A Touch of Class

Contrary to popular belief, I am actually an extremely classy broad. One of the classiest I dare say. I enjoy a fine wine, a strong cheese, an old map, leather-bound books, a good magnifying glass... you get my drift. And don't even get me started on libraries. Libraries are one of my greatest passions in life. The older and mustier the better. Perhaps my love of libraries stemmed from the famous scene in Beauty and the Beast-where Belle is swinging on a ladder over floor-to-ceiling books, or from my semester abroad in Paris, or perhaps it started in the 6th grade when I let R.J. Lemere go up my shirt in our middle school library. Your guess is as good as mine. My point is, I'm bringing some class into the lives of my readers starting today.

During one of my daily trips to our local book store, I picked up one of those sad self-help books that any reasonable person would deny reading. Well, I picked it up and read it proudly (OK I had it hidden within another book), but I found a little story I think we can all learn from... Enjoy...

It was a curious thing. Robert had filled the bathtub and put the fish in the tub, so he could clean the tank. After he'd scrubbed the film from the small walls of their make-believe deep, he went to retrieve them. He was astonished to find that, though they had the entire tub to swim in, they were huddled in a small area the size of their tank. There was nothing containing them, nothing holding them back. Why wouldn't they dart about freely? What had life in the tank done to their natural ability to swim?

This quiet yet stark moment stayed with us both for a long time. We couldn't help but see those little fish going nowhere but into themselves. We now had a life-in-the-tank lens on the world and wondered daily, In what ways are we like them? In what ways do we go nowhere but into ourselves? In what ways do we shrink our world so as to not to feel the press of our own self-imposed captivity?

Life in the tank made me think of how we are raised at home and in school. It made me think of being told that certain jobs are not acceptable and that certain jobs are out of reach, of being schooled to live a certain way, of being trained to think that only practical things are possible, of being warned over and over that life outside of the tank of our values is risky and dangerous.

I began to see just how much we were taught as children to fear life outside of the tank. As a father, Robert began to question if we was preparing his children for life in the tank or life in the uncontrollable world.

It makes me wonder now, in middle age, if being spontaneous and kind and curious are all parts of our natural abilities to swim. Each time I hesitate to do the unplanned or unexpected, or hesitate to reach and help another, or hesitate to inquire into something I know nothing about, each time I ignore the impulse to run in the rain or call you up just to say I Love You- I wonder, Am I turning on myself, swimming safely in the middle of the tub?

Hall of Shame

Let's go over some do's and don'ts for submitting headshots on one's resume.

First of all, don't. That's right, there's really no need to include a headshot of yourself when applying for a $15/hour Executive Assistant position. The only exception to this is if you are incredibly good looking and you know what I mean when we say that we need "polished professionals" for this position. No offense, but there doesn't seem to be a whole lot of polished professionalism going on. Legally, I can't discriminate based on age, gender, race, sexual orientation, etc. When you submit a pic of yourself it puts us in an awkward situation. Plus, don't you want to get the interview? Based on these pictures I'm not sure what your objective is.

If you're going to send a picture, my advice is to make sure it looks something like the following:

This girl gets it. She's attractive. She knows it- great. What I'm mostly impressed by is that her rack is appropriately covered and she's not doing anything creepy. Sold.

... I can't quite say the same for the following headshots. Why anyone would want to send pics like these on a Resume is beyond me, but these are in the Don't category: (Remember folks, you're trying to get an interview/job.)

WTF? The most heinous part of this picture isn't the fact that he's sleeping, it's that he's wearing a puka shell necklace. There is never an excuse for puka shells. Shame on you.

If I can see the top of your titays.... it means you're not quite grasping the polished professional look we're going for.

Ummm yeah... not much to say about this one other than you're creepy and I'm not bringing you in for an interview

I Can See Clearly Now...

...The rain is gone!! I actually deeply love the rain. BUT I have plans to drive to San Diego tonight to spend some time with my Dad while he's in town for the Holidays, and we all know that Californians lose their minds when it rains. All the sudden everyone is swerving all over the place and their average speed drops to 12 MPH. It has been raining for the past 6 days non-stop, but it's done! This is the view from my office by the way- check out the double rainbow. If I wasn't caged in the office I would think that I'm part of some sort of elfish fairy tale.

As bummed as I am that I actually have to be at work so closely to Christmas, I'm comforted by the fact that I have accomplished almost zero hours of actual productivity. It's my own little Christmas gift to myself. It's so weird to me that a few of my co-workers are actually scrambling right now. People are actually stressed the fuck out in neighboring cubicles. Why? It's almost Christmas people. We're not supposed to be stressed, and we're certainly not supposed to be working. Jesus would have wanted us to be relaxed. Kristen was supposed to take the day off, but guess who just walked in? Megh. That much dedication to a job seems unhealthy. She's supposed to be on vacation. Now she's in the office pacing back and forth and ranting to herself. That is so not the vibe I'm going for today. I was hoping for a calm/falling-asleep-at-my-desk kind of day, not anxiety filled. Bitch is seriously giving me heart palpitations.

But my message today isn't one of griping and complaining. Quite the contrary. I'm grateful for so much this holiday season. I'm grateful that in 2-2.5 years I will begin the adventure of a lifetime. I'm grateful that I have this blog to spill to when I'm supposed to be working. I'm grateful for all the amazing people in my life and for all the love they give me everyday. I'm grateful that I can day drink for the next 2 days and it won't be frowned upon. I hope everyone has a Merry Christmas and you're with those you love.

Update- THE GREAT ESCAPE

I mentioned in my very first blog post that my boyfriend and I have plans for our "Great Escape". Basically meaning that the only motivation we have for spending 40+ hours/week trapped inside a cubicle is the knowledge that we will be leaving this all behind in a few years. As soon as we hit our financial goal we're off like a prom dress. No more LA traffic, no more goddamn memos, mostly importantly no more business casual attire. I think we're both ready to stop dressing like lesbians. Florescent lighting, timed lunches, carpal-tunnel, alarm clocks are all things we deal with because we know we have something incredible and life changing ahead of us.

This is our Goal:

$20,000 in our joint savings account and NO DEBT (other than student loans).

Here's where we are today:

$3,100 in our joint savings account and about $6,000 each in debt (not including student loans).

Sooo yeahh.... with our goal to pay off debt as well as save $20K, we're about $28,900 away from our goal. As far away as that may seem, I'm staying positive. 2010 was more of a trial run... like let's put $100 aside here and there. 2011 is a whole new ball game. We have a budget and a plan to pay off a chuck of our debt, while adding more to our savings. This means I'll have to get wayyy better at using the word "No"- which is not something I'm accustomed to. When we're bored on a Friday night and all the bars are closed, it's probably no longer prudent to drive to Vegas in the middle of the night, gamble all weekend, and stay at the Venetian. I mean, I'm not a financial wizard or anything, but that's just my guess.

Our targeted departure date is sometime in the beginning of 2013. That's about 2 years to really make this happen. And believe me, when I get something in my head nothing will prevent me from going. Anyone who has ever spent an extended period of time overseas knows exactly why I'm pulled to leave again. There's a pulse, a vibration that is only fully active when you're completely immersed in a foreign culture. You feel fully alive. It's the difference between living and existing. You actually look up and around when you're walking, hell- you actually walk everywhere- you're not closed off in your car. Everything is an experience, an adventure! I'm so ready. Anyone have $28,900 I can borrow??

Cold Calling

Late last week I received some less than ideal news. Some truly terrible, deplorable news. Sue, the owner of the company, is really starting to show her true colors and I can't say that I'm a fan. I'm starting to learn that she only cares about $$$. Such a cliché. So last week she pulls me aside and blurts out the words that every employee fears and dreads with their whole being...

"We're ready for you to begin cold calling."

Why couldn't she just fire me? Cold calling? I was under the impression that I was far too pretty to be cold calling. Why don't you just stick me outside on the corner with one of those flippy signs? I could at least get some quality time outdoors and get freaky with my ipod. Cold calling is the worst thing ever. Ever. I will do anything in my power to not cold call anyone.

Don't get me wrong. I knew this day was coming. During my interview Sue made it very clear that she only wanted someone who was comfortable with sales. So I may or may not have said something along the lines of "Oh that won't be a problem. I'm experienced with cold calling from a previous job and I really enjoy the challenge (big smile)." Vomit. So yeahhhh... I may have had this coming. But who doesn't lie in an interview?! It's like a first date. Do you think I let my boyfriend know that i'm about 4x gassier than your average obese male right away? Hell no. That's more of a third date situation. By then he's already hooked on my beauty and charm and he can't turn back.

Let this blog be my witness... I will do anything and everything in my power to get out of this. Luckily it's the week before Christmas so the owners are out of town and no one really expects anyone to get any work done... at least that's my plan.

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Intervention

On one of my recent trips to the ladies room (I take about 37 per day-I find it's an excellent way to waste time), I stopped for my habitual glance in the mirror. Usually it's a very enjoyable experience for everyone involved. I know there are women out there who suffer from body image issues and like to pick apart every inch of their bodies... I'm not one of these women. I'm more of the check-yourself-out-in-anything-that-has-a-reflection kind of gal.

So you can imagine the horror I felt when I didn't see Gisele Bündchen staring back at me yesterday. Some sort of tired lesbian nun had taken her place and I was none-too-pleased with this discovery. After a closer look I realized it was even worse that I thought. My blue dress had pit stains, I'm pretty sure I forgot deodorant under my left arm, I had a piece of my breakfast bar on my lip, and I had black makeup under and above my eyelid. I didn't even know that was possible. Also, I have about a dime-sized section of my cheek that's breaking out. It's so weird. Why just that tiny section? And why my cheek? Did I fall asleep on a piece of cheese? I had pulled my hair into a bun on top of my head, and my bangs were greasy. My normally light-blond hair was now some sort of poop brown color (noo I didn't shower that morning.... I was way too tired for that shit). Who had I become? It was like an entirely different person staring back at me. I've decided to name this person Helen. No one wants to hang out with someone named Helen. She has cats and hasn't had intercourse with anyone other than her cabbage patch doll.

 I took a good long look at Helen and was like "GURL it's time for an intervention." That's right. I had an intervention for myself right then and there in the bathroom. Thank God. It worked too. I know this for three reasons: A- I showered this morning (applause anyone?), B- Both pits are rocking deodorant, and C-I caught myself looking at my reflection on my metal coffee mug this morning. Don't fret, people. All is well with the world again. Call me.

Mystery Solved

As I mentioned a little while ago, there have been a lot of closed-door, super sneaky meetings going on around here. Turns out I'm not completely paranoid, I'm just a genius. Not a huge surprise. So here's the deal: 1-Our division hired a new girl. She started yesterday. She's quiet, sweet, and nice, so I'm not sure how long she'll last. Plus she lives an hour away... an hour away without traffic. Ha, without traffic... those are words I haven't used together in a sentence since I moved to LA. Poor girl has too many things stacked against her.

In addition to the new person in our small division (now we're 5 people total), the closed-door meetings were about something else. Last week I came into work to find James, Kristen, and Jessica (Kristen's assistant) all in James' office with the door closed. I knew this day was inevitable- They had finally looked through my Internet history and discovered I average about 1-2 hours/day of actual productivity. I was grateful that I placed all my belongings in 1 drawer for an easy exit. I sat in my lonely cubicle for an hour before they emerged. Jessica looked distraught- presumably because she would have to say goodbye to her quirky and fabulous co-worker. Turns out I was wrong- very wrong. Jessica was the one in trouble. Supposedly, she's not 'hitting the numbers' for Kristen's major account and the responsibility falls on Jessica's shoulders. Sucks. She's an insanely hard worker- to the point that its annoying to the rest of us. She is the type of girl who is actually still working at 4:00pm on a Friday. If she's in trouble we're all screwed. No one is more surprised than I am at what Jessica told me later that day.... I guess James used me as an example of how she should model her recruitment efforts..... seriously. Me. The person who is blogging at 10:37am when I have hundreds of resumes waiting for me.

PS-Kristen just asked me if I had anyone for the Facilities Coordinator position and my response was "I'm working on it! I'm just in the middle of sorting through all the resumes." I'm just waiting for the lightening to strike at any moment. The funny thing is my boyfriend and I were just recently discussing how the cubicle, 9-5, office environment sucks the life out of us. As a consequence, we end up putting in the most minimal effort so as to prevent us from getting fired. He just got employee of the month for December at his job. No joke. Are you taking notes yet?

IT- Are you reading this?

Here's a little diddle to ponder.

I am well aware that my IT department has complete access to my computer, passwords, Internet history, etc. When we're hired we're given a 'talking to' about how we're never allowed to access certain sites. So at any given point either of our 2 IT staff could very easily log onto my computer, search the history, and alert the owner. I have no doubt she would quickly proceed to freak the fuck out, scream at me in front of everyone I work with, and tell me I have 5 minutes to get out of the office. The sick part is I actually fantasize about this happening. I have anything I would need to grab in 1 drawer for an easy exit strategy. I would give a short, yet powerful speech to my co-workers about how we're not really living just sitting behind a desk. I would take one last look into their dead eyes and then I would vanish into my new life...

So why do I blog about my work from work? Because my only other option is to...well... work. Though I have to admit as I'm typing this I can't help but feel like I'm being watched. I think we've already decided that I don't have any followers (yet). I feel like it's from the powerful, all knowing IT department. (Lance? Are you reading this?!). It's creepy. But I can't stop. Oh well. Lance, if you are reading this, I am willing to bribe you with beer to keep this between us. Deal?

Did you get the Memo?

If I had to pick the single most obnoxious occurrence within Corporate America it would without a doubt be the heathen tradition of the memorandum. Nothing vexes me more in the business world than memos. They're just the worst. And you know the assholes who write them are always lonely, lonely cat-loving women who will inevitably die alone in their studio apartment. This is a memo I just received:

Please note that this weekend we are doing phase 2 of the office remodel. Effective immediately there is to be NO eating at your desks (as we have mentioned several times). Also, it is imperative that you put a lid on your cup (except for water). As you know we are providing lids in the kitchen. I cannot stress enough how serious we are about this. Please do not put us in a position where we need to approach you live and warn you about this. 

DAMN GIRLBITCH.  Is it just me or is this email sort of harsh? This clearly is from the owner of the company who had our HR department deliver this oh-so-important memo. We just got new carpet in our office and you would think it was made out of Fabergé Eggs and new born babies. As I was reading this kind note, I looked down at the brand new carpet and realized that I was swimming in a sea of crumbs. Crumbs created by eating at my desk....frequently. My chair had also smashed some of the crumbs deep into the carpet. Shit. I had a mini heart attack before I realized that the janitor would vacuum over the weekend and all would be well. And I was right. I walked in today to a crumb-free cubicle.

I'm not proud of this but whenever I get an asinine memo such as this one, my inner second-grader comes out. The "you're not my mom so you can't tell me what to do" side of me. It's a very attractive quality I'm sure. So needless to say I feel the need to deliberately disregard this Memo. You should know that I plan to continue eating at my desk daily. In fact, I just had half of a peanut butter sandwich- it was exhilarating. I knew that at any moment I could be"approached live" regarding my insubordination. Slap me on the ass and call me a dare devil. I'm living on the edge!

It Smells Like Fish in Here

I noticed it usually takes about 3 months before you can start to get a grasp for the integrity of the company you work for. I'm about to hit my 3 month mark and the jury's still out. I like the people with whom I work directly, but the Lady Boss/Owner seems to be shadier than I thought. I haven't quite figured her out yet. At first I really liked her (It didn't hurt that she hired me on the spot in my interview- she clearly has good taste). She's one of those ball-buster New Yorker types which I'm into. I like a woman with some fire. She's built quite an empire and it's pretty impressive. I usually never get more than a "Hi" in the mornings before she disappears into her big office to do important boss lady things.

But the other day she pulled Kristan and me into her office. She was pissed off that she spent the "whole weekend" trying to fill a position in the entertainment industry. She was mad and she was looking for someone to blame. She looked at me from behind her massive desk and said "This is ridiculous. Why are we working on paper? Why don't we have a database that can sort our candidates by industry experience?" Um seriously? Why are you asking me? As the executive aren't you the one who makes executive decisions? I'm just the new girl who works in the same fashion I was trained. I'm like a Golden Retriever. Just train me and I'm good to go. Kristan chimed in saying "Well that's a conversation we need to have with James. He really needs to get up to speed." Girl, that's fucked. You don't act all buddy, buddy with someone then throw them under the bus when they're out on vacation.

Now, one week later, things are getting a bit weird around here. There's been a lot of closed-door meetings and clandestine interviews. There are more undercover operations occurring here than at the FBI. Needless to say a quiet panic has ensued. People are gossiping, spying, trying to figure out if this means someone is getting canned. I've learned from my sources that the owner/lady boss is infamous for shady firings/hirings. So am I fearful that I will be fired? Not so much. I assume I'll get fired. Having been laid off twice, I am now an expert at loosing my job. If it happens, it happens. C'est la vie. I make sure to have backup health insurance, a steady savings, and I have the CA unemployment office on speed dial. I'm not saying that fear and paranoia aren't old friends of mine, I just try to think of the worst case scenario.... Sleeping in, free time, and day drinking in my awesome apartment? Where do I sign up?

It's a Party???

Anyone who knows me knows I am completely gay for Christmas. If my Christmas Spirit were to be personified just imagine Richard Simmons dressed in drag as Cher...while having sex with a man. I can't even describe how much I love it. This year the Christmas Spirit started creeping in around June. It just makes me so happy. I love the lights people put outside, the Christmas trees, poinsettias, candy canes, mulled wine, and overall merriment. I even stop loathing children for a few weeks. And don't even get me started on Christmas songs. Just recently a few of us spent the entire night singing Silent Night. One of us would take the higher soprano notes while the others rocked the baritone. It was magical. Those of you involved know who you are and you know you enjoyed it.

Needless to say when my new company sent out an email inviting us to the annual Christmas Party I was amongst the first to commit to going. Silly new girl. As soon as I RSVPed I started hearing the more senior co-workers plot ways to get out of going. I knew something was up when one of my co-workers decided to take two days off of work so she can say she's out of town. That's a bold statement.

The party's on a Thursday- Red Flag #1. The owners obviously schemed to have the party on a weekday to limit our alcohol intake. Not a fan. Red Flag #2- I learned a few days after the invitation email was sent that it's at the owner of the company's house. Awkward. Red Flag #3- I get another email a few days ago asking what I plan on bringing. "I'm sorry what do you mean?" Answer: "well it's a potlock so what dish will you be bringing to share? We have plenty of desserts and cheese plates." Um yeah no shit you have plenty of cheese plates and desserts. You best believe when given the option I will throw some velveta on a plate with some Ritz and never look back. And whaaa? A potluck? A potluck Christmas party? You should know that I work for a nice company- one that's doing really well. One that's doing really well because of the hard work put in daily by it's employees (namely other employees). Maybe splurge for some fucking chicken. Now I don't want this to turn into a thing... but can you guess the ethnicity of said employers??? Yeahhh I went there. Bah! Humbug!

There are No Words...

...To tell you how happy I was to discover this little Christmas Miracle. I've been out on vacation the past week enjoying family, food, and best of all- freedom. But alas, my return to work was inevitable. I've been dreading sorting through the hundreds of resumes waiting for me, but The Universe had a little treat waiting for me. Seeing as I'm feeling so festive, I decided to share the Christmas spirit with you.

Allow me to introduce you to Jasmine. She studied criminal law, She lives here in Los Angeles, and she would like to be considered for an administrative assistant position we have available working for an investment firm downtown. Oh, I almost forgot- She's 26, she's 115lbs, 5'6'', and her measurements are 32C-24-34.  How do I know this? Because she put it on her resume- that's why. Everyone knows that it's imperative to include your measurements on your resume. Hilarious. Just when I was about to hit 'delete' and move on with my life, I saw a link on her resume. My interest peaked, I clicked on it. Here's what was in store for me:

She seems like she has excellent computer skills.

This link was on her RESUME for an administrative assistant position!! I understand that LA is full of actors, musicians, makeup artists, prostitutes, etc. I assure you I don't judge. But perhaps a separate administrative resume sans the porn may be prudent? To each his own. Just saying. Did I call her for the position? No, I did not. Did I stare at these pictures longer than necessary? Perhaps. Am I mildly questioning my sexuality? I most certainly am. Bitch looks good in a bikini.

SHOUT OUT: I would like to dedicate this post to my biggest fan, The Bitchy Waiter. I can call him my biggest fan because he literally is the only person who's posted a comment on my blog- something I'm extremely proud of. You have to understand that I love this guy's blog so to know that he is one of my 15 viewers is a huge accomplishment in my little blog world. As a former waitress, his stories never cease to crack me up. It's my favorite way to not work when I'm at work. So to the BW, (can I call you that?) Thanks for reading this and.... I love you. Seriously. (too much?) Check out his blog: http://thebitchywaiter.blogspot.com/.