Friday, June 20, 2008
lunch with my boss
My under-par office morale is fairly obvious to anyone paying the slightest ounce of attention. The other day, my manager (Jackie) emailed me to say, "You know, we never did reschedule that lunch we were supposed to have months ago... How's Friday?" Now, I know that this lunch has 2 purposes: to discuss my position and how I feel in it, and to try to make sure I'm not leaving. Jackie is a great manager, and I really enjoy working under her, and I'll let her know that. I'll also let her know that unfortunately, there's nothing she (as my manager) can do to make me happy in my job. I'm bored- not because I don't have enough to do, but because what I do has minimal intellectual stimulation, and honestly, a monkey could do it. It's the same thing, day in and day out. I'm a project coordinator, and I never see any projects. There have been 3 times in the last 2 1/2 years where I have felt validated as an employee, and that's not enough. It's not enough to have a 2% raise every year, when you only bring home $24K a year and gas has increased by 100%. That 2% raise is the company telling me, "We have to keep you at a living wage, so hopefully this will balance out the inflation." This is not a raise or a bonus for a job well-done. And if I am given more responsibility, I don't see the title or financial incentive to go with it. I'll also admit that I'm still bitter about not receiving the marketing promotion. There was no reason to not give me the chance. If they had hired someone more qualified, that's one thing. But they didn't. They hired a middle-aged stay-at-home-mom, who's been out of the workforce for 13 years. She's a dopey idiot who doesn't understand basic social etiquette in an office setting. It's a slap in the face.
This heart-to-heart (I believe) will make it a little easier when I put in my 2 weeks notice next month. At least now, I have a chance to truly explain how I feel about the job, and why I'm unhappy here. When I give them my resignation, all I'll have to say is that I'm taking my life in a new direction, where I'll be appreciated, challenged, and satisfied with my career matching my abilities and intellect.
an undying love for breakfast sandwiches
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
so fun to cause trouble
Monday, June 16, 2008
so this is how the napolean complex is developed...
I am aware that I am perhaps shorter than most people. At 5'2 3/4" I get that. I also understand that I'm relatively quiet, especially when I'm in a bad mood. However, I still exist and I refuse to be ignored. All I wanted was a meatball sub to make me feel better and I go to the place, and people hold the door open for other people, but they let the door slam in my face when I walk up. I wait in line with all the other rude people with their bug-eye giant sunglasses and their overpriced designer purses knocking me over, and it's finally my turn and they're OUT of meatball subs. It's not like they were out like they ran out. It wasn't even on the menu anymore. :( They had decided to not serve it. Ever again. *sigh* I got a fucking salad instead. And THEN the dude cut in line, right in front of me! HELLO! I'm standing RIGHT here! In FRONT of you.
parental figures are going to give me an ulcer.
Since when did it become acceptable for a 55 year old mother to start acting like a 14 year old with a temper tantrum?!?! Honestly. First of all, it is not my responsibility to hold up an agreement that she volunteered me for, without my knowing. What is the agreement you might be wondering? To drive her 43 year old knocked up friend 2 ½ hours back to Maryland from the beach because she childishly desires to “run away” from her baby daddy’s older daughters who apparently are treating her with slight disrespect. Be an adult. Stand up for yourself. You don’t need your baby daddy to stand up for you. Are you a deaf mute? No. Speak up, don’t just run to your friend (my mother) and solicit her daughter (me) to drive you home. Unless the dude is beating you and your unborn child, deal with it. Not to mention, I don’t even KNOW this woman. I worked at the bar Friday night, and Saturday night, didn't make any money Saturday night, and drove 2 ½ hours to the beach Sunday morning to put together a dresser and 2 bedside tables, just to drive back that night, on Father’s Day mind you, to visit with my dad, a topic my mother clearly was avoiding. I was exhausted and pulled in 5 different directions, trying to appease my mother.
It went down like this- Mom checks a message, from this woman. With a look of judgmental disgust, my mother informs me (as she listens to the message) that she’s sitting in the middle of a soap opera, and begins to tell me her friend is in a “difficult situation,” and with some judging attitude (toward her friend) tells me her friend just asked if I could drive her home. My mother’s portrayal of the “difficult situation” left me lacking a reason to comply with this strange request. With a scorn on her face, she laced her story with an attitude insinuating how ridiculous this request would be. She calls her friend back and truthfully says that I am not sure what time I’m going back to Maryland (true), and that I need to stop in Laurel first to visit with my dad for Father’s Day (true) and that I’m a little uncomfortable with the request (also true), the whole time backing me up on this.
Side note- we have had an ongoing disagreement regarding the beach house, as it is the “family” house, not just hers, I am an adult, and neither one of us should be asking permission to come down and use the house, as it belongs to her, me, and my brother, equally. In the next few years, the house will go to just my brother and me, and legally, it will be our house, not my mother’s and our house… Because I wanted to coordinate how many beds would be free over 4th of July, I asked if she would be coming down, and she ATTACKS me and accuses me of trying to push her out of the beach house and tell her she’s “not allowed” there because “I’m taking over for me and my friends” to “have wild parties” and shit. Laura can attest to this argument and how it came about, out of the blue, and was completely unwarranted. Now, it’s 2 weeks after this initial blow-out, and I gently decide to bring up the subject, as I still need to find out how many beds are available… I gently say, “Mom, what are your plans for 4th of July? I was thinking of coming down here, do you think you and John will be able to come down?” She said she didn’t know, and acknowledged that I wanted to come down to the beach… so then I very nicely say (because of last time), “Mom, I want you to know, I don’t mind you being here even if my friends are here, I don’t want you to feel excluded or ‘pushed out’,” to which she responds, “well THANKS,” and storms off.
We don’t speak for a while, and begin to put together IKEA furniture in silence- awkward. After a while, I ask how her friend is, and what the deal was- why she had to go home from the beach instead of staying with her baby daddy’s family. (I didn’t say “baby daddy”, I said “husband”)
**As a side note, when my mother is pissed off, she’ll use ANY excuse to pick a fight.**
She EXPLODES and says she doesn’t understand why I would be so “mean” and not drive her friend home, saying how I’m insensitive and ridiculously childish just because I don’t know the woman. I replied, “are you serious?! You even said it was a ridiculous request, and aside from that you volunteered me for it without my knowing?! How is that fair? I’m sorry, but I don’t feel comfortable being obligated to drive someone home, when they only want to go home because they don’t feel like being an adult and dealing with the situation.” My mother continues to accuse me of whatever she can think of, as she’s sitting in the rocking chair and I’m on the floor sweating in the heat, putting together this stupid dresser on the porch, and finally I say, “Mom, just stop talking. You’re being ridiculous.” To that she screams, “WHAT BECAUSE YOU’RE SOOOOOO PERFECT?!?!?!”
What? Where did THAT come from? The rest of the night we didn’t speak. The dresser was assembled. I got french-fries. I calmed down. She still thinks I’m an insensitive bitch that thinks I’m so perfect that I don’t want to help someone and that I just leave her with so much to do on her own, and I never help her with the beach house because I’m never there… she refuses to acknowledge that having 3 jobs can hinder my “beach time”.
Earlier that morning, around 10am, I called my dad to wish him a happy Father’s Day, and ask when he’d like to get together to celebrate, especially since my brother was in town. It went to his voicemail- both house and cell, so I left a message. I told him I had to do some stuff at the beach house, but that I’d be back in time for dinner or something, and to give me a call and let me know what he’d prefer. At 8pm, he called to cheerfully say he and my brother had just ordered dinner, out at a restaurant, and wanted to call and just make sure I wasn’t at his house or on my way there… since he and my brother were out… Ok. I guess he didn’t want to call me earlier and invite me to dinner too… or even on his way to the restaurant… I guess that just wasn’t something he was interested in, you know, spending Father’s Day with both his kids… I guess just the one is good enough. I’m not even going to touch on the subject of this extra car that has surfaced, that my dad is letting my brother use… instead of selling it like he said he would…. Since my brother already HAS a car, and this car is brand new… probably not the best idea to let him borrow it, especially if you want to sell it… and since the money from the car is to be split between us… and I needed the money for SCHOOL and my brother just wants to use it for more car crap. And my brother gets 2 bedrooms- and he doesn’t even LIVE there and I’m going to be moving back home and the 2nd bedroom is still HIS ROOM AND HE’S NOT EVEN THERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So I’ll just keep ALL my stuff in my tiny room, and it’ll be cozy because I won’t be able to move because it’s more important to have my brother’s two bedrooms practically empty, because they’re HIS. My dad never invites me to dinner anymore. Even on Easter, I called in the morning to see if we were doing dinner with my grandmother… He called me back, after dinner, to say that they all went out to eat with my grandmother. I swear, I must be invisible. I feel like I’m off the radar from EVERYone.
There was massive traffic this morning, I was an hour late to work, didn’t even get my coffee yet before 4 people were asking me to do stuff, and I can't find my english muffins in the fridge at work because someone threw them away and I'm really hungry now. I need breakfast to function. And WHY on earth does my mother feel the need to call me at 7:30am to ask me about a painting to go in her bedroom???? Do NOT call me that early unless it is an emergency. I’m trying to iron, I don’t iron!!! And I hear my phone go off twice in a row- I’m thinking, something must be wrong. I just spoke to my mother last night, at 11:30pm. Why is she calling me? Did my grandmother die? No. She wants to discuss a painting in her bedroom, and pretend the previous day’s arguments never existed. She asks if I want to see a picture. “No, mom, I don’t. I have to go to work now.” I run to my car, pulling out of the Giant parking lot, because there is never enough parking in the apartment lot, and my phone beeps. I look. She sent me a freaking picture. UGH.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
cold shower in the dark
It stormed a lot last night. Starting around 3pm, the sky became very dark, with rain and thunderstorms blanketing the area. At 7:30pm, after a long commute home from work (2 1/2 hours), I was starving. My roommate informed me we had no power at the apartment, so I called Mama Lucia's and made sure they had power, and we planned a field trip to Mama's to feed ourselves, as we had nothing that didn't need to be cooked by electricity at home. Everyone and their mother was at Mama Lucia's for dinner, and I was getting increasingly grumpy by the minute. (Anyone who knows me understands that if I'm not fed I become very grumpy and crabby and bitchy and I snap at people I love, but they know it's just my stomach talking so they still love me back) Instead of waiting for a table, I suggested we just go next door to Giant and get some pre-made deliciousness. After picking up an Odwalla juice and a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips, I walked around Giant, pouting, and didn't want anything I saw. We decided to go back to Mama's and deal with the wait. As soon as we step out of Giant... downpour. We were soaked. And my chips got wet too.
We ordered our food- I ordered my usual Chicken Francese (so yummy) and the big guy throwing pizza dough smiled and winked at me after waving hello. He knows me. I used to go there a lot. He called me "#1" because once I called for a pick-up order and I was #1, and I got excited, and he laughed. Ever since then, whenever he sees me, he yells out, "NUMBER ONE!" and asks if I want a sample of some kind. The food was ready, and my friend Mike showed up to join the party. We took the food back to our dark apartment, stopping at Mike's car so he could give me Nintendo (complete with a power cord- without which I would put the Nintendo in my closet for the duration of it's life, so that was helpful) because he owes me $40 and we like trading. So we traded.
Dark Dining
Did you know the Internet is powered by electricity?
We considered going to a movie since there was nothing do but sit and stare at each other in the dark. I suggested we use Laura's laptop, since it was charged, it could run on battery and then we could use the Internet to look up movie times. Her blackberry works fine when the power is out and SHE can access the Internet, so why not the laptop?
Laura: "Are you honestly saying that?"
Me: "What?"
We had a lesson on Internet and routers and electricity and cell phone radar or something versus laptop radar. Whatever. We didn't end up going to a movie.
The hot water heater is also powered by electricity.
Growing up on well-water, whenever our electricity went out, you lost ALL water, didn't matter if it was hot or cold. You had 1 single token flush, and then that was it, unless you poured gallon-water into the tank, then you could flush again. The cool thing about being in an apartment, is you always have water! So, once it was decided we weren't going to a movie, I thought, well, maybe I'll just take a dark shower.
Laura: "You better hope there's enough hot water still..."
Me: "Why? What the hell. There's no hot water either?! This is like pretending to be Amish."
Bubbles for Sampson
Sampson is my goldfish. I originally thought he was a bully, until my other black goldfish, Pumperknickle, died. Now he's an only goldfish so I try to be nicer to him. At any rate, if any of you are familiar with goldfish, they need very clean tanks because they're dirty and create bacteria and then they can die.
Mike: "Sampson needs his water filter to work, hope that doesn't cause problems."
Me: "Well he just needs air, right? If it gets bad maybe we can just blow bubbles through a straw into the tank."
Mike and Laura: *blank stare*
Me: "....not a good idea?"
I was afraid all my popcicles would melt since the refrigerator was off, so I ate one, which probably made the rest of them melt faster since I opened the freezer door, AND took a cold thing away from the other cold things. We went to bed at 10:30, which hasn't happened in a VERY long time. The next morning, the power was still not working so I took a very cold shower in the dark to welcome the day.
apartment characters
There are characters in every living situation, and apartment living provides the most eclectic grouping. For instance, we have the typical "weird cat lady" living right next door. Her eye twitches when she talks, she'll corner you by the mailboxes or in the laundry room to discuss common sense topics. She admits to not sleeping, and never leaving the apartment except to get groceries. This is true, since we see the daily Washington Posts sitting outside her door, piling up for days on end, and any time you walk down the hallway, her TV is on- 8pm, 12am, 5am, 3am... Her window (you can see from the outside) is covered in multiple stacks of trashy romance novels and science fiction thrillers.
Down the hall there is a young couple with a brand new bull dog puppy, named Bob, after Bob Marley. I run into the guy outside all the time, at all hours- and he's just content to stand there and smoke a blunt, and go back to bed. Very nice people, and Bob is so cute.
Our other next door neighbors- a quiet couple with a Great Dane- pretty much keep to themselves. Every time they take the dog out, they leave their apartment door cracked and I can see their bookshelf. It's spans almost the entire wall and is filled with what looks from a distance like artifacts and artwork and classic literature. Although, the guy definitely has a drinking problem. Sitting on my couch, I could hear this banging. I look through the peep-hole and see him standing in front of his apartment, leaning his head on the door. I open the door and ask if he needs to use a phone- since I've been locked out before, I know how bad it can be. He grabs my phone without even looking at my face, dials, yells, gives me back the phone. A moment later, my phone rang, and it was his girlfriend, asking who I was, etc. I informed her I was her neighbor and was just trying to help if he was locked out. She apologized for her boyfriend, and hung up. He continued to yell and bang on the door. By this point, I gathered that she was inside, refusing to let his drunk ass in. Then silence.... I look out the peep-hole again, and he's gone. Then all of the sudden, I see a flash of a screaming drunk neighbor run across the hall, arms flailing. To the left disappearing beyond the next wall..... wait for it.... and then back to the right. This has happened a few times now. Yet when I see him sober, he's so quiet, reserved, and will barely look up from the sidewalk.
The other week I came home from working at the bar to find 3 half naked men sleeping in the hallway at 4am Friday night... Apparently they pissed off the girls in the apartment next door, who were then refusing to let them back in.
Our upstairs neighbor has strange habits, and a very bad sex life. She vaccuums every Sunday night at 11pm, like clockwork, and occassionally must drop big furniture or run head-first into the wall, because a very loud BOOM occurs without rhyme or reason. And every now and then, (less often now) she has sex. About once every 2 weeks or so, the bed above our apartment squeaks in a depressing rhythmic pattern for a very short period.
Squeak......Squeak......Squeak......Squeak......Squeak......SqueakSqueakSqueakSqueakSqueak. Done. Footsteps to bathroom.
She must have had a fling though at some point over the winter, because the pattern sounded a lot better and lasted for much longer. She's back with the other guy now though. Poor girl.
A man, who reminds me of Jack Nicholson in 'As Good As It Gets," briskly walks the hallway at 7:30am. unaware of those around him, letting doors slam in your face. He has a military crew cut, and wears a pressed button-down plaid shirt every day. He always carries a large bag with him- a breifcase/backpack/laptop bag I assume... He never says a word, and seems like he has OCD tendencies...
Every afternoon when I arrive home from work, an old man, we'll call him Larry, sits on the wicker couch in the lobby, in front of the mailboxes, and watches everyone as they come home, or he'll sit on the bench just outside. He dresses in a suit, and wears a full brim hat, every day, to sit by the mailboxes and watch people come home.
The maintenance man will wave at me and ask how I'm doing, and how my dog is doing. He washes his bright blue sportscar every few days in our parking lot, and lives on the first floor, in one of the premium apartments with a patio and habachi grill. I should have made friends with him before I locked myself out by throwing my keys down the trash shoot on Thanksgiving, with a turkey in the oven... He points to my window on the second floor and tells me how my dog has been looking out the window for a while, waiting for me to come home. She perches herself on the A.C. unit and sticks her furry head out the blinds to watch all the comings and goings out the window. When you're in the parking lot and you look up, she almost looks like a stuffed animal.
Then when the power goes out, it's like summer camp. People grab lawn chairs and open all their apartment doors, and sit in the generator-lit hallway playing UNO and drinking beer. And that's how you make friends with your neighbors. The End.beach bum
As I mentioned the other day, the beach fixes everything. Not only did it cure my 2 week congestion streak, but it renewed my energy and sense of contentment. 
Where else can you catapolt rubber frogs (2 for $1) over a make-shift pond and land them in moving lillypads and win a prize? 
the underground world of nerf gun warfare
employee morale
My sub-par office morale has been caused by several factors, which I won't bore you with. However, one thing that has really bugged me for a long time is printer etiquette. I have reached my limit. Honestly, is it THAT hard to just look on the printer and pick out what's yours and leave the rest next to the printer? Really? I print documents and don't usually get the chance to jump up and grab it off the printer right away. Obviously, I'm very busy with work things (and blogging and playing on facebook). People go and take EVERYthing off the printer and take it with them without LOOKING to see what they took. Then I'm wondering where the heck my contracts walked off to and I have to print things again which is a WASTE of paper and DETRIMENTAL to the environment, and I get ESPECIALLY annoyed when something I printed clearly has my NAME on it, and people STILL TAKE IT! It's not yours! Put it back! I honestly am about to snap. Maybe not as bad as this guy though... Employee morale is definitely lacking wherever this took place.
From a security camera (black/white, no sound):
From a cell phone angle (with sound):
