Do You Need a Lozenge?

There's a new guy. He sits about, oh, 20 feet away me in an office that usually has its door closed.

All day long, every day I hear him clearing his throat. It's become so persistent that I can pick up on it despite the clatter of phones being slammed, colleagues chattering about how "mainframe technology is so antiquated" (please, who are you fooling?), the stomping of heels walking back and forth, etc.

I hear it NOW as I am furiously typing away...AGAIN...and AGAIN! Really. Seriously. What the fucker? Take a motherfucking lozenge for christ sake!

Here's a pack of 20 on sale for a buck and change!
- Signing off from San Francisco (...and AGAIN!)

The Upside to Work-related Depression

First of all- the title.

Are you done laughing yet? Seriously, wipe those tears of laughter away and quit cackling. Your cubemates are getting pissed.

So here's the deal- for the past few months, the urge stand up on my chair and start screaming in rage and frustration has become stronger and stronger. Aside from the shitstorm that is my personal life (which is making it even more difficult to focus on reports, plans and color-coded grids), I feel like work -the people, situations, everything-is finally beginning to wear on what little is left on my soul.

And there's only a little left, I tell you.

I've never looked for meaning in job. After all, it was just a job. But I've been thinking lately that when I die (and it's looking like it's soon- work onsite heart attack, maybe?), I will have really wished that I did something else with this life.

I'm not a religious person, nor am I really spiritual. Maybe if I was, I wouldn't be struggling so much right now to find meaning in... everything. And as most people know, work is probably the hardest area to find any true meaning in. Unless you work for a non-profit, or are doing what you really love, then meaning is something you have to pull from work and not the other way around.

For the longest time, work=money to me. It still does. But lately, work has been cannibalizing whatever little bit of personal life I kidded myself into thinking I had. If my job is going to do that, then shouldn't I be able to find a modicum of happiness, or at least contentment, from my job?

I used to not care. Not care that I felt sick everytime I thought about work, much less wake up in the morning to come in. I thought it was just work and that was the way things were so supposed to be. But my medical bills are racking up and the one thing I keep hearing from all my doctors is that I am way too stressed out. Like, "maybe you should consider a life change" stressed out.

Oh trust me, doc, I'm thinking the same thing.

There is no such thing as a work-life balance for me and it's beginning to get to me. Work has become life and vice versa. I know I have control of my life, but I feel like work has control over me.

This is how I feel: My friend broke his arm in a pretty bad soccer accident a few years back. It was so bad, part of his bone was... um, exposed. Aside from the, you know, extraordinary PAIN he was in, he said the feeling of air on his bone was the worst. That's how I feel. Exposed and turned inside out, like the air at work is almost unbearable.

The world is so big. There's so many things to do and so many interesting people to meet and help and stories to hear.

The upside to work-related depression is this- it forces you to ask questions of yourself you normally wouldn't.

I'm working to make money but what I am staying alive for? And is it worth staying?

-Signing off in Seattle

Who you callin' a....?

Today my company sent around a media alert about a study they did on millennials in the workforce. I won't go into what exactly a millennial is (because, um, I just hyperlinked it on the first mention) but... really? A media alert? About a study you guys did on my generation in the workforce?

Is that where my bonus went?

I don't know really know how to express my disbelief at how pretentious our management is. The tone and the language used in this media alert is pretty funny, actually.

According to the media alert, this "comprehensive research initiative" drew information from all levels of the organization and interns from "several" universities. Funny- none of my peers in two offices took part in the initiative and according to all the articles I found on millennials, we're at the right age and level. That's two offices out of seven in the U.S. alone that weren't included.

The gist of this release says that:

• We don't believe in privacy
• We are radically different from everyone else in the workforce
• We like being part of a community
• We really like money but we hate working hard
• We communicate primarily through IM
• Technology=us
• We have a hard time defining boundaries

Some of this is true. Most of the people I know who are my age are technology natives. We're familiar with current technology and use it in both our personal and work lives ("You mean my cellphone can be used for work AND home? You're shitting me!").

Most of the media alert, however, sounds like a chapter from a book about learning to communicate with your teenager. Clearly, the folks in upper management (and most of them are at least a decade older than me, if not more) feel a great enough divide between them and millennials to commission a study on the current junior-to-mid level in the workforce.

All joking aside- yes, my generation grew up differently than theirs but that can be said for any generation, really. I'm guessing they see this media alert and study as a way to show they're still "hip" and "cool" and "with it"... whereas I kind of see it as a big red flag that they feel threatened and are trying to head off any accusations of that nature by releasing this waste of time.

I mean- did they really need to waste that money in an effort to create tips and tricks on how to communicate with me? How about treating me like I'm human and not trying to patronize me like I'm some sort of unrelatable alien?

I'm not saying that there aren't whiny little bitches in my peer group- because there are. There are many of them. I've blogged about them- frequently. But there are fucked up people at management too- people who are twice my age and act like the word team is akin to the ice level of Hell. Whereas my generation is all about transparency (or so I'm told), it seems like their generation is about covering things up with a giant cloth and pretending the giant cloth covered lump in the middle of the room isn't an elephant but a modern art sculpture depicting the fall of man.

Anyway, my point is- okay, I don't really have one. But I'm just tired of people making sweeping generalizations about who I am and what I must be like because I was born within a certain timeframe and I'm on Facebook. People seem to forget that, uh, hello, I'm a person. You can talk to me and I'll listen. I don't only respond to IM or text or Myspace. I'll be your friend outside of Facebook and LinkedIn and you don't have to follow me on Twitter to get my attention. I know the difference between a working relationship and a personal relationship and I don't expect anything more than what I work for.

Also, I know how to work hard and I know how to work honestly and I don't appreciate being bullshitted to by some ego-inflated, youth-obsessed stooge from upper management. On the flip side, I respect people who I think I can learn from, who are open-minded and can listen to criticism, and offer it, without going batshit.

-Signing off from Seattle

Lights. Blink. Grr.

I frequently drag my tired (non-morning person ass) into the office at a ridiculously early hour. Like 7 a.m. early.

This sucks.

But, I get a tiny amount of comfort because the lights are still out at this time and I can hunch over my keyboard with the glow of the computer screen illuminating my desk. This is a moment of serenity for me. Unfortunately, there is always some fool who always flips on the lights 10 minutes or so before 8:30 hits, causing my eyes to immediately squint and my body to cringe.

Who the fuck is this annoying person and why must they jerk me out of my peace early?!

I just want to sit in the dark for 10 more minutes before the vexations of the day begin. Is that so much to ask for? I think I deserve it.

-Signing off "bitter" in San Francisco

I Don't Care

I am being really lazy and my post today is an IM conversation I had with snark2.

[11:53] snark1: dude, can i just say that i hate when people tell me they are going to lunch
[11:53] snark1: fucking go to lunch, i don't care
[11:53] snark1: just get the shit done that you need to get done
[11:53] snark1: i don't need a goddamn itinerary

A girl on my team always feels the need to tell me if she's going to Walgreens, lunch, needs to leave at 5:31 p.m. Mind you this is the same girl that needs instructions on how to wipe her ass so I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. Nonetheless, still very annoying.

One day she asked me, "Do you anticipate me staying late today, because my friend is picking me up?" Um, really.

My response basically was "I don't know, dude, you tell me. Did you get done everything you needed to?"

-Signing off in San Francisco

FW: Please do NOT forward

Diplomacy, spinning, passive aggressiveness, etc. All of the above are used heavily in the world of PR(both for internal team and external client/reporter communications), which at times make for ambiguous interpretations. However, there are certain obvious things that just don't need to be spelled out in black and white. I mean, alright, you may need this one tiny little ability called "common sense" but other than that...

Here's the context. A "Girl" (I am referring to her as such) on my team is not cutting it and every day my patience with her continues to wane. Sure, we all know I am blunt in general, but I even feel like I'm turning into just a mean bitch every time she does something, well, stupid. Now on the bright side, it is also fully clear to the higher ups that Girl is in need of a massive kick in the ass - so she is fully on the way to getting a "PIP" (personal improvement plan a.k.a. the proverbial wake-up call to shape it up or get shipped out).

Anyway, I was insanely slammed one day and Girl was having one of her "stupid" moments so I deferred her to a Director, who normally doesn't work very closely with the team, but she had offered to lend a "helping" hand. Unfortunately, I had laid out in e-mail how dissatisfied I was with the document Girl was working on and basically used the "see, this is what I mean" tone.

This rant may seem as though I'm about to rip Girl a new one, but this actually is targeted squarely on Director as she proceeds to forward my initial e-mail to Girl.

Um, hello! Raising my hand! But how freaking hard would it have been to click on "New," attached document and hit send. Did I really need to spell out that this chain is NOT okay to forward - especially to the person that is being discussed!

To be fair, the e-mail really wasn't that scathing and I honestly would have given the same feedback to Girl directly (as I do like to be blunt in my critiques). But still, it definitely was correspondence that should have stayed between Director and me.

Point of story. My bad if you do something wrong because you misinterpreted something I said for being too verbose, vague, etc. But, smack in the face to you for missing the red flag, blinking sign, elephant in the room, big fat zit on your nose and doing something just stupid.

-Signing off from San Francisco

Top 5 List- Signs that you are batshit

This time, the list is on the top five work annoyances that prove some people are just freaks.

In no particular order:

Tardiness:
Some people are always late to things. They usually rush into a room minutes after a meeting has already started, flustered and pink-cheeked, muttering excuses under their breath. People stare at them for an angry second and then the meeting goes on.

You know what?

Those people are asses.

Yeah, that's right, Miss I'm-Always-the-Last-Person-to-Show-Up- you are an ASS.

I'm not bitching about the person who is occasionally late because, hell, shit happens right? I don't have a perfect track record but I will try my goddamn hardest to be on time, on the dot, for meetings, in-person or on a call. Why? Because we all have better stuff to do with our day then wait around for the one or two fuck ups who just had to reheat their coffee or tea, or get a piece of chocolate from the kitchen, or want to finish their game of Scrabulous before heading off on the 10 foot walk to the conference room.

It's not a quirk. It's not part of your personality. It's just you acting like an asshole.

Look at it this way- when people are always late to events, meetings, dates, it tells me that they don't give a flying fuck about me or the other people who have to wait for them. Intentional or not, it's not acceptable and I don't care how many excuses these people have to fall back on, they're being disrespectful.

Having a disgusting workspace:
If I have to step over the pile of trash to talk to you in your cube, something is wrong. If I can barely find a space to stand in, if I'm sneezing because there's a layer of dust over everything around you, and if that old discarded Snickers wrapper is moving by itself- something is wrong.

Sorry, just because you work here doesn't mean you own the space. I've been in work areas where there are several file piles taller than me and a strange, rotten scent lingers in the air. It's not at all endearing. It's actually quite frightening.

(A side note here- there's a messy desk and then there's just disgusting. A messy desk is usually had by someone who is crazy busy but has a method to their madness. Their desks are usually covered in papers that they need at a grabbing distance. A disgusting desk means that you're not quite sure there is a desk in the cube but you would assume there is one because the crazy mosaic of trash over there is shaped vaguely like a flat surface with four legs.)

We all work really hard and sometimes we just throw stuff aside in our daily work lives because other things take our attention. It's cool. I am all for people figuring out their own systems, their own way of getting shit done. I cringe when people try to impose their way of doing something - because they think it's the only way - on other people. That's not fair to anyone. There's one guy I use to work with that never took notes during meetings. He remembered everything though so I wasn't going to tell him to take notes just because it worked for me. Also, I will manage my inbox the way I want to, thankyouverymuch.

But a messy work space just tells me you're dirty.

If you need teddy bears (note the plural form here), figurines, old tin canisters, three dead plants and empty plastic bags around you to function like a normal human being, here's a newsflash- it isn't working.

Clean your shit up, Pigpen. This isn't Peanuts and you are not cute.

Stealing a conference room/something from someone else's desk:
...in the right mood, I would cut someone's throat for lesser offences.

Eating my lunch:
I always label my lunch and yet, at three different agencies, I've had my lunch stolen from me no less than four times.

Clearly, there are geniuses at work here. I mean, seriously? What the fuck kind of deterrent would keep a jerk like this away from a bag that's clearly labeled? Automatic Mace? Do I need to stand guard in front of the refrigerator to protect the virture of my lunch?

Since you work, I'm assuming you have money. Buy your own lunch, you fucking pig.

Not sure if you can tell but this one really pisses me off.

Asking me if I'm busy when- no shit, Sherlock- it's clear I am:
If I'm staring crazily at my monitor and my fingers are flying over the keyboard, or if I have a headset on and I'm scribbling notes in my notebook, the safe assumption would be that I'm in the middle of something. Right?

Children at age five- or six-years of age have the cognitive ability to correctly assess a situation and plan next steps.

Do you mean to tell me that you're dumber than a six year-old?

Anyway, one day I am going to keel over in my cube and just fall down dead on the spot of a stress-induced heart attack. Seriously, I need to take up yoga or something or the freaks at work will lead to my early death.

-Signing off in Seattle

Now for a taste of something different: The Emissary of Peace

Of all the titles I want to hold, the Emissary of Peace is among the top 10. It sounds super cool but unfortunately it doesn't really apply to me. Clearly, from my past posts, I am an angry, angry girl.

This weekend, I'll get to watch the guy who the real Emissary of Peace reports to. You may have heard of him- he answers to the title Dalai Lama.

The Dalai Lama will be speaking at Qwest Field this Saturday (more information below) and obviously, lots of press want to be at the event. Guess what? If they want to get in, they have to go through a PR agency.

Which (HA) happens to be the one I work for.

I'll be managing a reporter section (oh, joy!) which is a bit of a surprise because I was expecting to be an usher or other kind of grunt but whatever. I'm just happy to be around for this event. That sounds cheesy but I'm really glad I have the chance to volunteer.

The event is called Seeds of Compassion and is about, "providing the fundamental foundations for happiness and success in children, their lives and the society they live in. Those foundations which are critical for success in school and in life include Early Learning, Cognitive Development and Social-Emotional development."

I majored in Child Psychology, with an emphasis on Psycholinguistics (yes, it deserves all inital capitalizations) so my interest is always perked up when I hear of an event or a cause that aims to help children, you know, not FAIL. I think the most important thing that parents can pass on to their children is respect. Respect for themselves, other living creatures and the environment. Once they have respect down, they are set for life. Compassion is just the cherry on top of the Respect sundae, y'all.

This is probably going to be a grueling, brutal event. Reporters can be mean (and yes, PR people can be asinine) but hopefully we can all get together and act compassionate and respectful towards one another for at least a few hours this weekend.

Otherwise, I'm kicking them out of the press box. Just sayin'.

SEEDS OF COMPASSION GATHERING
APRIL 11–15, 2008, SEATTLE, WA
http://www.seedsofcompassion.org/event/
An unprecedented gathering to engage the hearts and minds of our community by highlighting the vision, science, and programs of early social, emotional, and cognitive learning.

Anchored by the deep wisdom of His Holiness the Dalai Lama, this community–focused event will celebrate and explore the relationships, programs and tools that nurture and empower children, families and communities to be compassionate members of society.

Each of the five days will provide parents, educators, business and community leaders with an opportunity to better understand the real benefits of compassion, and concrete steps on how to bring compassion into their lives.

-Signing off in Seattle

:)

Seattle and I clearly have a LOT of work pet peeves, but there is one that seriously and truly makes me want to throw a fucking stapler at someone's head.

The smiley face emoticon. My eyes involuntarily rolled at the thought of it.

Here's my unsolicited piece of advice for the day:

A smiley face emoticon in IM may be OK on occasion. A smiley face emoticon in an email every once in a while...fine, I will let this one slide (no one is perfect). A smiley face emoticon after every annoying and passive aggressive comment does NOT make that comment any less annoying. So, stop it. STOP.

Part of the reason I hate this commonly used feature is due largely to this woman I work with, who I do happen to think is very smart and good at her job. She's fairly aggressive and that's something I actually like about her, BUT she can at times cross that line to pushy and overbearing, which is usually in the form of a very obvious or passive aggressive statement...immediately followed by, you guessed it, a smiley face:)

I assume she thinks this helps ease the blow of an annoying comment and let's the person feel like they're not getting the smack down - but it doesn't. Nor does it make me think any nicer thoughts about her. It's along the same vein as someone making a racist comment, but saying they're not racist. Come on. We all know that one is a facade.

So I suppose my second piece of advice would be to just lay it out on the table and don't make any apologies for it. If it's warranted, and more importantly, correct then you've got nothing to worry about.

Class dismissed.

-Signing off from San Francisco

We are not a start-up. No pets allowed.

I like animals. Especially cute, furry ones with big round eyes and sweet dispositions. I've never hurt an animal. It's one of the reasons why I'm a vegetarian.

However, I don't want to be around animals at certain times of the day. Let's say, between 8:30 a.m.-5:30 p.m. on weekdays. To be more specific, let's say around 12:00 - 1:00 p.m.

One of the reporters we work with (on another team) decided to bring his dog into our office during an in-person meeting with a client. S'all fine and good, right?

Wrong.

The dog in question was being baby-(dog)sat by a few of the folks on that team and, okay, it's a Friday, but come on. We still have to work for our other clients. If you bring your dog to a restaurant, you don't expect the waitstaff to dogsit, do you? This is an office setting. If you decide to bring your dog with you to a meeting, why not keep it with you-

-where you can see it-

...and clean up after it when it vomits and pisses.

No joke, folks. The little bitch (I'm allowed- it's a female dog) threw up. In our kitchen. On the seat at the table. While a bunch of us were eating lunch.

That's abso-fucking-lutely unacceptable in my book. And I know the folks on that team thought I was being particularly prissy when I got up and moved my food to another table (muttering obscenitites all the way) but that's disgusting. I may not have grown up around dogs but I draw the line at eating my lunch two feet away from chunky dog vomit. And yes, I will complain- I reserve the fucking right to complain. Of all the places in the damn office you could take that dog, why choose to let it hang out in the kitchen where people are eating?

Considering that it pissed in the hallway outside the kitchen a few minutes later, I would think the folks dogsitting finally realized that maybe the dog was better off with its owner. I don't care if they thought I was being a horrible person by picking sullenly at my food (vomit+tofu, mushrooms, and brown rice=unappetizing); I was just wondering when the light bulb would finally turn on over their heads and they realized, hmm, maybe she's nervous being around a bunch of strangers without her owner.

At the end of the day, I know it's not the dog's fault. She was a cute little bitch (seriously, I like saying that) but her owner was an ass.

-Signing off from Seattle

A List

Behold, for the amusement of all our fine readers (yes, all three of you deserve a gold star because you totally win at life), the very first top 5 list on this blog.

The Top 5 list of stupid conversation topics by coworkers, without prompting:

Who you made out with/slept with/blew the night before.
Usually, the story is told by a female coworker who happened to hook up with what probably was a completely fug dude but will be described as a hot piece of ass the next day. I have only a few real friends at work whose lives I'm actually interested in but for some reason, it's the girls that I don't talk to and/or don't hang out with (and wouldn't want to. Ever.) that offer up these tales of whoredom.

Commonsense- don't talk up your slutty after-work life to someone whose last name you can barely spell.

The dream you had last night.
I doubt even your mother would care.

That rash/scab/pus filled pustule.
I'm a bit of a natural science nerd. My favorite book is Parasite Rex by Carl Zimmer. My favorite way to relax before bed is to listen to an audiobook by Dr. Richard Berendzen called Pulp Physics. People in my office know that I like science.

That section of gangrene on your leg? That's not science. That's a health hazard.

Telling me about that rash there or that strange cut that won't heal doesn't quite fall in the same category as say, a book on life's transformation from the first microbes 4 billion years ago to today's life forms. Forget category. If your bad bout of diarhhea is one universe and my interest in science is in another, it would take a million years before the creatures in my universe would notice that yours exploded.

Key takeaway? You're freaking me out. Stop that.

Your extensive workout routine.
...I'm really sorry for cutting you off mid-sentence, but I just realized that I don't give a rat's ass how many minutes you spent on the bike versus how many minutes you spent weight training.

How beautiful/shitty the weather is.
Thanks for letting me know how much you hate/like the weather today. I really hope we'll never have this conversation again.

-Signing off in Seattle

Fortune Cookie

My fortune cookie told me today that I will "deserve to have a good time after a hard day's work."

Wow. I am waiting with bated breath.

And for those that find meaning in the meaningless, here are my "lucky" numbers for today:

6, 15, 20, 30, 43, 47

My guess: I'll have an amazingly speedy 6 second average of responding to 15 asinine e-mails, while being pinged only every 20 minutes to answer 30 questions, leaving me a whopping 43 minutes to wrap up my over extended day so I can have 47 minutes of "good time."

-Signing off from San Francisco

Keep your happiness to yourself!!!!1!!!!!1!!!

In the past six months, our office has run through about four receptionists. Administrative assistants. Junior office managers. Uh, really, to me it's the person who is the Phone-answerer/Costco-orderer/Magazine-distributor. I don't mean that to sound disparaging. I've been in that seat and it's not a fun job. But you roll with the punches and make really mean comments in your head about the people who pass by you at the front desk to make the day go by faster. At least, that's what I used to do when I was a receptionist.

(Oh yeah- just because I had a smile on my face didn't mean I was thinking nice thoughts, people.)

The first receptionist we had, after our old one left, was effing FANTASTIC. Amy, wherever you are, I heart you. Come back, please.

Anyway-

Our latest gal Friday is a little bit, well, odd. And by a little bit odd, I mean, way fucking peculiar. Working in this industry, you start developing a sixth sense about people. Sure, first impressions don't always seal the deal for me but you know, when you thnk someone is funny, and not funny-haha but funny-weird, the first time you meet them odds are they probably really are that way.

When I first met this woman, I thought- oh yay, someone else to run away from in the hallways. I do need to perfect my jackass-dodging skills.

After hour two on the job, she started sending out emails with numerous exclamation points and quotes about being happy and cheerful. I think it was Elmore Leonard who said something like "You are allowed no more than two or three per 100,000 words." I translate that to mean, you are not allowed to use exclamation points, ever, in an office email or work document. And if you have more than 100,000 words in an email, STFU already.

The last thing I need on a Thursday morning after a late night out is to read, "Remember that a smile can go a long way for someone who’s feeling a little low, so keep those frowns upside down!!!!!" in an email about who's going to be out of the office next week.

I don't care what the unicorns and fairies tell you to write, keep it free of any requests to turn frowns upside down, thank you.

One time, I passed by her desk (fort) and she smiled at me and said, "I just hung up on two people today." Uh, I didn't ask or anything so aside from being incredibly inappropriate, it was weird that she just decided to volunteer that information to me without prompting.

Also- I didn't draft the contract but holy-effing-Christ-on-a-pogo, I don't think we hired you to hang up on people. In fact, I think we brought you on to do the complete opposite. That black piece of plastic with the handset and the numbered buttons was not made to be ignored. I know it's a shocker. Breathe, people.

Anyway, that was my long-winded way of saying we have a weird receptionist.

-Signing off from Seattle

There is no "I" in team...

...therefore the team SUCKS.

First of all, Happy Valentines Day! No seriously, I hope everyone had a great day today. I know I did.

The day started off with our lovely Operations team passing out glorious icing-laden cupcakes (or as I like to think of them, little bits of 'better than sex') to everyone in the office. I know, seriously, we have it good here. I like to fancy myself a vegan 23.99999 hours of the day but there was no effing way I was going to pass up having a cupcake for breakfast.

Anyway, about six hours later, someone sent out an email saying "Thank you" to the Operations team. It was absolutely well-deserved, yes indeed. And it needed to be said.

However, the twenty fucking emails that followed- all with little jokes and one-liners- were not needed. Fuck that. It may be 4:00 p.m. and we may only have an hour and a half left in the day but Shut. The. Fuck. Up. People.

Quit typing and step away from your keyboards. I don't care if you have to gnaw off your goddamn fingers to resist the urge to hit "Reply All" but I don't give a shit about what you have to say regarding those cupcakes from this morning. If you want to have a conversation (which clearly is the case), walk your ass over to the person who wrote the last email and speak to them. You are not witty, you are not funny and you are most definitely not amusing those of us who have to hit delete everytime Re: Cupcake Heaven appears in their inbox.

My coworker, who shall remain nameless, made some comment about me not being a team player. What the hell does being a team player have to do with being annoyed at the fact that I'm getting SPAMMED? You'd think if these people were really team players they'd shut their traps and quit filling my inbox with inane chatter about.... cupcakes.

I was so irritated that I took time out of my billable hours to rant. Clearly, those Re: Cupcake Heaven people aren't working either, are they?

-Signing off from Seattle

Holy Shit...You ARE Clueless

So for the past month or so I've been slaving away at a press release. Now, that may seem like quite some time, but it is almost unimaginable how many people have to take a look at the stupid thing and how many people have to provide their 2 cents. And how much effort it takes to put the smack down on people complaining because their lame nonsensical, parochial additions couldn't make it in. Anyway, that's a whole separate blogworthy topic.

So, for the past 2 weeks my team has been pitching the news from this release and working together on other collateral. This is all per the usual, blah blah nothing new. I walk over to the CE's (equivalent to AAE) cube and we are chatting about account activity and I mention the release. Her question to me is:

Stop. Prepare, because this is a good one.

"Oh, what press release are you working on?"

Silence. Lots of eye blinks. The only response I could muster up was, "Is that a serious question?"

-Signing off from San Francisco

Just a Quickie

This is similar, but not quite as asinine as questions from "Don't Believe What Your Mother Told You..."

A conversation that left me a bit baffled. After spending an unacceptable amount of time editing someone else's sub-par work...

Me: "This is much better please send out tonight."

Associate: "OK! Can I buzz you, I just want to make sure I send it to everyone I'm supposed to."

Me: Sigh. "Just send it to the same distro I sent the release out to."

Associate: "OK! Well, I'm not sure who that is."

Me: Pause. Hold sigh. "Look for my e-mail. If you can't find it I can just tell you."

Associate: "OK! Let me look."

2 minutes later...

Associate: "OK! I think I found it. Is it X, Y and Z?"

Me: Heavy sigh. Eye roll. "No."

-Signing off from San Francisco