Step Up

7 Dec

Part of the reason my ass is so fat is that I suffer from an affliction that many Americans suffer from: laziness.  Why walk 3 blocks when you can drive?  Why get out of the car at the Starbucks when you can sit in your car an extra 20 minutes to order your venti whole milk extra whip hot cocoa latte frappuccino latte?  Why climb 2 fights of stairs when there’s an elevator?  Why cook when you can order fried chicken and have it delivered via Uber Eats?

I’m busy.  I have things to do.  I have cookies to eat.  And my Netflix queue isn’t going to watch itself. I don’t have time for fitness, and health, and that shit.

I live a mile from work and can’t be bothered to walk.  Instead I drive everyday, and park in the garage like my coworkers.  Walk up the 5 flights of stairs from the garage to the lobby?  Ha!  No way.  Fuck that for a joke.  I don’t bother entertaining walking from the lobby up the 3 flights of steps to my office.  In the elevator I go with all the other overweight folks who should cut back on carbs and try to get in 10,000 steps instead of just 5,000.  My big step intake is walking from the garage elevator to the office elevator.  62 steps.  Round trip.

So, you can imagine my dismay when the garage elevator broke yesterday.  I was riding up with a coworker when we started hearing lots of grinding.  The kind of grinding you don’t ever want to hear on an elevator.  20 minutes later a message was sent to all staff that the elevator was closed for repairs.  Closed for weeks until the needed part was ordered and arrived.

Great.  That means walking up 5 flights of stairs every morning.  Better not forget anything in my car because I’m not going back down to get it.

Even better?  Today our other elevator broke.  And we have no idea when that one is going to get repaired because we can’t get a fucking call back from our maintenance office.

Awesome.  Really fucking great.  8 fucking flights of stairs every god damned morning.

To add insult to injury you need to swipe in to use access our floor from the stairwell.  And guess whose office is immediately next to the stairwell.  Yup.  That would be mine.  I’ve already opened the door eleventy twelve times because the receptionist is too busy gabbing on the fucking phone.  I already got an earful from the Fed Ex dude that had to run up and down the stairs because he had too much to be able to carry in one load.

On the bright side I guess it means that I can shove a few extra Christmas cookies down my throat.

 

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C- for Effort

1 Dec

I had a boss who used to tell me that “A players hired A players, and B players hired C players.”  You could always tell how good a leader was by who she hired.  It’s been interesting coming to an institution like this and seeing what happens with a bunch of C players. Disaster of a place to work.  I don’t recommend it.  In fact, when I had a friend reach out because he had seen a job posted, I told him the truth and recommended that he run away as fast as he can.

My first boss* here at the University of Broken Dreams was hilarious, and a terrible boss.  Those 2 things are totally unrelated.  Great to hang out with him in his office and have him laugh at all of my hilarious jokes-because my jokes are hilarious.  When it came to actually getting the work done, or influencing the people at the top of the house he was completely inept.  More of a yes man than anything else.

It’s no surprise I found myself on a team with a bunch of people who were absolutely satisfied with doing the bare minimum.  Pretty much everyone was so happy to provide any excuse as to why the job wasn’t getting done.  And man how they resist change.  Hearing things like, “we’ve always done it this way,” or “we tried that once and it didn’t work,” or “we’ll never get so-and-so to buy that” gets old really fast.

My first boss is no longer here, he left several months ago to “pursue a different opportunity.”  For those of you who don’t know, that’s code for “was fired.”  We have a new sheriff in town and she is a ROCK STAR!  Fucking dream come true.  No nonsense, tells it like it is, has high standards, and is giving everyone a kick in the ass that the team needs.  It’s awesome!  Finally, someone with high expectations.  I love her.  The rest of the team is struggling.

One of my teammates doesn’t care for how much work she has to do.  Like that she actually has to do her entire job now, not just 75% of it.  She can’t stand that instead of working 37.5 hours a week sometimes she has to work 40.  Because,  you know, she came to the University of Broken Dreams for work/life balance.

Maybe it’s me, but I always took work/life balance to mean that you still do your job and you have a life.  Not that you half ass your job so you can have a life.  Call me crazy.

Working for a boss who is smart, capable, and holds you to high standards is far better than working for someone who doesn’t care, doesn’t know what they’re doing, has a personal agenda, or is anything like Matt Lauer.  No thank you, I’ll pass.  Life’s too short to work for a shitty boss, and we live in a world where there are plenty of opportunities out there.

 

*To be clear here, he wasn’t responsible for hiring me.  His boss was, and she had inherited him.  She is excellent.

An Open Letter to Matt Lauer

30 Nov

Dear Matt Lauer,

Remember when you were in the news about a decade ago for wearing “mom jeans”?  Man, do I remember how people mocked you for those high waisted, faded, frumpy jeans.  As I recall you were also rocking a red sweater.  You kind of reminded me of an SNL skit, or a sad cat lady.  Yet you were still kind of okay.  That’s when you were still cool.  When families all over America would tune in to “The Today Show” to hear what you had to say.

You were the good guy.  Kind of handsome – aside from those awful jeans, a family guy, the boy next door.  The type of guy that girls like me found dreamy.  Charming, really.

How disappointing for us all to find out what an absolute douche bag you are.  How many hearts you’ve broken, worlds you’ve shaken, lives you’ve made miserable.  What an awful person you are, and poor choices you’ve made.

I’m glad those women came forward and told the truth about you.

Read your “apology” statement that you came out with.  I don’t think you’re sorry.  Scratch that, you are sorry, but you’re only sorry that you got caught.  You’re also a sorry bastard.  You know what you did wrong.  You know that you were being a fuck wad when you were you gifted your coworker a sex toy and told her how you wanted to use it on her.  What is wrong with you??  Don’t you know that you’re not supposed to do that unless the other person is clearly into you?

Guess what, Matt Lauer?  You can take your mom jeans and fuck yourself in your left eye.

You’re dead to me.

Insincerely yours, Catherinette

Pretty sure that’s not what “Black Friday” means

21 Nov

Oh, Target.  You’re so cute with the way you lure us in to your stores with a plan to buy one thing and then we end up buying a shopping cart full of stuff we didn’t know we didn’t need.  Adorable.

Not so cute are your racist Black Friday deals.  Did a search to see if they were running specials on Nespresso machines.  Search term was “Nespresso Black Friday 2017”.  You tell me your thoughts on the search results…

As my friends on “Sesame Street” would say, “one of these things is not like the other, one of these things does not belong.”

Well, that sucked

19 Nov

It’s been 2 days and I’m still licking my wounds a bit.  Given the chance to do it all over again, I would definitely pass. I’ve been in this line for nearly 20 years, and this was easily one of the most stressful classes I’d ever led.

The morning started off well enough – plenty of coffee, considering I was up and out of the house and hour before I’m typically hitting the snooze button.  Breakfast.  Sunshine.  Plenty of smiles.

Can’t quite determine when exactly everything went off the rails.  Seems like there was a moment where all of a sudden half the class started revolting.  I’m surprised they didn’t stage a coup.  They hated the concepts, questioned the research (and I didn’t know how to answer), and demanded answers that I didn’t have.  So I did what any good actress does, I made some shit up, attempted to distract them with some soft shoe, pulled myself together and moved the along.

There was one point in the morning when I was being peppered with questions that I just wanted to cry.  Like break down and sob.  Heap on the floor.  Guttural cries.  It was not awesome.  Not a bit.

Still, managed to make it through the day.  Some people came by at the end to tell me how awesome I am (which is true), and how much they enjoyed the session (absolute lie).

In the 2 days since I’ve found solace in carbs and wine, they help heal my pride.  Maybe I should have some cookies too.

11th hour reprieve (kind of)

16 Nov

YOU GUYS!!

I snuck out of training to give you an update on what’s happening.

So my training got pushed until tomorrow – I have another day to prep.

Pray for me. I’m going to need it.

Also, there are zero hot dudes in the class. That sucks.  On the bright side when I bomb I won’t do it in front of the sexy dude I want to nail.  Because he’s not in this class.

Stay tuned!

How do you say, “I’m fucked” in French?

14 Nov

I am fucked.

In the ass.

Royally.

Fucked.  Like legitimately fucked.

The University of Broken Dreams and 2 other schools co-sponsor a program for senior leaders at our respective institutions. It’s pretty much a bullshit program that gives us the opportunity to travel around the country, talk to leaders about how to lead, and then get bombed at the after hours events. We meet 5 times per year and the different institutions take turns hosting. Tomorrow we host here for a 3 day event. 30 leaders will be joining us.

I’ve tagged along to the last sessions since I’m still considered the newbie. The most tenured team member is a bit of a shrew and control freak. She pretends like she’s open to ideas and will ask your opinion. As soon as you give it to her she will immediately shut you down and tell you while you’re wrong. She also likes to do awesome things like remind everyone why they shouldn’t use their phones during the leadership training, and then sits in the back playing on her phone. Role model. To add insult to injury, she wears patchouli.

My role has been to observe, get asked my opinion, have it shot down, and to be hungover on day 2. Relatively light lifting.

Until now.

This Thursday the Shrew is slated to facilitate a pretty intense all day course. Or, at least, she was slated to do it. Last night I got a call from her wife. Unfortunately, the Shrew had a terrible fall, and will not be able to travel. Broken leg. 3 places. What? You can’t fly with that?

48 hours. That’s how much time I have to figure out what the fuck I’m doing.

Have I mentioned that I’ve never led the program? Or that I don’t have access to the materials? Or that there will be 30 fucking leaders staring at me trying to figure out why I’m the one leading the session? And know how I’ve been spending my time today since I’m in an absolute panic? Online shopping for Christmas presents and a new duvet cover for my room. Because, you know, new bedding fixes everything when you’re in crisis.

What’s the likelihood that I could come down with something like food poisoning or a touch of Ebola between now and Thursday morning?

Fuck.

I’m so fucked.