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
Friday, April 4, 2008
Friday, March 14, 2008
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
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
Monday, March 10, 2008
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
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
Thursday, March 6, 2008
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
(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
Thursday, February 14, 2008
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
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
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
Friday, February 8, 2008
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
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
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