Saturday, December 13, 2008
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Irony?
Yesterday, my boss and I were pulled into a meeting with some very serious people who make a lot of money and are very good at what they do. The most serious and most Irish of these people informed us several times that we were under a non-disclosure agreement. We frowned and nodded seriously. We asked some serious questions. We dreaded the next morning.
Morning came, as it tends to do. I told two of my temps that their assignments would be ended early. No, they weren't fired: Due to the Global Economic Situation, the company is making some changes and they were impacted. I hate euphemisms, but I used this one, because I had nothing else to say. We were lucky, though, my temps got to finish out the week. I stood next to a grown man in the elevator who couldn't hold back a sob. I assumed that today was his last day. I stared straight ahead because I didn't know what else to do.
At 5 o'clock, the exodus was obvious. 3 of the 5 in of us in the elevator were leaving for the last time: one man and two women. The women seemed unnaturally happy. Perhaps they smiled to avoid making the rest of us feel sad, guilty, awkward; perhaps they got a great severance package. In the lobby, coworkers (well, former coworkers) embraced. A pile of boxes sat on the polished marble floor, across the foyer from the Christmas trees atop fake snow.
I stepped outside, forcing myself to go to the gym. Maybe the endorphins would improve this day. I pulled my coat in close and walked quickly down Park Avenue, closed in the west-bound direction to make room for the rides of the annual Christmas Carnival. I continued towards the 30-foot Christmas tree and the booths and the music. And then there it was: Bing Crosby, singing a Christmas song written by a Jew: It's the most wonderful time of the year.
Morning came, as it tends to do. I told two of my temps that their assignments would be ended early. No, they weren't fired: Due to the Global Economic Situation, the company is making some changes and they were impacted. I hate euphemisms, but I used this one, because I had nothing else to say. We were lucky, though, my temps got to finish out the week. I stood next to a grown man in the elevator who couldn't hold back a sob. I assumed that today was his last day. I stared straight ahead because I didn't know what else to do.
At 5 o'clock, the exodus was obvious. 3 of the 5 in of us in the elevator were leaving for the last time: one man and two women. The women seemed unnaturally happy. Perhaps they smiled to avoid making the rest of us feel sad, guilty, awkward; perhaps they got a great severance package. In the lobby, coworkers (well, former coworkers) embraced. A pile of boxes sat on the polished marble floor, across the foyer from the Christmas trees atop fake snow.
I stepped outside, forcing myself to go to the gym. Maybe the endorphins would improve this day. I pulled my coat in close and walked quickly down Park Avenue, closed in the west-bound direction to make room for the rides of the annual Christmas Carnival. I continued towards the 30-foot Christmas tree and the booths and the music. And then there it was: Bing Crosby, singing a Christmas song written by a Jew: It's the most wonderful time of the year.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
It's been a while
But tonight I got to tell someone that it was me, not him. I kind of feel like a jerk, but really, it's best that I don't continue to waste his time and money.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
The Gays
Robby: Right now my friends on Yahoo! Messenger are in 4 categories: Kentuky Gays, California Gays, US Gays, Global Gays.
Me: Where do the breeders fit in?
Robby: Oh, I don't talk to them
Me: Where do the breeders fit in?
Robby: Oh, I don't talk to them
Friday, October 3, 2008
Robby Says
"I'm not sure about this whole internet dating thing. I mean, it's OK to find sex on the internet, but I'm not down with the finding the love of your life on the internet."
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Circles
Temp: My badge didn’t work this morning.
Me: That’s weird. It should be good for another month. Let me call Security.
Me: Temp’s badge didn’t work.
Security: It was automatically turned off because his account was disabled. Call IT.
Me: Temp’s badge was automatically turned off because his user account was disabled. What’s going on?
IT: His user account is fine. Here, let me send you the screen that says so.
Me: So what’s the problem? Why was his badge disabled?
IT: I don’t know. Call Security.
Me: That’s weird. It should be good for another month. Let me call Security.
Me: Temp’s badge didn’t work.
Security: It was automatically turned off because his account was disabled. Call IT.
Me: Temp’s badge was automatically turned off because his user account was disabled. What’s going on?
IT: His user account is fine. Here, let me send you the screen that says so.
Me: So what’s the problem? Why was his badge disabled?
IT: I don’t know. Call Security.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Typical
So you go out. You meet up with your girlfriends. You wear your sequins, you wear your heels, you wear your makeup and you wear your cleavage. You buy one drink for yourself. Your drink is a prop. You hold it like a security blanket while you smile at the boys who meet the height/weight requirement and you stare into it when you are averting the gaze of the boys who don't. You run into someone that you know: a coworker, a former lover, a first date whose calls you've never returned. You make nice. You smile. You say that you have to get back to your friends and you walk away. You talk to someone new. He maybe buys you a drink. He says something a little rude and condescending. You are intrigued. Or maybe he says something sweet: tells you that you're pretty, compliments your eyes and you are turned off. You give him your number and he give you his, though you would never call him first. You drive home, a bit drunk, but cautious. You climb the stairs to your apartment, turn the lock, take off your pants and your bra and curl up in bed.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
The Jerk and The Wall combine forces to ruin my night
***I'm at the bar, I've just ordered club soda and I'm about to head back to the patio.***
Jerk: Hey!
Me: Um, hi.
Jerk: I saw you earlier but you seemed like you were on a mission
Me: Um, yeah, I was headed to the ladies room.
Jerk: So how have you been?
Me: Good. I just got a promotion yesterday, so I'm pretty excited about that. As of Monday, I'm going to be The Man.
Jerk: Or, the WO-Man
Me: Oh, no. I'll be The Man. I have my surgery scheduled
Jerk: (silence)
Me: That was a joke
Jerk: Oh, yeah, well I'm a little drunk
Me: I'm pretty sure that even if you were sober you still wouldn't have laughed
Jerk: (silence)
Me: Well, I have to get back out to the patio. See you around.
***Walk back out to the patio. Look for my friend. Friend not there. See her ex and his friend, The Wall***
Wall: You look really hot tonight. I didn't even recognize you.
Me: Are you saying that I don't usually look hot?
Wall: You just look especially hot tonight.
Me: Um, thanks. Can we change the subject now?
Wall: I think that's the hottest thing you ever worn.
Me: OK, this is now the second most awkward conversation I've had tonight
***30 minutes later. I've found my friend. I am ready to leave***
Me: I'm going to head home
Wall: No! Come back to my place
Me: No
Wall: Come on, it'll be fun
Me: Absolutely not.
Wall: Come on
Me: J*****, how many times have you asked me to go somewhere with you, and how many times have I actually said yes?
Wall: Come on, there's a cab right there.
Me: I'm going to go. It's been a pleasure, as always.
Jerk: Hey!
Me: Um, hi.
Jerk: I saw you earlier but you seemed like you were on a mission
Me: Um, yeah, I was headed to the ladies room.
Jerk: So how have you been?
Me: Good. I just got a promotion yesterday, so I'm pretty excited about that. As of Monday, I'm going to be The Man.
Jerk: Or, the WO-Man
Me: Oh, no. I'll be The Man. I have my surgery scheduled
Jerk: (silence)
Me: That was a joke
Jerk: Oh, yeah, well I'm a little drunk
Me: I'm pretty sure that even if you were sober you still wouldn't have laughed
Jerk: (silence)
Me: Well, I have to get back out to the patio. See you around.
***Walk back out to the patio. Look for my friend. Friend not there. See her ex and his friend, The Wall***
Wall: You look really hot tonight. I didn't even recognize you.
Me: Are you saying that I don't usually look hot?
Wall: You just look especially hot tonight.
Me: Um, thanks. Can we change the subject now?
Wall: I think that's the hottest thing you ever worn.
Me: OK, this is now the second most awkward conversation I've had tonight
***30 minutes later. I've found my friend. I am ready to leave***
Me: I'm going to head home
Wall: No! Come back to my place
Me: No
Wall: Come on, it'll be fun
Me: Absolutely not.
Wall: Come on
Me: J*****, how many times have you asked me to go somewhere with you, and how many times have I actually said yes?
Wall: Come on, there's a cab right there.
Me: I'm going to go. It's been a pleasure, as always.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Joining Middle Management, or The Evil You Know
Tuesday I got a job offer. Wait, let's rewind:
I work in an office. I have a job that that doesn't use more that 20% of my brain, doesn't use my degree, and rarely uses 8 hours in a given day. It pays too little and requires less. I don't help the planet, and I'm not going to get rich. Overall, though, I'm not dissatisfied. I have a great boss, I have the best coworkers, I have flexibility and I have a lot of leeway.
Months ago I was referred for a job, doing about the same thing I was doing a couple years ago but for more money and with a longer commute. Much longer. Much. I made it through the third round of interviews. I Smiled, acted like a responsible adult, looked squarely in the eyes and all the middle aged women who shook my hand. I even wore a watch, a watch that half way through the second-round interview I realized was stopped. The position didn't turn out. They lost funding for the job or some such nonsense and I continued to drag myself to my job as a corporate drone.
This brings us to Tuesday, when more-money-longer-commute company called me up and made me an offer. Slightly higher base salary with a bonus structure that would translate to about 10 to 15k a year. I was so excited, I was thinking, "Yes! A change! Possibly a challenge!" I accepted the job yesterday and was planning on giving my notice today. I didn't expect my current job to match the offer.
Today I called up my boss to tell her. She asked me if I would consider staying, and I said yes. 7 hours later, she calls me back. Current employer matched the new base salary. No bonus. New title: Manager. I accepted. Here's why:
The math. Given the extra wear and tear on my car and the price of gas, I'd hardly be earning $100 more a month. That $100 would not be enough for me to:
1. Sit in my car an extra 8 hours a week
2. Work in a town that regularly gets about 100 degrees
3. Reconcile my environmentalist ideals with my commuter lifestyle
4. Give up riding my scooter to work
5. Have to make friends with new coworkers
6. Lose the amazing boss and coworkers that I work with now
7. Take a step back in seniority
8. Lose flexibilty with my schedule
9. Work for a smaller company that is less secure in the today's crap economy.
Overall, I think I did the right thing. Maybe I should have asked for more money from current employer, maybe I wouldn't have gotten it and maybe they would have walked me out of the building for going to work at a competitor. I don't like to think about the maybes. No, I'm not going to get rich doing what I'm doing. No, I'm not going to change the world. I make enough to live and live pretty well. I make enough to travel a bit, to eat out, to buy organic produce, and to be comfortable in the world around me. That's not bad. Not bad at all.
I work in an office. I have a job that that doesn't use more that 20% of my brain, doesn't use my degree, and rarely uses 8 hours in a given day. It pays too little and requires less. I don't help the planet, and I'm not going to get rich. Overall, though, I'm not dissatisfied. I have a great boss, I have the best coworkers, I have flexibility and I have a lot of leeway.
Months ago I was referred for a job, doing about the same thing I was doing a couple years ago but for more money and with a longer commute. Much longer. Much. I made it through the third round of interviews. I Smiled, acted like a responsible adult, looked squarely in the eyes and all the middle aged women who shook my hand. I even wore a watch, a watch that half way through the second-round interview I realized was stopped. The position didn't turn out. They lost funding for the job or some such nonsense and I continued to drag myself to my job as a corporate drone.
This brings us to Tuesday, when more-money-longer-commute company called me up and made me an offer. Slightly higher base salary with a bonus structure that would translate to about 10 to 15k a year. I was so excited, I was thinking, "Yes! A change! Possibly a challenge!" I accepted the job yesterday and was planning on giving my notice today. I didn't expect my current job to match the offer.
Today I called up my boss to tell her. She asked me if I would consider staying, and I said yes. 7 hours later, she calls me back. Current employer matched the new base salary. No bonus. New title: Manager. I accepted. Here's why:
The math. Given the extra wear and tear on my car and the price of gas, I'd hardly be earning $100 more a month. That $100 would not be enough for me to:
1. Sit in my car an extra 8 hours a week
2. Work in a town that regularly gets about 100 degrees
3. Reconcile my environmentalist ideals with my commuter lifestyle
4. Give up riding my scooter to work
5. Have to make friends with new coworkers
6. Lose the amazing boss and coworkers that I work with now
7. Take a step back in seniority
8. Lose flexibilty with my schedule
9. Work for a smaller company that is less secure in the today's crap economy.
Overall, I think I did the right thing. Maybe I should have asked for more money from current employer, maybe I wouldn't have gotten it and maybe they would have walked me out of the building for going to work at a competitor. I don't like to think about the maybes. No, I'm not going to get rich doing what I'm doing. No, I'm not going to change the world. I make enough to live and live pretty well. I make enough to travel a bit, to eat out, to buy organic produce, and to be comfortable in the world around me. That's not bad. Not bad at all.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Dinner with Dad
A couple months ago...
Dad: Have you ever thought about writing?
Me: You mean besides posting my sexual exploits on the internet?
Wait, no, that's not how the conversation went.
Dad: Have you ever thought about writing?
Me: No, not really. I don't have anything to say.
Dad: Have you ever thought about writing?
Me: You mean besides posting my sexual exploits on the internet?
Wait, no, that's not how the conversation went.
Dad: Have you ever thought about writing?
Me: No, not really. I don't have anything to say.
Monday, August 25, 2008
The Game
About half way through the date I made a joke about The Mystery Method. He then asks me if I read The Game.
Um, no. But I am familiar.
He then proceeds to confess that he works as a Social Coach. Riiight. Apparently "Social Coach" is euphemism for "guy who teaches other guys how to talk to girls." He works for "The Juggler," one of the Pickup Artists profiled in The Game.
I feel a little awkward for the next few minutes. I mean, I have READ The Mystery Method, I know that it doesn't matter how smart/funny/saintly a girl is, all that matters is whether or not you want to bone her (yeah, I just used "to bone" as a verb, what of it?). Apparently, or according the guy who works for The Juggler who also happens to be on a date with me, The Juggler is way less sleazy than Mystery. I don't know if I believe it. I really don't.
Thing is, though, no matter who I go out with, it's going to be part of one game or another. Whether he's looking for someone to take home to his mom or he's looking for someone just to take home, he has a goal in mind. Taking that into account, I might as well spend my time with someone who knows the rules of the game he's playing and how to achieve his objective.
Um, no. But I am familiar.
He then proceeds to confess that he works as a Social Coach. Riiight. Apparently "Social Coach" is euphemism for "guy who teaches other guys how to talk to girls." He works for "The Juggler," one of the Pickup Artists profiled in The Game.
I feel a little awkward for the next few minutes. I mean, I have READ The Mystery Method, I know that it doesn't matter how smart/funny/saintly a girl is, all that matters is whether or not you want to bone her (yeah, I just used "to bone" as a verb, what of it?). Apparently, or according the guy who works for The Juggler who also happens to be on a date with me, The Juggler is way less sleazy than Mystery. I don't know if I believe it. I really don't.
Thing is, though, no matter who I go out with, it's going to be part of one game or another. Whether he's looking for someone to take home to his mom or he's looking for someone just to take home, he has a goal in mind. Taking that into account, I might as well spend my time with someone who knows the rules of the game he's playing and how to achieve his objective.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Learning Experiences
Here are some of the things I've learned in the last 48 hours:
1) Even if it seems like a good idea at the time, do not let your friend write on your bare back in Sharpie. It is, however, a great idea to write on her back. Especially if it is her birthday.
2) When at a bar in The City and said friend starts to leave with 3 friendly but unfamiliar men, it is well worth it to go with her. Adventure will surely follow, whereas if you let her go alone it would likely turn into an episode of "Law and Order: SVU."
3) Do not, under ANY circumstances, exchange numbers with a 23-year-old who is about to move to Australia. He might have started out cute, but he'll be a lot less cute when he texts you and your friends after last call saying he has no place to sleep.
4) Do not feel guilty when you do not answer his call
5) Don't leave ANYTHING in your car when you're parked on the street. Some tweeked out meth head WILL break your window and try to steal your shit.
6) Don't automatically assume that because you pay your insurance company massive amounts of money, they will help you pay for your broken window and jacked up trunk lock.
7) Make sure that the window guys charge you what you were quoted.
8) After a long, sleep-deprived day of dealing with insurance and repair people followed by going to work and dealing with silly customers, a dinner of hot chocolate is completely acceptable and encouraged.
9) Mr. Jameson is your friend.
1) Even if it seems like a good idea at the time, do not let your friend write on your bare back in Sharpie. It is, however, a great idea to write on her back. Especially if it is her birthday.
2) When at a bar in The City and said friend starts to leave with 3 friendly but unfamiliar men, it is well worth it to go with her. Adventure will surely follow, whereas if you let her go alone it would likely turn into an episode of "Law and Order: SVU."
3) Do not, under ANY circumstances, exchange numbers with a 23-year-old who is about to move to Australia. He might have started out cute, but he'll be a lot less cute when he texts you and your friends after last call saying he has no place to sleep.
4) Do not feel guilty when you do not answer his call
5) Don't leave ANYTHING in your car when you're parked on the street. Some tweeked out meth head WILL break your window and try to steal your shit.
6) Don't automatically assume that because you pay your insurance company massive amounts of money, they will help you pay for your broken window and jacked up trunk lock.
7) Make sure that the window guys charge you what you were quoted.
8) After a long, sleep-deprived day of dealing with insurance and repair people followed by going to work and dealing with silly customers, a dinner of hot chocolate is completely acceptable and encouraged.
9) Mr. Jameson is your friend.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Dear Job Seeker
Dear Job Seeker,
Your out-going ring is not professional. When you make me listen to crappy country or gangsta rap, I do NOT want to consider you for a job.
Please take the necessary steps to remedy this at your earliest convenience.
Regards,
Office Monkey
Sunday, July 27, 2008
The Wall, revisited
Background: While out last night I run into The Wall (of "talking to a wall" fame). I say hello and I'm friendly. We make small talk because I'm friends with his freinds. Everything is fine until...
Him: So are you coming over tonight?
Me: No
Him: Why not?
Me: I'm going home.
Him: There are a bunch of cool people at my complex we could hang out with
Me: I know. I've been there
Him: So are you coming over?
Me: No.
Him: So are you coming over tonight?
Me: No
Him: Why not?
Me: I'm going home.
Him: There are a bunch of cool people at my complex we could hang out with
Me: I know. I've been there
Him: So are you coming over?
Me: No.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Paraphrasing My Job
Hiring Manager: Candidates need at least 5 years of Loadrunner experience.
Me: This candidate has 8 years.
Hiring Manager: It's only 1 line on his resume. I'm not interested.
Me: Would you like to at least talk to him?
Hiring Manager: No. You're stupid.
Me: Right now the Loadrunner position is our only priority. All of our other hiring managers are out of the office.
Recruiter: OK, we're on it.
***30 minutes later***
Recruiter: Here's candidate X's resume for your other position
Me: Thanks, but this manager is out of town all week. Please focus on Loadrunner
***Next day***
Recruiter: Do you have any feedback on Candidate X?
Me: No, You're stupid.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Like Talking to a Wall
Him: What are you up to?
Me: I’m staying in
Him: Want to come over?
Me: No, I’m staying in
Him: What does that mean? You’re not coming over?
Me: It means that I am in my sweats and I don’t want to go out, but have a good night, ok?
Him: Want me to come over there?
Me: No
Him: Why not?
Me: Because I didn’t invite you over. Good night.
Him: But won’t you be lonely?
Me: No.
Him: But what if there are hoodlums around?
Me: I’ll manage. Good night.
Him: So you’re not coming over?
Me: No
Him: When can we hang out again?
Me: You know, I’m just not interested. Have a good night.
Him: Are you mad at me?
Me: No, I’m just not interested
Him: You don’t want me to call you again?
Me: That would be best. I’m going to go now.
Him: You’re mad at me?
Me: Look, I don’t like to repeat myself and every time we hang out, I end up repeating myself, again and again. You’ve asked me at least 3 times if I have roommates and every time I say no; I’ve told you about my scooter a bunch of times and you were still shocked when you saw it. I don’t want to be a bitch right now, but I kind of am and I’m OK with that. You have a good night.
Him: So you don’t want me to call you again?
Me: No, have a good night
Him: Have a good life.
*****5 minutes later by text*****
Him: Sorry
Me: I’m staying in
Him: Want to come over?
Me: No, I’m staying in
Him: What does that mean? You’re not coming over?
Me: It means that I am in my sweats and I don’t want to go out, but have a good night, ok?
Him: Want me to come over there?
Me: No
Him: Why not?
Me: Because I didn’t invite you over. Good night.
Him: But won’t you be lonely?
Me: No.
Him: But what if there are hoodlums around?
Me: I’ll manage. Good night.
Him: So you’re not coming over?
Me: No
Him: When can we hang out again?
Me: You know, I’m just not interested. Have a good night.
Him: Are you mad at me?
Me: No, I’m just not interested
Him: You don’t want me to call you again?
Me: That would be best. I’m going to go now.
Him: You’re mad at me?
Me: Look, I don’t like to repeat myself and every time we hang out, I end up repeating myself, again and again. You’ve asked me at least 3 times if I have roommates and every time I say no; I’ve told you about my scooter a bunch of times and you were still shocked when you saw it. I don’t want to be a bitch right now, but I kind of am and I’m OK with that. You have a good night.
Him: So you don’t want me to call you again?
Me: No, have a good night
Him: Have a good life.
*****5 minutes later by text*****
Him: Sorry
Monday, March 17, 2008
3:30am on a Sunday Morning
911: 911. What is your emergency?
Me: Um, I’m stuck on a Caltrain
911: Do you need any medical attention?
Me: No, I just feel really dumb.
911: Where are you now?
Me: In San Jose. I think I’m at the Caltrain Depot off of Coleman
911: Could you tell me what happened?
Me: I took the 12:01 train from San Francisco and I fell asleep and I just woke up and now I can’t get out because the door is locked.
911: OK, I’ll contact Caltrain Police. If no one is there in 15 minutes, call us back.
Me: Thanks.
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