A word or two about smells to working professionals everywhere.
Lunch:
So it's really important you have lunch away from your desk and/or work area as much as you can. Seriously, you work hard- take a break. You should eat your lunch in the kitchen or, if your company does not have a kitchen, outside in the nice, bright sun. Yes, bask in its life giving rays and contemplate the meaning of life while you munch on your curry chicken.
Do not eat lunch at your desk.
Do not eat lunch at your desk especially if you work in a cube or newsroom-setting where there are no walls to protect the innocent from the stench-emanating piece of steaming crap on your plate that you think is food but is really a rotting piece of whale flesh. Or at least smells like it.
I used to eat tuna sandwiches at my desk but I cut that shit out after a few weeks because my coworkers complained. Fine. Great. I did it out of respect to my colleague's olfactory sensibilities. But let's face it, tuna is a mild offender compared to, oh, I don't know, a bowl of vinegar!
(As I sit here writing this post, I can't help but wish I could walk over to the vineger offender and dump said bowl of vinegar over his or her head. I'm sure it isn't actually a bowl of vinegar but with all the weird fad diets out there today, it's in the realm of possibility. In any case, it smells positively foul.)
Herein lies my first tip of the day: If dogs howl, flowers die and wavy green lines hover above your food when you bring it out of the microwave, don't bring it back to your desk lest you risk the sound of gagging, and the eventual smell of vomit that will result from your actions.
Perfume/Cologne/Lotion:
There is a woman, who shall remain nameless, that uses a very pungent floral lotion. Lotions usually have a very mild smell- whether they smell of baked goods (my personal favorite), vanilla, flowers or fruits, they're usually appealing and harmless.
However, there are some lotions- and I'm grouping perfumes and colognes in this as well- that just make me want to rip off my nose and shove it down people's throats while I scream out, "Take it! You've ruined it forever!"
Isn't it enough I have to put up with the same people day-in and day-out for 8+ hours, 5 consecutive days out of the week? Do they really have to destroy my sense of smell too?
This woman's lotion smells, not of a singular flower- sweet and innocent- but of an entire fucking glade of flowers. Imagine plumeria shoved down your nostrils. Imagine the entire world, covered in plumeria, and the fumes being so strong as to have killed 99.9% of the population and all the dead plants are now potpurri and the remaining humans have to eat the dead, smelly, husks of flowers to survive.
Yeah, imagine that and you have now entered my world.
Her lotion is so strong that it doesn't last for just a few minutes. Not even for half an hour. No, folks, it lasts for HOURS. I don't know who makes this lotion but MY GOD, if they could somehow extract the potency and endurance of the smell and put it into foodstuff, world hunger would no longer exist.
I'm sure her lotion has directly affected sales of Excedrine because I have had so many migraines caused by the stench that I literally go through a bottle at a time when she slathers it on.
Herein lies my second tip of the day: If you see a coworker cringing or burst into tears when you bring out your bottle of lotion, or if you pass by someone on the street and they turn green and start hacking out a lung, it's sign that you stink. So cut that stinky shit out.
-Signing off in Seattle
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Monday, April 2, 2007
'STEP DOWN!' Gettin' Off the MUNI
Things of relative interest I noted on my MUNI ride to work.
Salient avoidance of eye and body contact. Sunglasses on a non-sunny bus, iPods and the impressive ability to keep arms and legs tightly bound to the body - quite similar to that of a mummy.
Salient avoidance of eye and body contact. Sunglasses on a non-sunny bus, iPods and the impressive ability to keep arms and legs tightly bound to the body - quite similar to that of a mummy.
*****
On a similar note, men with sunglasses, blazers and jeans. For no apparent reason, this combination bothers me. I see them on the bus all the time, and call me persnickety, but I can't help but raise my eyebrow every time I see one.
*****
I saw a fully grown woman going to work toting a snoopy backpack. This made me smile. Very nice.
(And I'm not being sarcastic, for once.)
-Signing off from San Francisco
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Pass a Tissue, Please?
Wednesday, March 21. Lunch Time.
I figured I should mark this date so that this time next year I can be extra extra careful, because bad karma does strike in the same place twice.
The story begins when a colleague and I decide to go to CPK for lunch and a gab session. We cross the street and walk down an alley, ho humming along, when a woman that's passing us by literally (and I do mean literally) projectile vomits.
All over my face. In my hair. Down my back.
Now, I'm not sure what a normal reaction to something like this would be, but mine went something like, "FUCK. Fuck fuck fuck fuck, fucking, fuck fuck fuck fuck. Fucking, fuck fuck fuck, fuck, fucker. FUCKING, fuck."
My friend, who is more than several months pregnant, also got a decent amount of green matter sprayed across her as well, and I'm sure her upchuck reflexes were kicking in high gear. Fortunately, neither of us contributed to the heinous mess and were able to hold our own. Interestingly enough, my first millisecond thought, just as the vomit splattered across my face, was that this woman just threw a shake at me. I was about to be incensed to the tenth degree when I turn and see her vomit the rest of her bile infested lunch on the sidewalk. This was the same moment I realized what was all over my face and the freaking out ensued.
OK, again I realize this is an extremely unusual situation to come across and a little difficult to swallow, but if I saw two women, one pregnant, being barfed on I would set aside my disgust, hold in my chuckle, and fucking do something to offer some sort of help. Realizing no one was going to offer me a tissue, I saw I would have to fend for myself and used my jacket to wipe the nasty off my face. I then proceeded to stumble into a nail salon where I see a multitude of onlookers just sittin' pretty getting their nails done. Not a single person got up to help or offered a tissue, napkin or towel. Dumbfounded, I was.
What the fuck is wrong with people? If I could I would cue a lame Nickleback song.
-Signing off from San Francisco
I figured I should mark this date so that this time next year I can be extra extra careful, because bad karma does strike in the same place twice.
The story begins when a colleague and I decide to go to CPK for lunch and a gab session. We cross the street and walk down an alley, ho humming along, when a woman that's passing us by literally (and I do mean literally) projectile vomits.
All over my face. In my hair. Down my back.
Now, I'm not sure what a normal reaction to something like this would be, but mine went something like, "FUCK. Fuck fuck fuck fuck, fucking, fuck fuck fuck fuck. Fucking, fuck fuck fuck, fuck, fucker. FUCKING, fuck."
My friend, who is more than several months pregnant, also got a decent amount of green matter sprayed across her as well, and I'm sure her upchuck reflexes were kicking in high gear. Fortunately, neither of us contributed to the heinous mess and were able to hold our own. Interestingly enough, my first millisecond thought, just as the vomit splattered across my face, was that this woman just threw a shake at me. I was about to be incensed to the tenth degree when I turn and see her vomit the rest of her bile infested lunch on the sidewalk. This was the same moment I realized what was all over my face and the freaking out ensued.
OK, again I realize this is an extremely unusual situation to come across and a little difficult to swallow, but if I saw two women, one pregnant, being barfed on I would set aside my disgust, hold in my chuckle, and fucking do something to offer some sort of help. Realizing no one was going to offer me a tissue, I saw I would have to fend for myself and used my jacket to wipe the nasty off my face. I then proceeded to stumble into a nail salon where I see a multitude of onlookers just sittin' pretty getting their nails done. Not a single person got up to help or offered a tissue, napkin or towel. Dumbfounded, I was.
What the fuck is wrong with people? If I could I would cue a lame Nickleback song.
-Signing off from San Francisco
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
What the Fucker?
I think I'm fairly innocent. Meaning, I don't excessively drink, do drugs, smoke, steal, gamble, etc.
My one vice, however, is swearing. It's just a bad habit that I can't seem to break and only gets worse as my time here passes. A little slip of a "what the fuck" and "motherfucker" just can't be contained sometimes.
Unfortunately, as lax as my office is, it's apparently not lax enough for my mouth. A complaint had been submitted to HR and I was officially scolded regarding my "language."
Well, jeez. Do I feel sheepish.
-Signing off from San Francisco
My one vice, however, is swearing. It's just a bad habit that I can't seem to break and only gets worse as my time here passes. A little slip of a "what the fuck" and "motherfucker" just can't be contained sometimes.
Unfortunately, as lax as my office is, it's apparently not lax enough for my mouth. A complaint had been submitted to HR and I was officially scolded regarding my "language."
Well, jeez. Do I feel sheepish.
-Signing off from San Francisco
Friday, March 2, 2007
No Srsly!
Snippets from a snippet:
OMGREADTHISEMAILNOWNOWNOW!!!111!!: High importance emails are retarded. Yes- I said it. It really doesn't matter if your email has a little red flag next to it in my inbox, if I'm busy I'll get to it when I can. If it's really important and you need a response like, oh, two minutes ago- call me. That's what my desk phone is for. It's too ugly to be decorative and too big to be a paperweight. But...
Don't call me on my mobile when I'm at my desk: Seriously. Sometimes colleagues will call my mobile when they're ten feet away from me and I'm at my desk. I know Mika's Grace Kelly is all sorts of musical goodness but I doubt people call me just to hear it play.
Also, why do reporters call my mobile during the day? I put my office number in my signature first, in bold, and then my mobile number for after hours emergencies. 2:00pm on a Tuesday afternoon... I'll be at my desk. I promise. Here's a thought- try my desk phone before my mobile... you might like the results.
Super cheerful people in the morning make me angry: Okay, not really. But don't expect me to 'super cheerful right back atcha!' if it's 7:00am and I'm standing in front of the coffee machine with my arms crossed and tapping my foot. Obviously, I'm not happy and I haven't had my morning cup of liquid crack yet so please, say 'good morning' and go skipping off into Lollipop Land and play with the unicorns or whatever it is you do at that ungodly time of the day.
-Signing off from Seattle
OMGREADTHISEMAILNOWNOWNOW!!!111!!: High importance emails are retarded. Yes- I said it. It really doesn't matter if your email has a little red flag next to it in my inbox, if I'm busy I'll get to it when I can. If it's really important and you need a response like, oh, two minutes ago- call me. That's what my desk phone is for. It's too ugly to be decorative and too big to be a paperweight. But...
Don't call me on my mobile when I'm at my desk: Seriously. Sometimes colleagues will call my mobile when they're ten feet away from me and I'm at my desk. I know Mika's Grace Kelly is all sorts of musical goodness but I doubt people call me just to hear it play.
Also, why do reporters call my mobile during the day? I put my office number in my signature first, in bold, and then my mobile number for after hours emergencies. 2:00pm on a Tuesday afternoon... I'll be at my desk. I promise. Here's a thought- try my desk phone before my mobile... you might like the results.
Super cheerful people in the morning make me angry: Okay, not really. But don't expect me to 'super cheerful right back atcha!' if it's 7:00am and I'm standing in front of the coffee machine with my arms crossed and tapping my foot. Obviously, I'm not happy and I haven't had my morning cup of liquid crack yet so please, say 'good morning' and go skipping off into Lollipop Land and play with the unicorns or whatever it is you do at that ungodly time of the day.
-Signing off from Seattle
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Blogging Woes
So I'm not sure if it's kosher for me to complain about blogging on my blog, but I am.
I've been meaning to write a new post for a while, because I had several snarky things to say about things like tradeshows and wretched Valentine's Day at the office, amongst other topics. But finding the time at work (which is the only time I can blog, as it's where my inspiration stems and bitterness peaks) can be difficult, and sometimes it just ends up feeling like an action item.
So, here are all the things I've been meaning to say so that I can cross this action off my list and have some peace of mind.
Tradeshows
Pointless events that result in absolutely nothing except for sore feet and wasted time. It's funny, because several of my clients find that they get most of their sales leads through online efforts, yet they still decide to puddle through these things because their competitors are going or it's considered "the biggest show of xyz."
Now, from a PR perspective there are some good opportunities to get a few media briefings and get some face time with the client and reporters, but in reality is this worth the stress of preparation, plane ticket, hotel room, food and drinks, cost of entertaining client, blisters, time and most importantly....boredom? The boredom of walking the show floor, squinting at every goober that walks by in hopes they're the tech editor your client has been dying to meet with.
Not even schwag can make these events worthwhile.
Valentine's Day
In general, this day is a lame excuse for people to profess their love and appreciation for their significant other. However, some people (mainly women that work at an office) find this day to be a competitive event.
Who will get the biggest, most extravagant, gratuitous display of flowers? Winners to be announced no later than 12 p.m. PST.
And, oh, the poor boyfriend who was a bad puppy and either a) forgot to send flowers; b) sent flowers, but not to her office to display on her desk; or c) sent carnations because his sensible head couldn't rationalize spending $75 or more on things that will die in a few days.
*Note to this poor soul: Please wear a long sleeve shirt and protective eyewear to minimize scarring from the claws.
Coffee
Why is our office coffee so bad? I'm not going to blame Peet's, but when my coffee/cream ratio is 40/60, something's not right.
-Signing off from San Francisco
I've been meaning to write a new post for a while, because I had several snarky things to say about things like tradeshows and wretched Valentine's Day at the office, amongst other topics. But finding the time at work (which is the only time I can blog, as it's where my inspiration stems and bitterness peaks) can be difficult, and sometimes it just ends up feeling like an action item.
So, here are all the things I've been meaning to say so that I can cross this action off my list and have some peace of mind.
Tradeshows
Pointless events that result in absolutely nothing except for sore feet and wasted time. It's funny, because several of my clients find that they get most of their sales leads through online efforts, yet they still decide to puddle through these things because their competitors are going or it's considered "the biggest show of xyz."
Now, from a PR perspective there are some good opportunities to get a few media briefings and get some face time with the client and reporters, but in reality is this worth the stress of preparation, plane ticket, hotel room, food and drinks, cost of entertaining client, blisters, time and most importantly....boredom? The boredom of walking the show floor, squinting at every goober that walks by in hopes they're the tech editor your client has been dying to meet with.
Not even schwag can make these events worthwhile.
Valentine's Day
In general, this day is a lame excuse for people to profess their love and appreciation for their significant other. However, some people (mainly women that work at an office) find this day to be a competitive event.
Who will get the biggest, most extravagant, gratuitous display of flowers? Winners to be announced no later than 12 p.m. PST.
And, oh, the poor boyfriend who was a bad puppy and either a) forgot to send flowers; b) sent flowers, but not to her office to display on her desk; or c) sent carnations because his sensible head couldn't rationalize spending $75 or more on things that will die in a few days.
*Note to this poor soul: Please wear a long sleeve shirt and protective eyewear to minimize scarring from the claws.
Coffee
Why is our office coffee so bad? I'm not going to blame Peet's, but when my coffee/cream ratio is 40/60, something's not right.
-Signing off from San Francisco
Friday, February 9, 2007
Powerpoint: The Killer App
I spent all of yesterday trapped in a room full of people, staring at Powerpoint presentations. There were about, oh, 13 presenters and each one had their own special presentation to show off. I sat in the most uncomfortable chair on the planet, listening to people who were essentially reading off every single word on each slide in their respective presentations.
If that isn't a preview of the Ninth Level of Hell, then I don't know what is.
Now I know I look deceptively young. I'm small. I have youthful features. Hell, I get carded when I try to order a latte at Starbucks but what on God's green earth gave these people the idea that I didn't know how to read?
Maybe it was out of courtesy that they didn't deviate from the words on the screen because... I could not read them. Unless you were a cat (and sadly, none of the humans in the room were) I don't think anyone could have read anything on the screen. I don't think anyone who sat more than a foot away from the massive 8x8 ft screen could read anything. It's hard to when the font is the size of sand granules.
I effing HATE Powerpoint presentations or, as I like to call them, "Satan's reading material for the damned."
I don't think they are a necessary evil. They're just evil - as in 'sacrifice a goat and chant White Snake lyrics backwards' evil. Whoever invented the Powerpoint at Microsoft should get their ass kicked, no joke.
But seriously, it is a business tool and maybe, used effectively, they could be helpful. The problem is Powerpoints are almost never used effectively.
People do stupid shit sometimes- they ride motocycles without helmets, they buy full price at Banana Republic, and they try to cram as many words as possible into 30 or more slides and think others will care.
The odd thing is, people seem to rely on slide presentations to the point of dependency. I'm in the communications industry yet a lot of the people I work with just don't get that Powerpoints are the worst way to communicate with someone. When asked for data, the first application people usually click on is the Powerpoint icon.
Why? Whatever happened to innovation? Creativity? Thinking outside of the box (or in this case, slide)?
What happened to talking?
The end goal of a Powerpoint is to express an idea and what usually happens is that any spark of brilliance or true original thought is lost in a hideous, chaotic mess of words and ridiculous images.
By the end of the day yesterday, I was ready to stab my eyes with the little plastic sporks my client had so kindly provided for me to use during our 'working' lunch. Seriously. I was ready to slash someone's (preferably a presenter's) tires. See how they liked being trapped with no escape.
I know that each time I have to work on a Powerpoint presentation, the Devil is setting aside my own little spot in Hell.
-Signing off from Seattle
If that isn't a preview of the Ninth Level of Hell, then I don't know what is.
Now I know I look deceptively young. I'm small. I have youthful features. Hell, I get carded when I try to order a latte at Starbucks but what on God's green earth gave these people the idea that I didn't know how to read?
Maybe it was out of courtesy that they didn't deviate from the words on the screen because... I could not read them. Unless you were a cat (and sadly, none of the humans in the room were) I don't think anyone could have read anything on the screen. I don't think anyone who sat more than a foot away from the massive 8x8 ft screen could read anything. It's hard to when the font is the size of sand granules.
I effing HATE Powerpoint presentations or, as I like to call them, "Satan's reading material for the damned."
I don't think they are a necessary evil. They're just evil - as in 'sacrifice a goat and chant White Snake lyrics backwards' evil. Whoever invented the Powerpoint at Microsoft should get their ass kicked, no joke.
But seriously, it is a business tool and maybe, used effectively, they could be helpful. The problem is Powerpoints are almost never used effectively.
People do stupid shit sometimes- they ride motocycles without helmets, they buy full price at Banana Republic, and they try to cram as many words as possible into 30 or more slides and think others will care.
The odd thing is, people seem to rely on slide presentations to the point of dependency. I'm in the communications industry yet a lot of the people I work with just don't get that Powerpoints are the worst way to communicate with someone. When asked for data, the first application people usually click on is the Powerpoint icon.
Why? Whatever happened to innovation? Creativity? Thinking outside of the box (or in this case, slide)?
What happened to talking?
The end goal of a Powerpoint is to express an idea and what usually happens is that any spark of brilliance or true original thought is lost in a hideous, chaotic mess of words and ridiculous images.
By the end of the day yesterday, I was ready to stab my eyes with the little plastic sporks my client had so kindly provided for me to use during our 'working' lunch. Seriously. I was ready to slash someone's (preferably a presenter's) tires. See how they liked being trapped with no escape.
I know that each time I have to work on a Powerpoint presentation, the Devil is setting aside my own little spot in Hell.
-Signing off from Seattle
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