As anyone in the U.S. who works in an office probably knows, it was Girl Scout Cookie season recently. I myself purchased seven boxes (to support the young women, of course, not because I'm a glutton). On Friday I received an e-mail from a guy in my office that basically said he'd pay me $5 if I gave him one of my Lemon Chalet boxes because he'd eaten his and was jonesing for more. I checked with J to make sure he wasn't attached and then informed office guy that the deal was on. Monday was a PTO day but I had to come into the office for some Wii bowling (long story) so I said I'd bring the box then.
Monday rolled around and, true to my word, I brought the cookies with me. Office guy wasn't at his desk so I left the box in his cube and just went about my business. Today, upon my return to work, I sent him the following e-mail:
"To: Office Guy
From: Cat
Subject: Hmmm....
Imagine my surprise when I came in to my cubicle and did NOT find $5. Seriously, I was gonna use that money for a soda. I'm not a running a charity here, Guy."
A bit later I received his reply and I just about wet myself:
"To: Cat
From: Office Guy
Subject: RE: Hmmm...
Apologies Cat, yesterday I went to the emergency room around 11am. Was having some issues breathing or possible heart problem. I will be in today and still want those cookies!"
Well shit.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Cry Baby
I seem to have two hobbies these days. The first is constantly reminding myself that I have a great life when I dare complain. I joke about it to others, how if I whine I immediately mock myself for my middle class martyrdom because, honestly, what is so bad about my life? The full-time employment with health benefits and paid time off? The loving husband? The affordable apartment? I belong to a mother fucking gym so how bad can it be? But, if you've read this blog for any length of time, you already know about this particular hobby.
The second hobby is reading books that make me openly weep. Two weeks ago I rented The Lovely Bones and watched it twice, sobbing in my unattractive way. Then I went to a used book store to buy the paperback, which I'd read years ago, apparently in order to weep some more. This weekend? 1,000 Splendid Suns. I'll warn you now - if you are susceptible to crying over books, you might want to skip this one. I purchased it at least a year ago based on the recommendation by my then boss. I picked it up randomly yesterday and started reading. I have about ten pages left and just a moment ago J said "Kitty honey, you need to take a break from that" because, as he watched the History channel, I sat next to him reading and crying, nose snuffling and vision blurring. This novel contains the most fucked up stuff I think I've ever read and part of what makes it all that much worse is that it is based on reality.
1,000 Splendid Suns, by Khaled Hosseini, follows the lives of two women born in Afghanistan beginning in 1959 through, I believe, 2002 (like I said, I still have a few pages). One is Mairam, the bastard child of a wealthy man. Mariam worships her father until one day, when she is 15, he rejects her and she realizes that all her life her mother had been right, that he wasn't a god full of love and that he would never welcome her into his 'real family.' Mariam ends up married off to an older man and sent to live with him in Kabul, where we meet Laila, who has a father who adores her and who encourages her to pursue her education, and a mother who spent all of her love on her sons, who have gone to fight in the war against the soviets.
I'm not going to give anything away but trust me when I say it is no spoiler to state that these women live the shittiest lives you could ever imagine. I've said for years that even though I may not agree with all the things the US does, I've always been and always will be, eternally grateful to have been born and raised here. I might bitch about work and joke that it is ridiculous to be expected to show up five full days a week but in reality I know that this is a hard fought privilege that I, as a woman, am lucky to have. This is why I get so pissed off at those women who tell me that it is their right not to vote. I'd like to know who fought and died for that right. I'd like to know how that is a right when so many women in other countries view their legal inability to vote a crime and a punishment. This is just one of the reasons that separation of church and state is so vitally important.
And so there you have it. Nice the way the latter hobby lends itself to the former, isn't it? I mean, now I can remind myself, when I bitch about something, that at least I'm not ruled by the Taliban. As important as I believe it is to be aware of other cultures and what is going on around the world, I think this will have to stop at some point before I go overboard.
The second hobby is reading books that make me openly weep. Two weeks ago I rented The Lovely Bones and watched it twice, sobbing in my unattractive way. Then I went to a used book store to buy the paperback, which I'd read years ago, apparently in order to weep some more. This weekend? 1,000 Splendid Suns. I'll warn you now - if you are susceptible to crying over books, you might want to skip this one. I purchased it at least a year ago based on the recommendation by my then boss. I picked it up randomly yesterday and started reading. I have about ten pages left and just a moment ago J said "Kitty honey, you need to take a break from that" because, as he watched the History channel, I sat next to him reading and crying, nose snuffling and vision blurring. This novel contains the most fucked up stuff I think I've ever read and part of what makes it all that much worse is that it is based on reality.
1,000 Splendid Suns, by Khaled Hosseini, follows the lives of two women born in Afghanistan beginning in 1959 through, I believe, 2002 (like I said, I still have a few pages). One is Mairam, the bastard child of a wealthy man. Mariam worships her father until one day, when she is 15, he rejects her and she realizes that all her life her mother had been right, that he wasn't a god full of love and that he would never welcome her into his 'real family.' Mariam ends up married off to an older man and sent to live with him in Kabul, where we meet Laila, who has a father who adores her and who encourages her to pursue her education, and a mother who spent all of her love on her sons, who have gone to fight in the war against the soviets.
I'm not going to give anything away but trust me when I say it is no spoiler to state that these women live the shittiest lives you could ever imagine. I've said for years that even though I may not agree with all the things the US does, I've always been and always will be, eternally grateful to have been born and raised here. I might bitch about work and joke that it is ridiculous to be expected to show up five full days a week but in reality I know that this is a hard fought privilege that I, as a woman, am lucky to have. This is why I get so pissed off at those women who tell me that it is their right not to vote. I'd like to know who fought and died for that right. I'd like to know how that is a right when so many women in other countries view their legal inability to vote a crime and a punishment. This is just one of the reasons that separation of church and state is so vitally important.
And so there you have it. Nice the way the latter hobby lends itself to the former, isn't it? I mean, now I can remind myself, when I bitch about something, that at least I'm not ruled by the Taliban. As important as I believe it is to be aware of other cultures and what is going on around the world, I think this will have to stop at some point before I go overboard.
Friday, March 11, 2011
8.9
Remember how awhile back I commented that the earth seems pissed at the inhabitants?
Have you watched the footage? Can you even begin to imagine the nightmare? Buildings, on fire, being carried through cities and towns. People swept away by an unforgiving tide. Destruction and tragedy at such a massive scale.
And Japan is one of the better prepared countries, if anyone can be prepared for this sort of event.
J summed up one of the emotions he and I both have about tragedies such as this one. All he and I can do is feel bad. Yes, we can and do donate to causes such as the Haiti Relief fund. But when things like this happen to wealthier countries, we can't even expect to contribute, in any real way, through donations. Impotence and helplessness mixed with terror is all we have. And then we ask ourselves, 'how must those citizens who are living through this feel?'
And then, because I can, I turn the channel to something to take my mind off of things. Because I can. Because I am among the most fortunate girls in the world and, like most humans, when things do not affect me directly, it is oh so easy to look away to close at hand comforts.
But I shall continue my campaign to maintain perspective and not bitch about daily minutia without being dead aware that I am, indeed, among the most fortunate girls in the world. As a friend on Facebook said, maybe now Charlies Sheen will give it a rest.
Have you watched the footage? Can you even begin to imagine the nightmare? Buildings, on fire, being carried through cities and towns. People swept away by an unforgiving tide. Destruction and tragedy at such a massive scale.
And Japan is one of the better prepared countries, if anyone can be prepared for this sort of event.
J summed up one of the emotions he and I both have about tragedies such as this one. All he and I can do is feel bad. Yes, we can and do donate to causes such as the Haiti Relief fund. But when things like this happen to wealthier countries, we can't even expect to contribute, in any real way, through donations. Impotence and helplessness mixed with terror is all we have. And then we ask ourselves, 'how must those citizens who are living through this feel?'
And then, because I can, I turn the channel to something to take my mind off of things. Because I can. Because I am among the most fortunate girls in the world and, like most humans, when things do not affect me directly, it is oh so easy to look away to close at hand comforts.
But I shall continue my campaign to maintain perspective and not bitch about daily minutia without being dead aware that I am, indeed, among the most fortunate girls in the world. As a friend on Facebook said, maybe now Charlies Sheen will give it a rest.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Eye-Crossing Excel Extravaganza
At this moment, work is seemingly endless data entry and cross checks of reviewer data on mammoth spreadsheets. When I say mammoth, I am not exaggerating; most of my time this week has featured a spreadsheet that included row 1,059 and column AJ. This is all to ensure that when IT does its magic and makes my HQ database the be all end all of reviewer data, other banks (which will now be read only) will not be corrupted with incorrect data. So I've gotten to go row by row, column by column, making sure that addresses and contact numbers/e-mails are up-to-date and accurate.
Part of the fault is mine as I am the type A jerk off who wants to make absolutely sure that everything is 100% tip top. But who can blame me? Once this is all up and running, I will be solely responsible for the data. It is an enormously exciting prospect but it is also terrifying. They are giving me all of this responsibility, which means my hard work and diligence have not gone unnoticed and if all goes right, the possibilities are endless. I can grow the panel to accommodate and serve my company's contracts across the country. I am the expert of this particular slice of the pie as it is, and if it gets big enough and I get good enough, maybe I'll be able to move up in the company!
But what if I fuck up? What if the higher ups were wrong and I'm not that hard of a worker or that diligent? Anything that goes wrong will be my fault. What if I do grow the panel to an enormous size to accommodate new contracts (we are, after all, budgeted to grow 50% this year) and I simply can't handle it? I might let down my former boss, who I absolutely adore. I might let down contracts in satellite offices who rely on me to supply them with the information they need. I might piss off a ton of our reviewers and diminish the panel. I might prove everyone who ever had any confidence in me wrong. In sum, I might fail.
I'm exaggerating, obviously. For one, for every man in the office, there are at least 20 women, so there is no way there would be an even number of both sexes fleeing from a building under attack from flaming arrows. And two, we only have one story to our building.
But you get my point, that work has been filled with tedious, eye-crossing tasks that will culminate in an emotionally conflicting result. I sincerely hope I do well so that I can continue moving up the corporate ladder, but I am also scared shitless.
Is it any wonder that, in order to take a break and amuse myself, I look up some of our inactive reviewers who were born in the 30's and/or 20's to see if they are still alive?
Part of the fault is mine as I am the type A jerk off who wants to make absolutely sure that everything is 100% tip top. But who can blame me? Once this is all up and running, I will be solely responsible for the data. It is an enormously exciting prospect but it is also terrifying. They are giving me all of this responsibility, which means my hard work and diligence have not gone unnoticed and if all goes right, the possibilities are endless. I can grow the panel to accommodate and serve my company's contracts across the country. I am the expert of this particular slice of the pie as it is, and if it gets big enough and I get good enough, maybe I'll be able to move up in the company!
But what if I fuck up? What if the higher ups were wrong and I'm not that hard of a worker or that diligent? Anything that goes wrong will be my fault. What if I do grow the panel to an enormous size to accommodate new contracts (we are, after all, budgeted to grow 50% this year) and I simply can't handle it? I might let down my former boss, who I absolutely adore. I might let down contracts in satellite offices who rely on me to supply them with the information they need. I might piss off a ton of our reviewers and diminish the panel. I might prove everyone who ever had any confidence in me wrong. In sum, I might fail.
I'm exaggerating, obviously. For one, for every man in the office, there are at least 20 women, so there is no way there would be an even number of both sexes fleeing from a building under attack from flaming arrows. And two, we only have one story to our building.
But you get my point, that work has been filled with tedious, eye-crossing tasks that will culminate in an emotionally conflicting result. I sincerely hope I do well so that I can continue moving up the corporate ladder, but I am also scared shitless.
Is it any wonder that, in order to take a break and amuse myself, I look up some of our inactive reviewers who were born in the 30's and/or 20's to see if they are still alive?
Monday, March 7, 2011
Skipping through a field with big ass flowers
I have been doing a tremendous job of not working today, which is quite fitting seeing as I had my formal work evaluation earlier this morning. Most of the day has been spent picking things up and putting them in different piles, checking my horoscope (which I haven't done in years), e-mailing my husband because I find that I miss him when I go back to work after a weekend, and repeatedly hitting 'refresh' on my e-mail with the hope that something interesting will pop up. Well, I did that, scheduled a lunch with a friend, and thought about what I'd like to eat. So really, I have been rather busy.
This happens occasionally. Usually I am very type A and hardworking, earning my dazzling performance evaluations. But then I fall into a strange mood of cannot-be-bothered. Seeing as this has started on a Monday, I do not believe it bodes well for the week. Fortunately, I'm taking a half-day on Friday and, given my current state of mind, will probably not log into my work e-mail and use precious PTO hours working. Type A Cat does that sort of ridiculous shit, but Type Z Cat doesn't even wear proper work clothes to the external client meeting when she gets to work from home or take the day off afterwords. The office is lucky if I don't show up bra-less in a mu-mu when Type Z Cat shows up for a few hours before returning home where she can bask in her own ennui and crap television.
It's all fine and well to avoid work and dick around all day (no it isn't) but it does make the day drag on. Maybe I'll draw a comic. Hang on, be right back.
There we go. As you can see, I evidently want to be outside skipping in a field with giant flowers and this is how I am spending precious corporate hours.
Jesus, I'd better actually do some work.
This happens occasionally. Usually I am very type A and hardworking, earning my dazzling performance evaluations. But then I fall into a strange mood of cannot-be-bothered. Seeing as this has started on a Monday, I do not believe it bodes well for the week. Fortunately, I'm taking a half-day on Friday and, given my current state of mind, will probably not log into my work e-mail and use precious PTO hours working. Type A Cat does that sort of ridiculous shit, but Type Z Cat doesn't even wear proper work clothes to the external client meeting when she gets to work from home or take the day off afterwords. The office is lucky if I don't show up bra-less in a mu-mu when Type Z Cat shows up for a few hours before returning home where she can bask in her own ennui and crap television.
It's all fine and well to avoid work and dick around all day (no it isn't) but it does make the day drag on. Maybe I'll draw a comic. Hang on, be right back.
There we go. As you can see, I evidently want to be outside skipping in a field with giant flowers and this is how I am spending precious corporate hours.
Jesus, I'd better actually do some work.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Friday, March 4, 2011
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