Tag Archives: work

And then there was the time…

I went to a business meeting in Winston-Salem with my boss and she asked me, “Do you need to go potty?”

I WAS TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS OLD.

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I hope I won’t owe anyone a Coke

I am accident prone. I am sometimes known as “bad-luck Laurie,” and I have claimed to have the best bad luck of anyone out there.

I hope I defy my nature after this entry is complete, so I will bravely soldier forth in writing it.

I. Love. My. Job. and. My. Boss.

Last November, I was going on several months of “having had it” with my job.  I had a friend, however, who was so far beyond “having had it” and was basically the victim of a dickhead boss who lit into her for no reason, mounds of unwarranted stress, and the constant fear that she’d be fired.

So I considered myself a bit luckier than she.

In my quest to help her find a new and better job (which, thank the Good Lord, she has done), I stumbled upon a job with my own company that metaphorically had my name written all over it.

I didn’t even know this type of job actually existed at my company, yet it was the exact thing I’d been looking for.

Lemme ‘splain: in my old department, anytime someone needed a document formatted, proofread, hell, WRITTEN, they came to me.

One day, I mused to myself, “If this was my job all the time, that’d be rad!”

This job, oh, this job was pretty much it!

So, I thought, “They want two years of experience and being an English major helps.  I have 5.5 years of experience and am a proud English alumna. Check and mate.”

So I applied.

And I crossed my fingers and hoped to die (figuratively) and all that jazz (maybe with literal jazz hands).

And I got it.

And I love it.

And I have awesome coworkers who are smart, take turns backing everyone up, and are just good people.

Even when I work until 2am and get hives on my lips from being nervous about deadlines, I still love it.

My boss is cool and is not a micromanager in the least (did I mention I can work from home when I want?)  Just today, she has written me TWO nice emails that made me very happy and feel more secure about my abilities.

So, I hope I don’t jinx it and have something happen.

Because, you know, Bad Luck Laurie and all.

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Workin’ girl blues

Here we have another Sunday where I am working. Second weekend in a row that I’m essentially glued to my computer.  Last weekend, it was the flaming shitball from hell document that I was working on.  This weekend? A not-so-flaming-but-equally-annoying document.  

Mainly because the sponsor is being assy and not providing the writer with essential tools.  The poor writer is over it and, in the midst of all this, forgot to provide me with the password to unlock the document.

Poor guy. I really do feel for him. I know he’s not being lazy because I’ve worked with him in the past and he’s already provided me with several resources this go ’round.

Did I mention I STILL love my job, though?

Because I do.

My last job (same company, different department/business unit) was all chicks. And all drama.  My current core group is mainly chicks as far as our job titles/functions go, but they are all damn cool ladies.  There is lots of encouragement and people jumping in to help one another.  On top of that, there is a lot of appreciation expressed.

I count myself one lucky, lucky girl.

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Oh my….

nothing like waiting all week to get some billable work, then finding out you won’t get it until Friday morning.

Then finding out it isn’t the draft you thought it was and it’s incomplete.

Then finding out the sponsor is being assy.

Then finding out the document is not the usual 60 – 150 pages you’re used to, but rather 281 pages of death.

Oy.

But, let’s look on the bright side: the writer is nice and very smart, my scheduling chick knows I’m working hard, and I STILL love my job.

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Can you not?

Mother, in reference to me holding my nephew: “You need about three of those.”
Me: “Whaaaat? Why?”
Mother: “Because you’re so good with them.”

CAN YOU NOT, MOM?

Me: *quietly working at my desk, outside of which is a sign where my cube neighbor and I request “Quiet, please. Brains at work.”
Coworker:  *slams out of the records room, loudly talking to someone and cackling*
Me: *sighs loudly*
Coworker: *continues to blather and be an overly obstreperous nuisance.

COWORKER, CAN YOU NOT?

Trees: *blowing pollen and shit all over my yard, my house, my car, and me*
Me: *sinus headaches and fatigue daily*

TREES, CAN YOU NOT?

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Things that suck, 2013 edition

  • Sitting in front of my laptop watching animal rescue videos and realizing: these are only a handful of needy/homeless/neglected/abused animals. First order of business if I win the lottery: no-kill shelter (built directly in my backyard if zoning/permits allow, or buy the lot next to mine, raze the storage units, and put it there since it’s zoned business/mixed-use).
  • Bustling along at work, making good progress, smiling at the fact that a subject’s cancerous node decreased significantly in size, then remembering that is it one of the subjects who is now deceased because of their disease.  Suck it, cancer.
  • Pulling up to grab a quick lunch and hearing the employee who is outside for her lung cancer cigarette break loudly scoff at me.  Okay, lady, you look like Jabba the Hut and you’re expressing loud disapproval on something about me.  I have no idea what it could be, but good luck with your awesome life.
  • Getting multiple message from dudes on dating sites that either say, “Hey,” “So sexy,” or, “Your cute.”  My cute what? Also, have something intelligent to say, please.
  • People who get off on criticizing people who have goals/are aiming to do something with their life.  A girl I work with is taking a new position that will put her in proximity to a department in which we both formerly worked, though she won’t be in that department directly.  The verbal arrows and shittalk that are going on about her are out-of-this-word ridiculous.  She’s a grown ass woman who can make her own decisions.  Just because you’re miserable with YOUR job doesn’t mean she has to be. Lay off.
  • Having people tell me that I’m either “too picky” or “the right guy will come along.”  False.  I tend to meet guys who are either so full of themselves they poop out self-portraits, dirty dirty liars (oh, so that’s your real age and name? I doubt it), or dudes who think that because I work an awesome job and went to college that I MUST be a horrible snob.  That brings to mind someone who once said to a friend of mine, “Why do people like you hang out with people like us?”  Don’t play the pity card buddy, if we thought you were trash, we wouldn’t be spending time with you.
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The ever-evolving blog post. It might be brain vomit.

LOL WUT

Why the hell do I get messages like this? OFTEN.

While it maybe very well have been intended as a compliment, let’s dissect how I feel about this:

While I am largely ‘let’s do this’ about life, I am also largely “let’s do this’ about punctuation. Learn it.

Furthermore, being ‘always up’ and ‘Let’s do this’ don’t always go hand in hand. While there are points in my life that these two attributes show up in tandem, there are also points in my life where I’m very ‘let’s do this’ about being angry, depressed, or frustrated. But I’m working on it.

Countless times on dating websites, I’ve had people assume that they know me from just a few words or paragraphs.  These people see me as fun-loving, or weird, or prudish, or someone whose personality automatically means ‘sure thing, one night stand.’  While some or none of these may be true, that doesn’t change the perception.

Which is a hell of a thing, always somehow skewed in my life.

I have people that I have known for YEARS assume that I’m a complete moron because of some or all of these: I am eccentric; I love corny jokes; I do not push my religion, intelligence, or opinions on others; I despise debates and arguments, so they assume I’m a pushover.

But guess what. I am one smart cracker.  Oh, how I’d love to tell the former friend of mine who always attempted to insult my intelligence (and my bank account, and my home decor…) that she would walk into ONE DAY at any of the jobs I’ve held since college and cry at the difficulty/intricacy.

This is the same ff who used to boast about making “$45,000.”  A: while that is an honest living and not too shabby, it doesn’t make you a millionaire, B: people who regularly discuss their salary with others are clearly lacking in some aspect of their lives, C: you’re not making that $45,000 now, seeing as you have no job, yes?

The same ff who, now that she is in school for interior design, remarked that she wanted to “Come redo” my house. Excuse me? You live in a house with wildly colored walls that gives off a distinct “a twelve-year old designed this” air, while my home has actual cohesion in its decor, however off-putting my penchant for displaying skulls, preserved insects, and the like may be.

And she is just one example.

Most people do not know that I have had bouts of crippling depression, during which I can’t do much more than shake my hands, cry, and sleep.

I attribute my survival to Jesus (yes, I’m serious) in tandem with modern medicine and a doctor who understands whole person treatment.

Thankfully, the past 2 years of my life have gotten exponentially better, with medication that actually works, a perspective that is  a little bit clearer, and, since November 2012, a job that I enjoy immensely.  Same company, different department, different management, different WORLD. I have realized who I really am, but I still maintain that horrid curse of never really being sure of myself around people, no matter how “confident” I may seem.

While I still get easily irritated at the ignorance of others (blame it on keen observational skills and a bit of road rage), I am learning to tone it down while avoiding the brain-busting internalizing that left former me with migraines, stress headaches, and a clenched jaw.

Example: I volunteer once a month at a food pantry in my city.  I have had people mumble under their breath at me for the entirety of their check-in, snap at me because I ask if they have a stove (it’s required so you’ll get the right amount of food, dumbass), yell at me and tell me I “was cute until [I] put all that mess” in my hair, snap at me about address verification, and so on.  While the former me would have cried, yelled back, or gone silent, I addressed these issues in what I believe to be a fitting manner:

The mumbler, I ignored, citing that her constant blather could very well be a result of mental illness.
The stove-snapper: I calmly informed that some people DO have an address and no stove.
The hair yeller: I VERY calmly (probably eerily so) replied, “Well, that wasn’t very nice now, was it? I don’t really appreciate that.” He proceeded to grovel. Repeatedly.
The address yeller: I simply stopped and looked at her, waiting for her to make eye contact.  She, of course, didn’t, so I inquired if there was a problem. “No, ma’am.”

I wish I could go back and tell the former me all of this. But as I was telling my mother just this week, everything I have done, been through, and all the people I’ve met, have gotten me to where I am now.

That shitty job out of college, other shitty jobs with employers who broke labor laws to have me on call, the shitty department of managers who are both nazi-like and lackadaisical, all those have led me to a job where I use my English degree, my experience in the CRO world, and my knack for computers.

AMEN

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FREEEEEEEDOMMMM!

I realized today that, not only do I enjoy the actual work part of my job like a thousand times better than my previous job, the number of perks of being able to work from home when I want are quickly adding up.  Of note:

  • pants? COMPLETELY OPTIONAL
  • no bra? NO PROBLEM!
  • making up (and then loudly performing) funny songs and/or profanity-laden word salad at things I see? WHY THE HELL NOT?!
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How the…

Today is my first day working actually IN the office all week.  I have been craving sleep like crack and decided that working from home Monday and Tuesday would be the best way to maximize my sleep while still reporting to work on time. And it was.  My alarm went off 8 minutes before time to work so I was able to get up, feed the cat, and get crackin’.

It’s amazing how focused I was at home, even with the knowledge that my glorious bed and an even more glorious guest bed were mere steps away.  However, I got my ass on the computer and reviewed and reviewed and reviewed.

I was going to take a nap, even laid down with my glasses off, then decided to get up and finish working. And I worked until after quittin’ time.

So why, pray tell, am I so distracted and blah today IN the office (where there are no beds present, except maybe the mythical cot in HR that people have mentioned but I’ve never seen)? Could it be the time change? Could I possibly have mono AGAIN?

sidenote: The last time I was sick for an extended period (before the tonsillectomy of 2012) they gave me a mono test. “You don’t have mono now, but you have had it in the past,” they said. News to me. Probably a present from my awful, assholey, yellow-testicled ex-boyfriend.

But I digress.  I have shoved a bagel and a Coke Zero down my throat. Still spacey.

Maybe I need to go home, ignore my bed(s) and finish the day.

In other news: my dreams are becoming FAR too literal.  I was thinking yesterday how I relayed my visit to Chichen Itza to a friend, then realized I dreamed the whole thing.  I distinctly remember describing the small steps of el Castillo and the rope that was the only means of stability as I climbed. I even remember the clammy palms I had saying, “I was scared shitless, but I did it anyway.  Being at the top made me uneasy, but I got a picture to prove it. I’m getting sweaty palmed just thinking about it.”

p.s. my palms smell like potatoes when I sweat. God knows.

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