A co-worker, in talking me down from a crisis the other day, mentioned that she thinks I am over-qualified for my job. While I munch on that and ponder what exactly I ultimately want to do with my life (besides being the best wife and mom ever, which is number one) this scenario between me and the big-shot broker I assist really made me laugh. (big-shot in status; in attitude, my team ROCKS.) Talent and intelligence are not always a precursor to success, even though I can't help but think you must have some portion of one or the other.
RR: (hands me some important legal documents) Hey Erin. I need you to proof these, and then send them to Mr. WhateverHisNameWas.
Me: Sure thing!
RR: He's out of our office in Memphis. You may have to look him up in the system... (reaches for a book on my desk, mumbles,) Maybe he's in here...
Me: RR, that's a dictionary.
RR: (laughs) Oh, right! I knew that. I was looking up "Memphis." Yeah, it's a state down south.
Me: Memphis the state. Got it.
The defense rests.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Open Mouth, Insert Foot...
So today is a shining example of me proving to not be so "wisdomous."
Presentation supplies at work have been touch and go for a while. Like any office, we have boxes upon boxes of things we don't need, and maybe four of the things we do need.
A fellow admin today brought this to the attention of our Marketing Director, we'll call him "B-Rad", as it is his his responsibility to keep us stocked, as it were. She sent him an email, cc'ing all the administration staff and my boss.
He responded (to all) telling her that there was a stack in the stock room (say THAT ten times fast) and if she didn't have the time for him to get in the office and tear through it, she was welcome to look for herself.
She responded (to all) that she had indeed checked that spot already, hence her reason for emailing him.
I responded (to her): You forgot to include "jackass"! He is so condescending and rude!
She im'd me almost instantly with "OMG!! You replied to all!!" I thought it was a joke. A heavy fog of heat waved through me. Certainly I had not sent that to everyone including B-Rad and my boss... I had.
Deep breath. In those moments where you can't take back what you've done, you realize that with technology, sometimes, you can! Quick as I thought of it, I recalled the email. No one got it--except B-Rad. And my boss. Fantastic.
I don't quite know how to describe the panic/embarrassment/shame of the next hour, as I waited for my boss to be out of her meeting. I sent an apology email, and followed up with a call to Brad's voicemail. I ate pie-covered crow.
I got the call: "We need to chat. Can you come to my office, now?"
I got the proverbial slap on the wrist from my amazingly by the book but awesomely understanding boss (deep down, she agrees with my assessment ;) It'll never happen again, and I do have a job tomorrow.
Just don't talk about others at work.
AND CHECK FOR "REPLY ALL!!!"
Serotonin is still kicking!
Presentation supplies at work have been touch and go for a while. Like any office, we have boxes upon boxes of things we don't need, and maybe four of the things we do need.
A fellow admin today brought this to the attention of our Marketing Director, we'll call him "B-Rad", as it is his his responsibility to keep us stocked, as it were. She sent him an email, cc'ing all the administration staff and my boss.
He responded (to all) telling her that there was a stack in the stock room (say THAT ten times fast) and if she didn't have the time for him to get in the office and tear through it, she was welcome to look for herself.
She responded (to all) that she had indeed checked that spot already, hence her reason for emailing him.
I responded (to her): You forgot to include "jackass"! He is so condescending and rude!
She im'd me almost instantly with "OMG!! You replied to all!!" I thought it was a joke. A heavy fog of heat waved through me. Certainly I had not sent that to everyone including B-Rad and my boss... I had.
Deep breath. In those moments where you can't take back what you've done, you realize that with technology, sometimes, you can! Quick as I thought of it, I recalled the email. No one got it--except B-Rad. And my boss. Fantastic.
I don't quite know how to describe the panic/embarrassment/shame of the next hour, as I waited for my boss to be out of her meeting. I sent an apology email, and followed up with a call to Brad's voicemail. I ate pie-covered crow.
I got the call: "We need to chat. Can you come to my office, now?"
I got the proverbial slap on the wrist from my amazingly by the book but awesomely understanding boss (deep down, she agrees with my assessment ;) It'll never happen again, and I do have a job tomorrow.
Just don't talk about others at work.
AND CHECK FOR "REPLY ALL!!!"
Serotonin is still kicking!
Raging Levels of Seratonin
"Today is going to be a good day," my husband promised (spoke into being?) as we took our seats on the bus that had stopped well before its stop just to pick us up. Yes, we are regulars; yes, we are obviously dressed for our professional jobs; yes, my husband stands out like an incredibly tall sore thumb. But this particular bus driver has proven to be far from Mr. Smiley (our 6:10pm conductor). He never smiles; he does not even look at passengers when they board, when they thank him, or wish him a good morning. Address this driver with any question, comment or concern, and he will mumble a one or two word response, all the while staring out the window, like a man fixated on a boring TV show.
So the fact that he came to a screeching halt beside Chris and I when we were nowhere near our stop (we would have otherwise missed the bus and had to drive) that was something! We were, to say the least, shocked. Chris took it as a good sign for a great day. I'll take that.
I also ran into a friend on the T who time-wise I never run into, AND I got to meet the new "special" friend in her life--point two for this day!
For some reason or another, everything feels just great today; the mystery is that I don't know the reason. It's dreary out, again. I am wearing shoes that absolutely in now way coordinate with my dress/sweater combo (as an avid "What Not To Wear" watcher, I have Clinton and Staci "tisk"ing in my head!). Honestly, I didn't work out this morning--and I work out every day, or else carry the burden of guilt around with me like extra weight. So why the buoyant joy despite details that would usually put me into an uptight tailspin?
Almost two weeks ago, I changed my diet, totally cutting out sugar, caffeine, dairy and gluten. (and I am super-excited for, I kid you not, pizza-beer-cake day at work tomorrow. Stoked.) The first week was not an easy one at all: my body revolted by being excessively tired, achey, bloated and all-around BLAH. But I've stuck to it. I've done the supplements. I drink the green stuff. And I'm no longer dreaming about brownies and caramel sauce. This is huge.
I love food. I think about it, a lot. Cooking is one of my favorite things to do; a short second to eating one of my creations (or my mom or mom-in-laws! I'm surrounded by ladies who know how to throw down!) And one of my greatest struggles is the cravings, mainly sugary-chocolaty-sweety ooey gooey stuff. The entire digestion process begins in the mind (thank you, Dr. Colbert) and for me, my battle with wanting sweet stuff also begins in my mind. So for me to not be thinking about those things, or desiring them constantly--thank you doctor, that's worth the cost of admission right there!
In addition to this, I feel FAB-U-LOUS today. My shoes look ridiculous with my dress--OH well! All the minutia that usually irritates-aggravates-annoys, doesn't seem to matter so much right now. There's things for Chris and I that I want so desperately but can't have/attain right now-tings that had me in tears just a short while ago-it's OK! I'm good. We're good.
The final testament to my surge of serotonin-natural-high is that I am blogging. I love words, and I love to write; but the thought of having something I write that is personal be so public has intimidated me. What will people think? What if I'm not interesting?
Today-who cares? Thank you, balanced levels and happy liver. I'm ready for the world.
"And I'm feelin' good..."
So the fact that he came to a screeching halt beside Chris and I when we were nowhere near our stop (we would have otherwise missed the bus and had to drive) that was something! We were, to say the least, shocked. Chris took it as a good sign for a great day. I'll take that.
I also ran into a friend on the T who time-wise I never run into, AND I got to meet the new "special" friend in her life--point two for this day!
For some reason or another, everything feels just great today; the mystery is that I don't know the reason. It's dreary out, again. I am wearing shoes that absolutely in now way coordinate with my dress/sweater combo (as an avid "What Not To Wear" watcher, I have Clinton and Staci "tisk"ing in my head!). Honestly, I didn't work out this morning--and I work out every day, or else carry the burden of guilt around with me like extra weight. So why the buoyant joy despite details that would usually put me into an uptight tailspin?
Almost two weeks ago, I changed my diet, totally cutting out sugar, caffeine, dairy and gluten. (and I am super-excited for, I kid you not, pizza-beer-cake day at work tomorrow. Stoked.) The first week was not an easy one at all: my body revolted by being excessively tired, achey, bloated and all-around BLAH. But I've stuck to it. I've done the supplements. I drink the green stuff. And I'm no longer dreaming about brownies and caramel sauce. This is huge.
I love food. I think about it, a lot. Cooking is one of my favorite things to do; a short second to eating one of my creations (or my mom or mom-in-laws! I'm surrounded by ladies who know how to throw down!) And one of my greatest struggles is the cravings, mainly sugary-chocolaty-sweety ooey gooey stuff. The entire digestion process begins in the mind (thank you, Dr. Colbert) and for me, my battle with wanting sweet stuff also begins in my mind. So for me to not be thinking about those things, or desiring them constantly--thank you doctor, that's worth the cost of admission right there!
In addition to this, I feel FAB-U-LOUS today. My shoes look ridiculous with my dress--OH well! All the minutia that usually irritates-aggravates-annoys, doesn't seem to matter so much right now. There's things for Chris and I that I want so desperately but can't have/attain right now-tings that had me in tears just a short while ago-it's OK! I'm good. We're good.
The final testament to my surge of serotonin-natural-high is that I am blogging. I love words, and I love to write; but the thought of having something I write that is personal be so public has intimidated me. What will people think? What if I'm not interesting?
Today-who cares? Thank you, balanced levels and happy liver. I'm ready for the world.
"And I'm feelin' good..."
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Mind if I stare?
Riding home on the lovely Mass Transit-T one day, I step hurriedly onto my home-bound train and am so lucky as to get a seat (not common with all the liberated men using their elbows and claiming their seated territory.) I’m not in the mood to read, so instead my eyes linger outside the opposing window in a glazed-over daze….yet not so honey-dipped glazed that I don’t catch out of the corner of my eye this person—woman (I think) staring, nay glaring, at me from the opposite lineup of chairs. Maybe he/she is lost in a negative thought, and I just happen to be a vague obstruction….one stop…two stops… no, I am starting to consider very seriously that I have somehow, at some tragic point in time, killed this person’s parent, sibling, child or puppy. This look makes me feel just icky all over; a look penetrable enough to chill my very insides. At last, this person’s stop comes, and they depart, but not before one final nasty sniff in my direction, a scraping of the feet, an icy cold sneer that lingers long after the deliverer is left on the T-platform. “whew!” I think to myself as I try to return my gaze politely to some obscure point in the distance…except…I can’t… There is this sweet-ish (or Swedish) looking older woman directly opposite me who is just looking at me and smiling. Not a pleasant “how do you do, thank God it’s Friday” type smile. More like a “I’ve got a secret….it’s wrapped up in cellophane in my freezer in the basement….wanna see???” type of a smile. I try to determine which individual’s stare I prefer, while simultaneously wondering how the heck is it that people are so blatantly lacking self-awareness! I’m not being weird by noticing their stares, they are literally looking at me in such a way that makes me squirm and check for boogers and wonder if I really am the only sane one on the train.
In trying to avoid the basement-dweller’s unyielding gaze, I try to look around the car—anywhere but over her head or remotely in her general vicinity. A few seats down from smiley Starrer is a younger-ish gal reading. I am forever curious as to what people read, and quite the offender when it comes to checking out people’s books on public transportation (a book jacket is NOT the same thing as a person’s personal person!) She’s reading…wait, almost got the title…it looks familiar like maybe…Whoa. My eyes have accidentally (perhaps a shift in the train tracks—who’s to know?) shifted upwards and it is amazing but this gal looks remarkably like Eva Mendes. Younger, and, as this is Boston MA public transportation, it is clearly not Eva Mendes, but by golly the resemblance is fascinating! Even the way she has worn her blond and amber-streaked hair up with the flirty bangs brushing her face, and that unmistakable mole! I think I like moles, selectively placed in proper proximity to the nose and lip…well, maybe not…no, yes, I certainly do think they add to a face…well, the right face…she has the right face…
Somewhere in all this pondering, I realize that I, the offended, have now become the offend-er, and am staring, awkward and oddly, at this young girl. I am the creep. My eyes dart quickly away…but I can’t help but look back, like I’m a child being told what NOT to do, but I just-can’t-help-myself….
We’re ALL weirdos at the end of a long Boston workday, heading home on the T. Unless we’re reading, in which case—we’re spared from all offense.
Unless we’re reading aloud…..
In trying to avoid the basement-dweller’s unyielding gaze, I try to look around the car—anywhere but over her head or remotely in her general vicinity. A few seats down from smiley Starrer is a younger-ish gal reading. I am forever curious as to what people read, and quite the offender when it comes to checking out people’s books on public transportation (a book jacket is NOT the same thing as a person’s personal person!) She’s reading…wait, almost got the title…it looks familiar like maybe…Whoa. My eyes have accidentally (perhaps a shift in the train tracks—who’s to know?) shifted upwards and it is amazing but this gal looks remarkably like Eva Mendes. Younger, and, as this is Boston MA public transportation, it is clearly not Eva Mendes, but by golly the resemblance is fascinating! Even the way she has worn her blond and amber-streaked hair up with the flirty bangs brushing her face, and that unmistakable mole! I think I like moles, selectively placed in proper proximity to the nose and lip…well, maybe not…no, yes, I certainly do think they add to a face…well, the right face…she has the right face…
Somewhere in all this pondering, I realize that I, the offended, have now become the offend-er, and am staring, awkward and oddly, at this young girl. I am the creep. My eyes dart quickly away…but I can’t help but look back, like I’m a child being told what NOT to do, but I just-can’t-help-myself….
We’re ALL weirdos at the end of a long Boston workday, heading home on the T. Unless we’re reading, in which case—we’re spared from all offense.
Unless we’re reading aloud…..
Winter's Free Writing....
And I begin it all with a stream of consciousness from January...
I know what it is to be a bump on a log, a couch potato. Man is not an island unto himself. Watching reality tv and people who are so pathetic and who’s lives make me feel good about myself (albeit temporarily.) Garlic French fry stuck to my forehead, magazines spread all around, empty cups and cans, wrappers, dirty blanket. Talking to no one (texting doesn’t count as it’s not aloud) save for my cat, and THAT’S sane and normal. Feeling sad, depressed, or like I should be sad and depressed… when’s the next show on, what’s a good show to have on while reading. What do I want to even do with my life. Maybe this is the cold weather—who WANTS to go out in cold weather. I can make a list of things I will go out and do in the warm weather: jogging, tennis, walks, biking, attend ball games. Library. I’ll run 2x a day in the warm weather—so pumped to do that now, I wonder what it is that happens between this place and that that by the time that then is NOW, I really don’t want to do that anymore so much. Plenty that I feel obliged to do, but that makes it “work”. But without work I feel unfulfilled and that the day is a waste. I need something to look forward to. Fighting the bitter cold to come to work, it seems like such a nicer, more pleasant choice to not have to come in to work—to be able to stay cocooned away in my calm, comfortable, safe place inside a blankly (albeit perhaps a dirty one). But then the email comes, and graciousness, it’s good to have a job. That’s secure. Mostly.
I know what it is to be a bump on a log, a couch potato. Man is not an island unto himself. Watching reality tv and people who are so pathetic and who’s lives make me feel good about myself (albeit temporarily.) Garlic French fry stuck to my forehead, magazines spread all around, empty cups and cans, wrappers, dirty blanket. Talking to no one (texting doesn’t count as it’s not aloud) save for my cat, and THAT’S sane and normal. Feeling sad, depressed, or like I should be sad and depressed… when’s the next show on, what’s a good show to have on while reading. What do I want to even do with my life. Maybe this is the cold weather—who WANTS to go out in cold weather. I can make a list of things I will go out and do in the warm weather: jogging, tennis, walks, biking, attend ball games. Library. I’ll run 2x a day in the warm weather—so pumped to do that now, I wonder what it is that happens between this place and that that by the time that then is NOW, I really don’t want to do that anymore so much. Plenty that I feel obliged to do, but that makes it “work”. But without work I feel unfulfilled and that the day is a waste. I need something to look forward to. Fighting the bitter cold to come to work, it seems like such a nicer, more pleasant choice to not have to come in to work—to be able to stay cocooned away in my calm, comfortable, safe place inside a blankly (albeit perhaps a dirty one). But then the email comes, and graciousness, it’s good to have a job. That’s secure. Mostly.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)