Archive for the ‘bitching’ Category

Just retire already…

It’s just a small room with two windows facing out to office cubicles. It has a door with lock on it. It’s nothing special and quite plain. But there is a desk or two and plenty of cabinet space. I look into this little room every day. Even when the door is shut and the occupant isn’t even there, I peek in, I dream, I ponder. It’s just an office. A tiny room with the ability to shut off from the rest of the world. With the ability to give me privacy. But it’s not mine. Nor will it ever be while this occupant refuses to give it up. Or retire.

He’s a fixture here. He didn’t aways have an office. And unlike me, he’s not in management. He’s an older gentleman and has worked here for a while until they gave him a new beat. The previous occupant of this room I speak of was his boss. And since everything had changed, this guy was never here but SOMEHOW got the little room I have been coveting by default or just plain Good Old Boy system. Technically it was supposed to go to me. I’m in management, like I said before. He has the office based on wacko principal. Why does he deserve it? He’s older than me I guess. And he’s worked here longer. But I guarantee you I work more in one damn day than he does in a week. I have direct reports that I often need to speak to privately so how do I do it? Well when the conference room is occupied, I go outside.

“Hey so and so! You’ve got a raise!” (insert sound of cars going by.)

It really sucks and yes I’m bitching about it because it’s tough to do my job in a cube next to my team. I have to respond in riddles when the boss calls.

For more than the most part, the current occupant of said office sits in there and reads the damn paper. Drinks his coffee and passes out the mail. Making sure to rub it in to me by throwing lots more mail (that doesn’t even belong to me) on my already crowded cube. He doesn’t need that office. He can do that shit on his own time…on his couch.

How to get anything done: Lie

I am a very upfront, and highly honest person. Maybe a bit too honest. I’ve said that before here at my blog but now I see that I have been wrong all along.

I recently spilled a glass of my breakfast Odwalla B-Monster smoothie all over my work laptop computer…and it wasn’t closed. At least the computer itself wasn’t effected but the keyboard no longer types the letters “U, Y, G, V and J.” I kind of need those letters. Well when I called IT, they basically told me in a very quaint and polite way.

“Just turn the laptop over in a towel. Everything will be OK. Contact your manager.”

Basically I needed to call my boss to see about replacing the whole thing as it was clear that the help desk didn’t offer an alternative other than make a hope, wish and a prayer.  I am quite sure that all I need is a new keyboard because luckily the actual computer works fine in my work docking station. I just can’t use it at home. When I told my boss, he was like “We’ll get it replaced.” But when I told him that I told the IT department that I spilt the smoothie he said, “You really are too honest, Jenice.” Is this a bad trait to have. Geez. I thought that was endearing in a person.

I guess some would call what I did too much disclosure. I probably should have just not told the whole story. But that just seems too unethical and of all the questionable things I am guilty of, being unethical is one thing I don’t want my name attached. So I told it like it was. I shall call it “Smoothie-gate.”

 

Well, all was fine for a while. The crud dried and the keys seemed to work for like 30 minutes and then it was no use. I was contacted this week about getting things sorted (not exactly sure how) but I just got this email from the tech handling my case.

 Just found out that the Dispatch was canceled for being honest about the reason for replacing the keyboard.

So when I emailed him back I said:

So if I had lied then I would have had this expedited better? Good to know that lying is the best policy these days. (INSERT SARCASTIC SMILEY FACE HERE.)

He said I had a point. However the the moral of the story is that when the B-Monster hit my keyboard, and I made the call, I should have said it just stopped working. I should have lied my ass off (or what many people call “not telling the whole truth/story”) and I would have a laptop with keys that work right now.  And as it turns out, the tech is going to find a way to help me so maybe being too honest still works out in the end. But really, lying is the best policy when it comes to getting things done.

I dish on Las Vegas over at the work blog…

the trip that wasn’t as naughty as i hoped but there is always next time, right…?

As you know already, I’ve been through a trying few weeks. Getting back on track I realized, damn, I literally have to blog at about five places a week! This means that with my decreased normal ferocity, I am not really blogging at all of them equally or every week at the moment. But if you want to read about my Vegas trip, please do at my Cat Lady Rambles blog, which is where I blog for work. Plus now that I’m currently seeing someone (which could change at any moment for all I know because life is always strange), I’m not sure what to do with the singles blog. Is anyone really reading that anyway? I have some interviews lined up for it so I can press on but maybe I should change the name? I dunno.

In addition, I’ve got SO much to catch up on with all of your blogs. I’m behind. I feel like I’m just getting on track at work but still feel a bit behind there too. And this month is super busy. Geez. I feel like I’m bitching a lot over here, huh.  But I guess that is just my life at the moment. Constant change. Never boring. And extremely frustrating. Thank goodness for the written word. I would go flipping coo-coo.

Why American Airlines sucks

I’m back and trying to get things on track to semi-normalcy. Thanks everyone who wished me well during my recovery. What I really wanted to do was come back and share all my photos from my recent trip to Vegas. I still plan to, but what is getting in the way is the fact that I can’t get pass how much American Airlines needs to be put on blast.

Let me start with how since I turned 30 in January, I’ve had frequent abdominal pain and a tad bit of nausea after eating. While in Vegas I pretty much ate anything I wanted and pretty much paid for it on the last day. After having a seemingly innocent omelet, I started to feel sick. I finally couldn’t take it anymore and went to the bathroom to vomit. Sorry for the mental image here, but I basically had to make myself throw up. From the gas station next to the airport, at the airport and finally on the plane, I was getting sick every five to ten minutes. While flying back to Texas, I must have rushed to the tiny and may I say NASTY American Airlines bathroom and proceeded to keep gagging myself for the nausea was just unbearable. Meanwhile my boyfriend was worried. And at some point I got pretty delirious.

Luckily (and as it turned out kind of unluckily) we were in the back of the plane and the access to the potty was quick plus the flight attendants, which were stationed there, became clearly aware I was quite ill. My boyfriend asked that we have a wheelchair waiting at landing and that the attendants make sure to make an announcement that I needed to be let off the plane first.

Continue reading

The curse of non-affection…(a plea for advice)

So it finally happened. I met a great guy. And in the midst of this home-buying jazz, I guess I have been officially dating so combined with work I’m almost never alone. However as of 20 minutes ago it may be quite clear that I am no longer doing that. You see, I’m not a huge cuddler. I mean, I like it and all when I feel like it but I’m not a non-stop, gotta hang on you, hug on you, kiss on you kind of gal…And in a fit of trying to get some zzz’s tonight and just wanting some air, I got up and said I can’t sleep like this. Granted, we haven’t done, well, you know. But it’s only been like TWO WEEKS. What does he expect? I just like to sleep on MY side of the bed and be left alone. But I guess that wasn’t cool. And I’m just playing this game safer than my past hurry-up-and-wait relationships.

But I gotta tell you, I grew up with a wonderful father. He always was and is there for me. He supports my crazy antics, listens and helps when he can. But he’s not affectionate. I wasn’t brought up being called princess. I didn’t get hugged all the time except on occasion from my mother. The household was loving for the most part, just not touchy-feely like other families I guess. It didn’t really bother me. But maybe it’s translated into my not really being touchy-feely. I like holding hands and stuff but I’m not going to be all up in your ass all day. I’m surprised to find a guy who wants, and needs, that. So he left. And I think we aren’t dating now. Not sure really. He left saying he thinks he needs to “figure stuff out??” And I just got off the phone with him and he said he will call me tomorrow. I don’t feel like I have to pay for the psychos of his past. And I’ve given him so much of the benefit of the doubt.

Just because I needed my side of the bed? Men. Help me out here.

When will it be about the issues?

issues.jpg

Are the Clintons bigots? Is Obama a pot head? Why do we do this? No wonder I’m a fence-sitter. Who wouldn’t be in times like these where everything in the world is being criticized instead of what the presidential hopefuls’ issues really are and where they stand? I’m more confused than ever. At this point I don’t even want to vote but I would never do that. Voting is still important. I know everyone is collectively saying, “Duh” right about now but I think we all need to remember that no matter how stupid everyone is looking right now, we still need to mark our ballots. But wait. Not everyone is looking stupid. Seems the republications haven’t been guilty of quite the same muckary (is that even a word) at this point as the democrats are.I was raised by democrats. I’m confessing right now that I’ve voted democrat all my life when it came to presidents — for very obvious reasons. I’m 29. You do the math. But I have never said I would never vote republican.

The Obama/Hilary stuff is making me want to vote for Huckabee. Now that’s bad. But if you look at the original origins of democrats, they were the ones who weren’t very progressive. Can that be said of today’s party? While republicans opposed the expansion of slavery and promoted business — that last bit is something they still do today of course. Obviously both parties have changed but is the change all that significant or can the change be measured by the mile? I’m still on the fence. Just give me a can of paint for me to whitewash it.

One thing for sure that WAS vastly different in the past was the media. News from what seems like a million years ago was about news. Not the fact that today’s celebrities are wasting away to anorexia or stopping to pump their own gas and grab a latte. I’m just sick. What CAN we believe?

I’m a part of the media, but I blame us just the same. Today’smedia that is. The media machine only cares about why Anna Nicole’s daughter is wearing an eye-patch. It’s breaking news when the Spears get knocked up and go crazy. Why wouldn’t that lack of real moral fiber bleed over into politics? It all makes me kind of happy in a way that I’m in the community news genre. But obviously the reason media goes after the superficial is because they think that’s what we want to hear. And that must be true because it’s only getting worse. We as a nation are watered down. Dumbed down. Oblivious.

Day 63: The power of a note on the door…

Be gone all you thiefs!I woke up to discover this morning that my tiny Christmas tree equipped with tiny, shiny, glittery little ornaments was swiped from my front porch. I know that it may not have been the best thing — to actually leave something I gave a rip about on the front porch. But combined with the gold bells on my door, the bow I made latched on to the door knocker — everything felt so nice when I came home. Because from inside and out my house was so very pleasantly festive with Christmas cheer. Well, my Christmas cheer faded with my little discovery.

I became enraged. I left a polite note on my neighbor’s door about it after looking around the complex (and glancing the trash) to see if I would find it somewhere. I sat in my house, numb with anger of course. I’ve been robbed several times in my life. Mostly related to my car. This was it. So I kept checking the peep hole every now and then just to see if I saw someone to ask questions. Then I noticed this one young looking guy coming down from upstairs who looked quite guilty when he stopped at my neighbor’s door to read my note which read:

“If you happen to know who stole my tree, please let me know. It wasn’t very nice. Signed (my apartment number).”

Then after he read it, he looked down directly where my Christmas tree WOULD have been. When I saw his face I decided to draft another letter and this time put it on MY door. This one read:

“Merry Christmas Asshole. Whoever stole my fucking Christmas tree doesn’t know who they are fucking with. You will get yours — one way or another. Signed (my apartment number).”

I fumed. Ran errands and came home. Then I heard some really loud walking and looked out the peephole. I saw my “friendly” upstairs neighbor going downstairs. I decided to wait for her to head back up. She would have to pass my door to get to her apartment. I waited because the connection was made. She was surely friends with the guy from earlier in the afternoon. Before I could completely ask her if she had heard anything funny last night she confessed that her friend stole my tree. She said he was “intoxicated” and that she was sorry and was bringing back the tree. Guess what she said next?

“I didn’t appreciate that note. It wasn’t very Christmas-like…”

THE BALLS ON THIS CHICK! I told her I didn’t give a damn, she stole from me and that I’ve been through a lot in my life. And that I didn’t appreciate HER stealing from me. She proceeded to say it wasn’t her. It was her friend. Same damn thing. Long story longer, she brought it back and said that she didn’t want it to affect things with her and I. Hilarious. My punctuation mark was letting her know I’ve been victimized in my life and that stealing from me was wrong. She felt like shit. Her face was if she may have concluded I was once upon a time kidnapped and left for dead.

What does this have to do with the countdown? Nothing. An hour walking in a parade carrying a giant Curious George yesterday and ending my day getting back stolen property counts as a workout for me.

FIN.