far as I can tell the only good thing about this week is that John is away for almost all of it. Good riddance.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Soundtrack To My Day
Happy Groundhog day!
How pathetic that I get excited about a weather-predicting rodent. I just like any excuse for a holiday-themed party. If this was a weekend, it might have even happened. So Punxatawny Phil saw his shadow- 6 more weeks of winter. But I think Phil must be on crack, because we haven't even really had winter yet. So I looked into some other Groundhog options, and Balzac Billy (in Alberta) did not see his shadow, so an early spring. Geographically, for me, Billy seems more right on. But I encourage you all to do some research and find a Groundhog that suits your own needs.
So I don't know if I have ever mentioned this, but we don't have a radio in our office. We just have the sweet, sweet sounds of typing and phone ringing to create the soundtrack of our day. Until sometime last year when they were doing construction on the roof and the sound of a concrete drill thing (that is the technical term I believe) distracted all of us. In perhaps the one decent thing my former d-bag-with-no-name boss did, we were allowed to listen to our own music. Both headphones in.
And this kind of stuck after the construction workers left.
There are risks involved. Namely that you will forget that you are supposed to be working and stop listening for footsteps behind you, while you look at someone's awesome blog (or write on your own) and then have John appear beside you. There is also the annoying habit that some have of blasting their music into their ears so that I can hear what song they are listening to down the hall. And finally humming along, or even singing along with your music- annoying as hell.
Oh, and also, I got new headphones, the kind that have that little rubber thing around the earbuds, to block out more sound? Yeah, I cannot eat with those in. It amplifies the sound of chewing- hella annoying.
But if you can get past all that- you will find that your own music sometimes allows you to escape from your Cubicle prison for 2-3 minutes, and relive some more positive memories associated with the songs (like smell triggers memory, so does music). Here are some songs that do this for me.
The one that triggered this thought process (don't judge): Daniel Powter's You Had a Bad Day. This always takes me back to that first week as an au pair when it came on the radio as we drove the kids the 5 blocks to their school (I tried to make them walk, the mom said no- wtf?), the outgoing au pair said to me, "This song always makes me feel better after a morning with the kids." After that, it would come on at practically the same time and I would always remember to breathe. Even the morning after I had parked the van at the school and someone had hit it while I was taking the kids in. And I had to go back to Monster Mama and tell her what happened. Boy was she pissed...but I had a bad day. And actually- it wasn't my fault. I wasn't even in the car!
Another song from that summer- The Beach Boys' California Girls. There were 4 of us that summer- 2 South Africans, me and a girl from California. Every weekend saw us at the same piano bar, requesting songs that never got played. One weekend we did our research and found that one of the players loved The Beach Boys, so we requested a song. He didn't play it- said the harmony wasn't right for one person. But then he played California Girls instead, looking right at my friend and saying that everyone knew California girls were the most beautiful (he knew where we were all from- they totallly hooked up later in the summer). He's famous in the Netherlands now- Roel van Velzen. How cool were we?
The soundtrack to Wicked or Coldplay's Viva La Vida album make me think of when I went to London. Adele's album reminds me of paper writing (which I would actually rather do than work here). If I want to relive recent concerts I will listen to Gaga, Mika or U2. If I need to work faster (like I will after this) some Lily Allen (particulary F*ck You) helps out. Dolly Parton knew what she was talking about when she wrote 9 to 5.
James Blunt's 1973 and Feist's 1,2,3,4 remind me of a particularly hazardous roadtrip from Amsterdam to Brussels with my mom. The Boyfriend had made me a CD and I took it with me when my mom, sister and I drove to Brussels to visit my aunt and uncle. Well I can't drive standard very well so my mom had to drive the rental car. Turns out my mom was seriously out of practice. I cringed every time she had to merge, tensed up when we had to start after a light, tried to distract myself with passing scenery as we careened all over the place. My mom (love you) isn't a good driver in the best of conditions. Add a foreign highway, a standard car, a bored 11 year old and bad weather and its a miracle I'm even sitting here telling yout this story.
Last night I made a new memory. Ke$ha's ubiquitous Tik Tok was on at the pool during aquafit (yeah, I went again. And you should too) and The Record turned around and said "doesn't this make you feel like a whore?". It kind of did, and that will forever taint my association with that song.
And finally (and kind of randomly) there is John Denver's West Virginia. If you have ever been to Oktoberfest in Munich (maybe "in Munich" wasn't necessary, but I know they have a version of Oktoberfest in Ontario...so maybe it was) you will know that they have a hard on for this song. I mean, its a good song. It just seems kind of out of place in a German beer festival no? But they love it. Its the soundtrack to my Oktoberfest. And everytime I hear that song, I am instantly transported back to a hazy day in late September (confused? Oktoberfest is rarely all in October) where I was dressed like a traditional Bavarian, drank my weight in delicious golden German beer, and The Boyfriend said "I love you" for the first time. Altogether now- awww. But mostly, there was beer. Oh, and rides! If you go, please watch where you step. Beer and rides do not a good combination make.
I have learned all sorts of coping mechanisms in my time here- emailing, messsaging, phone facebooking, blogging, but music probably saves my a$$ most often.
What's on your daily soundtrack?
How pathetic that I get excited about a weather-predicting rodent. I just like any excuse for a holiday-themed party. If this was a weekend, it might have even happened. So Punxatawny Phil saw his shadow- 6 more weeks of winter. But I think Phil must be on crack, because we haven't even really had winter yet. So I looked into some other Groundhog options, and Balzac Billy (in Alberta) did not see his shadow, so an early spring. Geographically, for me, Billy seems more right on. But I encourage you all to do some research and find a Groundhog that suits your own needs.
So I don't know if I have ever mentioned this, but we don't have a radio in our office. We just have the sweet, sweet sounds of typing and phone ringing to create the soundtrack of our day. Until sometime last year when they were doing construction on the roof and the sound of a concrete drill thing (that is the technical term I believe) distracted all of us. In perhaps the one decent thing my former d-bag-with-no-name boss did, we were allowed to listen to our own music. Both headphones in.
And this kind of stuck after the construction workers left.
There are risks involved. Namely that you will forget that you are supposed to be working and stop listening for footsteps behind you, while you look at someone's awesome blog (or write on your own) and then have John appear beside you. There is also the annoying habit that some have of blasting their music into their ears so that I can hear what song they are listening to down the hall. And finally humming along, or even singing along with your music- annoying as hell.
Oh, and also, I got new headphones, the kind that have that little rubber thing around the earbuds, to block out more sound? Yeah, I cannot eat with those in. It amplifies the sound of chewing- hella annoying.
But if you can get past all that- you will find that your own music sometimes allows you to escape from your Cubicle prison for 2-3 minutes, and relive some more positive memories associated with the songs (like smell triggers memory, so does music). Here are some songs that do this for me.
The one that triggered this thought process (don't judge): Daniel Powter's You Had a Bad Day. This always takes me back to that first week as an au pair when it came on the radio as we drove the kids the 5 blocks to their school (I tried to make them walk, the mom said no- wtf?), the outgoing au pair said to me, "This song always makes me feel better after a morning with the kids." After that, it would come on at practically the same time and I would always remember to breathe. Even the morning after I had parked the van at the school and someone had hit it while I was taking the kids in. And I had to go back to Monster Mama and tell her what happened. Boy was she pissed...but I had a bad day. And actually- it wasn't my fault. I wasn't even in the car!
Another song from that summer- The Beach Boys' California Girls. There were 4 of us that summer- 2 South Africans, me and a girl from California. Every weekend saw us at the same piano bar, requesting songs that never got played. One weekend we did our research and found that one of the players loved The Beach Boys, so we requested a song. He didn't play it- said the harmony wasn't right for one person. But then he played California Girls instead, looking right at my friend and saying that everyone knew California girls were the most beautiful (he knew where we were all from- they totallly hooked up later in the summer). He's famous in the Netherlands now- Roel van Velzen. How cool were we?
The soundtrack to Wicked or Coldplay's Viva La Vida album make me think of when I went to London. Adele's album reminds me of paper writing (which I would actually rather do than work here). If I want to relive recent concerts I will listen to Gaga, Mika or U2. If I need to work faster (like I will after this) some Lily Allen (particulary F*ck You) helps out. Dolly Parton knew what she was talking about when she wrote 9 to 5.
James Blunt's 1973 and Feist's 1,2,3,4 remind me of a particularly hazardous roadtrip from Amsterdam to Brussels with my mom. The Boyfriend had made me a CD and I took it with me when my mom, sister and I drove to Brussels to visit my aunt and uncle. Well I can't drive standard very well so my mom had to drive the rental car. Turns out my mom was seriously out of practice. I cringed every time she had to merge, tensed up when we had to start after a light, tried to distract myself with passing scenery as we careened all over the place. My mom (love you) isn't a good driver in the best of conditions. Add a foreign highway, a standard car, a bored 11 year old and bad weather and its a miracle I'm even sitting here telling yout this story.
Last night I made a new memory. Ke$ha's ubiquitous Tik Tok was on at the pool during aquafit (yeah, I went again. And you should too) and The Record turned around and said "doesn't this make you feel like a whore?". It kind of did, and that will forever taint my association with that song.
And finally (and kind of randomly) there is John Denver's West Virginia. If you have ever been to Oktoberfest in Munich (maybe "in Munich" wasn't necessary, but I know they have a version of Oktoberfest in Ontario...so maybe it was) you will know that they have a hard on for this song. I mean, its a good song. It just seems kind of out of place in a German beer festival no? But they love it. Its the soundtrack to my Oktoberfest. And everytime I hear that song, I am instantly transported back to a hazy day in late September (confused? Oktoberfest is rarely all in October) where I was dressed like a traditional Bavarian, drank my weight in delicious golden German beer, and The Boyfriend said "I love you" for the first time. Altogether now- awww. But mostly, there was beer. Oh, and rides! If you go, please watch where you step. Beer and rides do not a good combination make.
I have learned all sorts of coping mechanisms in my time here- emailing, messsaging, phone facebooking, blogging, but music probably saves my a$$ most often.
What's on your daily soundtrack?
Monday, February 1, 2010
Monday Madness
Have I used that as a title before? Possibly. Too lazy to check. And really, its appropriate for my mental state today.
How did this happen? How did we get to Monday again? All that hard work to get to Friday last week and we are right back to where we started. Boo.
On the bright side...how does this work? I'm not accustomed to looking on the bright side of things...um, on the bright side, its February? So its a short month. That means fewer days to get through until its March. And everyone knows that March is the best month of all because its my birthday. And St. Patrick's day. And we're all behind a drinking holiday are we not?
I think a random thought process post might follow this. I'm sorry. Unless this makes you laugh. In which case, thank you. I know I'm brilliant.
Back to February. Short month. Yay! This year February means Olympics though, which slightly diminishes the joy I should be feeling at the advent of this month. I would like to Rip Van Winkle February and just wake up on March 1st when its all over. Yes, I just made Rip Van Winkle a verb. What?
I think thats all I have on the bright side.
Oh. Tomorrow is Groundhog Day. Please. You LOVE it. A rodent predicting the weather? Is there anything more great? Plus its a chance to watch Bill Murray and Andie McDowell in action. You love that movie!
I'm getting excited just thinking about it. But more likely, I will spend tomorrow in a cleaning frenzy before The Boyfriend's parents land in town on Wednesday. I'm making them sound horrible. They are actually the nicest people in the world. I'm looking forward to seeing them again. But, it does mean that there is a lot of cleaning to do. And I will be spending the majority of nights this week on an air mattress (I'm a good hostess that way - they get my bed). Which means extra-snark for posting. Everybody wins!
When I sneeze, I actually think I say ah-choo.
Tomorrow we are having a pizza lunch. A reward from John and the executives for all of our a$$-busting the past few weeks. They set a deadline for us, we met it. So all that overtime, shortened breaks to get just a couple more done is rewarded with a couple of slices of pizza. What a novel way to show your appreciation! This also means more time spent with the "team". Something I despise. Plus the pizza lunch will probably start at 11.30 since that's when Amy and Veronica normally take their lunch. Yes, they do eat lunch when its still morning. How messed up is that? Veronica just can't go too long without eating. Oh, that was a low blow wasn't it?
My bus was busier than usual this morning. A sign of more to come I'm sure. The route even changed. I got to walk 3 blocks to work instead of 2. And it was 2 blocks instead of the 1 that I was walking before they messed with that. I'm going to go out on a limb here and blame VANOC. Sure, I might get deported to some work camp for the duration of the Games, but at least I will have an excuse not to come to work. "Sorry John, VANOC took me away, there was nothing I could do." I'd probably have to get some kind of documentation to prove it.
God, Feburary is a short month, but this morning is looooooong.
On this, a Monday morning, my email buddy tells me that she won't be able to email me this week because she is touring branches. De-pressing. Probably for both of us, but we won't be able to suffer together. Send her positive thoughts guys--she is going on the road with Pregnant Girl. Cousin- you're up.
I left my book at my parent's house this weekend. Right when I started to get into it. I have another book ready to go (always do), but I wasn't mentally prepared to switch to abruptly. Am sad about it.
I don't think it will surprise anyone to know that I have not been able to focus at all this morning. I tried. I know what I have to do, there are a lot of them. But I just don't care. And I have other things to think about. See above. I also read a story about a woman who chose assisted suicide- that was pretty heartbreaking, no matter what your view on the matter is. There were some interesting hockey trades this weekend (oh Toronto, you'll try anything won't you?). I'm trying to figure out how affected my transit route really ss (obviously I can't find any real information). And I'm trying to pull enough unrelated content together to make a passable blog post. Busy morning, without actually doing anything.
I'm going to aquafit again tonight. Last time I was so tired afterwards I was basically coma-tose all night. I'm hoping for a similar reaction tonight. And less people at the pool. Last week there was a friggin' party or something going on. Ridiculous. Maybe I will just sit in the hot tub and let the heat suck out all the energy. I need more sleep. Last night was stupid.
Ok people, for all our sakes, I'm going to stop now. And pretend to do some actual work.
How did this happen? How did we get to Monday again? All that hard work to get to Friday last week and we are right back to where we started. Boo.
On the bright side...how does this work? I'm not accustomed to looking on the bright side of things...um, on the bright side, its February? So its a short month. That means fewer days to get through until its March. And everyone knows that March is the best month of all because its my birthday. And St. Patrick's day. And we're all behind a drinking holiday are we not?
I think a random thought process post might follow this. I'm sorry. Unless this makes you laugh. In which case, thank you. I know I'm brilliant.
Back to February. Short month. Yay! This year February means Olympics though, which slightly diminishes the joy I should be feeling at the advent of this month. I would like to Rip Van Winkle February and just wake up on March 1st when its all over. Yes, I just made Rip Van Winkle a verb. What?
I think thats all I have on the bright side.
Oh. Tomorrow is Groundhog Day. Please. You LOVE it. A rodent predicting the weather? Is there anything more great? Plus its a chance to watch Bill Murray and Andie McDowell in action. You love that movie!
I'm getting excited just thinking about it. But more likely, I will spend tomorrow in a cleaning frenzy before The Boyfriend's parents land in town on Wednesday. I'm making them sound horrible. They are actually the nicest people in the world. I'm looking forward to seeing them again. But, it does mean that there is a lot of cleaning to do. And I will be spending the majority of nights this week on an air mattress (I'm a good hostess that way - they get my bed). Which means extra-snark for posting. Everybody wins!
When I sneeze, I actually think I say ah-choo.
Tomorrow we are having a pizza lunch. A reward from John and the executives for all of our a$$-busting the past few weeks. They set a deadline for us, we met it. So all that overtime, shortened breaks to get just a couple more done is rewarded with a couple of slices of pizza. What a novel way to show your appreciation! This also means more time spent with the "team". Something I despise. Plus the pizza lunch will probably start at 11.30 since that's when Amy and Veronica normally take their lunch. Yes, they do eat lunch when its still morning. How messed up is that? Veronica just can't go too long without eating. Oh, that was a low blow wasn't it?
My bus was busier than usual this morning. A sign of more to come I'm sure. The route even changed. I got to walk 3 blocks to work instead of 2. And it was 2 blocks instead of the 1 that I was walking before they messed with that. I'm going to go out on a limb here and blame VANOC. Sure, I might get deported to some work camp for the duration of the Games, but at least I will have an excuse not to come to work. "Sorry John, VANOC took me away, there was nothing I could do." I'd probably have to get some kind of documentation to prove it.
God, Feburary is a short month, but this morning is looooooong.
On this, a Monday morning, my email buddy tells me that she won't be able to email me this week because she is touring branches. De-pressing. Probably for both of us, but we won't be able to suffer together. Send her positive thoughts guys--she is going on the road with Pregnant Girl. Cousin- you're up.
I left my book at my parent's house this weekend. Right when I started to get into it. I have another book ready to go (always do), but I wasn't mentally prepared to switch to abruptly. Am sad about it.
I don't think it will surprise anyone to know that I have not been able to focus at all this morning. I tried. I know what I have to do, there are a lot of them. But I just don't care. And I have other things to think about. See above. I also read a story about a woman who chose assisted suicide- that was pretty heartbreaking, no matter what your view on the matter is. There were some interesting hockey trades this weekend (oh Toronto, you'll try anything won't you?). I'm trying to figure out how affected my transit route really ss (obviously I can't find any real information). And I'm trying to pull enough unrelated content together to make a passable blog post. Busy morning, without actually doing anything.
I'm going to aquafit again tonight. Last time I was so tired afterwards I was basically coma-tose all night. I'm hoping for a similar reaction tonight. And less people at the pool. Last week there was a friggin' party or something going on. Ridiculous. Maybe I will just sit in the hot tub and let the heat suck out all the energy. I need more sleep. Last night was stupid.
Ok people, for all our sakes, I'm going to stop now. And pretend to do some actual work.
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