just got this email and CANNOT wait until tomorrow morning... there is no way this will go smoothly and i'm sure people are already lining up outside geeFresh's door with questions on how to prepare for this monumental transition. and bacon's probably asking little b if she can help draw up a flowchart to send out with additional details.
From: geeFresh
To: All Minions in Hell
Subject: New BisCenter
All,
I am thrilled to announce that we had a new printer delivered last week and it is the newest model of the BizCentre series! You should note that it’s printing menu is remarkably similar to the old Bizcenter which is one reason for continuing with this printer make. As such, we will not perform a formalized training, but I am confident people will be able to follow the menu to print, scan and copy with ease. If you have difficulties over the next week or so please let me know and I can help.
Starting tomorrow morning you all should have the new BizCentre 4869X mapped and have it set as your default printer. It will be set to print on our company standard in double sided, black and white. I ask that you truly make this your new default printer. The new BuzCenter 6489X is not only ~30% faster than our old machine, but the cost per page printed is a fraction of the price of our old BisCenter. Please note that although the old Bizcenter is still on our network you should only print to it when (1) little b is printing a large client job and demands that you not print to our new BizCenter or else he will withhold your next pay check, or (2) the new Bizcentre is down for maintenance or repair (which in all honesty, should be never since it's Brand New!!!).
Please be mindful of the cost of printing on the Firm and the environment. More importantly, I would like to remind everyone to only print in color when needed. I realize this message is communicated frequently, but the communication is necessary, because no one reads my emails. You should know that color printing is just over 7x the cost of printing in black and white. Which, if you all remember, was the reason why your bonuses were cut in half last year. No more color printing = (maybe) more bonuses! Your efforts in this matter are important, and are greatly appreciated.
Best regards,
geeFresh
Duke of the Fiery Depths of Hell
ok seriously? first of all, is the new printer a BisCenter, Bizcenter, BizCentre, BizCenter 4869X, BuzCenter 6489X, or any of the other sixty names he called it? and i'm thinking it's a mistake to not hold a formalized training because i'm going to miss out on a lot of great commentary. oh the fall in productivity tomorrow morning is sure to get little b all riled up. it's going to be a great friday.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
the bottomless pit of dispair
i'm drowning. i am a puddle of motivationless sludge. i can barely type these words and i can't even muster up the energy to go downstairs to the lobby for free treats from building management. free treats! who would've thunk it possible?
things clearly have not gotten better since the weekend, and today, an encounter that was just icing on the cake. ooh cake, wonder if they've got some downstairs. maybe i will have the energy... but first things first. i work with idiots. big idiots. idiots that make twice what i do yet are probably about as smart as a jar of marshmallow fluff. one of whom i had to work with today.
R-TARD NUMERO SEIS
geeFresh - quite possibly the lamest human being on the planet. brain is about as dim as a child's nightlight lightbulb on its last filament. not enough wattage produced to light up the space just a centimeter away from the surface of the bulb. excels at kissing ass and playing poker, so he's got himself a very cushy spot reporting directly to little b. has two staff reporting to him (what?!), which is helpful because he needs assistance spelling things like the company name. it's unfortunate he can't get them to speak for him, as he's unable to correctly pronounce client names ("Where's the Mar-tih-loona report?" "You mean the Martinello report?" "Yes, that's what I said." "No, no it's not. And I don't even know how you can get to that pronunciation.")
so i typically don't have too much interaction with geeFresh, but today the planets all aligned to cause mayhem and destruction and i found myself caught between bacon and geeFresh. talk about worst nightmare, ever.
bacon: hey! i have a quick question, you have a second?
me: no.
bacon: ok great, i was working on this process chart with geeFresh -
me: oh joy, this ought to be good.
bacon: huh?
me: i said, oh joy, joy to the world... just singing christmas carols to myself.
bacon: oh that's so cute. you're so festive. i LOVE that about you. always so happy and cheerful.
me: mmm. do you need new glasses? not sure you know who's office you're in right now.
bacon: oh you're so silly. so funny, too! anyway, so this process chart is supposed to outline what happens when we get mail.
me: client-related mail?
bacon: no, just any regular mail.
me: so... you and geeFresh are both spending time outlining what marie does with the mail?
bacon: yes, exactly! i knew you were the right one to ask, you always grasp the concepts so readily.
me: is this a difficult concept to grasp? the delivery of mail? i think marie knows what she's doing.
bacon: well it really can be quite complicated.
me: oh really. please do explain.
bacon: well you know, first there's the pickup of the mail, then there's the sorting process, where a lot of errors can occur. and then there's the delivery of the mail itself - so many things can go wrong!
me: omg shoot me.
bacon: pardon?
me: oh, loot me, santa, yah send me some christmas loot...
bacon: oh you'll have to teach me that one! i would love to teach my kids a new christmas carol.
me: absolutely. i can't wait to write the lyrics. i mean teach them to you. after i write them...
bacon: so anyway, geeFresh and i are disagreeing on part of the process and i wanted to get your feedback on it.
me: ohhhhkayyyyy.what um exactly is there to disagree on? there are three steps and they're all pretty self-explanatory.
bacon: well here, at this point in the process flow, between the pickup of the mail and the sorting, geeFresh wants to insert a step.
me: what step could he possibly want to and be able to insert? she picks up the mail from the mailbox and then sorts it.
bacon: yes, that's exactly what i said. but he wants to insert a step called "Mail Movement" to illustrate the fact that the mail will be traveling in the elevator up to our floor.
after about five seconds, i realize i'm staring at her with my mouth open. i look at the chart she has in her hand and blink several times to be sure i haven't fallen asleep at my desk and am now dreaming this interaction.
me: so. the process chart will have the following steps: Mail Retrieval, Mail Movement, Mail Allotment, and Mail Distribution? and marie has to sign off on a sheet for each step, every day?
bacon: yes. isn't that insane?
me: this place is insane.
bacon: will you please come with me to explain that Mail Movement is not essential to the chart? i'm practically done with it and then he throws me this loop and it'll take me at least another day to rejigger the chart and add in a step. it's just not necessary.
me: i'll tell you what's not necessary...
bacon: please?
me: ok fine, not sure why you need me but whatever.
we walk to geeFresh's office, which is unfortunately right by little b's. i duck in as quickly as possible, and am hit in the face with a waft of... stinky... person... smell? it's like a combination of old shoes, dirty gym socks, stale bread and cumin. my instincts kick in and i immediately hold my breath. i'm looking for somewhere to sit, or lean, so i have support if i start blacking out from lack of oxygen, but all i see is a sea of paper, folders, and general office mess. i wrap my arms around myself, plant my feet solidly and hope for the best.
geeFresh: oh HEYYYY, ladies, how're you? busy today? mmhmm?
bacon: of course! we are both working hard on this process chart you needed.
geeFresh: process chart?
bacon: yes, on the mail?
geeFresh: male? like males and females?
bacon: oh hahahah, you're SO funny!
hey, that's my compliment! thought bacon only used it on me...
geeFresh: huh? ok so not male and female. so mail then. regular mail. ok yes, what are you working on?
bacon: you remember, the process chart we were talking about making? the steps marie has to do when checking the regular mail?
geeFresh: mary... mary... is she the receptionist? i don't recognize the name.
bacon: no, it's marie. and yes, she sits up front?
geeFresh: OH well yes of course i remember THAT process chart! so is it all done?
bacon: well almost. if you remember we were discussing it and...
at this point i am nearly out of breath and starting to see stars. i'm forced to breathe in little gasps through my mouth so i can't smell the nastiness of his office. unfortunately, that means the smell is in my mouth. wrapping itself around my tongue. am i going to be able to taste it? omg, is my breath going to taste and smell like dirty man office? ugh, ugh, ugh. i am about to bolt when bacon grabs my arm.
bacon: can you tell geeFresh what you said to me earlier? about Mail Movement not being a necessary step?
me: Mail Movement is not a necessary step.
bacon: see? she agrees.
geeFresh: well i don't. of course it's necessary. how is mary going to get the mail from downstairs up into the office? it must move. Mail Movement. i really like that.
bacon: her name is marie.
geeFresh: right, that's what i said.
bacon: no, you said - never mind. i just think it's a redundant step because obviously she has to bring the mail upstairs in order to sort and distribute it.
geeFresh: exactly. without Mail Movement, she will have nothing to sort or distribute. henceforth, the step is necessary.
bacon: but it's really not.
geeFresh: yes, it is. put it in. people will be confused otherwise.
bacon: ok FINE. but just so you know, this will delay the roll-out. i won't be able to finish this until tomorrow, at the earliest.
geeFresh: oh, of course. there's no real rush. i know that making the charts is a labor intensive process. it usually takes me a few days just to get the shapes on the page.
me: did you really just admit that out loud?
geeFresh: ha ha ha, not all of are as great with the computer, like you are!
me: and not all of us are getting paid peanuts, like i am!
geeFresh: did someone say peanuts? i think i have some here in my office - you ladies want a snack?
me: omg no. nasty. i'm leaving. are we done?
bacon: ah yes, thanks for trying anyway. you can go if you want, i am actually a little hungry. peanuts sound good.
me: ew. you're gross.
bacon: what?
me: toast, ah raise your glass for a christmas toast...
bacon: oh another new carol! wonderful! you MUST teach me those tomorrow.
me: yup okgottagobye.
with that, i took off back to my office and sat down. i seemed to have lost track of the last few hours. must have been the wallowing and the continued puzzling over how someone with fluff for brains can possibly be assigning tasks and handing out peanuts. hmm. peanuts. now i might be hungry enough to wander downstairs for a snack.
things clearly have not gotten better since the weekend, and today, an encounter that was just icing on the cake. ooh cake, wonder if they've got some downstairs. maybe i will have the energy... but first things first. i work with idiots. big idiots. idiots that make twice what i do yet are probably about as smart as a jar of marshmallow fluff. one of whom i had to work with today.
R-TARD NUMERO SEIS
geeFresh - quite possibly the lamest human being on the planet. brain is about as dim as a child's nightlight lightbulb on its last filament. not enough wattage produced to light up the space just a centimeter away from the surface of the bulb. excels at kissing ass and playing poker, so he's got himself a very cushy spot reporting directly to little b. has two staff reporting to him (what?!), which is helpful because he needs assistance spelling things like the company name. it's unfortunate he can't get them to speak for him, as he's unable to correctly pronounce client names ("Where's the Mar-tih-loona report?" "You mean the Martinello report?" "Yes, that's what I said." "No, no it's not. And I don't even know how you can get to that pronunciation.")
so i typically don't have too much interaction with geeFresh, but today the planets all aligned to cause mayhem and destruction and i found myself caught between bacon and geeFresh. talk about worst nightmare, ever.
bacon: hey! i have a quick question, you have a second?
me: no.
bacon: ok great, i was working on this process chart with geeFresh -
me: oh joy, this ought to be good.
bacon: huh?
me: i said, oh joy, joy to the world... just singing christmas carols to myself.
bacon: oh that's so cute. you're so festive. i LOVE that about you. always so happy and cheerful.
me: mmm. do you need new glasses? not sure you know who's office you're in right now.
bacon: oh you're so silly. so funny, too! anyway, so this process chart is supposed to outline what happens when we get mail.
me: client-related mail?
bacon: no, just any regular mail.
me: so... you and geeFresh are both spending time outlining what marie does with the mail?
bacon: yes, exactly! i knew you were the right one to ask, you always grasp the concepts so readily.
me: is this a difficult concept to grasp? the delivery of mail? i think marie knows what she's doing.
bacon: well it really can be quite complicated.
me: oh really. please do explain.
bacon: well you know, first there's the pickup of the mail, then there's the sorting process, where a lot of errors can occur. and then there's the delivery of the mail itself - so many things can go wrong!
me: omg shoot me.
bacon: pardon?
me: oh, loot me, santa, yah send me some christmas loot...
bacon: oh you'll have to teach me that one! i would love to teach my kids a new christmas carol.
me: absolutely. i can't wait to write the lyrics. i mean teach them to you. after i write them...
bacon: so anyway, geeFresh and i are disagreeing on part of the process and i wanted to get your feedback on it.
me: ohhhhkayyyyy.what um exactly is there to disagree on? there are three steps and they're all pretty self-explanatory.
bacon: well here, at this point in the process flow, between the pickup of the mail and the sorting, geeFresh wants to insert a step.
me: what step could he possibly want to and be able to insert? she picks up the mail from the mailbox and then sorts it.
bacon: yes, that's exactly what i said. but he wants to insert a step called "Mail Movement" to illustrate the fact that the mail will be traveling in the elevator up to our floor.
after about five seconds, i realize i'm staring at her with my mouth open. i look at the chart she has in her hand and blink several times to be sure i haven't fallen asleep at my desk and am now dreaming this interaction.
me: so. the process chart will have the following steps: Mail Retrieval, Mail Movement, Mail Allotment, and Mail Distribution? and marie has to sign off on a sheet for each step, every day?
bacon: yes. isn't that insane?
me: this place is insane.
bacon: will you please come with me to explain that Mail Movement is not essential to the chart? i'm practically done with it and then he throws me this loop and it'll take me at least another day to rejigger the chart and add in a step. it's just not necessary.
me: i'll tell you what's not necessary...
bacon: please?
me: ok fine, not sure why you need me but whatever.
we walk to geeFresh's office, which is unfortunately right by little b's. i duck in as quickly as possible, and am hit in the face with a waft of... stinky... person... smell? it's like a combination of old shoes, dirty gym socks, stale bread and cumin. my instincts kick in and i immediately hold my breath. i'm looking for somewhere to sit, or lean, so i have support if i start blacking out from lack of oxygen, but all i see is a sea of paper, folders, and general office mess. i wrap my arms around myself, plant my feet solidly and hope for the best.
geeFresh: oh HEYYYY, ladies, how're you? busy today? mmhmm?
bacon: of course! we are both working hard on this process chart you needed.
geeFresh: process chart?
bacon: yes, on the mail?
geeFresh: male? like males and females?
bacon: oh hahahah, you're SO funny!
hey, that's my compliment! thought bacon only used it on me...
geeFresh: huh? ok so not male and female. so mail then. regular mail. ok yes, what are you working on?
bacon: you remember, the process chart we were talking about making? the steps marie has to do when checking the regular mail?
geeFresh: mary... mary... is she the receptionist? i don't recognize the name.
bacon: no, it's marie. and yes, she sits up front?
geeFresh: OH well yes of course i remember THAT process chart! so is it all done?
bacon: well almost. if you remember we were discussing it and...
at this point i am nearly out of breath and starting to see stars. i'm forced to breathe in little gasps through my mouth so i can't smell the nastiness of his office. unfortunately, that means the smell is in my mouth. wrapping itself around my tongue. am i going to be able to taste it? omg, is my breath going to taste and smell like dirty man office? ugh, ugh, ugh. i am about to bolt when bacon grabs my arm.
bacon: can you tell geeFresh what you said to me earlier? about Mail Movement not being a necessary step?
me: Mail Movement is not a necessary step.
bacon: see? she agrees.
geeFresh: well i don't. of course it's necessary. how is mary going to get the mail from downstairs up into the office? it must move. Mail Movement. i really like that.
bacon: her name is marie.
geeFresh: right, that's what i said.
bacon: no, you said - never mind. i just think it's a redundant step because obviously she has to bring the mail upstairs in order to sort and distribute it.
geeFresh: exactly. without Mail Movement, she will have nothing to sort or distribute. henceforth, the step is necessary.
bacon: but it's really not.
geeFresh: yes, it is. put it in. people will be confused otherwise.
bacon: ok FINE. but just so you know, this will delay the roll-out. i won't be able to finish this until tomorrow, at the earliest.
geeFresh: oh, of course. there's no real rush. i know that making the charts is a labor intensive process. it usually takes me a few days just to get the shapes on the page.
me: did you really just admit that out loud?
geeFresh: ha ha ha, not all of are as great with the computer, like you are!
me: and not all of us are getting paid peanuts, like i am!
geeFresh: did someone say peanuts? i think i have some here in my office - you ladies want a snack?
me: omg no. nasty. i'm leaving. are we done?
bacon: ah yes, thanks for trying anyway. you can go if you want, i am actually a little hungry. peanuts sound good.
me: ew. you're gross.
bacon: what?
me: toast, ah raise your glass for a christmas toast...
bacon: oh another new carol! wonderful! you MUST teach me those tomorrow.
me: yup okgottagobye.
with that, i took off back to my office and sat down. i seemed to have lost track of the last few hours. must have been the wallowing and the continued puzzling over how someone with fluff for brains can possibly be assigning tasks and handing out peanuts. hmm. peanuts. now i might be hungry enough to wander downstairs for a snack.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
(non) motivational speaking
today will be a better day. today will be a better day. today MUST be a better day than yesterday. yesterday sucked so badly that today HAS to be a better day. i am going to will it to happen.
my tornado of crap started on saturday night with a supremely (non) motivational speech by little b at our holiday party and ended with my fantasy football team losing in the first round of playoffs by 1.8 points. one. point. eight. thank you, mr. roethlisberger, for being LAME (literally) and NOT successfully throwing the ball to mike wallace just one or two more times. that's all i needed. maybe one of those many interceptions in the end zone you threw in wallace's direction could have been just a tad more accurate. maybe. just maybe. but no, instead you must have heard a portion of little b's (de) motivational speech on saturday. it probably demoralized you as much as it did the rest of us.
i learned a valuable lesson on saturday. it seems that our annual holiday party is where i learn a good portion of my life lessons. what did i learn last year? to NOT drink while my bosses are still within viewing distance. done. what did i learn this year? how NOT to make a year-end speech at a holiday party. i actually got two practical applications of the lesson, one from little b and one from someone I'll call the...
DUKE OF THE R-TARDS
rainMan - incredibly intelligent yet socially inept owner. second-in-line to little b, prefers to relinquish all control to subordinates in stark contrast to little b's micromanaging style. speaks at such a high level not even little b can decode what he says. abstract thinking interspersed with awkward and inappropriate jokes delivered during staff meetings. quite possibly the luckiest gentleman alive, as the majority of his day is spent frowning at this computer screen (laptop may or may not be turned on) yet collects a paycheck equivalent to six staff employees' salaries combined. mild mannered 99% of the time, though has had an episode in the past where he exploded at a staff person for negative feedback (though he later recanted and admitted that what she said was true).
so the night i'd been dreading had arrived. spazfest had made it into town from chicago, the restaurant was set and ready for our shindig and all the sticks were up the appropriate people's asses. i pick emma up and we swing by spazfest's hotel to pick him up. he chats all the way to the restaurant while emma and i try to avoid making eye contact. we manage to make it all the way to the valet before bursting out laughing.
me and emma: BAHH HAH AHHAHAH HAHAH
spazfest: ... right? that's totally what i was thinking, too. can you believe he said that? i mean really, who does he think he is? all high and mighty. pennywise and pound foolish! that's what happens when you live in the burbs. what are you girls laughing at? i know, right? ha ha ha... so anyway then i said...
me (to the valet): here are my keys, thanks so much.
valet: ah you're welcome, miss.
the valet ducks into my car as fast as he can, eyes wide as he wonders what in the world is wrong with the three of us. two are laughing like hyenas and one is talking to himself nonstop. we walk into the restaurant and are immediately accosted by marie.
marie: good lord, thank goodness you two made it. i am DYING in here. i had to come early because little b wanted me to set things up.
me: uh, what might there be to set up?
marie: um well he uh you know, since the company's gotten larger, he wanted some um games and interactive ah things to um get people talking.
me: what.
emma: why.
me: no.
emma: double no.
marie: it's really not that bad. believe me, he had some stupid shit in lined up and i nixed them all. i got him down to two ice breaker type activities.
me: ok, the words ice, breaker, and activities should never be used at an office holiday party.
emma: actually, ice is...
me: yes ok fine i realized that as i said it. ice is ok. breaker and activities... ok just how about the phrase ice breaker activities is not to be used?
emma: agreed. new rule accepted.
marie: right, you guys are weird. anyway, one is a quiz on the upper management and the other is a table game.
me: ah shiz. that's right - we've got to go get some seats before everyone else gets here.
marie: ohhh about that.
me: what.
emma: why.
marie: little b wanted assigned seating so there are name cards on the tables. and he has a master chart in his pocket so if he suspects that you moved the cards around, he WILL catch you.
me: asshat!
emma: lame!
me: we're at least all together right?
marie: uhm.
me: mother father! i need a drink.
emma: ditto. let's make our way over there. too bad you ruined it for us last year. no open bar this year.
me: yah we apparently need it more this year than i did last year. apologies, ladies. i'll get the first round.
we manage to get down two drinks before the rest of the crowd arrives and we are asked to sit down. happily buzzed, i find i don't even mind that i have been slotted to sit at a table with spazfest and rainMan. with spazfest chatting away and rainMan occassionally trying to interject with a "funny", i don't have to try and carry on a conversation with any of the other duds at the table. i can focus all my energy on 1) getting some food down so i can stay upright, and 2) avoiding beaverFace, who is still managing to send leering smirks in my direction while sitting next to his ice princess wife. gross.
the games by far exceed my expectations for lameness and dinner goes by relatively well. the food's decent and there's wine at the tables. i'm just starting to contemplate the logistics of managing a slight buzz during a regular workday (because these people really aren't that bad when you've been drinking!) when little b stands up and clears his throat. oh boy. here we go. "thank you" speech time. i wonder which owner has drawn the short straw this year and has to thank our families and significant others for allowing us to work long hours for the devil in exchange for measly pay. everyone quiets and an uncomfortable silence falls over the room.
little b: hi, well i just wanted to say a few words before dessert is served. rainMan and i are going to tag-team it this year. he's going to start with some words about this past year and the things we've accomplished and i will wrap it up with some exciting news about the upcoming year. rainMan?
at this point, everyone in the room swivels around so they can see my table, and we all lay eyes on rainMan, who was in the middle of taking the final bite of his dinner. seriously? i think we all stopped eating once little b stood up, but the one person who is going to need to speak is still eating? rainMan coughs a little, clears his throat and stands up while wiping his mouth with a napkin. by this time, he's turned bright red and as i look back at little b, i see that little b is attempting to kill him with laser beam eyes. i can practically see the smoke coming out of little b's ears and his red spiked tail whipping the air behind him. honestly, though, what did little b expect? rainMan is the one who messed up staff members' names while trying to thank them during one of these speeches a few years ago. why would you ask him to speak again? and without scripted cue cards?
rainMan: ahem. ah yes. thanks, little b. so ah, this um, past year. yes it's you know, been a good one. well, not good but not as bad as we might have thought, given the economic climate. anyhoo, our client services blahblahblahblah....
i zone out as he starts actually saying words about work. i keep an alert face, though, since everyone is looking at our table. thankfully, marie and emma are both at tables behind me and i don't have to worry about seeing them make faces at me. rainMan starts recapping all the work we'd done during the year. he stumbles a bunch of times, as to be expected, but luckily does not get so flustered that he blurts out an inappropriate comment. he does manage to throw in a semi-racist joke in an attempt to wake people up. it definitely works and i watch as spouses and significant others glance at their partners thinking "did he just say that?" while my fellow employees sheepishly return the look like "yup, that's who i work for."
the more he talks about the projects, the more i feel the mood in the room shift. it's a reminder of all the long hours we'd put in, and instead of feeling proud of our accomplishments, we feel depressed. all of that time, all those hours we'd spent at work, slaving away... and all for what? miserly bonuses and meager raises, if at all this year. however, we all witness the owners' pockets grow fatter as they upgrade their houses and their cars.
rainMan: so ahhh in conclusion, ah those were all the things we got done this year! our clients paid us for those projects, so that's great! oh well most of our clients paid, anyway. there was that one...
little b: AHEM well THANKS rainMan, that was a great recap of the year and all of the firm's accomplishments. i'll take it from here, you can sit down now.
rainMan looks around, realizes that he's still standing and mumbling about a non-paying client, and promptly sits down. as soon as his eyes see his meal still unfinished on his plate, he eagerly picks up his fork and starts eating, completely unaware that the rest of us are still watching him. i think i hear him mutter an "mmmm." i look back at little b and see that he's mad-dogging rainMan again and have to stifle a giggle.
little b: SO, now that we've recalled the great things we did this past year, i'd like to update you all on some happenings that will help make next year even better! some of you may already know this, but others do not yet. through our vast network of contacts and due to the positive reputation we have out there, we have landed a new client! 2012 promises to bring even more work to us, which translates directly into money in my pocket! i'm thrilled at the prospect of becoming even richer off of your sweat, blood and tears!!!
ok so he doesn't actually say that last part, but that's what i hear and i can tell that's what everyone else is hearing, too. well with exception to slickRick, who definitely hears "slickRick is the best employee ever! he will never be fired, regardless of the little amount of work he does!" but that's all he ever hears anyway.
little b lectures and promotes for over half an hour, and the depression that had set in as rainMan had talked grows and grows. little b says "we're going to strive for additional efficiencies across all departments" and we hear "we're not hiring more people, we're just expecting you each to do more work! yay!". then he says "make sure you spend lots of time with your families this holiday season, as you may not see them much next year! ha! ha! ha!" and we hear "i've got your souls now, suckers. you're never leaving hell!"
little b: so as rainMan stated a little earlier, in these rough economic times, it's important to be thankful that we have a viable business and that we employ you. hope you enjoyed your dinner, the bar will stop serving in ten minutes. enjoy the rest of your evening!
what? seriously, that's it? no thank you to us, no thank you to the families? WE are supposed to be thankful that we have jobs??!?! believe me, i am, but still. how about thanking us for all the hard work we did? this is hell. where's at least our fake little thank you? something, anything? a small bit of recognition that without us minions, he wouldn't have a giant ass house up in the hills and a fancy car? but nothing.
i stand up, determined to make the most of the bar before my ten minutes are up. it seems the rest of the company, upper management and ass-kissers excluded, has the same idea. emma and i find a spot on the stools and turn to watch the schmoozers make the rounds with little b and rainMan as we sip our cocktails.
emma: oh god, look at beaverFace, kissing little b's ass over there. i think i just heard him congratulate him on a great motivational speech.
me: barf. that is so disgusting. oh my god. did you just -
emma: - see little b rake his eyes all up and down mrs. beaverFace, the ice princess? yuck, that was beyond gross.
ah little b. he's the king of the r-tards for a reason. only he could be so stupid that he thinks his speech was motivational and would bolster people's loyalty and happy feelings about their jobs. ah well, the only good thing to come out of those r-tarded speeches was a night of drinking amongst friends (after the big wigs went home, of course). monday was par for the course... with just a slight addition of doom and gloom, though i couldn't be sure if that wasn't just extended hangover. speaking of which... it's time to work on the logistics of that perma-buzz idea... :)
my tornado of crap started on saturday night with a supremely (non) motivational speech by little b at our holiday party and ended with my fantasy football team losing in the first round of playoffs by 1.8 points. one. point. eight. thank you, mr. roethlisberger, for being LAME (literally) and NOT successfully throwing the ball to mike wallace just one or two more times. that's all i needed. maybe one of those many interceptions in the end zone you threw in wallace's direction could have been just a tad more accurate. maybe. just maybe. but no, instead you must have heard a portion of little b's (de) motivational speech on saturday. it probably demoralized you as much as it did the rest of us.
i learned a valuable lesson on saturday. it seems that our annual holiday party is where i learn a good portion of my life lessons. what did i learn last year? to NOT drink while my bosses are still within viewing distance. done. what did i learn this year? how NOT to make a year-end speech at a holiday party. i actually got two practical applications of the lesson, one from little b and one from someone I'll call the...
DUKE OF THE R-TARDS
rainMan - incredibly intelligent yet socially inept owner. second-in-line to little b, prefers to relinquish all control to subordinates in stark contrast to little b's micromanaging style. speaks at such a high level not even little b can decode what he says. abstract thinking interspersed with awkward and inappropriate jokes delivered during staff meetings. quite possibly the luckiest gentleman alive, as the majority of his day is spent frowning at this computer screen (laptop may or may not be turned on) yet collects a paycheck equivalent to six staff employees' salaries combined. mild mannered 99% of the time, though has had an episode in the past where he exploded at a staff person for negative feedback (though he later recanted and admitted that what she said was true).
so the night i'd been dreading had arrived. spazfest had made it into town from chicago, the restaurant was set and ready for our shindig and all the sticks were up the appropriate people's asses. i pick emma up and we swing by spazfest's hotel to pick him up. he chats all the way to the restaurant while emma and i try to avoid making eye contact. we manage to make it all the way to the valet before bursting out laughing.
me and emma: BAHH HAH AHHAHAH HAHAH
spazfest: ... right? that's totally what i was thinking, too. can you believe he said that? i mean really, who does he think he is? all high and mighty. pennywise and pound foolish! that's what happens when you live in the burbs. what are you girls laughing at? i know, right? ha ha ha... so anyway then i said...
me (to the valet): here are my keys, thanks so much.
valet: ah you're welcome, miss.
the valet ducks into my car as fast as he can, eyes wide as he wonders what in the world is wrong with the three of us. two are laughing like hyenas and one is talking to himself nonstop. we walk into the restaurant and are immediately accosted by marie.
marie: good lord, thank goodness you two made it. i am DYING in here. i had to come early because little b wanted me to set things up.
me: uh, what might there be to set up?
marie: um well he uh you know, since the company's gotten larger, he wanted some um games and interactive ah things to um get people talking.
me: what.
emma: why.
me: no.
emma: double no.
marie: it's really not that bad. believe me, he had some stupid shit in lined up and i nixed them all. i got him down to two ice breaker type activities.
me: ok, the words ice, breaker, and activities should never be used at an office holiday party.
emma: actually, ice is...
me: yes ok fine i realized that as i said it. ice is ok. breaker and activities... ok just how about the phrase ice breaker activities is not to be used?
emma: agreed. new rule accepted.
marie: right, you guys are weird. anyway, one is a quiz on the upper management and the other is a table game.
me: ah shiz. that's right - we've got to go get some seats before everyone else gets here.
marie: ohhh about that.
me: what.
emma: why.
marie: little b wanted assigned seating so there are name cards on the tables. and he has a master chart in his pocket so if he suspects that you moved the cards around, he WILL catch you.
me: asshat!
emma: lame!
me: we're at least all together right?
marie: uhm.
me: mother father! i need a drink.
emma: ditto. let's make our way over there. too bad you ruined it for us last year. no open bar this year.
me: yah we apparently need it more this year than i did last year. apologies, ladies. i'll get the first round.
we manage to get down two drinks before the rest of the crowd arrives and we are asked to sit down. happily buzzed, i find i don't even mind that i have been slotted to sit at a table with spazfest and rainMan. with spazfest chatting away and rainMan occassionally trying to interject with a "funny", i don't have to try and carry on a conversation with any of the other duds at the table. i can focus all my energy on 1) getting some food down so i can stay upright, and 2) avoiding beaverFace, who is still managing to send leering smirks in my direction while sitting next to his ice princess wife. gross.
the games by far exceed my expectations for lameness and dinner goes by relatively well. the food's decent and there's wine at the tables. i'm just starting to contemplate the logistics of managing a slight buzz during a regular workday (because these people really aren't that bad when you've been drinking!) when little b stands up and clears his throat. oh boy. here we go. "thank you" speech time. i wonder which owner has drawn the short straw this year and has to thank our families and significant others for allowing us to work long hours for the devil in exchange for measly pay. everyone quiets and an uncomfortable silence falls over the room.
little b: hi, well i just wanted to say a few words before dessert is served. rainMan and i are going to tag-team it this year. he's going to start with some words about this past year and the things we've accomplished and i will wrap it up with some exciting news about the upcoming year. rainMan?
at this point, everyone in the room swivels around so they can see my table, and we all lay eyes on rainMan, who was in the middle of taking the final bite of his dinner. seriously? i think we all stopped eating once little b stood up, but the one person who is going to need to speak is still eating? rainMan coughs a little, clears his throat and stands up while wiping his mouth with a napkin. by this time, he's turned bright red and as i look back at little b, i see that little b is attempting to kill him with laser beam eyes. i can practically see the smoke coming out of little b's ears and his red spiked tail whipping the air behind him. honestly, though, what did little b expect? rainMan is the one who messed up staff members' names while trying to thank them during one of these speeches a few years ago. why would you ask him to speak again? and without scripted cue cards?
rainMan: ahem. ah yes. thanks, little b. so ah, this um, past year. yes it's you know, been a good one. well, not good but not as bad as we might have thought, given the economic climate. anyhoo, our client services blahblahblahblah....
i zone out as he starts actually saying words about work. i keep an alert face, though, since everyone is looking at our table. thankfully, marie and emma are both at tables behind me and i don't have to worry about seeing them make faces at me. rainMan starts recapping all the work we'd done during the year. he stumbles a bunch of times, as to be expected, but luckily does not get so flustered that he blurts out an inappropriate comment. he does manage to throw in a semi-racist joke in an attempt to wake people up. it definitely works and i watch as spouses and significant others glance at their partners thinking "did he just say that?" while my fellow employees sheepishly return the look like "yup, that's who i work for."
the more he talks about the projects, the more i feel the mood in the room shift. it's a reminder of all the long hours we'd put in, and instead of feeling proud of our accomplishments, we feel depressed. all of that time, all those hours we'd spent at work, slaving away... and all for what? miserly bonuses and meager raises, if at all this year. however, we all witness the owners' pockets grow fatter as they upgrade their houses and their cars.
rainMan: so ahhh in conclusion, ah those were all the things we got done this year! our clients paid us for those projects, so that's great! oh well most of our clients paid, anyway. there was that one...
little b: AHEM well THANKS rainMan, that was a great recap of the year and all of the firm's accomplishments. i'll take it from here, you can sit down now.
rainMan looks around, realizes that he's still standing and mumbling about a non-paying client, and promptly sits down. as soon as his eyes see his meal still unfinished on his plate, he eagerly picks up his fork and starts eating, completely unaware that the rest of us are still watching him. i think i hear him mutter an "mmmm." i look back at little b and see that he's mad-dogging rainMan again and have to stifle a giggle.
little b: SO, now that we've recalled the great things we did this past year, i'd like to update you all on some happenings that will help make next year even better! some of you may already know this, but others do not yet. through our vast network of contacts and due to the positive reputation we have out there, we have landed a new client! 2012 promises to bring even more work to us, which translates directly into money in my pocket! i'm thrilled at the prospect of becoming even richer off of your sweat, blood and tears!!!
ok so he doesn't actually say that last part, but that's what i hear and i can tell that's what everyone else is hearing, too. well with exception to slickRick, who definitely hears "slickRick is the best employee ever! he will never be fired, regardless of the little amount of work he does!" but that's all he ever hears anyway.
little b lectures and promotes for over half an hour, and the depression that had set in as rainMan had talked grows and grows. little b says "we're going to strive for additional efficiencies across all departments" and we hear "we're not hiring more people, we're just expecting you each to do more work! yay!". then he says "make sure you spend lots of time with your families this holiday season, as you may not see them much next year! ha! ha! ha!" and we hear "i've got your souls now, suckers. you're never leaving hell!"
little b: so as rainMan stated a little earlier, in these rough economic times, it's important to be thankful that we have a viable business and that we employ you. hope you enjoyed your dinner, the bar will stop serving in ten minutes. enjoy the rest of your evening!
what? seriously, that's it? no thank you to us, no thank you to the families? WE are supposed to be thankful that we have jobs??!?! believe me, i am, but still. how about thanking us for all the hard work we did? this is hell. where's at least our fake little thank you? something, anything? a small bit of recognition that without us minions, he wouldn't have a giant ass house up in the hills and a fancy car? but nothing.
i stand up, determined to make the most of the bar before my ten minutes are up. it seems the rest of the company, upper management and ass-kissers excluded, has the same idea. emma and i find a spot on the stools and turn to watch the schmoozers make the rounds with little b and rainMan as we sip our cocktails.
emma: oh god, look at beaverFace, kissing little b's ass over there. i think i just heard him congratulate him on a great motivational speech.
me: barf. that is so disgusting. oh my god. did you just -
emma: - see little b rake his eyes all up and down mrs. beaverFace, the ice princess? yuck, that was beyond gross.
ah little b. he's the king of the r-tards for a reason. only he could be so stupid that he thinks his speech was motivational and would bolster people's loyalty and happy feelings about their jobs. ah well, the only good thing to come out of those r-tarded speeches was a night of drinking amongst friends (after the big wigs went home, of course). monday was par for the course... with just a slight addition of doom and gloom, though i couldn't be sure if that wasn't just extended hangover. speaking of which... it's time to work on the logistics of that perma-buzz idea... :)
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
time warp
i just lost what feels like a third of my life. why, you ask? well i spent the last two and a half hours stuck on the phone with...
R-TARD NUMERO CINCO
spazfest - accuses everyone else of making work out of nothing when he in fact does the EXACT SAME THING. spends all day on the phone with everyone talking shit about everyone else. it's a minor miracle he hasn't forgotten who he's talking to (yet) and started talking smack to someone about themselves. though in this office it's likely he could do that and hold a whole conversation, hang up and have the other person be like "wait a minute... was he talking about...? nah, he wouldn't say those things about me. though my name IS bacon... hmm..."
i was happily enjoying my afternoon latte and trying to find the right site to catch up on the day's entertainment news when i heard emma's phone ring.
[riiiing!]
emma: hello?
[five minutes of silence]
emma: oh really? that's -
[five more minutes of silence]
emma: you know, that's really funny and i'd love to hear more buti'vegottogowork on this project ASAP or else little b's gonna have my butt thanksbyeyup!
[click]
i heard emma sigh and then an instant message box popped up on my desktop.
ewashington: my GOD does spazfest EVER stop talking? wtf! i couldn't get him off the phone fast enough.
me: seriously! so glad i wasn't the one he called this time. oh shiza.
[riiing!]
ewashington: HAHAHAHA he's making the rounds again. i just heard ashley's phone ring but she's not there because she's across the street in her apartment napping. AGAIN. biatch.
me: i still cannot believe no one has caught on. it's those stupid boobs of hers. blind little b like nothing else. ew.
ewashington: right?!?!?
if i had known how long i would get trapped on the phone, i would have suppressed the sympathy i felt in that moment for spazfest. some people just need to feel important and need to know that they are THE source of news in the office. he just needed some validation that he was needed. sigh. stupid ashley and her napping boobs. i picked up the phone.
me: hello?
spazfest: heyyyyyyyyyyyyy there! oh it's SO good to hear your voice.
me: yah, you know, it's been like a day since we last talked.
spazfest: oh i KNOW right? i mean, like, practically forever.
me: right, not quite what i meant but ok.
spazfest: gurrrrrlllll are you so dreading the holiday party this weekend or what? i mean, it's so bad that you have to first of all, work with little b, but then to have to go to a party and rub elbows with him and his wife and pretend like you like them... i am totally dreading flying out there on friday and losing my ENTIRE weekend for this stupid party and having to go and pretend like i'm happy to be there. i mean, no offense or anything, but really, going to your office is like you know, flying to the country or something. there's absolutely nothing to do and like everyone's just SO small town, it's painful.
me: gee, thanks.
spazfest: oh SILLY, of course not you, but you know, everyone else but you. you like totally belong with us over here in chicago. you're so much cooler than everyone else. you know, that's why we get along so well. but anyway like i was saying to dottie the other day...
at that point i mentally exited the conversation because he mentioned dottie. dottie is... spazfest's... girlfriend? lady friend? or perhaps beard? it honestly doesn't matter much to me in any way, though if in case she is his beard, it makes me sad that he feels like he has to pretend he's something he's not. she's been around for a long time, knows his family well and even travels with them on vacations. he complains about her snooty behavior ("as she comes from ollllld money and has never really worked a day in her life") but never talks about going on a date with her. nor about any other facets of a normal relationship like progression towards marriage, kids, etc. not that i'm saying everyone has to move in that direction, but there's an odd staleness to their relationship. not to mention his insane need to gossip, and impeccable fashion sense. he's always well-groomed and highly critical of what everyone looks like when he comes out to visit our office. wonder what he would've thought of my stapled-crotch pants and missing heel. hmm...
spazfest:... right? i mean, i'm honestly just psyching myself up for the party and trying to find positive things to look forward to, to make it bearable. like seeing you. i'm so excited to see you. and can't wait to see who's going to get themselves in trouble this year by getting wayyyyyy too drunk and pissing off little b! it's going to be so great, though last year it was pretty epic.
me: right. thanks a lot for bringing that up. i'm still paying for it. little b makes snide comments everytime the holiday party comes up these days.
spazfest: OH no i um totally didn't mean YOU from last year. you were just being so cute and silly. nothing THAT bad you know? it was ummmm oh don't you remember ashley? she was like um all drunk and ah...
me: no. i don't remember ashley. i don't remember anything after say about 8:30pm. whatever. this place drives me to drink. aholes.
i rolled my eyes and took the last sip of my latte as spazfest tripped and stuttered himself into a different conversation in an attempt to recover from talking smack about me to, well, me. hahaha. it was actually pretty hilarious and i listened on and off for the next hour or so as he chatted on and on. at some point i think i fell asleep with my eyes open. the ping of an instant message woke me up.
ewashington: hey! you awake in there?
me: whoa, i am now. thanks.
ewashington: ha ha! had a feeling you needed a prod. how long has he been talking?
me: it's been... 34 minutes, 18 seconds since i last said something.
ewashington: omg! i can't believe he keeps going even if you aren't making any noises!
me: it really doesn't take much to keep him going.
ewashington: clearly! goodNESS! what's he talking about now?
me: not really sure, i stopped listening a while ago. i was amused as he tried to talk himself out of a hole for bringing up last year's holiday party.
ewashington: oh NO he di'int!
me: he absolutely did. it was pretty funny.
ewashington: was it funny because he talked about you knocking the trash can over or because he brought up all the shots you did with the boys?
me: ahem. it was neither of those incidents, thank you very much. i righted that trash can practically before it even hit the floor AND i out drank most of those boys, so really, i don't see what's so bad about either of those.
ewashington: HA HA HA!!!
i looked up just as emma popped into my office and reenacted my knocking over and resurrecting the trash can. i snorted and tried to turn my giggles into a throat clearing.
spazfest: oh geez, look at the time, i really should let you get back to work! sorry for chatting your ear off! i can't wait for the holiday party! you were so right about that...
me: huh? what did i say? i swear i didn't say more than "mmhmm".
spazfest: oh you're SO funny! so modest. you're the best! see you on saturday!
with that, he finally hung up and i carefully placed my handset back into the cradle. i couldn't quite straighten out my neck and my right ear throbbed as the blood rushed back to it and i thought about all the zits i was likely developing from having the phone pressed against my cheek all afternoon. eesh. i flexed my fingers and tried to bend them out of the claw-shaped mess they were in. as i did so, i noticed my computer clock said it was nearly time to go. YAY! thank you spazfest!!! just enough time to gather my stuff, shut down and sneak out the back. happy wednesday.
R-TARD NUMERO CINCO
spazfest - accuses everyone else of making work out of nothing when he in fact does the EXACT SAME THING. spends all day on the phone with everyone talking shit about everyone else. it's a minor miracle he hasn't forgotten who he's talking to (yet) and started talking smack to someone about themselves. though in this office it's likely he could do that and hold a whole conversation, hang up and have the other person be like "wait a minute... was he talking about...? nah, he wouldn't say those things about me. though my name IS bacon... hmm..."
i was happily enjoying my afternoon latte and trying to find the right site to catch up on the day's entertainment news when i heard emma's phone ring.
[riiiing!]
emma: hello?
[five minutes of silence]
emma: oh really? that's -
[five more minutes of silence]
emma: you know, that's really funny and i'd love to hear more buti'vegottogowork on this project ASAP or else little b's gonna have my butt thanksbyeyup!
[click]
i heard emma sigh and then an instant message box popped up on my desktop.
ewashington: my GOD does spazfest EVER stop talking? wtf! i couldn't get him off the phone fast enough.
me: seriously! so glad i wasn't the one he called this time. oh shiza.
[riiing!]
ewashington: HAHAHAHA he's making the rounds again. i just heard ashley's phone ring but she's not there because she's across the street in her apartment napping. AGAIN. biatch.
me: i still cannot believe no one has caught on. it's those stupid boobs of hers. blind little b like nothing else. ew.
ewashington: right?!?!?
if i had known how long i would get trapped on the phone, i would have suppressed the sympathy i felt in that moment for spazfest. some people just need to feel important and need to know that they are THE source of news in the office. he just needed some validation that he was needed. sigh. stupid ashley and her napping boobs. i picked up the phone.
me: hello?
spazfest: heyyyyyyyyyyyyy there! oh it's SO good to hear your voice.
me: yah, you know, it's been like a day since we last talked.
spazfest: oh i KNOW right? i mean, like, practically forever.
me: right, not quite what i meant but ok.
spazfest: gurrrrrlllll are you so dreading the holiday party this weekend or what? i mean, it's so bad that you have to first of all, work with little b, but then to have to go to a party and rub elbows with him and his wife and pretend like you like them... i am totally dreading flying out there on friday and losing my ENTIRE weekend for this stupid party and having to go and pretend like i'm happy to be there. i mean, no offense or anything, but really, going to your office is like you know, flying to the country or something. there's absolutely nothing to do and like everyone's just SO small town, it's painful.
me: gee, thanks.
spazfest: oh SILLY, of course not you, but you know, everyone else but you. you like totally belong with us over here in chicago. you're so much cooler than everyone else. you know, that's why we get along so well. but anyway like i was saying to dottie the other day...
at that point i mentally exited the conversation because he mentioned dottie. dottie is... spazfest's... girlfriend? lady friend? or perhaps beard? it honestly doesn't matter much to me in any way, though if in case she is his beard, it makes me sad that he feels like he has to pretend he's something he's not. she's been around for a long time, knows his family well and even travels with them on vacations. he complains about her snooty behavior ("as she comes from ollllld money and has never really worked a day in her life") but never talks about going on a date with her. nor about any other facets of a normal relationship like progression towards marriage, kids, etc. not that i'm saying everyone has to move in that direction, but there's an odd staleness to their relationship. not to mention his insane need to gossip, and impeccable fashion sense. he's always well-groomed and highly critical of what everyone looks like when he comes out to visit our office. wonder what he would've thought of my stapled-crotch pants and missing heel. hmm...
spazfest:... right? i mean, i'm honestly just psyching myself up for the party and trying to find positive things to look forward to, to make it bearable. like seeing you. i'm so excited to see you. and can't wait to see who's going to get themselves in trouble this year by getting wayyyyyy too drunk and pissing off little b! it's going to be so great, though last year it was pretty epic.
me: right. thanks a lot for bringing that up. i'm still paying for it. little b makes snide comments everytime the holiday party comes up these days.
spazfest: OH no i um totally didn't mean YOU from last year. you were just being so cute and silly. nothing THAT bad you know? it was ummmm oh don't you remember ashley? she was like um all drunk and ah...
me: no. i don't remember ashley. i don't remember anything after say about 8:30pm. whatever. this place drives me to drink. aholes.
i rolled my eyes and took the last sip of my latte as spazfest tripped and stuttered himself into a different conversation in an attempt to recover from talking smack about me to, well, me. hahaha. it was actually pretty hilarious and i listened on and off for the next hour or so as he chatted on and on. at some point i think i fell asleep with my eyes open. the ping of an instant message woke me up.
ewashington: hey! you awake in there?
me: whoa, i am now. thanks.
ewashington: ha ha! had a feeling you needed a prod. how long has he been talking?
me: it's been... 34 minutes, 18 seconds since i last said something.
ewashington: omg! i can't believe he keeps going even if you aren't making any noises!
me: it really doesn't take much to keep him going.
ewashington: clearly! goodNESS! what's he talking about now?
me: not really sure, i stopped listening a while ago. i was amused as he tried to talk himself out of a hole for bringing up last year's holiday party.
ewashington: oh NO he di'int!
me: he absolutely did. it was pretty funny.
ewashington: was it funny because he talked about you knocking the trash can over or because he brought up all the shots you did with the boys?
me: ahem. it was neither of those incidents, thank you very much. i righted that trash can practically before it even hit the floor AND i out drank most of those boys, so really, i don't see what's so bad about either of those.
ewashington: HA HA HA!!!
i looked up just as emma popped into my office and reenacted my knocking over and resurrecting the trash can. i snorted and tried to turn my giggles into a throat clearing.
spazfest: oh geez, look at the time, i really should let you get back to work! sorry for chatting your ear off! i can't wait for the holiday party! you were so right about that...
me: huh? what did i say? i swear i didn't say more than "mmhmm".
spazfest: oh you're SO funny! so modest. you're the best! see you on saturday!
with that, he finally hung up and i carefully placed my handset back into the cradle. i couldn't quite straighten out my neck and my right ear throbbed as the blood rushed back to it and i thought about all the zits i was likely developing from having the phone pressed against my cheek all afternoon. eesh. i flexed my fingers and tried to bend them out of the claw-shaped mess they were in. as i did so, i noticed my computer clock said it was nearly time to go. YAY! thank you spazfest!!! just enough time to gather my stuff, shut down and sneak out the back. happy wednesday.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
epic fail
o. m. g. i was just a witness to the best. conference. call. failure. ever. i know, i'm not supposed to delight in someone else's failures because retribution and karma and comeuppance and all that will come back to bite me in the butt, but seriously, it was epic beyond belief.
of course, i have no one but bacon to thank for this morning's entertainment. ever since she's taken over additional administrative duties, glaring examples of her incompetence continue to pop up. no real surprise there, but a little shocking in terms of how rapidly things will develop. case in point - the avalanche of awesomeness that occurred in the conference room earlier.
a few months ago, we tried to get fancy like our clients and get video conferencing stuff set up. unfortunately, unlike our clients, we were given a budget of $100. seriously, it was like being sent to mood on project runway with a budget of $50 and a task of creating a red carpet look for beyonce. please. so, of course we end up purchasing some software from siberia or something, and it's called powerpowwow. no really. we couldn't have used gotomeeting or something reputable. we had to try and get the most features for the cheapest price. of course, half of the stuff we thought would work, doesn't. and instead of making a logical decision to cancel and get something better, little b has to sit on that decision and use every video/conference call as an opportunity to complain, berate, and act like a punk. like it's our fault. really? little b, you were the one who ultimately signed the agreement on this because it fell within your miserly budget constraints. whatevs.
at any rate, i can't be too mad because watching bacon struggle with it is pure comedy. there's a standing meeting on there for our monthly staff meetings. can she remember how to log in and use the same recurring meeting invite? nope. last month, our chicago office sat in one video conference, we sat in another and our arizona office sat in a third. no one could see or hear each other and it took about twenty minutes to figure out where they all were. little b sat by the speakerphone and rolled his eyes as poor marie im'd, called and texted the employees from the other offices until we could figure out how to fix it. at one point, she managed to get both chicago and arizona into one conference room. easy peasy, right? we log out, log back in and join their room. what? oh sorry did you say something little b? yes, yes you did. you just said they have to move to our room because we shouldn't have to log in and out again? that we're the "main" office? OMG, little man, you have serious issues. but that's what happened.
so this morning, bacon had to run a client conference on this platform. knowing she sucks at it, she decided to start rehearsing for it early last week. i'll give her credit for at least realizing that she needed to practice. we weren't just going to have our client on with us, but our client's customers... people we don't know and wouldn't interact with, but needed to impress nonetheless. to further complicate matters, our staff would present the first portion of the materials, then we'd transfer controls to our client, who would lead the rest of the meeting. she had gone through the motions for all of this with a staff in our chicago office, so one would reason she was ready to go. but no, it's bacon.
at 8:10am, twenty minutes before the start of the meeting, she poked her head into my office.
bacon: HEY!
me: whoa. what's up, hi.
bacon: the meeting starts in 20 minutes.
me: yes, it sure does.
bacon: i'm going to go set up in the conference room right now canyoucomeandhelpmeplease?
me: um, sure i guess. didn't you already go through everything last week?
bacon: well yes i did, but i'm just nervous. no worries if you're busy, just if you don't mind coming in a little early to help.
me: sure, why not. i'll be there in five.
bacon: oh thank you!
ten minutes later, i wander down to the conference room and pick a good spot for the meeting. i position myself next to bacon, one seat away from the controls, but facing towards the conference room doors so i can monitor the traffic in the reception area in case i get bored. plus i'm also visible to marie and we can entertain each other they way we usually do, making faces and then texting each other on our phones.
bacon: ohmygosh, thank you SO much for coming in early!
me: yup
bacon: ok so i've already logged on, had my handy notes here! (she holds up a piece of notebook paper with our firm login information and password written on it - good security measures!) and i got signed in to the meeting. i set this one up last week so i wouldn't have to worry about it today. i also sent the info in the email to our client so they could have it and forward it to their customers.
me: great job! sounds perfect.
bacon: oh phew thanks. i think i've got all my bases covered.
me: so we're presenting the first half?
bacon: yes. here, i'm sharing our screen already.
me: ok great. and you can transfer over to our client when needed?
bacon: yes, here's the button right here.
me: awesome, looks like you're set!
i should've known better. powerpowwow isn't as user-friendly as it would like you to think it is. and bacon... she could do all the preparing in the world, but the problem is she doesn't ever prepare for the full thing. it's like she trains for a 5K when the race is actually a marathon. missed some steps there. oops.
so a few of our staff wander in, find seats, and as everyone gets settled, we start wondering why our client has not signed on yet. it's now 8:28am and they should at least be signed on so they're present when their customers sign on. speaking of which... where are the customers? are we really the only ones still signed in? little b struts into the conference room and tosses his pen and notepad onto the table. he surveys the room, puts his hands on his hips and squints at the screen.
little b: where's the client?
bacon: uhhh not sure, i mean this is the link that i sent them, for this conference, it is, it has to be.
little b: um right. why are they late? oh you know, i bet it's that new girl they hired, betty. she may be young and cute, but she definitely isn't the brightest. haw haw haw, right guys?
he looks around and the guys in the room for the most part chuckle uncomfortably, shoot me sympathetic looks and either squirm in their seats or look down like they've just discovered they have shoes on. except for beaverface. he's grinning at little b and giving him the "oh man, i got you" nod. little b hones in on him and they exchange a little bromantic look. ugh. i roll my eyes and look back up at the screen, expecting to see someone else, anyone else, logged in. so far, nada. the little participant menu says we are the only ones logged in, and there are no audio-only participants yet. hmm. suspicious.
me: hey um we do have the right time, right?
bacon: yes. i just double-checked my email, and it's supposed to be now.
me: ok. oh hey is that the print out of your email?
bacon: yes - see the time right here?
me: yup. hmm... let's see...
i start comparing the details on the email... time, check. date, check. meeting id... um no check.
me: hey uhh i think um i see the problem. why's our meeting id 6589543 when on your email it says 6972254?
bacon: huh? what's the meeting id?
me: omg. right here - your email says meeting number 6972254, but on our screen it's a different number?
bacon: i don't know. that's weird, must be a weird software thing. maybe they updated the number? i'm positive i'm in the right meeting.
me: really? you really think that powerpowwow would change a meeting id?
bacon: yah, i mean it doesn't really matter, the name of the meeting is what people look for.
me: oh ok. well then we still have a problem. here on your email you called the meeting Hellhole Client Conference - 10/20/11. and there on our screen it says... Hellhole Client Conf TEST - 10/20/11.
bacon: omg. omg. oh crap crap crap crap.
me: wrong meeting?
bacon: yes. shoot. why do i always do this?
me: for fun?
bacon's too busy logging out and trying to log back in without anyone noticing to hear my last comment. i look up and snicker. so much for no one noticing. everyone's staring at the screen and little b looks like he just ate a jalepeno and followed it up with a swig of beer, his face is so red. out of the corner of my eye i see movement, and find that marie is sitting at the front desk holding a sign up for me to read. "wrong freaking meeting, again? LOL!!!" it says. i have to bite my lip and look away before i start laughing outloud. marie is mimicking my facial expressions and cracking up at her desk.
[PING!] you have now joined the conference. you are the host. there are sixteen participants in the meeting already. (the automated lady says)
we all look up and bacon sighs in relief. our client waves hello and lets us know that there are just a few others dialing-in so we should be good to go in a few minutes. little b does his typical schmooze greeting and then discreetly asks bacon to mute us. she clicks on a button and then nods at little b.
little b: well good thing they were running a little late since you had us parked in the wrong meeting - again!
bacon: i'm so sorry, little b, i seriously don't know how that happened! i swear i picked the right meeting from the drop-down menu.
little b: well clearly you didn't, but luckily no harm done. you're lucky.
at this point i'm noticing our client is looking uncomfortable and they are all looking down, except for the manager, who is trying to send us a message through the camera.
client: ah i'm sorry but i uhm you guys aren't ah muted right now.
bacon: oh crap!
little b: (after shooting daggers at bacon) well that's unfortunate, sorry about that! (then muttering under his breath) you'd better figure out how to fix that pronto.
bacon starts sweating and clicking through different screens and as additional customers dial-in and either join the video portion or just the audio portion, we are treated to the following messages from the automated lady:
[PING!] you are now in question and answer mode. all participants are muted and may press star 6 to ask a question.
[PING!] you are now in conference mode. all participants are unmuted.
[PING!] you are now in audio-only mode. all video has been suspended. (the screen turns black)
[PING!] you are now in video mode. all video participants may see the presenter's screen. (the screen flickers back on and bacon sighs in relief.)
[PING!] you are now in presentation mode. all participants are muted.
she finally stops and refuses to make eye contact with little b. smart, since we can all feel the heat from the lasers he is burning straight into her skull from across the table. he takes a deep breath and puts on his schmooze face and turns to the screen and, as i will begrugingly admit, smoothly starts the meeting.
i tune out until the halfway point of the meeting and we're ready to switch presenters to our client. this ought to be good.
little b: ok, so that is our portion of the presentation. at this time, we will turn the controls over to our client, who can walk you through the rest of the material. we will try to do this as smoothly as possible, ha ha, since we had some technical difficulties earlier. ha ha. (shoots daggers at bacon again, who is busily looking at the keyboard and then at the screen and completely ignoring him.)
[CLICKITY CLICK CLICK CLICK]
[PING!] you have now switched presenters. (get out did she actually do it right??!)
little b: hmph, did you actually do that right? nice job.
bacon: ha um i think so. phew.
we all look up at the screen and see our client's presentation up. i can't believe she actually did it right. we all start chattering, waiting for our client to start talking and a few people get up to grab coffee from the back of the room. i am just starting to wonder why our client hasn't started speaking when suddenly the screen flickers and the client opens up a blank word document. hmm this is odd. we quiet down and watch the cursor move and then words start to appear on the screen.
"we can still see you. and hear you."
little b reads the first sentence aloud and then trails off as he gets to "hear". his lips become a thin line as he swivels his head towards bacon. she's still squinting at the screen, reading to herself.
bacon: we... can still... see you? what? and... hear... you. what? they can hear us? but i switched presenters. that doesn't make any sense. and we can see their screen. that's just not right. that can't be, because we can't see THEM anymore.
she starts to lean back in her chair as if it's not her concern, so i smack her arm and point across the table at little b. she turns to me, frowning and rubbing her arm, then follows the line from my finger to little b's red face. her eyes widen and she snaps back to the keyboard, clicks madly through the screens, trying to fix something she doesn't know how to.
[PING!] you are now in question and answer mode. all participants are muted and may press star 6 to ask a question.
[PING!] you are now in conference mode. all participants are unmuted.
[PING!] you are now in audio-only mode. all video has been suspended. (the screen turns black)
[PING!] you are now in video mode. all video participants may see the presenter's screen. (the screen flickers back on and bacon sighs in relief.)
[PING!] you are now in presentation mode. all participants are muted.
sometime in the middle of the [PING!]s we are treated to a sound bite i will never forget.
audio participant 22: well this is a giant cluster f. this is completely unprofessional!
little b looks like he's about to explode. it's a wonder he has enough self-control to stop from leaping across the table and strangling bacon on the spot. the inside of my cheek starts to bleed as i'm chomping down on it so hard, trying not to laugh aloud. bacon continues to push buttons until finally, miraculously, she gets the right combination and our client is able to take over. the tension in our conference room is palpable and no one dares to make a sound, much less make a move.
at the end of the conference, she manages to switch us back on and little b concludes the meeting with a crapload of ass-kissing and apologizes profusely for the technical difficulties. as soon as the video feed ends and the conference phone is hung up, we all make a dash for the doors. the last thing i see as i look back over my shoulder is bacon's face. yikes! for the millionth time today, i am beyond thankful that i am not her. i actually feel a little bad for her. no one likes to see someone fail THAT badly right? well no, but it is still a little funny how it shook out. i hear another [PING!] in my head and start giggling again. ok yeah, i'm a biatch. that was freaking hilarious.
of course, i have no one but bacon to thank for this morning's entertainment. ever since she's taken over additional administrative duties, glaring examples of her incompetence continue to pop up. no real surprise there, but a little shocking in terms of how rapidly things will develop. case in point - the avalanche of awesomeness that occurred in the conference room earlier.
a few months ago, we tried to get fancy like our clients and get video conferencing stuff set up. unfortunately, unlike our clients, we were given a budget of $100. seriously, it was like being sent to mood on project runway with a budget of $50 and a task of creating a red carpet look for beyonce. please. so, of course we end up purchasing some software from siberia or something, and it's called powerpowwow. no really. we couldn't have used gotomeeting or something reputable. we had to try and get the most features for the cheapest price. of course, half of the stuff we thought would work, doesn't. and instead of making a logical decision to cancel and get something better, little b has to sit on that decision and use every video/conference call as an opportunity to complain, berate, and act like a punk. like it's our fault. really? little b, you were the one who ultimately signed the agreement on this because it fell within your miserly budget constraints. whatevs.
at any rate, i can't be too mad because watching bacon struggle with it is pure comedy. there's a standing meeting on there for our monthly staff meetings. can she remember how to log in and use the same recurring meeting invite? nope. last month, our chicago office sat in one video conference, we sat in another and our arizona office sat in a third. no one could see or hear each other and it took about twenty minutes to figure out where they all were. little b sat by the speakerphone and rolled his eyes as poor marie im'd, called and texted the employees from the other offices until we could figure out how to fix it. at one point, she managed to get both chicago and arizona into one conference room. easy peasy, right? we log out, log back in and join their room. what? oh sorry did you say something little b? yes, yes you did. you just said they have to move to our room because we shouldn't have to log in and out again? that we're the "main" office? OMG, little man, you have serious issues. but that's what happened.
so this morning, bacon had to run a client conference on this platform. knowing she sucks at it, she decided to start rehearsing for it early last week. i'll give her credit for at least realizing that she needed to practice. we weren't just going to have our client on with us, but our client's customers... people we don't know and wouldn't interact with, but needed to impress nonetheless. to further complicate matters, our staff would present the first portion of the materials, then we'd transfer controls to our client, who would lead the rest of the meeting. she had gone through the motions for all of this with a staff in our chicago office, so one would reason she was ready to go. but no, it's bacon.
at 8:10am, twenty minutes before the start of the meeting, she poked her head into my office.
bacon: HEY!
me: whoa. what's up, hi.
bacon: the meeting starts in 20 minutes.
me: yes, it sure does.
bacon: i'm going to go set up in the conference room right now canyoucomeandhelpmeplease?
me: um, sure i guess. didn't you already go through everything last week?
bacon: well yes i did, but i'm just nervous. no worries if you're busy, just if you don't mind coming in a little early to help.
me: sure, why not. i'll be there in five.
bacon: oh thank you!
ten minutes later, i wander down to the conference room and pick a good spot for the meeting. i position myself next to bacon, one seat away from the controls, but facing towards the conference room doors so i can monitor the traffic in the reception area in case i get bored. plus i'm also visible to marie and we can entertain each other they way we usually do, making faces and then texting each other on our phones.
bacon: ohmygosh, thank you SO much for coming in early!
me: yup
bacon: ok so i've already logged on, had my handy notes here! (she holds up a piece of notebook paper with our firm login information and password written on it - good security measures!) and i got signed in to the meeting. i set this one up last week so i wouldn't have to worry about it today. i also sent the info in the email to our client so they could have it and forward it to their customers.
me: great job! sounds perfect.
bacon: oh phew thanks. i think i've got all my bases covered.
me: so we're presenting the first half?
bacon: yes. here, i'm sharing our screen already.
me: ok great. and you can transfer over to our client when needed?
bacon: yes, here's the button right here.
me: awesome, looks like you're set!
i should've known better. powerpowwow isn't as user-friendly as it would like you to think it is. and bacon... she could do all the preparing in the world, but the problem is she doesn't ever prepare for the full thing. it's like she trains for a 5K when the race is actually a marathon. missed some steps there. oops.
so a few of our staff wander in, find seats, and as everyone gets settled, we start wondering why our client has not signed on yet. it's now 8:28am and they should at least be signed on so they're present when their customers sign on. speaking of which... where are the customers? are we really the only ones still signed in? little b struts into the conference room and tosses his pen and notepad onto the table. he surveys the room, puts his hands on his hips and squints at the screen.
little b: where's the client?
bacon: uhhh not sure, i mean this is the link that i sent them, for this conference, it is, it has to be.
little b: um right. why are they late? oh you know, i bet it's that new girl they hired, betty. she may be young and cute, but she definitely isn't the brightest. haw haw haw, right guys?
he looks around and the guys in the room for the most part chuckle uncomfortably, shoot me sympathetic looks and either squirm in their seats or look down like they've just discovered they have shoes on. except for beaverface. he's grinning at little b and giving him the "oh man, i got you" nod. little b hones in on him and they exchange a little bromantic look. ugh. i roll my eyes and look back up at the screen, expecting to see someone else, anyone else, logged in. so far, nada. the little participant menu says we are the only ones logged in, and there are no audio-only participants yet. hmm. suspicious.
me: hey um we do have the right time, right?
bacon: yes. i just double-checked my email, and it's supposed to be now.
me: ok. oh hey is that the print out of your email?
bacon: yes - see the time right here?
me: yup. hmm... let's see...
i start comparing the details on the email... time, check. date, check. meeting id... um no check.
me: hey uhh i think um i see the problem. why's our meeting id 6589543 when on your email it says 6972254?
bacon: huh? what's the meeting id?
me: omg. right here - your email says meeting number 6972254, but on our screen it's a different number?
bacon: i don't know. that's weird, must be a weird software thing. maybe they updated the number? i'm positive i'm in the right meeting.
me: really? you really think that powerpowwow would change a meeting id?
bacon: yah, i mean it doesn't really matter, the name of the meeting is what people look for.
me: oh ok. well then we still have a problem. here on your email you called the meeting Hellhole Client Conference - 10/20/11. and there on our screen it says... Hellhole Client Conf TEST - 10/20/11.
bacon: omg. omg. oh crap crap crap crap.
me: wrong meeting?
bacon: yes. shoot. why do i always do this?
me: for fun?
bacon's too busy logging out and trying to log back in without anyone noticing to hear my last comment. i look up and snicker. so much for no one noticing. everyone's staring at the screen and little b looks like he just ate a jalepeno and followed it up with a swig of beer, his face is so red. out of the corner of my eye i see movement, and find that marie is sitting at the front desk holding a sign up for me to read. "wrong freaking meeting, again? LOL!!!" it says. i have to bite my lip and look away before i start laughing outloud. marie is mimicking my facial expressions and cracking up at her desk.
[PING!] you have now joined the conference. you are the host. there are sixteen participants in the meeting already. (the automated lady says)
we all look up and bacon sighs in relief. our client waves hello and lets us know that there are just a few others dialing-in so we should be good to go in a few minutes. little b does his typical schmooze greeting and then discreetly asks bacon to mute us. she clicks on a button and then nods at little b.
little b: well good thing they were running a little late since you had us parked in the wrong meeting - again!
bacon: i'm so sorry, little b, i seriously don't know how that happened! i swear i picked the right meeting from the drop-down menu.
little b: well clearly you didn't, but luckily no harm done. you're lucky.
at this point i'm noticing our client is looking uncomfortable and they are all looking down, except for the manager, who is trying to send us a message through the camera.
client: ah i'm sorry but i uhm you guys aren't ah muted right now.
bacon: oh crap!
little b: (after shooting daggers at bacon) well that's unfortunate, sorry about that! (then muttering under his breath) you'd better figure out how to fix that pronto.
bacon starts sweating and clicking through different screens and as additional customers dial-in and either join the video portion or just the audio portion, we are treated to the following messages from the automated lady:
[PING!] you are now in question and answer mode. all participants are muted and may press star 6 to ask a question.
[PING!] you are now in conference mode. all participants are unmuted.
[PING!] you are now in audio-only mode. all video has been suspended. (the screen turns black)
[PING!] you are now in video mode. all video participants may see the presenter's screen. (the screen flickers back on and bacon sighs in relief.)
[PING!] you are now in presentation mode. all participants are muted.
she finally stops and refuses to make eye contact with little b. smart, since we can all feel the heat from the lasers he is burning straight into her skull from across the table. he takes a deep breath and puts on his schmooze face and turns to the screen and, as i will begrugingly admit, smoothly starts the meeting.
i tune out until the halfway point of the meeting and we're ready to switch presenters to our client. this ought to be good.
little b: ok, so that is our portion of the presentation. at this time, we will turn the controls over to our client, who can walk you through the rest of the material. we will try to do this as smoothly as possible, ha ha, since we had some technical difficulties earlier. ha ha. (shoots daggers at bacon again, who is busily looking at the keyboard and then at the screen and completely ignoring him.)
[CLICKITY CLICK CLICK CLICK]
[PING!] you have now switched presenters. (get out did she actually do it right??!)
little b: hmph, did you actually do that right? nice job.
bacon: ha um i think so. phew.
we all look up at the screen and see our client's presentation up. i can't believe she actually did it right. we all start chattering, waiting for our client to start talking and a few people get up to grab coffee from the back of the room. i am just starting to wonder why our client hasn't started speaking when suddenly the screen flickers and the client opens up a blank word document. hmm this is odd. we quiet down and watch the cursor move and then words start to appear on the screen.
"we can still see you. and hear you."
little b reads the first sentence aloud and then trails off as he gets to "hear". his lips become a thin line as he swivels his head towards bacon. she's still squinting at the screen, reading to herself.
bacon: we... can still... see you? what? and... hear... you. what? they can hear us? but i switched presenters. that doesn't make any sense. and we can see their screen. that's just not right. that can't be, because we can't see THEM anymore.
she starts to lean back in her chair as if it's not her concern, so i smack her arm and point across the table at little b. she turns to me, frowning and rubbing her arm, then follows the line from my finger to little b's red face. her eyes widen and she snaps back to the keyboard, clicks madly through the screens, trying to fix something she doesn't know how to.
[PING!] you are now in question and answer mode. all participants are muted and may press star 6 to ask a question.
[PING!] you are now in conference mode. all participants are unmuted.
[PING!] you are now in audio-only mode. all video has been suspended. (the screen turns black)
[PING!] you are now in video mode. all video participants may see the presenter's screen. (the screen flickers back on and bacon sighs in relief.)
[PING!] you are now in presentation mode. all participants are muted.
sometime in the middle of the [PING!]s we are treated to a sound bite i will never forget.
audio participant 22: well this is a giant cluster f. this is completely unprofessional!
little b looks like he's about to explode. it's a wonder he has enough self-control to stop from leaping across the table and strangling bacon on the spot. the inside of my cheek starts to bleed as i'm chomping down on it so hard, trying not to laugh aloud. bacon continues to push buttons until finally, miraculously, she gets the right combination and our client is able to take over. the tension in our conference room is palpable and no one dares to make a sound, much less make a move.
at the end of the conference, she manages to switch us back on and little b concludes the meeting with a crapload of ass-kissing and apologizes profusely for the technical difficulties. as soon as the video feed ends and the conference phone is hung up, we all make a dash for the doors. the last thing i see as i look back over my shoulder is bacon's face. yikes! for the millionth time today, i am beyond thankful that i am not her. i actually feel a little bad for her. no one likes to see someone fail THAT badly right? well no, but it is still a little funny how it shook out. i hear another [PING!] in my head and start giggling again. ok yeah, i'm a biatch. that was freaking hilarious.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
is it just me or do i smell bacon?
okay, yesterday's self-pity party is officially over because i just got a sign from a higher power. my calling, at least for this moment in my life, is to be here in hell, working for little b so that i can document for future generations the stupidity that exists here. how can mankind learn from its mistakes if i do not preserve it for eternity? if i don't blog about it, others might think this behavior is normal and that it's okay to be rewarded for being an idiot. or, i guess conversely, somewhere down the line some alien being will beam down onto the decimated surface of the earth, find my blog and laugh and say "googelydookdah! ha ha ha! bergishdorgah!" (roughly translated: stupid beings! ha ha ha! no wonder they destroyed themselves!").
anyway, my message was delivered to me via the best vessel ever, bacon. i was sitting in my office, inspecting my new shoes and trying to decide whether or not they'd also go with my jeans for an evening out when she appeared.
bacon: hey! you busy?
me: yup, trying to figure out what i'm going to wear with these kick-ass heels later tonight.
bacon: ohhhhhhh those are cute! when did you get those?
me: yesterday.
bacon: oh cool! did you go shopping after work?
me: huh? no, i went at lunch. it was ah sort of an emergency. right. anyway, what's going on?
bacon: i need your help... i got an email from little b this morning and it'ssortofconfidential but i totally trust you and i definitely need some help with it.
i perked up immediately. confidential + little b = awesomeness. i sent a mental ping out to emma to prepare her for some good gossip later.
me: oh absoLUTEly. what can i do to help?
bacon: i think i just need your help decoding his email. he gets so cryptic and i just want to make sure i am reading it right so i respond appropriately.
me: you got it. you want to forward it to me?
bacon: ummmmm no, why don't you come down to my office with me?
me: oh yah sure okay.
because the two of us standing in her office, staring at her screen is less obvious than her forwarding me the email so i can read it in my office alone? whatever.
we get down to her office and she closes the door slightly behind me. oh good job, even less obvious. r-tard. now people can see we want some privacy, but aren't bold enough to close the door fully. whatever. i rolled my eyes as she sat and opened up the email. it read:
Employee Termination - CONFIDENTIAL
Little B [littleb@hellhole.com]
***confidential***
To: Bacon
hi. need to term jor s. asap. prep term pack incl sisclosure agmt. driving in now. see u in 20.
sent via my AT&T Crackberry
me: ok, so uh what did you need help with?
bacon: oh gosh, you can understand that? i knew i made the right decision coming to ask you for help.
me: um yah what's not to understand? they're canning joe s. - bastards - and he needs the termination packet prepped for when he gets here to deliver the news.
bacon: OH! JOE S.!
me: shhhhhhhhhhhhh!!! wtf! your door is open you r-tard.
bacon: oh oopsies! well i couldn't figure out who he was talking about, that was my first problem.
me: that wasn't your first problem.
bacon: huh?
me: right, that was your first problem.
bacon: however did you decode that from jor s.?!?!?!
me: well, the "e" key is right next to the "r", and it's pretty apparent he's texting while driving, so you've got that element of human error.
bacon: ohhhh. you're so smart.
me: yes, but that's beside the point. also, we only have one employee with a first name that starts with a "j". well, now we have none.
bacon: oh how sad. okay so i had skipped that name thingy because i couldn't figure out who it was for. then i got to the next part and - well what does he want me to include with the termination packet?
me: the disclosure agreement, so joe doesn't go running off and telling everyone all of our coveted trade secrets. like anyone cares.
bacon: OH! DISclosure. well gosh if he didn't have so many typos, i could have figured that out! i thought it was some term i wasn't familiar with so i google'd "sisclosure".
me: omg you what?
bacon: i google'd it. "sisclosure". see? i still have the browser open.
me: oh please don't show me.
too late. she clicked open the firefox window and i had to avert my eyes from the screen. i bit down as hard as i could on the inside of my mouth to keep from laughing. i started breathing short breaths through my nose, in fear that if i took a normal breath, i would allow a snort or snicker out. i dug my nails into my hands and started walking backwards towards the door.
me: so uh you all set? i'd better let you pull that stuff together for little b before he gets in and looks for it.
bacon: yup, thank you SO much. gosh, he really needs to work on his spelling, if he wants us to be able to do stuff for him!
me: yup, it's his spelling that's definitely the biggest issue here. mmhmm.
with that, i once again made the walk back to my office with my face twitching and odd noises randomly emitting forth from behind my pursed lips. i sat down and as my chair made its slow descent to the lowest setting, i thought to myself, ahhh. so good to have a purpose in life again.
anyway, my message was delivered to me via the best vessel ever, bacon. i was sitting in my office, inspecting my new shoes and trying to decide whether or not they'd also go with my jeans for an evening out when she appeared.
bacon: hey! you busy?
me: yup, trying to figure out what i'm going to wear with these kick-ass heels later tonight.
bacon: ohhhhhhh those are cute! when did you get those?
me: yesterday.
bacon: oh cool! did you go shopping after work?
me: huh? no, i went at lunch. it was ah sort of an emergency. right. anyway, what's going on?
bacon: i need your help... i got an email from little b this morning and it'ssortofconfidential but i totally trust you and i definitely need some help with it.
i perked up immediately. confidential + little b = awesomeness. i sent a mental ping out to emma to prepare her for some good gossip later.
me: oh absoLUTEly. what can i do to help?
bacon: i think i just need your help decoding his email. he gets so cryptic and i just want to make sure i am reading it right so i respond appropriately.
me: you got it. you want to forward it to me?
bacon: ummmmm no, why don't you come down to my office with me?
me: oh yah sure okay.
because the two of us standing in her office, staring at her screen is less obvious than her forwarding me the email so i can read it in my office alone? whatever.
we get down to her office and she closes the door slightly behind me. oh good job, even less obvious. r-tard. now people can see we want some privacy, but aren't bold enough to close the door fully. whatever. i rolled my eyes as she sat and opened up the email. it read:
Employee Termination - CONFIDENTIAL
Little B [littleb@hellhole.com]
***confidential***
To: Bacon
hi. need to term jor s. asap. prep term pack incl sisclosure agmt. driving in now. see u in 20.
sent via my AT&T Crackberry
me: ok, so uh what did you need help with?
bacon: oh gosh, you can understand that? i knew i made the right decision coming to ask you for help.
me: um yah what's not to understand? they're canning joe s. - bastards - and he needs the termination packet prepped for when he gets here to deliver the news.
bacon: OH! JOE S.!
me: shhhhhhhhhhhhh!!! wtf! your door is open you r-tard.
bacon: oh oopsies! well i couldn't figure out who he was talking about, that was my first problem.
me: that wasn't your first problem.
bacon: huh?
me: right, that was your first problem.
bacon: however did you decode that from jor s.?!?!?!
me: well, the "e" key is right next to the "r", and it's pretty apparent he's texting while driving, so you've got that element of human error.
bacon: ohhhh. you're so smart.
me: yes, but that's beside the point. also, we only have one employee with a first name that starts with a "j". well, now we have none.
bacon: oh how sad. okay so i had skipped that name thingy because i couldn't figure out who it was for. then i got to the next part and - well what does he want me to include with the termination packet?
me: the disclosure agreement, so joe doesn't go running off and telling everyone all of our coveted trade secrets. like anyone cares.
bacon: OH! DISclosure. well gosh if he didn't have so many typos, i could have figured that out! i thought it was some term i wasn't familiar with so i google'd "sisclosure".
me: omg you what?
bacon: i google'd it. "sisclosure". see? i still have the browser open.
me: oh please don't show me.
too late. she clicked open the firefox window and i had to avert my eyes from the screen. i bit down as hard as i could on the inside of my mouth to keep from laughing. i started breathing short breaths through my nose, in fear that if i took a normal breath, i would allow a snort or snicker out. i dug my nails into my hands and started walking backwards towards the door.
me: so uh you all set? i'd better let you pull that stuff together for little b before he gets in and looks for it.
bacon: yup, thank you SO much. gosh, he really needs to work on his spelling, if he wants us to be able to do stuff for him!
me: yup, it's his spelling that's definitely the biggest issue here. mmhmm.
with that, i once again made the walk back to my office with my face twitching and odd noises randomly emitting forth from behind my pursed lips. i sat down and as my chair made its slow descent to the lowest setting, i thought to myself, ahhh. so good to have a purpose in life again.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
it must be monday... oh wait it's tuesday
i know it's rather early in the day/week to be coming to any conclusions, but this morning i have realized that i work for a cheap-ass bastard and THAT is why my day sucks so far. let me recount for you my journey of self-discovery...
i got up a few extra snoozes late and it ended up causing (as it usually does) an angry downward spiral of self-hate (seriously, why didn't i just get up after three snoozes instead of five?) (and maybe i wouldn't be feeling this sluggish if i had gotten up the FIRST time my alarm went off and i'd gone running, instead of resetting my alarm for later and then hitting snooze five times). so as i muddled through my morning routine with an angry grey cloud hanging over my head, i didn't notice that a) i'd put on pants with staples in the crotch and b) my favorite black pumps with a dangerously unstable heel.
um, you say, staples in the crotch? yes, yes that's correct. a few weeks ago i'd worn said pants to work and realized about halfway through the day that there was a GAPING hole in the crotch. awesome. really classy. in a panic, i scanned my desk and my eyes settled on the stapler. perfect, i thought. i am not one of those perpetually prepared people and i do not carry around a lint roller and sewing kit in my purse. i'm lucky if i am able to find my wallet in there. anyway, i took the stapler into the bathroom and basically basted the seam back together with a series of staples. i lucked out that no one else had to pee at that time, but didn't totally get away with it because marie, our office manager, caught me walking back into the office.
[bang!] - office door slamming shut
me: la lee la, yay me! i fixed my pants, oh yah, oh yah... (humming/singing to myself and happily swinging the stapler in my hand)
marie: ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. (raises an eyebrow at me)
me: oh hi marie. um hi.
marie: whatcha got there? working on collating something in the ladies' room? (giggling madly)
me: yah i um... oh damn, fine, i just stapled my pants back together because there's a hole in the crotch.
marie: oh. my. god. girl, what is wrong with you?
me: um, what do you mean? where do i start?
marie: (laughing) oh silly. i think it's time for some new clothes. didn't you have to fashion yourself a belt yesterday with rubber bands?
me: ha. yep, you remember that huh?
marie: how could i forget? and last week you made bra straps out of rubber bands and paper clips?
me: damn. yes, that wasn't because anything broke, it's just that i forgot to grab the straps to the convertible bra when i packed my bag for the gym and i'd worn it strapless when i went out the night before and there were um drinks involved and stuff. yup.
marie: mmhmm.
me: sigh. busted, ok? yes, i am ghetto. i need new clothes but i can't afford them because my after-tax pay only allows me to make rent and buy saltines for dinner.
marie: no shit, right? tell me about it. but don't get down on yourself, i think you're fabulous. i'm going to call you the office macgyver. you can fix clothes with ordinary office supplies! hahahahha.
me: oh lovely.
so i guess i forgot to either toss or legitimately fix the pants that night and instead, hung them back up in my closet with a little sign that said "wear me again!". and so i did. and paired them with death heels. i've noticed the past couple of times i've worn my favorite heels that they've felt a little unstable, but when i look at them, they look fine. apparently they had internal injuries that i was unaware of, because this morning i walked to grab some coffee with a friend (while in my stapled-crotch pants) AND got the stiletto heel stuck in a grate (again, damn!). but this time, i cracked the heel right off. at first i wasn't quite sure what had happened, but i just knew i couldn't put my full weight down on the right heel. too embarrassed to say anything, i tried my best to walk normally, but i'm pretty sure i looked like keyser soze from the usual suspects. the heel hadn't fully disengaged from the rest of the shoe, so i just did my best to get into my office without falling. as soon as we got back, i slammed my office door shut and sat on the edge of my desk, cursing the entire time.
i cradled my shoe in my hands, rocked back and forth as i surveyed the damage and wept. the heel had split at the seam and was only attached to the rest of the shoe via a bent thumb tack. ok, it's probably longer than a regular thumb tack, but that's what it looked like. i swore, tried to jam it back on but it didn't budge. bolstered by marie's comments about my being macgyver, i decided to pull the heel off and reattach it. c'mon, makes sense right? we have super glue in the office. so i took a deep breath, centered myself and yanked as hard as i could. the heel came off easily into my hand. i stood up, reached into the cabinet above my desk and got the hammer out (no, i'm not handy smurf, i just have weird stuff in my office. don't ask). i tried to use the back end of the hammer to straighten out the pointy part of the tack sticking out of the base of the shoe, but it wouldn't budge. panic. ok. breathe, regroup. i slid the heel back onto the tack, thinking i might be able to pound it back on and then super glue the seam. easy peasy. NOT. the damn heel wouldn't slide all the way and left a inch gap between the shoe pieces. mm. pretty sure super glue can't bridge the gap of AIR. damn damn damn.
then i thought, ok this happens in the movies all the time. what would julia roberts do? what would kate hudson do in one of those rom-coms? i know! break the heel off the other one, turn them into super cute flats and laugh about it over wine with my besties tonight. i picked up the broken one, slid it back on my foot and prepared to take the other shoe and armageddon the heel off of it, when i realized it wasn't going to work. why, you ask? well, the broken shoe was still shaped like it had a heel on it. there was no way i was going to be able to flatten out the bottom so i didn't look like barbie with my feet pre-shaped for heels. damn damn damn damn. fml fml fml.
it was then that i sat down in my chair and laid my weary head down on my arms on my desk. i could feel the world just spiraling down around me. i was exhausted. i no longer had any fight in me and the anger from the morning was gone. i was just done. stapled-crotch pants. broken shoe. it was only 9:15am. and i was sinking. literally sinking. my flipping chair was adjusting its height on its own.
why does it do that, you ask? well my chair has a mind of its own and decides to release its hold periodically, just to remind me that i am not in control of the situation. it's this fancy schmancy looking thing that my boss bought, but because he's too cheap and miserly to buy actual chairs that work, he buys aesthetically pleasing, structurally inferior products (likely made in china by a small child and painted with lead-based paints). and the rest of us suffer because HE doesn't have one of these pieces of crap, HE has the fancy schmancy chair that is actually fancy schmancy. his chair has all the levers you need. his chair has the little locks so that once you adjust it to the right settings, you can lock it in place. his chair has lower lumbar support. his chair doesn't make you conduct an entire meeting doing the chair pose, legs hovering two inches above the seat, because you don't want to look like a five-year old with your chin barely above the edge of the desk. utkatasana, you bastard! and he'll never understand why we would ever dream of complaining because he thinks he buys top of the line shiz.
so as my chair sunk lower and lower, i realized that everything that had happened this morning was his fault! cheap. ass. bastard!!! because he isn't really an r-tard, i won't give him a number, but instead the title of:
KING OF THE R-TARDS
little b - a.k.a. napoleon, satan, lucifer, the dark one. founder of the company, which unfortunately attributes to general smug attitude and self-assurance that he is still, and will always be, the only one with the right idea about the path of the company and the wherewithal to manage it. says he wants and needs others to help but shoots down all ideas and makes you feel stupid if what you suggest is not inline with what he wants (and it never is). demands loyalty from employees yet shows none in return to even his long-time partners. has high opinion of his charm with the ladies, but small physical stature sometimes limits his abilities (it's hard to look super manly when your forehead lines up with a chick's boobs, right?).
i could literally feel the puzzle pieces clicking together in my head as my brain wrapped itself around the realization that my morning's disasters were a direct result of little b being, well, himself. his high demands resulting in my never-ending stress, trying to perfect everything when perfection is impossible. his stinginess resulting in my inability to properly dress myself. his cheapness resulting in my chin now resting comfortably on the lip of my desk, leaving my legs to fold up on themselves so i look like a stilt-walker sitting on a preschooler's chair.
the more i thought about it, the angrier i got. and then i pictured him sitting all smug in his comfy office, in his fancy schmancy chair, reclining and laughing while on speakerphone with someone who was probably kissing his ass. why was i subjecting myself to this torture? i jumped up, ready to march down to his office, quit and have my jerry maguire moment. yay! but it was not meant to be. boo! as i launched myself upwards, the extra force i used to propel myself from the low setting of the chair sent me careening into my desk since i only had one heel on. i cursed like a sailor as my left hip bruised like a peach against the desk and i dropped back into my chair. the impact of the long drop down knocked the wind straight out of my lungs and i am still sitting here at my desk, trying to recover.
and i'm not sure i ever will, because i think... yes, i think i just blogged about how I'M an r-tard. dammit! still working for little b, sitting at my desk like a child, wheezing from my fall, while wearing stapled-crotch pants and one shoe. ah christ. time to call emma and get her to empathize over lunch and some shopping for new heels. happy day for my credit card company! now how am i going to get us out of the building without emma attracting everyone's attention with her laughter when she sees my predicament? sigh.
i got up a few extra snoozes late and it ended up causing (as it usually does) an angry downward spiral of self-hate (seriously, why didn't i just get up after three snoozes instead of five?) (and maybe i wouldn't be feeling this sluggish if i had gotten up the FIRST time my alarm went off and i'd gone running, instead of resetting my alarm for later and then hitting snooze five times). so as i muddled through my morning routine with an angry grey cloud hanging over my head, i didn't notice that a) i'd put on pants with staples in the crotch and b) my favorite black pumps with a dangerously unstable heel.
um, you say, staples in the crotch? yes, yes that's correct. a few weeks ago i'd worn said pants to work and realized about halfway through the day that there was a GAPING hole in the crotch. awesome. really classy. in a panic, i scanned my desk and my eyes settled on the stapler. perfect, i thought. i am not one of those perpetually prepared people and i do not carry around a lint roller and sewing kit in my purse. i'm lucky if i am able to find my wallet in there. anyway, i took the stapler into the bathroom and basically basted the seam back together with a series of staples. i lucked out that no one else had to pee at that time, but didn't totally get away with it because marie, our office manager, caught me walking back into the office.
[bang!] - office door slamming shut
me: la lee la, yay me! i fixed my pants, oh yah, oh yah... (humming/singing to myself and happily swinging the stapler in my hand)
marie: ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. (raises an eyebrow at me)
me: oh hi marie. um hi.
marie: whatcha got there? working on collating something in the ladies' room? (giggling madly)
me: yah i um... oh damn, fine, i just stapled my pants back together because there's a hole in the crotch.
marie: oh. my. god. girl, what is wrong with you?
me: um, what do you mean? where do i start?
marie: (laughing) oh silly. i think it's time for some new clothes. didn't you have to fashion yourself a belt yesterday with rubber bands?
me: ha. yep, you remember that huh?
marie: how could i forget? and last week you made bra straps out of rubber bands and paper clips?
me: damn. yes, that wasn't because anything broke, it's just that i forgot to grab the straps to the convertible bra when i packed my bag for the gym and i'd worn it strapless when i went out the night before and there were um drinks involved and stuff. yup.
marie: mmhmm.
me: sigh. busted, ok? yes, i am ghetto. i need new clothes but i can't afford them because my after-tax pay only allows me to make rent and buy saltines for dinner.
marie: no shit, right? tell me about it. but don't get down on yourself, i think you're fabulous. i'm going to call you the office macgyver. you can fix clothes with ordinary office supplies! hahahahha.
me: oh lovely.
so i guess i forgot to either toss or legitimately fix the pants that night and instead, hung them back up in my closet with a little sign that said "wear me again!". and so i did. and paired them with death heels. i've noticed the past couple of times i've worn my favorite heels that they've felt a little unstable, but when i look at them, they look fine. apparently they had internal injuries that i was unaware of, because this morning i walked to grab some coffee with a friend (while in my stapled-crotch pants) AND got the stiletto heel stuck in a grate (again, damn!). but this time, i cracked the heel right off. at first i wasn't quite sure what had happened, but i just knew i couldn't put my full weight down on the right heel. too embarrassed to say anything, i tried my best to walk normally, but i'm pretty sure i looked like keyser soze from the usual suspects. the heel hadn't fully disengaged from the rest of the shoe, so i just did my best to get into my office without falling. as soon as we got back, i slammed my office door shut and sat on the edge of my desk, cursing the entire time.
i cradled my shoe in my hands, rocked back and forth as i surveyed the damage and wept. the heel had split at the seam and was only attached to the rest of the shoe via a bent thumb tack. ok, it's probably longer than a regular thumb tack, but that's what it looked like. i swore, tried to jam it back on but it didn't budge. bolstered by marie's comments about my being macgyver, i decided to pull the heel off and reattach it. c'mon, makes sense right? we have super glue in the office. so i took a deep breath, centered myself and yanked as hard as i could. the heel came off easily into my hand. i stood up, reached into the cabinet above my desk and got the hammer out (no, i'm not handy smurf, i just have weird stuff in my office. don't ask). i tried to use the back end of the hammer to straighten out the pointy part of the tack sticking out of the base of the shoe, but it wouldn't budge. panic. ok. breathe, regroup. i slid the heel back onto the tack, thinking i might be able to pound it back on and then super glue the seam. easy peasy. NOT. the damn heel wouldn't slide all the way and left a inch gap between the shoe pieces. mm. pretty sure super glue can't bridge the gap of AIR. damn damn damn.
then i thought, ok this happens in the movies all the time. what would julia roberts do? what would kate hudson do in one of those rom-coms? i know! break the heel off the other one, turn them into super cute flats and laugh about it over wine with my besties tonight. i picked up the broken one, slid it back on my foot and prepared to take the other shoe and armageddon the heel off of it, when i realized it wasn't going to work. why, you ask? well, the broken shoe was still shaped like it had a heel on it. there was no way i was going to be able to flatten out the bottom so i didn't look like barbie with my feet pre-shaped for heels. damn damn damn damn. fml fml fml.
it was then that i sat down in my chair and laid my weary head down on my arms on my desk. i could feel the world just spiraling down around me. i was exhausted. i no longer had any fight in me and the anger from the morning was gone. i was just done. stapled-crotch pants. broken shoe. it was only 9:15am. and i was sinking. literally sinking. my flipping chair was adjusting its height on its own.
why does it do that, you ask? well my chair has a mind of its own and decides to release its hold periodically, just to remind me that i am not in control of the situation. it's this fancy schmancy looking thing that my boss bought, but because he's too cheap and miserly to buy actual chairs that work, he buys aesthetically pleasing, structurally inferior products (likely made in china by a small child and painted with lead-based paints). and the rest of us suffer because HE doesn't have one of these pieces of crap, HE has the fancy schmancy chair that is actually fancy schmancy. his chair has all the levers you need. his chair has the little locks so that once you adjust it to the right settings, you can lock it in place. his chair has lower lumbar support. his chair doesn't make you conduct an entire meeting doing the chair pose, legs hovering two inches above the seat, because you don't want to look like a five-year old with your chin barely above the edge of the desk. utkatasana, you bastard! and he'll never understand why we would ever dream of complaining because he thinks he buys top of the line shiz.
so as my chair sunk lower and lower, i realized that everything that had happened this morning was his fault! cheap. ass. bastard!!! because he isn't really an r-tard, i won't give him a number, but instead the title of:
KING OF THE R-TARDS
little b - a.k.a. napoleon, satan, lucifer, the dark one. founder of the company, which unfortunately attributes to general smug attitude and self-assurance that he is still, and will always be, the only one with the right idea about the path of the company and the wherewithal to manage it. says he wants and needs others to help but shoots down all ideas and makes you feel stupid if what you suggest is not inline with what he wants (and it never is). demands loyalty from employees yet shows none in return to even his long-time partners. has high opinion of his charm with the ladies, but small physical stature sometimes limits his abilities (it's hard to look super manly when your forehead lines up with a chick's boobs, right?).
i could literally feel the puzzle pieces clicking together in my head as my brain wrapped itself around the realization that my morning's disasters were a direct result of little b being, well, himself. his high demands resulting in my never-ending stress, trying to perfect everything when perfection is impossible. his stinginess resulting in my inability to properly dress myself. his cheapness resulting in my chin now resting comfortably on the lip of my desk, leaving my legs to fold up on themselves so i look like a stilt-walker sitting on a preschooler's chair.
the more i thought about it, the angrier i got. and then i pictured him sitting all smug in his comfy office, in his fancy schmancy chair, reclining and laughing while on speakerphone with someone who was probably kissing his ass. why was i subjecting myself to this torture? i jumped up, ready to march down to his office, quit and have my jerry maguire moment. yay! but it was not meant to be. boo! as i launched myself upwards, the extra force i used to propel myself from the low setting of the chair sent me careening into my desk since i only had one heel on. i cursed like a sailor as my left hip bruised like a peach against the desk and i dropped back into my chair. the impact of the long drop down knocked the wind straight out of my lungs and i am still sitting here at my desk, trying to recover.
and i'm not sure i ever will, because i think... yes, i think i just blogged about how I'M an r-tard. dammit! still working for little b, sitting at my desk like a child, wheezing from my fall, while wearing stapled-crotch pants and one shoe. ah christ. time to call emma and get her to empathize over lunch and some shopping for new heels. happy day for my credit card company! now how am i going to get us out of the building without emma attracting everyone's attention with her laughter when she sees my predicament? sigh.
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