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.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
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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