Tag Archives: thankless job

Last I checked, you weren’t my boss

8 Feb

Know what’s “amazing”? And by “amazing” I mean “worthy of me punching someone in the mouth.” Being told how to do my job by someone who barely knows how to do their own job.  I call that, “being an asshole.”

I’m good at my job.  People enjoy my work.  Big mucky muck leaders call me to help them figure out how to do their jobs.  So when someone who does internal communications starts questioning what I’m doing, it doesn’t make me so happy.  This isn’t someone who is a go getter, role model, high performer.  This is someone in COMMUNICATIONS who sends out emails to the entire organization with grammatical errors, incorrect attachments, and broken links.  So you’ll excuse me if I tell him to go and suck on a big bag of dicks.

Shut your pie hole and learn how to write a email.  How about that for some advice?

In unrelated news, I think I’m PMSing.

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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.

 

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.

 

I’m an inspiration to the people

9 Nov

Okay, maybe not to the people.  I am, however, a true inspiration to myself.  And probably to my cat.

Had an incredibly powerful leadership moment in my office yesterday.  End of the day.  Everyone had gone home. And I was left to deal with some of the typical bullshit that we deal with here at the University of Broken Dreams.

For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of working in higher education, it’s an experience.  An awful experience in which you’re supposed to play nice and make sure you ask every single person at the university their opinion on a decision. If there’s a single person – no matter their level or experience – who doesn’t agree or who has concerns, then you immediately throw out your idea and start all over again.

Why on earth would we take the time to identify the key decision makers? Or explain to people that not everyone gets a vote?  Probably because someone’s feelings would get hurt, and dealing with feelings is difficult and kind of uncomfortable.  Instead we think it’s better to slow everything w  a  y down and extend too much effort and entirely too much time on the most menial projects.  Great.  Good call.  Awesome for innovation.

Won’t bore you with the details of my most recent project.  The twitter version is a junior staff member was chosen by the VP to lead a project.

I got a call from her manager’s manager’s manager (that’s right, he’s 3 levels up from her and reports into the VP) who wasn’t too thrilled with the decision that had been made.  Even though he had blessed her nomination as a candidate.  He wanted to talk to his direct reports before something was communicated to the junior staff member.  He wasn’t sure if the staffer’s leader would support said decision or not.  And blah blah prolong everything and let’s call a meeting with all the senior leaders to discuss.

As soon as I got off the phone I got an email from the staff member’s leader stating how thrilled he was about that choice.

My reaction? I flipped off my screen and said the following out loud: “Doesn’t look like HE’S got any concerns.  Suck on that dick.”

I’m a fucking professional.

You is not so smrt

8 Nov

One of the women on my team is an absolute idiot.  Like stupid.  She was hired a few weeks before I was, and I’ve always wondered how the interviews went.  Not sure how she happened to get past some of the basic questions like: Tell me about a time you were able to count to 2.  Craziest part was they hired her to figure out our recruiting strategy.  Super senior level job.  She had 2 years of recruiting experience.  She still lives at home with mom and dad where mom does her laundry and makes her lunch for her everyday.  I’m not saying that a young person can’t do a big job, but if you still need instructions to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich perhaps you’re not cut out to lead strategic initiatives.

Let’s call her Smarty Pants.  Being in the same room with her makes my brain hurt when she talks.

She looks confused most of the time.  Probably because she is.  It’s kind of like we hired a 16 year old to do the job.  You know what I mean.  Think back to when you were 16 and you knew it all.  So much life experience at that age and you were the definitive expert on everything.  And sometimes you talked big about shit you legitimately knew nothing at all – pretended you practically wrote the book on it.  Smarty Pants is like that.  She thinks she’s the expert on all things hiring and recruiting and she can hardly figure out how to take the cap off her pen.

Last year we had a consulting firm do an analysis on our recruiting function.  The lead consultant had been in recruiting for 20 plus years, worked in a number of industries, frequently spoke at conferences, etc.  Smarty Pants was not impressed.  During a team meeting she made a point of saying that he didn’t really know what he was talking about and that she was “more smarter” than he was.

Right.

Okay.

Over the summer she spent some time with her fiance and his family at their house in Florida.  Of course it was the “coolest” vacation she’d ever been on.  She told us that one of the things that she loved most about being with his family is that they’re all such humanitarians.  I love people that take care of people.  They’re good people.  Smarty Pants has a different definition of what a humanitarian does.  Another coworker, the Complainer, and I asked her (because we like torturing ourselves) about what her fiance’s family did that made her think that.  Her eyes got all wide and lovey and she told us how one night on when they were on the beach the baby sea turtles started to hatch.  The family helped the baby sea turtles make it to the ocean safely.  And that’s why there were humanitarians.

Fuck me.

And this, my friends, is what it’s like to work in higher education.