Fun with Scotch Tape

You know what might be fun?

Have I mentioned that I love how scotch tape smells?

I was thinking it might be fun to make myself feel better by driving Twiggy nuts. This would be accomplished by stealthily enacting the following plan:

1. Steal into the copy/fax room while Twiggy is shooting the proverbial sh*t with an anonymous party on the phone.
2. Look around furitvely, then remove all those cute little boxes of invisible tape.
3. Abscound with tape back to desk.
4. Open all boxes and sniff the tape. God that smells good.
5. Next, wait till Twiggy notices that all 20 rolls are gone. Listen to her complain.
6. After complaints are heard 'round the world, make Twiggy crazy by putting the little empty boxes on her desk each night before I leave, preferably in the shape of a pyramid.

7. After all boxes are given back and she's complained and whined sufficiently, begin giving back rolls of unused tape in same method.

8. Watch Twiggy turn into a quivering pile of nerves!

Meanwhile, I would get to sniff the tape :o) Mmmmm….

I Feel Horrible

******BEGINNING OF RANT********

Right now, I have gas that would stop a raging elephant dead in its tracks and probably cause it to fall over dead. At the same time, annoyingly positive sales people keep flouncing into my cubicle to announce they have several emergency problems that require my attention and trump everything I may be working on at that moment. After I painfully launch my a** out of my chair to go and help them, I usually find that they have forgotten how to save or where they saved something, or something akin to that. Or perhaps they have forgotten how to copy and paste files to a different location on their computer, etc.

I also am having another problem which a great many members of the populace find to be even more distasteful to discuss in public than gas. Therefore, I will not discuss it in detail except to say that I am in great pain even after taking 2 pain pills to alleviate said pain. I am also feeling quite irritable and depressed due to this 2nd problem and the persistent suspicion that the severity of it is in direct proportion to the severity of my weight problem. This has then added to a hopeless feeling of "I'm fat and ugly and sick" and this little script has been parading 'round my head in all its finery for the past, oh 2 days. :)

In short, I feel miserable and wish, with every fiber of my being, to leave right now, go home, and go to sleep.

*********END OF RANT*************

Val Kilmer is Wrong

After finishing up his steamy makeout session with Ms. Hilton, Kilmer did what many men do best: insult the woman he just made out with. Very classy. Yeah. He's a real gentleman, that one. A real bloated gentleman.

So he's picked up on the latest trend in the world of celebs and has jumped on the "Paris is famous for NOTHING! NOTHING AT ALL!!!! She's a boyfriend-stealing, tacky she-demon!!!" wagon.

Well Mr. Kilmer, I know you think you're so very smart because you got some publicity by shooting at such a large, easy target, but you have been too long removed from normal people and you don't know what we're like anymore.

Us workaday Joes and Josephines who aren't very excited about going to our little jobs every day need a little distraction, dearheart. And Paris Hilton is a good distraction. She's flashy, tacky, likes to act as though she's stupid, has no education despite endless resources and abundant amounts of spare time, and bares acres of flesh almost every time she goes out. Oh, almost forgot -- has s*x tapes floating about on the internet. Possibly more than one. Which leads me to another thing that I find amazing: why famous people allow others to make tapes of them while going through the mating ritual and then act all horrified when those tapes get 'stolen' and 'exploited'. Well, that's another post entirely. Moving on…

Paris Hilton may signify everything that's wrong with celebrity, but who really cares? Other than pundits and secretaries with too much time on their hands at work who busy themselves by writing about superfluous topics on their confessional blogs that only about 2 or 3 people read? Hmm…run on sentence, that.

So, here we are at the point of this post. Paris Hilton is famous because she's at least two things that many people would like to be, if they are not already: rich and beautiful.

At the same time, though, she is many things that none of us would like to be: plainly a therapist's goldmine, a parent's nightmare, and the daughter of parents who are obviously a nightmare.

How many times have people thought to themselves, "There is no way in hell I would let my daughter act like that!"? How many times have people said, "God, it sure wouldn't make me want to vomit so much if she had just a little education and was just a tad bit less shallow."?

And how many of us gasped in horror to see Kathy Hilton at some nightclub with her boobs showing through her damn shirt with her daughter right there beside her, watching her mother dress and act like a tart who's forgotten her age? How many times have we heard Kathy Hilton say something so absolutely stupid that you could hardly believe it, and then immediately thought, "No wonder Paris is like that."?

So we like looking at Paris because she is such a dichotomy. She represents both what we want and what we don't want, all conveniently packaged in one person, one target for us to ridicule, wish to be like, but at the same time thank God that we are not like. She allows us to be wishful and at the same time, embrace our simple lives because we're thankful that they make us normal, and give us some kind of purpose, even if that purpose is just going to work everyday in order to survive in this world.

So Val Kilmer, why don't you stop acting like an ungentlemanly piece of sh*t and stop dissing someone whom you found perfectly acceptable to make out with but now are trashing so you can say something flashy? You're more the epitome of what's wrong with men in general than Paris is the epitome of what's wrong with celebrity, you man-wh*re.

It's Monday...I showed up. What more do you want from me?

So, did you act in opposition to your emotions and show up today? I did. I am definitely a better person for having shown up this morning. For one thing, I'm still employed. That's usually a good thing. And my plant thanks me; she was droopy this morning. I think I may christen my plant. Her name shall be………Bedelia. Bedelia the Gerber Daisy Plant. My V day gift from my ever thoughtful Boyfriend. :o)

I spent a large part of Sunday with my mother. My reward for doing so was a pair of lead crystal salt and pepper shakers that Boyfriend made a funny face at when I showed them to him. His face said something akin to: "Great. This is what happens when you spend an afternoon with your mother. You come back with these lead crystal salt and pepper shakers that are beyond useless." This little prize cost me $5.00. Not bad, I guess.

My mother had plans for me to buy all sorts of things to spruce up my cave-like apartment that has a total of 3 windows. I managed to dodge most of them, but just couldn't bear to continue nay-saying every single one of her suggestions. I figured $5.00 wasn't much to spend on making her feel better. She loves to 'advise' people on stuff. I love my mom but I'm sort of relieved to only spend approximately one day per week with her. It's hard to continuously say only positive things about her every utterance. There are none so blind as those who will not see.

I hope Boyfriend doesn't read this particular post. I don't want to hear about how I always complain about my mother. I just hate the b*tch. What's wrong with that? GOD.

I'm just kidding. I don't hate my mother. Today. :o)

Passive Aggressiveness

Twiggy is being passive aggressive again.

It's slower than molasses in January today. Seriously. Even Supervisor left early.

So Twiggy spent about an hour on the phone with a friend. I could tell this because it was plainly not work-related and because she would put her friend on hold and answer the phone.

Now she is off the phone and doing her 'I don't want to answer the phone' signals.

These include:

-- Being muy irritable to callers.
-- Shuffling papers
-- Whispering to herself while she works in an attempt to wordlessly tell me, "Hey slacker, I am so busy my head may spin off my shoulders at any moment. I don't have time to answer the phones! But you do!!!!!!!! Volunteer!!! NOW!!"

No dice honey. It's a quarter till and I am tired. :o) And you have been very irritating this week. And you are not busy; you are just whiney.

Adventures with Expense Reports

Oooooh. This one is interesting.

$48.00.

For dinner.

For one person.

Hmmmm….Who do you think his other guests may have been?

I'm thinking Jack Daniels, Captain Morgan, and perhaps some Jim Beam. And some guy named Bacardi.

That would explain this guy's frequent headaches. :o)

A Haiku for Boyfriend

I'm really starting to get into writing these haikus. They're not too hard.

Dear Boyfriend, my Love,

Don't talk about the needle.

Unless you want puke.

This was inspired by my lovely experience at the doctor's office this morning when I went to go get my Band unfilled.

I went there looking very nice. I had on my makeup and my hair looked awesome, if I do say so myself. I have on a blouse today with French cuffs. It's cleaned and ironed. My teeth were clean too.

Having my Band unfilled entails having a very long needle inserted into my abdomen. It's no big deal, except that I am a sissy. It's also no big deal if they don't miss the port. If the doctor happens to hit muscle, that's really, really, really gonna hurt. He did that a couple of times. Just as my pain tolerance was running out, we gave up.

I think the most memorable part of the whole experience was probably laying on the table with my flab exposed, looking up at Boyfriend, whose hand I was crushing, I mean holding, and then suddenly watching Boyfriend's eyes turn into saucers and a look of fear and revulsion flash across his face. I guess you could call it 'flashing across his face' but only if you define a 'flash' as a 2-minute period.

When we left, I looked a little green around the gills.

I turned a little greener and was tempted to roll down my window on the way home. Another thing that occurred to me was to possibly lean over and place my head in Boyfriend's lap so the products of my entrails could hit the most deserving person as Boyfriend went on and on and on about the huge, long needle and the fact that it kept going in and out, in and out of my abdomen. But I dismissed that. I would probably have had to clean it up myself, as Boyfriend is lazy. Ummm, I meant to say that Boyfriend is all about personal responsibility. Yeah, that's it.

Another Haiku that could fit this situation is this:

Needle goes in, out.

I look green around the gills.

Boyfriend wants vomit?

My Haiku for Twiggy

Twiggy

You should change your job.
It would make you happier…
And cheer me up too.

Rumor Has It...

Well, if it's true, then it's not really a rumor, now is it? Hmm, I'm not sure. Not being in the mood to contemplate what constitutes a rumor and what doesn't, I will just move on.

One of my directors called me this morning…she wanted me to make some copies for her. Being otherwise occupied at the time, I told her I'd come see her when the small project I was working on was finished. She was cool with that. When my project was done, I called her back.

"Oh, I sent that up with Twiggy. Did she give it to you?"

Today has been going well, so I lightheartedly replied, "No, she didn't. I'll just go ahead and ask her about it."

"Uh oh! I guess that means you'll have to speak to each other, huh?"

I'm thinking to myself, "What has that stupid b*tch been saying about me NOW!!!!??? MOTHERF*CKER!"

I gently say, "Exsqueeze me?"

"We know. We know how much you two get along. You think we don't but we know…"

How to tell her that I'm not the only person afraid of giving Twiggy any information that'll piss her off…Supervisor's afraid of her too because she's so passive-aggressive. That is, she talks bad about you to everyone in the department if you tick her off.

This would also explain why other people in the department already knew that I was considering getting a training position…I remember this same director remarking to me that she wanted me to get something done for her in case I went off into the wild blue yonder one day. At the time, I couldn't figure out where she was getting that from. Now I know.

And to think I volunteered to take that b*tch's phones yesterday for her. Now I'm right back to hating her a**. God how I wish she would get a life or another job, since I'm stuck here.

Hmmm…I got an idea, evil though it may be. I could make some remarks in passing about being so kind as to help Twiggy avoid those pushy bill collectors that keep calling for her…

Oh damnit! Who am I kidding??? I can't do that! That would be lower than low and I just don't think I have it in me.

I'll just have to wait until I am sufficiently p*ssed and then I can do it with ease. :o)

Minor Irritation and Stealth Tossing

Supervisor asked me to do something today, and that task, namely, is to take a detailed inventory of our binding coils. The process for ordering the things just got complicated (we have to start getting a purchase order) and so we don't want to order them too often.

So, I went ahead and gleefully did this.

I submitted it to Supervisor. All was lovely.

And then, she went and recounted the dang things!!!! Why did she have me do it at all if she was just going to recount them anyway? I learned how to count along with the rest of my kindergarten and first grade class, thank you very much. Counting to 10 is one skill that I do have down-pat.

I love Supervisor and she loves me, but there are certain things that we differ on.

For example, she is loathe to throw anything away. Anything. It doesn't matter if it's been sitting for about 3 years and there are no fingerprints in its covering of dust to indicate interest in the item. I, on the other hand, have no problem throwing stuff away. If it even looks like it hasn't been used in a long time, I will toss it. But Supervisor is the one with power, so she makes the rules. This is why the back room is filled with junk. I can only imagine what her domicile looks like. I think, though, that it is time for me to start using a skill that I employ regularly with Boyfriend…ie..stealth tossing. Basically, you throw stuff away when they're not looking and then gloat as months and years pass and whatever it was that you tossed but they considered sacrosanct is not missed AT ALL.

Don't get me wrong. I don't just blindly toss sh*t. If it is sentimental, I am not going to throw it away. If there is even a question as to whether I should toss it, I won't do it. But if it's blatant trash (ie last week's want-ads or something akin), I am going to toss it.

The other thing is that Supervisor is very perfectionist. It serves her well. But I couldn't deal with it. To me, perfectionism is to be avoided at all costs as you can never measure up with this as a philosophy to live by. I'll take reasonable measures to ensure accuracy, but I won't obsess about stuff the way that she does.

Well, someone just handed me some expenses to mess with, so I am off to do those. Thank God someone gave me some work to do!

Omaha.com Sucks

It is pathetic for this website, owned by the largest newspaper in Nebraska, to be down and unavailable so much. Omaha World-Herald, if you're going to hijack what should be our city's domain name, can't you do a good job of maintaining your website? It's official -- your newspaper sucks and so does your website, which badly needs a new look.

Mr. Gottschalk, I know you think that technology and change are the devil, but why don't you get over yourself and just do what the rest of the world has done? Get used to being in the year 2006.

To the Nice Girl Who Left Comments but I never Responded

Hi there -- I didn't know you'd left comments, thanks to Blooper. Thanks for reading though. :) I always appreciate feedback. :)

Hugs,
Secretary

Call Disposal

Today I'd like to talk to you about a little thing that I call "Call Disposal".

Twiggy is our receptionist (please pray for her). Call Disposal is something that I am faced with daily, either because Twiggy's shooting the sh*t on the phone with someone about something non-business related and can't be bothered, or because I don't have enough to do so I offer to take her calls so she doesn't go postal on us one day out of frustration.

Our company has grown by leaps and bounds since I joined the family. We've acquired and acquired and this is a problem sometimes, because we acquired one line of business that I particularly consider distasteful, and that is Collections. Yuck.

Well, collection agencies are nasty places. Ours is probably run a little better than most though because, well, its parent company has oodles of money and has invested in technology up the ying yang.

Naturally, after we acquired this line of business, which I will call PITA Company (pain in the a**), we started getting calls from debtors. They are all perplexed and frustrated because PITA doesn't want to talk to them. Right now. We have to give out a ph# that gives callers one option only: leave a message and we'll call ya back, loser. So these unfortunates keep calling us, because as a Sales department, you know we're gonna answer the phone. Leave no stone unturned, right?

So we regularly get all these misplaced calls. I love to 'dispose' of them.

"ABC Nuts and Bolts Sales and Marketing"

"Yeah, I found somethin' on ma credit repawt and I don't know where it come from. It says PITA Company, which I found on dat internet is yer company, and I wanna talk ta someone right now! Or I'll sue yas!!! And what's yer name, cuz I'm gonna sue you too!!!"

"It's Secretary. That's S-E-C-R-E-T-A-R-Y. You've reached sales and marketing and we can't help you here. Let me give you PITA's number."

"Is dat da one where ya gotta leave a message? That's no way to do business and I won't leave a message! I wanna talk to yer legal depawtment!"

A smile appears in my voice while talking to this 'special' person to whom the rules do not apply. Relief! "Ohhhh, ok! I'll be happy to transfer you! One moment please!" Problem solved.

So I blind transfer this caller who thinks he's so special. They alllll think they're special. What does 'blind transfer' mean? It means I transfer the call and don't let the admin over there know what's headed for her. :o) Her phone rings, she picks up, and she is now talking to the 'special' caller.

Hey, the Legal department is the one that thinks transferring PO'd callers to a voicemail is a great solution, so let them deal with it.

Fat Men

Marilyn Manson must be an idol for guys.

This dude looks like he just crawled out of a grave or underwent some kind of chemical experiment gone awry. Look who he's with. That chick is hot. As was his girlfriend previous to this one, Rose McGowan.

This just goes to show that fat guys, ugly guys, ugly fat guys, Satanic guys, greasy guys, warty guys, skinny guys can all get a girl if they want one. Not so much for chicks.

http://www.hollywoodrag.com/index.php?/weblog/comments/marilyn_manson_and_dita_von_teese/

Thank You Notes...My Way

I have an attitude of gratitude. Due to this, I have taken to writing thank you notes. Also, we have all that fine wedding stationery to use up. :)

I grow tired of writing the usual ones though, so I've decided to spice it up a bit. :)

It's mui cold out today. I invited the marketing manager out for lunch today because I had gift certificates and she has a warm car. LOL. She had to decline but offered to pick me up something. I said yes and also got Supervisor something as a thank you for not firing me. So I need to send her a thank you note.

"Dear Marketing Manager:

Just wanted to say thanks today for picking up lunch.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

We would have starved...

If not for you.

Hugs, Secretary"

I know, I know...this poetry is almost as painful as listening to the intellectually repulsive Dean the Walrus from the last episode of Wife Swap, but I think it's funny and distinctive.

If the Café will accept my ultra late catering order, I am going to send them this note:

"My Valentine to you guys…

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

I'd have been screwed,

If not for you.

Thanks! Secretary"

Or how about this one, in light of recent problems (forgot Supervisor's order when she was arranging food for a meeting for Napoleon. She was livid.).

"Dear Cafeteria:

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

Thanks for not screwing up,

Like you usually do..

Thanks, and no retribution please."

They actually don't screw up often; I'm just being mean. :) Mistakes happen just often enough to make you wonder if your stuff is actually going to show up. Kinda like my work attendance used to be.

Comments

Wow I feel stupid. I had turned comment moderation on in order to avoid spam. But Blooper (Blogger) failed to notify me that there were any comments. So people have read my blog and stuff and left comments and I never knew!!!!! DANGIT!

My Next Post

Ah yes, the follow up to the Company's Own Field of Dreams.

The chairs down there, as I have mentioned, look very futuristic; mui unique.

Last night I had GCV (ie Ginormous Client Visit) complete with hot breakfast, catered lunch, and reservations at a restaurant whose prices share one thing with the Field of Dreams - they're exorbitantly expensive. This restaurant is located in the newly completed, fabricated community of quaintness out in West O known as Village Pointe.

Moving right along…the GCV was hosted by one of my all-time favorite directors. He is so down to earth. He also, apparently, has back problems. Well so do I and half the people who work here, so take a number. But I feel compassion for him; he is plainly not faking. That is not his style in the least. Not that I have any right at all to judge whether someone's faking anything or not. Their thoughts are their business, not mine.

We all have these incredibly ugly chairs up here in an otherwise tastefully decorated cubefarm. I know we definitely have it better than the cubefarmers down on 2. Their cubes are claustrophobic and aged, and I'm not sure who decided they should be gray with dark purple, but the effect is all in all very drab, dark, and reminiscent of a cave.

Our chairs are comfy enough but they, like most office chairs, are nothing to write home about.

Those futuristic chairs down in the Field of Dreams though? Those chairs that are a feat of seating engineering…well, those chairs are a different story. They have something in common with Louis XVI furniture in that they don't look very durable or comfortable. But when you sit in them, allllllll day, you discover quickly that they are in fact both.

We'll call this director The King.

The King also discovered this. His back was happy all day. And at the end of the day, while I was cleaning up the Field of Dreams Cavern and chit chatting with his  clients, he informed me that he would be liberating one of those chairs from its bondage in the FOD cavern and bringing it upstairs to his office. To that end, he asked me if I had seen our great leaders leave yet, which I had to confess that I had not. His eyes darkened in disappointment until I mentioned that those luminaries usually take the stairs that are right next to their offices. His eyes lit up and away he went. Who was I to stop him? "Halt! Stop right there with that chair!!!!!" Hey, Christmas is coming and I don't want to damage my chances of a good haul.

Now Facilities is pretty rabid about making sure they keep this area clean, maintained, and that all parts are accounted for, right down to the futuristic trashcans. I remember back when the FOD opened up originally and they were going nuts because a trashcan was missing. Horrors!

So when the King made off with his chair, it didn't go unnoticed. The pecky facilities guy was up here lickety split inquiring after who was in the FOD yesterday, who spearheaded that? Do I know where the missing chair went? I told him the answers to A and B, and "I don't know" to the last question.

So then he talks to Twiggy and goes in the King's office with her and is soon asking me, "Did he have that chair before?" "I don't know what kind of chair he had in there."

I emailed the King the news and told him he should probably return his new throne. Covertly. But that was before Twiggy and Facilites Guy had a get together in the poor guy's office. Now he cannot avoid the shame. Sorry, buddy, did all I could for you.

But hey, you can always go the same way that this guy did. http://asecretaryslife.blogspot.com/2006/02/venting-to-entirely-wrong-audience.html. Get a conference room chair, use it for a month, look utterly miserable, and hope Napoleon takes mercy on you. Voila! Super duper future chair!!!!

Meanwhile, suck it up buddy, cause you done sinned. And I hope I get a nice gift certificate outta you in April, cause I felt mighty uncomfortable lying to Facilities Guy.

Alrighty, off I go to filch a diet pop outta the client visit fridge that no one uses anymore except for filching pop. :)

Paper Girl

Great, now I've been OFFICIALLY assigned to checking paper, report covers, binding coils, toner, checking fax and print jobs and distributing twice a day, etc.

I do not want to do this and wish there was some graceful way to say 'Find someone else'. Or perhaps the truer, more honest thing to say, which is: Shouldn't everyone be helping with this? Do they really need their 'mother' to wipe their proverbial a**?

I just hate this stuff. With a passion. I guess that's my higher power telling me that I really, really need to get another job. Everyone has always told me that I am too smart to do this, but I have never believed them. Supervisor once wondered what in the world I was still doing here. I guess I do too, now that my lowly station in the office has been hammered home even more pointedly.

The Company's Own Field of Dreams

Before I spin my tale of the latest 'drama' in the office, allow me to introduce you to the company's Field of Dreams.

When I first started working here about 3 years ago, the Company was busy building a technological marvel that shall remain nameless. We'll just call it the Field of Dreams, because the thought at the time was this: If you build it, they will come.

And come they have. We hold countless client visits and meetings in that space. The upstairs conference rooms, which are nicely appointed in leather and have built-in electronic gadgetry and have wood furniture that looks like burled mahogany but is constructed cheaply using veneers, etc., are hardly ever used for client meetings anymore.

The not so new anymore techno wonder consists of one part where people actually work and another part where people have meetings in fancied up conference rooms with movie theater sound, amazing bass, super futuristic-looking tables and chairs (you see them in movies a lot these days), abstract but subdued art, wall panels, and a ginormous flat panel projection TV. We show presentations and the company's marketing film there. The atmosphere in that area is so rarefied that only client visits and executive meetings may take place there. No internal meetings for the commoners allowed!

This new appendage tacked on to the side of the company's already nondescript-looking headquarters building was a boon to the sales people and us, the secretaries, too. The kitchen was nicely done and built centrally to the 3 conference rooms, which makes it pretty easy to serve lunches, set out drinks, and clean up. There's a pass-through to the main conference 'cavern' (it's huge, as conference rooms go), which overlooks the part where people actually work.

The section of the appendage where people actually work has about, oh, 25 monitor cubes built into the wall so they can monitor all sorts of stuff. Each of those cost an exorbitant amount of money. The figure $85,000.00 is sticking in my head, but that seems unreasonable. Which is why it's probably correct.

This new showcase of company technology was presented to all the employees. We were all given tours as though the company had built a new Disneyland. But, despite the sarcasm displayed here, we were all suitably impressed at the wanton outlay of money for technology and the vision it took to build this monstrosity. I was mostly impressed because they were showing Star Wars Episode II.

Clients seem impressed by it too. Sign ups for tours of this thing never cease. They watch a company film in the main conference room, and when the dog and pony show ends, then the curtains open up from the center, of their own accord, to show the highly technological nerve center of the company. The company film has this weird scene where this cute chick is rolling around on a bed while on the phone with some handsome guy. People joked about it a LOT when they first debuted it.

There are flat panel monitors that show in big bold letters when the drones can expect tours to come through and when they can expect to have clients watching them. That way no one's caught wolfing down doughnuts and talking with their mouth full should an executive prospect happen by. Nor are they guffawing at the latest dirty joke or burping loudly or farting at a time when clients can hear them through the glass separating their workplace from the Executive conference room. When clients are nearby, the workers in those rooms are paragons of breeding and manners.

My department has the say so about who can have a tour and who can't. We do the scheduling. I just wish we could put the supplies down there under lock and key, because an ice bucket disappeared recently. Who the h*ll wants an frickin' ice bucket? Probably the drones in client services. I don't trust em. LOL

Clients and new hires are all duly impressed with this crown jewel of a conference space. Everything about it whispers 'I'm expennnnnnnnnnnsivvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvve…"

Which brings me to my next post.

Sharing the Wealth

One of the surest ways to create goodwill toward you and help your visibility as a secretary is to share the wealth.

Whenever we have a client visit, we usually have leftover food. The way to any cube farmer's heart is through his/her stomach. Hence I love it when we have so much left over that it gives me an excuse to sent a department-wide email to all of the Sales department as well as a few executive assistants on this floor to let them know they should come and get a late breakfast from our breakroom because there were so many leftovers! :)

People have been stopping by here and there to say thanks, etc. Heheheheheheh. :o)

Some Heavy Drinkin' Goin' On

I'm doing expenses right now for Peanut Butter.

I was looking at his hotel bill because we must itemize alllllllll the charges. I couldn't figure out what this one thing was that was charged to his room, so I checked through his receipts and sure enough, I found it. I didn't think it could possibly be a solo dinner, because it was so high for 1 person…but when I checked the receipt, I found out:

He had roast turkey…

along with the rest of his meal, which was 2 beers and a vodka.

Dammmmnnnn…Doesn't that seem like a lotta liquor or am I just a babe in the woods? If he was a bit of a drinker, that would explain a lot. Like why he refuses to sit in his assigned cubicle and squats in an office instead.

I Feel Like a Heel

I feel like a total jerk.

Someone in another department asked me to print and bind 17 color copies of their presentation. I very much dislike doing jobs for other departments because it intereferes with me doing my own job. No, it does not interfere with blog reading or blogging itself. I really do have other tasks that I perform which are job-related. :)

So someone asked me to do their presentations for them and I confessed that 'those people just irritate me'. What a total gaffe…not only did I appear unhelpful which is breaking a cardinal rule of being a secretary, but I also looked like a jerk because now they're buying a gift certifcate to a local place here and I just acted like a total JERK!!!

I have to remember to keep my dang thoughts to myself. That old saying, "If you don't have anything nice to say…" definitely applies in all facets of life!!!

They Need Some Education...

Have you ever had the misfortune to sit and listen to Jessica Simpson or Paris Hilton speak?

They are absolutely retarded.

They've managed to build industries from their beauty but I wish someone would please educate them about speaking or something. I saw Jessica Simpleton last night speaking about her new shoe line when I was at Boyfriend's parents' house and it was painful to listen to. She sounded like the stereotypical blonde bimbo.

On a sidenote, I really, really enjoyed giving the baby her medicine last night, even though it was 2am and even though I am dragging a** this morning. :)

OA is NOT a Diet Club, and Significant Others Sometimes Don't Get That

I am puzzled that I do not seem to be losing weight. I am not eating enough to maintain my weight. At my weight, you have to eat quite a lot to avoid losing ass. I am not currently eating enough for maintenance, so why do I feel like I'm not losing any weight? Boyfriend says to be more patient, that it takes time to lose weight. If I buy a scale, I'll just become more obsessed, so that's not an option.

 

Boyfriend also seemed dismayed when I told him about the food plan that my sponsor wants me to do (3 meals, 2 snacks) and, at his stricken expression, informed him that OA is not a weight loss club. It is not a diet. It is learning to stop using food like an anesthetic. He immediately jumped to the conclusion that I am being encouraged to think like the following: "I'm ok, even if I weigh 800 pounds. It's ok, because I love me." He said that if that's the case, he wants me to stop going. I felt more than a little indignant at the idea that he has any say in the matter of whether I go to OA or not. It's irritating to think that he'd believe he has any standing to decide whether this is good for me; what paternalistic bullshit.

 

I am constantly surprised by Boyfriend's lack of emotional IQ, or perhaps it's his lack of compassion/sympathy for the pain and feelings of others that he can't identify with. I don't know. He is so smart when it comes to people's behavior, he's so smart when it comes to logic and reason, but he has a hard time discerning when logic and reason aren't everything.

 

What Boyfriend fails to understand is that one can only continue to gain weight like that by serious overeating. It's got to be an eating disorder in order to gain that much weight, whether it's 800 pounds or if you weigh 300 pounds. I don't refer to the occasional too much at dinner, or the occasional dessert, the occasional serving of chips, or any of that. I am talking about an enduring effort. This would be an enduring effort where there is no doubt that one is using food like an anesthetic. This would be acting insanely - bingeing, doing anything to get food, eating out of the trash, etc.

 

Normal people do not eat like that. And in OA, it is not considered ok to eat like that. How could it be? OA is a place where you learn to love yourself. If you love yourself, you try to take care of yourself. If you're trying to take care of yourself, then you want to be healthy. If you want to be healthy out of love for yourself, then you eat more healthfully. And finally, you are more honest with yourself. If you're eating yourself to death, you are not being honest with yourself and you are not taking care of yourself.

 

To me, this seems like it should be obvious. A big fat duh. I mean, does he like me better now with me hating myself, not because of weight, but because of everything else under the sun? Did he like it better when I was working out but didn't feel like bathing? Perhaps he found it more tolerable when I refused to do laundry, not out of laziness, but out of shame and self-hatred. This weekend was funny. I did laundry while he slept. I came home and put it away and he looked around and goes, "Where's the laundry that was in those baskets?" "I did the laundry, came home, and put it away." He seemed a little nonplussed. That was not me just 3 short weeks ago. Maybe he liked it better when I was bingeing left and right. He didn't seem to like that when he found all those Ben n Jerry's pint containers stowed here and there. I'm not bingeing now, thanks to OA.

 

Doesn't he see the improvements in me? Yes, I was deeply sad and upset this weekend. But so what? What did he expect? That I would stop using food to stuff down my emotions and I would suddenly be gifted by God with the ability to gracefully handle my feelings? The same feelings that I couldn't handle before OA and used to food to avoid?

 

I think more, even if he doesn't see it. I consider things more, even if I still reach the wrong decisions at time. At the very least, I am examining my motivations for things. This is a definite improvement.

 

At the same time, who cares if he notices? I'm doing this for me, right? Well, yes, I am. But everyone on the planet has the need for approval. I would like to hear more positive things out of him about how I've changed, but he is so tired of the way that I behaved before, it must be awfully hard to see past the smoke of the wrecks that I caused while I was still completely in the food and the disease. This is like an alcoholic getting sober and expecting his family to start trusting him again overnight; not gonna happen. A newly sober person is not expected to stay that way. Maybe he's just waiting for me to relapse.

 

Sometimes, I feel like I would get far more sympathy out of him if I were an alcoholic. He will sit there and tell me how I wouldn't berate a cancer patient for having cancer, would I? But he plainly does not look at this disease the same way that he does alcoholism. It irritates me sometimes that he looks at this the same way that everyone else who's never had an eating disorder looks at it; just another fat person looking for an excuse to make things ok. At first he seemed so sympathetic. He even went to my first meeting that night. He has never made fun of anyone there, of course. That's not him. But he doesn't seem to want to hear about my recovery; I grow tired of him subtly putting it down.

 

Boyfriend is not a jerk. He is just like most people in this regard; he doesn't personally know what this is like. How he can be so smart and so stupid about it at the same time baffles me, but then I am sure he is baffled by many of the things that I think and do, so touche.

An Evening with Boyfriend's Fam...

Well it's 12:15 in the morning and I have to wake up in about 2 hours and check on Toddler. She is sick, the little cherub, and needs medicine.

 

I'm kind of excited about it. I really enjoyed changing her diaper when we got home and tickling her a little bit and the whole shebang. I will very much enjoy taking care of her as a mother would in the middle of the night. I know I'll feel it tomorrow but I don't care.

 

During the early evening, I was a little sad because she, as usual, didn't want me. It's ridiculous to take this personally. But I am adept at taking everything personally, a personality trait that I am trying to change. Of course, I knew that it was more about me than anything else; my desire to be a mother, my desire to not be the odd one out, whether in reality or just in my head.

 

Boyfriend's mom encouraged the baby to come to me and stuff; Boyfriend did too. He did not go to sleep until late in the evening. It is as if he read my entry about what's eating me and took it to heart. That may be unlikely, but the fact remains that this evening, something I had been dreading, went very well. I feel much better than I did last week. However, I did squander a little bit of opportunity to take care of the baby during our visit to Boyfriend's parents...I was crocheting and probably shouldn't have been, but I thought the baby was occupied or settled down. Next time I will not squander my opportunity...I will bring a toy that she and I can play with together. : )

Slim Fast and the Closet

This morning, Boyfriend came home from work. He wanted me to cook for him. No, not make instant oatmeal. He wanted me to actually cook.

 

Naturally, have awakened with a backache and whatnot, I felt unwilling to do so. He, however, wouldn't take no for an answer.

 

"Jesus Christ! You're a grown man! What would you do if I weren't here?"

 

"If you weren't here, I'd grab a Slim Fast and head for the closet."

 

We both just looked at each other and busted out laughing. I proceeded to make him chicken stuffing for BREAKFAST. He thought that was just fine. According to him, on his schedule, 10am is dinner time.

 

About 9 hours later, he's still sleeping. In the closet.

 

Okay.

Boyfriend is in the Closet...

Did I mention that Boyfriend works graveyards? This means he is a day-sleeper. Another word for that is vampire. lol Just kidding.

 

Anyway, I came home tonight and went through my usual routine.

 

I took off my shoes in the living room, stashed those horrible things in the closet. I took off my socks and made my way back to my room to put them in the laundry basket, excited about cuddling up with Boyfriend and maybe taking a nap or something.

 

My first view of the dark room was enough to tell me something was amiss. The bed seemed to be empty. No Boyfriend. Weirder still...no blankets. Half the pillows were missing. Maybe he took them to his parents to do laundry? No, his truck was there. That couldn't be it.

 

So then I wander into Toddler's room...and hear disembodied breathing. It seemed to emanate from the closet. I call Boyfriend's name. No answer.

 

I am now afraid to open the closet door. Is Boyfriend's mangled body hanging upside down in there? Is there a killer in there who's going to cleave me in two if I let him out? Is he covered in Boyfriend's blood and entrails?

 

I gingerly open the door, expecting something I don't want to see.

 

There is Boyfriend, peacefully asleep on the floor.

 

"What are you doing in here?"

 

"Dark." Our room is too light during the day for him to fall asleep in there.

 

"Guess I better get those curtains."

Me and Kids

This should probably be called

 

me and my yearning for kids

 

and my tendencies to emotionally adopt any that come near me that don't act like jerky kids.

 

I keep rereading my post about what's eating me where I talked about how jealous I am of Boyfriend's mom robbing me of my stepmom role. You know where that jealousy comes from? It comes from a yearning to be a mother.

 

I want my role. I want to be the one getting close enough to the baby to slobber over her smallest achievements. I want to be close enough to be so excited about buying her new clothes, to get excited about decorating her room, to sew little dresses for her and take joy in her wearing them until they're threadbare. I want to be close enough to her to take some ownership of how she is taken care of, to really fall in love with her.

 

And I think, most of all, that I would like for her to stop pushing me away. I would like to cease being the last person on her wishlist when she wants someone to hold her. I would like people to stop making fun of me when she does this. I don't know why it hurts me so much, maybe I feel deprived of being a mom since Niece has left, I'm not sure.

 

I want to share this with Boyfriend, I want to experience it and enjoy it with him. That may be selfish of me. After all, he is her daddy and he only gets to see her for about 36 hours every week. With so little time that he even gets with his daughter, how can I possibly insist on staking a claim on that time with her? His relationship is the primary one that must absorb most of the time.

 

At the same time, it's unreasonable to expect me to form a strong emotional tie to the baby without being her caregiver at least some of the time. I don't really get to play with her or anything; there are so many other adults vying for her attention.

 

It's just a mess. I should trust my HP to sort it out for me but I can't yet. I don't want to go on having these feelings, which will eventually alienate people that I don't wish to alienate. Can you imagine how you'd feel if your girlfriend seemed to be rejecting your infant daughter?

 

 

Obsession

One of the VPs I support is a total perfectionist. I cry at night for his children.

 

So he called me and needed me to come back to his office stat! I get there and what do I find?

 

He's obsessing over the fact that Word has decided his French last name must be misspelled and it's placed non-printing red squiggle under the name to signify that it MUST be a typo!

 

Oh sweet Jesus!!! What if Word functions properly and does the same thing on his client's computer and they see that horrible red squiggle???? There must be some way to remove the offending markup!

 

I tried, TRIED to explain to him that it doesn't matter that the squiggle is there. No one cares except HIM!!!!! Annnnnnnd no one HERE can control what his client's computer's settings are. So no matter what we do here, we cannot guarantee that it won't appear on their computer. But how on God's green earth do you explain that without appearing unhelpful, which as we all know, is essential to all secretaries? :)

 

Well, you don't. You try to find some way to get the squiggle to disappear, and then you get him to email it to his customer, who most assuredly will NOT care about the squiggle, and then hopefully he will forget about it. Hopefully.

 

And I thought I was obsessive-compulsive. Nice to know that I don't have the market cornered.

A Blithering Idiot

Mr. High Maintenance is having me do his travel. He is one of those people who has it very together, as far as I can tell. Why do I always feel so intimidated by people like him? I end up turning into a blithering idiot, constantly laughing at myself in the most inane manner possible, falling all over myself, making excuses for why I am so inadequate.

 

I know why I do this. Because I feel like a fish out of water, as though I do not belong at this company or in this job. For Heaven's sake, there are people wandering around up here who make $500,000.00 a year, who head a company with 28,000 employees! What the heck am I doing here??

 

And I can feel the honesty radiating from this person, who is a recovering alcoholic with years and years of sobriety. My sponsor is like that. You can feel the honesty radiating off of her. And when you feel like you are a liar and your life is a lie (because you don't deserve the good stuff in your life) and you're faking it in order to get through your day, well, people who radiate honesty are intimidating. You feel like they're looking right through you and seeing all your faults, everything. I totally lose my confidence and start acting like an idiot.

 

And since joing OA again, I can identify these actions. I know I'm doing it, but I just can't seem to stop it. I used to just gloss over these actions and the reasons for them, but now I feel like I can't really gloss over anything. I can't bring myself to just ignore things.

 

I guess that might explain my racing thoughts at bedtime the other night.

 

You know what else drives me nuts? I'm always trying to show my sponsor and people like that how mature I am. God I feel like some kind of 12 year old admitting this. Why would an adult act this way? Wait, I know the answer to this one. It's because they're insane.

 

Not as in raving lunatic insane. When I say insane, I mean: 

- will eat 2 pints of Ben n Jerry's without batting an eye,

- will consumer 3000 calories from the Taco Bell drive through,

- will take 2 hours to eat in order to stuff all this food into her 1/2 cup sized stomach,

- basically will commit as much time as is necessary to eat this food.

- But won't commit as much time as is necessary to bathing in the morning. Won't commit as much time as she needs to taking care of herself.

 

And right now, I can't even envision this changing. I can't envision ever being at the same level as these people that I want to emulate. I want to be like Mr. High Maintenance; quietly confident, reassuring to people, seemingly happy and content with his life because he's simplified his life by living it honestly and with integrity. But I don't believe that I have the ability to get that, and I don't believe that I deserve it.

 

I hope my work in OA can help me figure this out. Cause I'm pretty sure that this isn't what God wants for me.

Why Britney Why?

Britney Spears:

 

You are so pretty, in a fetal alcohol syndrome kind of way (eye width). Why do you always have to dress so WRONG????? Why can't you get a clue and dress like other starlets who can pick out nice clothes and stuff? Why must you always make yourself look so trashy?

Venting to the Entirely Wrong Audience

One of my directors needed some help in his office. I went back there and he just had some simple editing for me to do that he simply couldn't figure out. Not a problem, I live to serve, right? Yeah. Sure. Whatever.

 

So I go see Mr. Chinagerman (he looks like he's got Chinese in him, but he says he is German-Irish. That bone structure and eye shaping is unmistakable.). He's a nice Director. Focused, not like Mr. Putrid, and unassuming. So I go in there and he's got this awesome, futuristic chair. He used to have a conference room chair, because we were short on chairs. So Napoleon walked by his office a couple of times and goes, "You need a different chair." One day a new chair appeared and it was awesome.

 

After he told me that story, I go, "So Napoleon showed a rare moment of humanity, huh?" We both laughed lol. All but the most naive newbies in the office can relate on this point.

 

For some reason, I felt moved to vent to him about Mr. HighMaintenance while I'm fixing his document. "Some of these people are so high-maintance, it drives me nuts. This guy calls and wants travel plans pronto and hello! I support 20 people!!!! Good God, call the Travel office, Mr. Jerkwad!" He just laughed and I said, "You know I'm not venting about you, right?" And he laughs and goes, "Yeah." I go, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have vented this here," and he says, "It's alright, I learn something new here everyday!!!!"

 

LOL God I feel so idiotic. I barely know that guy and he does NOT want to hear me vent, I am sure. Supervisor subscribes to the 'never complain' philosophy. Frankly, she's right. Remember the rule...One must NEVER appear to be unhelpful. I got an idea. Rules for Secretaries. LOL

Ridiculous? Me?

Hmmm...what's a good nickname for this guy? He is a director who 'lives' on the 2nd floor and he's way, way high maintenance. He occasionally has me do travel for him.

 

Whenever he wants something, he wants it NOW. I guess he's not getting that I support 20 other people. And they all want their sh&t now too. Whenever I do travel for him, he wants a zillion different options. It's frickin mind-boggling. I don't have the patience for this AT ALL. Such a prima donna, he drives me absolutely nuts!

 

Then he calls me this morning and before he knows that I have picked up the phone, I hear him say the words, "Ridiculous." Perhaps I think the world revolves around me, perhaps I am just feeling negative, but I'm thinking he meant to be applying that word to me. Perhaps I'm right.

Someone's Having a Bad Day...

KK, hurrying to and fro with a determined, quick gait: "Hey buddy, how are ya?"

 

I adore KK. He gave me a jump start one night when I was alone and had to get Niece, and there was no one for me to call because I was broke and without a membership in AAA. He's very active in his church, never cusses, and is just a genuinely nice person. I say that not because he attends church, but because his actions consistently bear that out.

 

Secretary: (feeling dumpy) "I'm ok, how are you?"

 

KK: "I'm CHOOSING to be good!"

 

Secretary: "So you're artificially joyous?"

 

KK: "No, I'm CHOOSING to be joyous. There's a difference!"

 

Secretary thinks to herself, "No there isn't. Choosing to be joyous is unnatural. It is saying my circumstances, the people around me, and my stress level do not make me joyous, so I have to manufacture it."

 

And that's how you know someone who is relentlessly positive is not having a good day.

Expenses are Due

tomorrow. They are due tomorrow...

 

I am dragging serious a**. I can't really get myself going on this. Possibly because it's just not that exciting anymore to see how much the overpaid salespeople spend on their hotels, their cell phones, their this, their that. It's hard to travel vicariously through these salespeople when they go to these exciting destinations and all they frickin' do is TOIL! Endlessly!!!! May as well not even leave the Midwest at that rate.

 

This guy has purchased a gift for one of his ginormous clients. What lovely parting gift will this Nebraskan present his New Yorker client?

 

Why, meat of course! Corn-fed beef. And this vendor would love to offer him 6 free burgers as a result of his order.

 

Loverly.

Boyfriend is a Gem

Just when I am freaked out about something Boyfriend has done or failed to do, he does something that shows me what a gem he is.

 

I dread doing my taxes.

 

He called me today wanting my social security number. I was like, "Why?"

 

He did my taxes for me.

 

Wow.

What's Eating Me Right Now

So last night was our weekly sojourn to Boyfriend's parents house while he has his visit with his daughter. He picks me up from work and then we head straight over there to spend an evening watching his grandma and his mom endlessly worship Toddler. There's a word for this and I think it's OVERCOMPENSATION.

 

I'm kept around too...never know when someone will be needed to change a dirty diaper or go chase the kid away from the bottom of the steps. Boyfriend is exhausted, so he typically is asleep on the couch while everyone's pandering to the toddler. This is fine; I mean, at this point, the guy hasn't slept in over 24 hours, so what else is he supposed to do?

 

I often find myself sitting there wondering how many times everyone is going to remark about, "Awwww...she's trying to wake her daddy up..." Is silence really so uncomfortable that it must be filled at every opportunity with repetitions of the same drivel, over and and over again about every bloody thing Toddler does? Every 5 minutes while the baby is wandering the room or has found something interesting to do or look at, someone must call her back over to the adults so they can drool over her.

 

What I don't understand is why we must spend every Monday evening over at his parents' house. I love his parents. I'm still trying to figure out how to relate to his mom, but I'm very comfortable with his dad. How am I supposed to bond with this child as Boyfriend would like while everyone else is taking care of her? And I am not going to try and assert myself in front of his mom. Nooooooo way. Who am I to them anyway? I'm a girlfriend whom he probably will marry, but there's many a tip between the cup and the lip, in their estimation. After all, to them, how many girlfriends has Boyfriend been in love with and wanted to marry? While my place in his life is not entirely secured, I do not wish to presume.

 

It constantly amazes and frustrates me that Boyfriend expects me to bond with Toddler with about 2 hours of time available to me every week. And my two hours is shared with everyone else under the sun. It just burns me to watch a roomful of adults pandering to a toddler. It ought to be fun to watch her turn into a holy terror later in life. Good luck disciplining that.

 

Why aren't we at home on Monday nights, trying to create a normal family life where we make dinner, Toddler plays with her toys and with us at times, and then we put the baby to bed and whatnot, together, as a set of parents? Oh wait, I've got the answer to this one.

 

Because we're not a family. Boyfriend likes to pretend we are and that I'm his 'wife' or whatever, but can we just have a little honesty here? The facts are these:

 

1. Toddler is the daughter of Boyfriend and someone else.

2. Boyfriend lives with me but we are not married.

3. We are not 'officially' engaged...ie we are, but it is not announced to everyone else and there's no ring, cheap but meaningful, or otherwise, on any of my fingers.

4. There are no wedding plans in the works either.

 

So who am I to these people? I'm just a girlfriend. I might be around for the long haul, or I might not be.

 

And we mustn't forget that Boyfriend gets a lot of attention, acceptance, and pride from his family through his progeny and her adorable antics.

 

It's possible that I am very negative right now because I don't have food to cushion my reactions to everything, but my gut is telling me that, although my reaction may be a little strong, there is truth to this. I feel this way pretty often but I make myelf tolerate it and ignore it so I can keep the peace, because Boyfriend certainly doesn't want to hear it and certainly doesn't attempt to understand it.

 

Anyone reading this might think that I hate this child or hate Boyfriend's family. Nothing could be further from the truth. I am having a hard time finding my place. And I am jealous of the fact that I am supposed to have this role of 'step mother' to this child but instead, Boyfriend's mom has this role. I feel that I haven't had the opportunity to step into this role because anytime I see the baby, Boyfriend's mom is playing it. To interrupt her in this, to dare to assert myself in any way is, for lack of a better word, to court family political suicide. IE it's courting dislike by my prospective in-laws and I know that it's very important to Boyfriend that I get along with his family.

Managing Napoleon

I'm not very good at this. I don't manage my image very well at all.

 

Napoleon's route to sundry places in the building often takes him past me and Twiggy's perch. Sometimes I think he ends up walking past my cube a few extra times a day.

 

This time, I was ready for him.

 

I spied him in my trucker's mirror attached to my monitor walking briskly to the bathroom. When he walked past on his way to the bathroom, he walked along the far wall. I knew that when he walked back, he would be walking as closely to my cube as possible in order to round the corner and stalk back to his office.

 

I got out my expense reports and began to work on them. I will probably churn out two in the next hour. As he walked by, he was going to look into my cubicle and stare, and I go, "Hi!" and he visibly blanched and looked scared. LOL!!!

 

This is the same guy who, after my last warning, avoided speaking to me, avoided me on elevators, etc. It's really quite ridiculous.

 

Just about as ridiculous as this little game I am playing.

A Problem that Doesn't Look Like a Disease...

but it is.

 

Did I mention I've started going to Overeaters Anonymous? Boyfriend and I jokingly refer to it as my 'Fat Club'. I think we should probably stop saying that.

 

Because it's a serious, serious problem for me.

 

I can't remember if I have said this here, but you know how some people smoke crack or use cocaine or get drunk or whatever in order to numb out, to get high, to avoid their feelings, whatever? Some other people use food to get the same effect. It's legal and far more available, even if the attendant problems are lethal (eventually).

 

I'm one of those people that uses food the same way one would use a narcotic substance.

 

Having recognized this problem, I have started going to OA. In OA, I have started to recognize some things and have found some friends. This has resulted in an exhilaratingly good feeling until this weekend. Boyfriend at first appeared to be supportive but I sense that his support is eroding. Maybe it's eroding because OA takes up some of my time, maybe it's because he doesn't believe this is a disease, I don't know. But I do know that whenever I talk about recent conversations with my sponsor, something new I've discovered, or anything having to do with OA, he is dismissive at best. This is signified by the following:

 

a. a groan   b. 'oh Jesus'      c. eye rolling   d. a change in body language signifying the same as any of the above.

 

I have observed the same attitude in him that I would probably see in anyone else. He seemed to understand at first. His impatience with this shows. He professes to understand that I can't 'just stop eating' like a normal person. But then when I talk about my progress, good things that are happening, I get this attitude from him that seems to say, "You are creating your own reality again. You are making excuses. Just stop eating. Just tell yourself that you're normal and you will be."

 

It's sad, to me. I had hoped I could share this with him and he would be happy for me and proud that I am doing something about this. He seemed to understand. But I see now that he doesn't, truly. But then again, as he has pointed out to me before, would I understand an alcoholic? Did I show understanding with my father? Would I tell a cancer patient to just stop the tumors from growing?

 

So then why is he telling me, "You're making yourself 'not normal' by thinking that way. Just tell yourself that you're normal and you will be,"?

 

But who am I doing this for? Him or me? Well, I'm doing it for me. I had just hoped that he would be supportive, not dismissive and borderline disrespectful about it. Since I have been going to OA, I have sensed that emotional aloofness returning. My sponsor said that my gut feelings are my higher power. They are God nudging me in this direction or that. So I am going to trust my gut. Something is making him pull away from me, and I don't know what it is.

 

Perhaps it is that I sometimes still give in to my disease. And he knows it. He knows when I am 'using'. He probably knew it when I had too much mac n cheese last night. He probably knew it was part of my disease when I purchased two new CDs that I could not afford while at Wal-Mart getting groceries. He knew that spending the money was a way of 'using'. And now I know it too.

Coding MP3s

Or at least I'm trying to.

 

But the music industry has decided that you can't have even one damned extra copy of any music that you buy. Oh no, that would be horrible. No, now you've got to sign up for some damned service like iTunes and pay for each song instead of being able to buy a CD and then encode some MP3s for your own use.

 

I was really looking forward to being able to listen to my 2 new CDs at work without carting the damned things with me. I don't like to take my CDs anywhere...I make a copy and then use that in the car or at work or whatever. I store MP3s on my work computer so I don't even need to use a CD. It helps me avoid damaging my new CDs.

 

So I bought a copy of the new Foo Fighters CD, In Your Honor, and I was looking forward to encoding it into MP3s so as to listen to it on my work computer and on my Palm Pilot. But noooooooo, can't do that! It just really pisses me off.

 

Never mind that I freely enjoyed that golden period where we could all download zillions of free songs before the recording industry got off their fat ass and caught up with the times. I only have about 1GB or so of songs. Many of them are from CDs that I already purchased and then I MP3ed them so I could listen to them via my computer.

 

Now I have to drag the stupid discs with me and install something that is probably spyware onto my computer in order to just listen to the stupid CD on my computer.

 

There must be some way around this...but do I care enough to find it? I don't know.

 

Time for bed.

8 Steps to Getting Out of the Mailroom

I once thought this was a dream job. In some ways, it is. There are aspects that are a pain in the ass, but there are a lot of positive aspects too.

 

I wouldn't say that being a secretary was God's gift to me, but I would say that it pays the bills and is preferable, financially and otherwise, to several other less savory possibilities which include flipping burgers and working in mailrooms or being a janitor. Yes, there is honor in those positions, but they are not widely known for their earning capacity.

 

Basically, when people find out that you flip burgers or sort mail or push a broom, they wonder to themselves or right out loud how the hell you can afford to live on that salary.

 

When Adminzilla's demise came about, a member of our mailroom applied for her position. Twiggy found out about it and tried to get me to join in on making fun of her. Twiggy's not fond of those who look above what she considers to be their station too much. I could not and would not join in on mocking her.

 

I had encouraged Mailgirl to expand her data entry, software, and office skills because I know she wants out of that mailroom. She gleefully enters all my overnight packages in the computer. She challenges herself and wants more. She's hungry and she's nice. She reminds me a lot of myself. I know she is capable of more. I encouraged her to sign up for company training classes in Excel and Word and whatnot. I know she's smart and creative. She writes songs in her spare time and has a young son.

 

So, here you are, for all your Mailgirls and boys out there...

 

1. Expand your data entry skills. Test them on the Web if you'd like to know your progress. Just type in 'online typing test' in Google or something and you can find a free one.

 

2. Take advantage of any PC training classes offered for free by your company. Train yourself if you must...the 2 most popular software programs? MS Word and Excel. Books to train yourself? Check out the 'For Dummies' series. You can get these books chepaly on the half.com and amazon.com. Check them out.

 

3. Read a lot. Learn how to speak better and hone your spelling skills.

 

4. Come to work at your existing job every day, on time, as scheduled. Mui important.

 

5. Dress just a little bit better than required for your existing position. Don't be ridiculous, but let your clothes show some ambition. Dress business casual, not regular casual. This means that you wear clothes that fit and clothes that don't necessarily belong in the ghetto. No jerseys for your favorite sports teams, no ill-fitting pants, no too-tight clothes. Check out what the other secretaries wear on casual day; pay no attention to what I wear. :)

 

6. Don't know how to answer the phone quite professionally? I've been complimented many times on my phone skills. I got those from where? The telemarketing industry. Want to learn to be professional on the phone? The telemarketing industry is a great place; they are the phone pros.

 

7. You might not be able to warp to an administrative assistant without some related experience, so you may want to consider getting a new job that'll teach you some of the skills you need. Consider it a stepping stone. However, if you're in a company and you'd like to grow in the company, take those training classes and hone those skills, and go after the positions that you think will get you where you want to go. Don't apply for Executive Assistant positions though; you need some experience first.

 

8. Do you have your high school diploma? No? Get it. Take a college course or two while you're at it. You don't necessarily need a degree, but it does matter if you've actually taken some courses.

 

Hmmm...what else? Can't think of anything now, am starting to fall asleep. :)

 

We're Back to Hating Each Other

Who? you say?

 

Twiggy.

 

Well, she hates me. I can't say that I hate her. I didn't rat her out because I dislike her. I ratted on her because I HAD to, otherwise, the peanut butter that is the embodiment of the Taint of Error would have splashed onto me and I have had enough Taint lately, thank you. I mean, remember my performance appraisal, which by all accounts was a disaster?

 

I heard her on the phone this morning. She said my name in conversation and then later goes, "Who does she think she is?" Well, Twiggy, I think I'm smarter than you, get paid more than you, and have way more repsonsibility than you in 1/3 of the time you've been with the company. What's really sad is that I have more ambition than you, and what's sad about that is that I have very little ambition.

 

If only I were better at pretending to personally like someone whom I have nothing in common with and whom I think is petty. Hmmm...that's probably the pot calling the kettle black, but let me have my delusions! (After all, the purpose of this blog is to be an outlet, right?) I wish I could be strong enough to consistently be her sounding board, listen to her pity parties constantly, commiserate endlessly about misplaced collections calls, misplaced HR calls, all misplaced calls.

 

But unfortunately I'm one of those people who's like, "How much more can we say about this? There's nothing new to say, so why bother?!" I wish I was better at hiding my impatience to get back to my work (yes, I do indeed spend the lion's share of most of my days on work) and following up on watching Dancing with the Stars and American Idol so that I'd have something in common with her, some shared experience other than answering 100 Geico calls a day. I wish I could bring myself to kiss her ample rear end more ardently, but I just can't bring myself to do it. If only I were more ambitious, then maybe I could. I just can't work myself up to convince her that she is the center of my work world and that I would do anything for her.

 

I know she is ticked because Supervisor and I discussed amongst ourselves the problem with her taking lunch whenever she felt like it and we decided that a change was in order. I've been taking late lunch, alone, for 3 years now, and so has Supervisor. And what's more, Twiggy usually ends up going when I'm supposed to be leaving my desk for lunch.

 

What is the big deal with lunch times? Let me explain a little bit about how this works: there are basically two lunch cliques, for lack of a better word, in my office: those who go at 11:30 (early lunch) and those who go at 12:30 (late lunch). Almost everyone goes at 11:30 unless they have some appointment or something. They are all salespeople, so going to lunch with them is great fun; they have razor sharp senses of humor and great stories, the whole nine years. They also are very well-mannered people and I'm sure you know what a pleasure it is to go out with people who are well-mannered. They make you feel like you've been treated like a million bucks.

 

The other benefit of early lunch is rock-star parking. At my building, parking is terrible, unless you get here at the crack of dawn. I of course do not, and when I go to lunch at 12:30, I similarly get hosed out of good parking and must walk a considerable distance. Yes, the walking is good for me, but it's February in the midwest, people! It's cold! I don't want to feel healthy; I want to stay warm!

 

You can see why 11:30 is the desired lunch time.

 

But only one of us can have that lunch time. It's either me or Twiggy, and, for 3 years now, it's been Twiggy. That's when she's SUPPOSED to go, anyway, though she rarely does so. And no one really cares when she goes...no one's going to freak cause she's not available. Not so for me, though. I need to be gone when my people are gone, because then they won't miss me and I'll be back when they're back.

 

So, in accordance with discussions that Supervisor and I have had recently regarding lunch and Twiggy, Supervisor told Twiggy that we are going to begin rotating lunch schedules. One week, Twiggy and Napoleon's EA will have early lunch, and the next week, Supervisor and I will have it.

 

Supervisor stopped by last night to tell me this and she told me that Twiggy was not very receptive. Not realizing that Twiggy hadn't left yet, as she wasn't in her cube, I said, "When is she receptive to anything?" a little loudly. Not two seconds later, Twiggy comes walking out of the dang copy room. I think Supervisor also thought that she was gone, because she kinda blanched and quieted down.

 

So, now we are back to where we started. We hardly speak. I guess I should have left well enough alone and not begun speaking to her more. This is not a person that I can really befriend.

 

But I don't think that's my fault. I think it's more because Twiggy is someone who should have moved on long ago. My commiserating with her about the wrongly directed calls opened up a torrent of frustration. It was greatly more than what I expected, which made me think that she's been frustrated for a long time. She is someone who's been underappreciated and underemployed for so long that it's ground her down, I think.

 

Believe me, without Twiggy, this office would soon cease to function. I wonder if she's ever thought about demanding a raise. You should see all the travel she does. It's freaking crazy. She's an expert. I'm not sure I should encourage her, though. That could open up a whole other can of worms.