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Let’s schedule a meeting to meet about the meeting 

2 May

Why? Why do we do this? How many hours of our lives (and the lives of others) are we wasting on talking about pointless things like who is formatting the PowerPoint deck, who will bring copies, what to do if so-and-so brings up finance, who will monitor the clock? It boggles my mind that some people have to plan down to the last detail – including who is going to close the meeting.

You know who cares?  No one.  Not a single soul cares.

Except for maybe the douche bag executive I work with.  He gets pissed – not even making this up – if the staple on a deck isn’t placed in the proper place.  He’s been known to tear it in to, and send someone out of the room to make copies again in the right place.  This is a man with an advanced degree, relatively good hair, and an ego that can barely fit in the room.


Really?  Does the placement of the staple matter that much?  Is it such an inconvenience to perhaps remove the staple to reveal the corner word?  No, not really. What’s even less convenient is having to sit in that room in a meaningless meeting knowing that seconds of our lives are ticking away.  Seconds that could be spent with loved ones instead of reviewing bar charts that everyone will immediately forget.

Can we make a pact? Let’s do it. I will if you will. The next time someone invites us to a meeting let’s slap them in the mouth and yell, “no!”

What say you?

I’m going to be just like Gwyneth Paltrow, only fatter and with less money

21 Apr

Did you ever see that move, “Sliding Doors”, starring Gwyneth Paltrow?  The one where during part of it she has a really bad wig?  She used to be kind of cool back then, before she married Chris Martin from Coldplay and then got far too fancy.Me neither, I never saw it.  From what I understand, though, the premise is about how a woman’s life changes based on a decision.  Crazy to think that one instant can change the trajectory of your life forever.

Have you ever thought about your own life that way?  About the moments that define the path your life takes, and those that have led you to where you are now?  Decisions like whether to go to that party in high school or stay on the couch watching a Blockbuster movie with your family, to say yes or no to a date, to go to a certain university, to grab that condom or say “fuck it” (literally), to take one job over another, to move to another city, to mend that relationship or let it go, to have kids or not, to leave a bad situation or stay because it’s less scary, to say yes to something you’re afraid of?

I’ve made one of those decisions for myself.  A big one.

I know what you’re thinking, that I’m going off on some rant about how it’s probably about what kind of wine to drink while I’m watching my latest Netflix binge, Bates Motel.


Please tell me you’re watching the show.  Are you watching it?  Because it is totes amazing.  Man did those writers do a fantastic job of creating an fucked up story about why Norman Bates is the way that he is and how freaking CRAZY his mother is.  And that season opener for season 3?  I mean, Norman spooning his mother?  Yuck.  Like creepy yuck.  Like on the cusp of incestuous but not and just gross and it made me feel so yucky, and I can’t wait to keep watching the show to find out what happens.  And also when I’m not being grossed out by the whole Norman-and-his-mom thing, then I’m staring at the teeth of the dude who plays his brother, Max Theiriot.  His veneers!  Ugh, they’re worse than Timothy Olyphant’s.  Just, not good.  They’re as fake as Lisa Rinna’s face.  No es bueno.  But the show, watch it.

[end sidebar]

Yeah, so anyway, big decision.  I’m quitting my job.  I’m leaving.  No more day long meetings, or serving as the complaint department, or as playing tech support, or trying to help someone manage his way out of paper bag, or stroking some douche bag’s ego. Life’s too short to be in a job that poisons your soul.

In exactly 61 days I’m submitting my resignation. I’m out.

Fingers crossed I win the lotto between now and then or I might have to go back to turning tricks behind the Safeway or dancing for nickels.

Inspiring others through leadership

22 Aug

At Widgets and Co. we spend a whole lot of time talking about the role of a supervisor and how micro managing is bad.  The worst thing a boss can do is look over someone’s shoulder while telling them how to do their job.  Scratch that, maybe it’s not the worst thing to do.  Touching your people inappropriately, and threatening not to promote them unless they touch your wiener (with the back of their throat), are way worse.  Still, micro managing is pretty bad.

Part of what I do in my job is try to figure out how help people be stronger managers.  Which is somewhat ironic since I myself have never been one, but whatevs.  There’s  a lot of blah blah blah on how to inspire others, and that by inspiring other people they’ll want to follow you (thereby maybe wanting your wiener to touch the back of their throat).

Recently, my ex-boss (the hot one) turned 38.  I sent hi a text message telling him he was still doable (or at least wishing him a happy birthday).  His response was nothing but pure inspiration.  Take a look…

Yes!  You are the first to wish me a happy b-day. Even though it’s at an ungodly early time, I am up and ready to party. As an older man, please allow me to share some wisdom:  if it’s yellow let it mellow, if it’s brown flush it down.

His wisdom has touched me in so many ways…but not in the back of my throat.


I Love You A Latte

10 Jan

I had a date today with my boss with the dreamy blue eyes.  Have I mentioned his dreamy blue eyes and how incredibly hot he looks in his pin striped suit?  And how his shirt clings to him just right?

Le swoon (I’m swooning in French – that’s how crazy hot he is).

So, our date…he’s spent the last few days winking at me and flexing his muscles and then winking some more.  Today was no exception, there was plenty of winking.




He bought me coffee today.  It’s love.  I totally know it.

Then when we sat down in the romantic corner of the cafeteria we talked all about my professional development.

This totally means something.  I’m going to start getting the paperwork together to change my last name.

Some of My Coworkers Are Infected with Stupidity

10 Sep

I went over to a friend’s house for dinner last night.  We work together at Widgets & Co.  She’s an interesting, eccentric woman who has done a lot of things in her life, experienced a lot of loss.  Her husband died in a tragic drowning accident after eight years of marriage, only two years – almost to the day – after their only child was stillborn.  She was a chiropractor for many years, changed her mind and started building airplanes, and then wound up at Widgets & Co.  She believes in holistic medicine, keeps Kosher (because she’s Jewish), and has an animal communicator for her pet.  She’s out there.  A really nice, generous, woman, but strange.

She doesn’t really fit into our corporate culture.  Still, it’s kind of fun to watch her go off on how we’ve all been drinking the punch and our brains are going to be stolen from us.  She amuses me.

At dinner last night she told me about the welcome lunch her team wanted to throw for her when she first started.  Her team is much smaller than mine and she works with a bunch of bitches.  One of them is a genuine bible beater – the kind of woman who will quote bible passages to you during meeting.  If you ever ask her what she did over the weekend, you’re guaranteed to hear how she spent time at church, read her bible, and praised the baby Jesus.  My skin starts burning if I get too close to her.  The other two people are devoid of any personality whatsoever.  In fact, in the 1+ I’ve worked there, I don’t think I’ve seen either of them smile.  Then again, if I had to work so closely to the bible thumper, I wouldn’t smile a lot either.

Anyway, it was up to the three to orchestrate a welcome lunch for my friend.  My Jewish friend who keeps kosher.  You can imagine how appalled when my friend was when she received an invitation for lunch at Heavenly Ham.  On Passover.

To this day Bible Thumper has no idea what she did wrong.

Protected: My Special Day with Creepy Foot Lover

22 Aug

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A Shout Out (about anal) to Foxy Luv

15 Aug

The internet access we have at Widgets & Co. is on serious lock down.  I can’t tell you how often I see that menacing ACCESS DENIED message pop up on my screen.  We have zero access to Twitter, email, facebook, or any other site that’s halfway decent. You can blame my employment at Widgets & Co. for the decreased blogging efforts.  At Investments r Us I’d have my blog up all day long and felt free to write about all the idiots with whom I worked.  Now I’m afraid the IT Police will take me away and throw me into one of the rooms where the tables are bolted to the floor so no one can cause a scene.

On my first day the put the fear of God into me when they explained how strict their email use policy is.  You can be fired at anytime for any reason if someone accidentally sends you something inappropriate and you open it.  To this day I’ve been very cautious with my work email.  There’s no way on earth I’d send a message with the word anal (unless it was followed by ysis) to or from my work email.  Hell to the fucking no way!

But you know what I will do?  I will go ahead and send such a message to Foxy Luv at Investments r Us.  In my defense it was in reply to a message from another friend AND I didn’t realize it was going to Foxy’s message.  So, Foxy, when your ass gets fired for reading that message, I’ll be the first to tell you I’m sorry.  BUT on the flip side, now’s your chance to take up that career as a pole dancer you always wanted.

Here’s what the message said:

Don’t blame me!  I’m not the one that likes the anal fisting on a Saturday night.  That’s Foxy’s mom!  She’ll do anything for a dollar.  Am I right, Foxy?

P.S.  Your husband called, he wants you to pick up some more lube for tonight.  Looks like Anal Monday is back in play!

I Hate My Job

8 Aug

Four hours.  Four long fucking hours.  That’s how much time I had to spend with Creepy Foot Lover today.  He sucks.  He sucks giant dogs with big hairy balls.  The biggest hairiest balls you can think of.  Having to work with him on every single project is starting to drain on me.  Especially when such work includes daily meetings with him – and when those meetings run up to four hours.

Not even my dreamy secret boyfriend with the green eyes and dimples can save me.  But I’d totally let him try.

The really difficult part is dressing for my job now.  Look, as a chick it’s hard enough getting dressed in the morning.  Picking out an outfit which doesn’t make me look like a fat cow sometimes requires multiple attempts.  Then I have to pick out shoes which don’t give me cankles and make my feet look like Miss Piggy’s.  But on days when I know I’ll be trapped in meetings with Creepy Foot Lover it’s a different ballpark.  On such days I have to make sure I wear close toed shoes (so he doesn’t start fantasizing about sucking on my toes), and I can’t wear anything revealing.  I have a strict cleavage rule on meeting days.

Yeah, that totally failed today.  Yes I managed to remember the closed toed flats, and no there wasn’t a whole lot of cleavage on display today BUT I chose poorly on the dress.  The damn neckline kept slipping to reveal my bra strap.  A black bra strap.  Typically I wouldn’t care who saw it, but when I saw him leering at me it crept me the fuck out.

It’s disturbing to think the troll at work is whacking his junk in my honor.