An Anniversary. Of sorts.

Today is the day that marks one full week of unemployment. Yay! String up the balloon, blow some party favors and buy me some motherfricken cake! It’s party time.

It feels like its been an unproductive, pointless few days. But I’ve done stuff! I really have.

Proof of point: a list.

• I signed up for unemployment.
• I mailed that thing that needed to be mailed.
• I wrote a check for my car payment and mailed that off too.
• I did laundry.
• I did the dishes.
• I baked cookies. They didn’t turn out too well, but they’re homemade dammit.
• I did a bit of an online job search. Not too extensive, but I started to look around.
• I went to the grocery store.
• And I searched the hell out of homes for sale. Like, a LOT of searching.

See? I did stuff! A whole list of stuff.

Most of my time I think was spent looking online for a new place to live. And reading up on stuff I need to know about buying our very first home. It’s kind of daunting how much I don’t know about this stuff. It’s been a bit overwhelming at times. But at least its been keeping my brain occupied!

Also, the sooner we move the sooner we’ll be saving money. No more crazy high rent payments! Woooo!

Oh, and I’ll finally get to have a washer and dryer INSIDE instead of walking to a communal laundry room. The HB’s one request is that there’s a big enough garage for him to have a ‘man cave’ to store all of his manly tools and stuff. It’s been twelve years since we’ve had either luxury. And now they’re within our grasp! Well, after we apply for a loan. And get a loan. And do a tour of the few places we’ve selected. And make an offer. And holy crap there’s still so much to do.

To add to the madness, I’ll be participating in NaNoWriMo this year. I haven’t done NaNo since I went back to school and I’ve been really looking forward to the hectic paced novel writing that will happen next month.

Job searching, house hunting, and writing a novel... November will certainly be an adventure.

Today

As a supervisor was walking with me back to my office he asked if I had a backup plan. I laughed. It never occurred to me to have a back up plan.

Sure, I’d thought about what I might do after I left my job, especially after I finished my degree a couple of months ago. I couldn’t stay there indefinitely, could I? Would I even want to? But I was happy where I was at. There was no need to rush on to The Next Big Thing. Besides, staying meant avoiding the big What To Be When I Grow Up question.

A couple of months ago it became known that a couple of the production lines were going to be relocated to other facilities. It stood to reason that the people running the lines would be let go when there was nothing for them to work on. It wasn’t until this last Tuesday, when news of the unusual monthly meeting set-up made its way back to my tiny office, did I begin to think, ‘hey, they might downsize my department too!’

I realized it was possible that I could be the one let go.

I even took all the personal stuff littering my desk and drawers home yesterday. Just In Case.

And it still never occurred to me to start thinking of a backup plan.

I knew it was possible. It made sense that with a third of the production lines going there’d be a third of the work to do, so bye-bye third person in my department.

It was still a shock when I heard my position had been... shit, what did they call it? Not redundant... “No longer needed” I guess. Which is bullshit, because the job still needs to be done. They’re just foisting it on my coworker. Out of the blue. No heads up so I can give him any training. Sucks to be him. Wait a minute... no it doesn’t! He still has a job!

Sigh.

I knew that if I was let go, everything would be okay.

It will suck, but I can find another job.

The HB will support me, emotionally and financially for a bit if need be.

I’d be okay. We’d be okay.

I could look at it as a good thing, a gentle push into a different direction that will ultimately turn out to be so much better for me.

I knew this, and still I was anxious. It felt irrational to be so anxious. It would’t be the end of the world. I knew it. So why worry about it? If something happens, I’ll deal with it!

Easier said than done.

I showed up at nine this morning, giving myself a pep talk. “It’ll be fine. There’s probably nothing to worry about, but if you’re let go, it will be okay. It will be okay.”

I wish I’d talked myself into believing I was getting laid off instead. Then I could have been more prepared to deal with the news.

I would have been braced for the bad. I would have appeared calm. Cool. Unaffected. “You’re letting me go? Interesting. Could we speed this up? I have an interview at 10.”

As the employees showed up this morning, all of the supervisors were lined up down the hall that lead to the conference/meeting room. It was surreal, like they were getting ready to shake everyone’s hand for the last time. It really weird-ed me out, so I avoided eye contact and ducked into the room through the first door I came to.

There was a five minute speech. “Hello. Welcome. Shits about to happen. Let’s begin.” That was about it. Then we had one-on-ones with a HR manager and our supervisor. I was in the first batch called. The others had to stay in the conference room while they waited their turn.

I sat down in a small meeting room with the best boss I’ve ever had and some stranger I’ve never met before. I should have picked up on the boss’s body language and voice tone. Thinking about it now, he looked uneasy, like he was about to share some unpleasant news. Ha! I think I subconsciously chalked it up to just being a bad day for everyone. He said he was going to read through the script they (the bosses) had to run through. I thought that was just because the HR rep was there and the boss had to be ‘by the book’. He’s always been so damn informal. That damn script lulled me into thinking everything was okay. “Production has been cut... less need for certain jobs… YOUR JOB IS NO LONGER NEEDED SUCKER.”

Bam! Pow! WTF?

I was waiting for him to say ‘only two jobs will be kept in your department’ and I was bracing to find out which of the other two it was going to be. But then he said “you”. “Your” job. “Your” position. “You” will no longer be working here. Not “him” or “them” but “you” and I kept repeating that.

“You.”

That means “me.”

Why, why, why did I think I was so safe? I should have convinced myself I was a goner. I wouldn’t have felt so stupid while the HR dude talked about the HR stuff.

But I was cool about it. I didn’t cry. I didn’t freak out. I even cracked a joke! And they laughed!

And I was going to walk out of there with my head held high dammit.

This will be a good thing, I told myself as the HR guy talked. And my boss just sat and stared at me. This will be that nudge I need to find a better job. A job that better suits me and my talents. This will all turn out to be The Best Thing For Me.

Then the HR guy got to the end of his spiel. He’d handed me all the paperwork he needed to hand me, told me all the things he needed to tell me.

Then he handed me my last paycheck.

And it was suddenly ten times more real.

I felt that tight grip of control start to loosen and my face started to scrunch up in a holy-shit-I’m-about-to-cry sort of way. I took a deep breath and quickly apologized.

“Sorry,” I said flapping my arms up and down twice. “I think I’m about to have a girl moment.”

“It’s okay,” the HR guy said in an annoyingly sympathetic tone.

I took a second to regroup.

“Here,” my boss said and nudged the box of Kleenex a fraction of an inch closer.

“Well damn,” I said as I stared at the box sitting in the middle of the table. “That should have been a dead give away right there!”

They chuckled. And they watched me stare at that last check. That god damn last check from my first real grown up job that I’ve had for the last eight and a half years and holy crap what am I going to do now with my fucking life.

ARRRRRRRRRRRGGGG.

At least I didn’t get fired, right? That would have been worse. Nothing I did wrong. Nope. They just downsized. And I wasn’t good enough to keep around.

Fuck.

I hid the check between the stack of papers I’d been given. I wanted to be strong. To be able to stare at it, hold it in my hands, and not be fazed by it. But I couldn’t do it. I felt weak. And that annoyed me. And then I felt like crying. And I wanted to get the hell out of there before anyone besides those two saw it.

But not before I thanked the HR guy for a wonderful job. “In all seriousness,” I told him. “You were awesome.” They kept letting me blab on and on like an idiot instead of kicking me out of the room like sensible people who are still in their right mind because they still have their damn job. We’re all standing up, next to the door. I’m thanking the HR guy. And I think I thanked my boss for “everything” either before or after I looked dead in the eyes and said, “This sucks.” And still they let me linger. Kick me out for crying out loud and stop me before I embarrass myself even more. Sheesh!

Next stop: saying goodbye to my office. I’d cleaned out my desk yesterday, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to pack up every last thing I’d want to take with me. Because it wasn’t going to really happen. I knew it was possible, I really did, but I still didn’t believe it would happen.

Yesterday, before I left for the day, I’d grabbed all desk gnomes I’ve collected over the years. A couple were happy meal toys. Three of them are pokemons found in poptart boxes. A few were x-men figurines found in those plastic bubbles you get from the quarter machines at movie theaters. A coworker had given me two, wolverine and magneto. Another coworker had given me a dog figurine. Another had given me a happy face with legs and bunny ears.

Gah! Making it all worse is that I have no idea who else got laid off. I didn’t have time to say goodbye to the friends I had there. I could send them a goodbye email, but what if they’re not there Monday to receive it?

Well, I’d packed up my cd’s yesterday as well. A calculator I’d gotten from work with a cool little flip top. I’d emailed 8 years worth of pictures and person files I’d found/made through the years then deleted them from the computer.

But I hadn’t taken the award certificate Mr. Desk Neighbor had made me for having the messiest desk.

I didn’t want to walk all the way back to my office, with a damn escort at that, I just wanted to leave. But I didn’t want to leave without that certificate.

So we made the trek to the back. While I was there I grabbed some other keepsakes. I grabbed the ugly fanny pack I received a couple of years ago that was given out as a ‘safety award’. I thought about leaving all the pens and post-it notes that were inside (I’d used it to carry my office supplies every time I moved offices) but I just dumped that shit in a drawer and left. I couldn’t linger about any longer.

So yeah. I have no job. I am unemployed!

And it feels so damn surreal.

I think I got all the crying out of my system as I drove home. And as I went through the drive through at In-N-Out. That was a little embarrassing.

I am NOT going to freak out about money, i.e. car payments, student loan payments, rent, and all the other bills I started cataloguing on my way home.

But it is tempting.

I will also not worry about the fact that the HB and I had wanted to move into a house soon. Our lease is up this month and we still need to decide, ‘House? Cheaper apartment while we save some more? Or stay?” I will also not worry about the fact that the HB has been thinking about quitting his job for awhile now. Guess I foiled those plans!

I called him as soon as I got to my car and I’d just like to say he is the bestest boyfriend ever.

He said I should take a month or two off, but I’m thinking a week should suffice for a decent pity party. Or maybe two. I’m kind of afraid to take off more than that. I might like the lazy life a bit too much.

I'll take some time though, then see what’s out there in the Big Scary World of Job Openings. Maybe I’ll get lucky and find something I can use my useless degree for! Wouldn’t that be the shit?

It will all work out for the best.

Everything will be all right.

I will be all right.

Nothing but good times ahead.

Tomorrow

It loooooooooooms like a great big looming cloud of doom.

Tomorrow is the day I find out if I still have a job. I'm pretty sure I still do. Optimistically speaking my chances are good.

But I'm still anxious as shit.

Even if my job is spared, I wouldn't be surprised if someone in my department gets cut. About a third of the production lines are migrating to other facilities. A rumor a little birdie told me is that about a quarter of the production crew is getting the axe in the process.

Will the same happen to my department? A department of just three people? It wouldn't make too much sense to cut one of us, but when has sense ever played a part in a corporate decision. (Bah! I feel so jaded!) We already have enough on our plates to keep us busy, but hey, two of us manage when one of us goes on vacation, so what the hell. Make it permanent!

A coworker who works up in the front office said there are freakin' security guards roaming about. The rumor: they're getting ready to escort people out once the firing starts. I don't remember ever seeing security guards when I worked in the front. But then, I don't think I ever saw anyone after they were recently fired, so maybe the security guards just popped out of nowhere and whisked the unemployed away. Anyone I might have been in view of being escorted out ended up quitting long before they could be let go anyway.

Sigh.

Tomorrow is the day when we find out who stays and who goes. This is still unofficial though. We all know layoffs will happen; we just don't know when. But tomorrow is the monthly companywide meeting, so many people are speculating this is the perfect time to spring the happy news.

Oh! And another rumor? The place is shutting down tonight. UN. HEARD. OF. Seriously. We used to be 24/7. Lately we've been 24/5 due to the bad economy blah blah blah. But to suddenly shut down in the middle of the week? Holy crap. Which means, if its true, we have to show up tomorrow just for the Meeting of Doom. Weird.

More weird is that in the past, three different meeting times were posted and you show up for whichever one you can make. This monthly meeting? Each of the three different time slots are assigned rows and rows of employee ID numbers. They've actually assigned us a time, and done it all secret-like with anonymous numbers. I've worked here for nine years. That's a first.

I have the 9am slot. Guy Number 1 in my department has the noon slot. Guy Number 2 has the 3pm slot.

Yeah.

Magic 8 Ball says, "Outcome looks grim."

But thank Elvis I don't have to wait until 3 freakin pm to find out if I still have my job.

Guy Number 1 was told by our boss to wait to come in to work until his noon meeting time. But its still not official that we're not working tomorrow. Oy vey. When will Mr. Boss bother to tell me to just show up for my 9am time? Hopefully soon because it's driving me nuts.

I don't want to do any work.

What's the point if I don't have a job? Bad, bad, bad thoughts.

I feel the urge to get rid of anything personal, i.e. the snoopy pen in my desk, my cd's, the handful of figurines decorating my desk, computer files such as work inspired pics, this word doc with all my scribblings, etc.

It's a good idea to clean that shit up anyway.

My desk is full of old papers and files I've kept "just in case I need it later" because I'm a packrat. And now its time to purge purge purge!

Kind of like if you die, you don't want relatives and friends to find your porn stash, you know?

If I don't show up for work next week I don't want anyone to find any notes or stick man figures I might have drawn during conference calls and whatnot.

And all those lolcats I've saved to my documents folder.

BRB purging

My psychic powers kick ass!

Normally, at work, if I'm cold I'll adjust the a/c up a degree or two. Problem solved!

Or, if Other Office Chick is in the office, we take turns messing with the thermostat. When I get cold I turn it up a few degrees. When she feels stuffy and claustrophobic, the a/c gets dialed down a couple of degrees and I try not to freeze.

Normally, this isn't a big deal.

Normally, sure, I'll get cold, but hey, at least I'm not working outside! I suck it up, continue on with my work, and wait for Other Office Chick to go out for lunch or head to a meeting so I can bump the a/c up again.

Normally, this isn't a situation that would compel me to put pen to paper fingers to keyboard.

Today though, today I was freakishly cold. The a/c was hovering around 74 degrees but to me it felt like 64. I tried blaming it on my wet hair, but I've had wet hair before and I've never felt so cold in a really-not-that-cold room. I felt almost flu-like cold. I'm not sick, thank Elvis, but for some reason... well, there was just something plain wrong with me.

I was going to suffer being so freakishly cold for no good reason but then I thought, 'Dang it! I have a sweatshirt in the car! That's why its there!' and decided not to be a lazy ass and make the small hike to the car.

The sweatshirt has been in the car since last winter. During the cold season I wear a sweater/sweatshirt every day in the office because yes, even in winter these silly office coworkers like to turn the a/c on. I left the sweatshirt in the car in case I needed it one day, and I've thought on a couple of occasions over the last few weeks, 'Hey! I'm cold! Maybe I should go get it!'

But then I think about how hot it is outside and realize staying inside is a much better idea. And eventually I forget that it's cold. And then Other Office Chick leaves and I can set the thermostat back to a more comfortable level.

But today... something compelled me to go outside and grab the sweatshirt.

And after I did? Well, it was so hot outside I quickly got over my cold spell. My hair dried up. I got super warm. And by the time I returned to the office I was no longer in need of a sweatshirt.

'Oh well,' I thought, and chalked it up to a nice mini diversion from work.

And then three hours later my pants ripped.

I'm not talking about a little tear either.

I think they heard the horrible rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrripping sound all the way in the next county.

The hole in my pants is almost too big for my hand to cover, as if I wanted to walk around with my hand over my ass for the next few hours.

Holy crap, if I didn't have my sweatshirt I don't know what I'd do!

Wear my pants backwards and hold some object in front of the massive hole?

"Oh, hi, don't mind me! I'm just carrying this empty box out to my car in a really weird way. Thanks for not looking too closely at my pants!"

I don't know what Other Office Chick was thinking after she heard the rrrrrrrrrrripping noise. Two rrrrrrripping noises actually, as I moved too fast in my chair in a 'what the hell?' kind of move that made the pants rip again. Did she think I farted? Does she know the sound of ripping pants and know that I do indeed have a huge hole in the ass of my pants now?

Can this day be over already so I can go home, throw these pants away, and pretend this never happened?

Stupid pants. :(

But hey! I've got psychic powers now apparently. Because that's too much of a coincidence to be anything else. The one time I go out to my car for the sweatshirt is the one time I tear a big ass hole where the left cheek pocket used to be. What are the odds?!

Stupid pants. :(

The fruit worries the approving bread under the pride.

The last couple of days I've not had much to eat for lunch. I've subsisted on granola bars and crackers and while both are quite yummy, especially when paired with a cup of coffee, neither is very filling. Yesterday I did have some nuked leftovers, but I ate that more as a brunch than a lunch, so by the end of the day I was starving.

This morning though, I packed a GLORIOUS lunch:

• 1.5 peanut butter (generic non crunchy) & jelly (smuckers raspberry) sandwich on wheat bread
  
• 1 yogurt (raspberry)
  
• 1 tupperware container full of chopped up chunks of watermelon, cantaloupe, & honey dew melon

Okay, not really that glorious, but it sure as hell beats the last couple of lunches I've had.

I was pleased with my selection of munchies for the day. Then Visitor Guy (who's here for the day, visiting from a sister facility) walked over and said, "I'm going to Farmer Boys to pick up something to eat. What do you want?" And my munchies seemed not so munchable.

"Oh. Nothing. I'm good," I said, while hoping I wasn't visibly salivating.

"You sure?"

I looked sadly at the pb&j sitting on my desk. I brought lunch, I reminded myself. And I love pb&j sandwiches so I should be satisfied with that. Farmer Boys is greasy and good but greasy and that's bad, bad, bad.

"I'm sure. I brought food. I'm good."

"Come on, it's on The Company."

Oh... Well...

Then he flashed me the corporate card he'll be charging breakfast to.

"I'll have a breakfast sandwich!"

Of all the days he showed up with his fancy shmancy corporate charge card, he had to pick the day I actually managed to bring food with me!

Grrrrrrr.

I guess I could have said no. Been good and stayed with my semi healthy lunch. But its free food. At the expense of the company! I haven't gotten a raise in years. I'll take what I can get.

Show Me On The Doll Where The Bad Word Touched You

Fail.

Less than 24hrs fresh from harassment training and I'm already using inappropriate words.

"Hey Lisa," says a co-worker. "Do you have a flashlight?"

My mind instantly flashes (heh) to the mini flashlight hanging from a zipper on my backpack that I received from a butt-kissin' vendor. The thing technically works. It does produce light when the button is pushed, but you can't see shit from the faint wisp of light than emanates from its light-emanating orifice.

So I say to my colleague, "Yeah, but its retarded--"

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh crap.

"I apologize for my inappropriate word," I say to my co-worker, one of the dudes I sat next to during the airing of the cheesy (are there any that aren't?) harassment video.

He waives his hand in a casual 'fuggedaboutit' move and chuckles. "I'm not offended."

"Yeah, but it's still offensive. And I'm bad for saying it."

I feel horrible now.

The word just slid right out!

I was on a kick some months ago, using that word way too much. It filled me with inappropriate joy to do so. I'm not proud to admit it, but I will.

I blame this blog, on the writer's obvious joy from using the word. I read the blog and started using myself. It was addictive. Especially when said with a horribly faked Boston accent. "That's wicked retahhhhded."

But I made a concerted effort not to use that word after awhile and I was doing a really good job of it too. That is, until I watched the video yesterday. It shoved that word right back into my Vocab Database.

Oh yeah, I thought as I watched Inappropriate Office Worker Number 1 in the video use that word in front of Offended Office Worker Number 2, I used to say that word in front of coworkers!

I get really bothered by some of the other examples demonstrated in that video, which put a double whammy of shame on me for ever using an inappropriate word. If the video's purpose was to make me feel bad for ever saying The "R" Word... well, mission accomplished. And rightly so.

And now I've gone and said it again.

:( :( :( :(

I blame Inappropriate Office Worker Number 1.

S is for the way you SUCK at communication.

I really dislike working with idiots, morons, a-holes, douche-nozzles, twat-waffles or anyone else that falls into that circus of People Who Irritate Me. But then, who does? If you do, what's the secret? And don't say booze.

It's even more frustrating sometimes working with a friend, someone I know who can be quite intelligent, when they insist on being the most difficult human being on the planet.

Okay. That may be a bit of an over exaggeration. He's just being the most difficult human in this zip code.

He sends me an email that basically says 'hey, here's a job that needs to get done, stuff needs to be ordered.' Because that's my job: to order stuff.

I take a look at the order and note some discrepancies. One section of the order says "X" is needed. Another section says "Y" is needed.

The numbers are very similar, but not exact. Since I want to make sure the right thing gets ordered, I reply back to Mr. Pain N. Ass with a very pleasant and very work appropriate version of what is essentially "WTF?"

No, really, I wrote out my concerns to make it as plain as dirt. "This says X and this says Y. Are they the same? If not please clarify."

Hey! That rhymes! I think I shall call it Ode To Asshat.

These two emails were exchanged on Tuesday. Wednesday morning arrives, and to work so do I, and when I open my emails I see that no reply has been sent. Okay, no biggie. I'll send another email!

"Wasssssup? Hey bro, can you look at the email I sent yesterday? Need more 4-1-1 on the order, yo!"

This morning? Yeah. Still nothing. Sigh. Okay. He replied to every other email I sent him in the last two days, maybe he just missed this one these two. And I have that sneaky little 'read receipt' action going so I know he hasn't even opened them yet.

So I send out Email Number Three this morning while I make a mental note to call him about it later. But he replies back to my voice messages even less frequently than he does my emails so I'd have to catch him when he's not screening calls.

Before I get the chance to act on the mental note he calls me about some other issue he has.

"Oh, by the way," I say. "Take a look at that email I sent out this morning when you get the chance."

"I'm going to be busy all day," he says. "In and out of meetings," he says.

"Okay... but if you get the chance..."

"Thursday is my busiest day."

"Yeah. Got it. You're a busy fellow. You tell me that every chance you get. But please, just take a look at it when you get a moment. I'd liked to finish processing the order--"

"Just order the parts," he says before I can finish my sentence.

I took a deep breath. Counted to 10. Refrained from banging the phone on my desk.

"I can't. That's why I sent you the email, which will take one minute of your time to read and respond to, SO WHEN YOU GET A FREE MINUTE..."

This is the kind of relationship we have. One day we'll be all sunshine and smiles and rainbow farts galore. The next we're a bunch of bitchy cats hissing at each other.

He continued to throw up more excuses as to why he couldn't read my email. At no point did I ever say it was a dire emergency that required IMMEDIATE attention so I'm getting frazzled that he has THE NERVE to get frazzled at me. I was just giving him a verbal post-it note to read a damn email when he had some damn free time. Even if it was tomorrow. That was all. No pressure.

All he had to say was, 'I'll take a look at it when I can.'

S I M P L E

We hang up. Less than a minute later the twerp reads the email. Too busy my ass.

Then, because he likes being an ass, he responds by not responding to my original question. This is a staple in his Email Reply Repertoire.

My question was this: "X doesn't match Y. Are they the same? If not, which is needed?"

His response could have been one of the following:

1) X
2) Y
3) yes, they're the same

Either would have been perfectly acceptable. (Heh. "Acceptable." That sounds so catty.)

His actual response was this: "Order 5. They replaced the WRTT (Work Related Technical Term) without telling anyone."

Seriously. Nowhere in that reply is the answer to my inquiry. It's like trying to decode a puzzle without a decoder ring.

My reply to the reply was thus: "Yeah. I know to order 5. That wasn't the question. My question had to do with two different part numbers being listed on the order. ARE THEY THE SAME PART OR NOT?"

I've caught problems like this before. Slight mix ups. Slight typos. Shit happens. I like to keep that shit to a minimum. Shame on me.

His next reply, and I swear this is a direct copy+paste: "Not the same machine was altered tai"

Sigh.

It took me awhile to figure out he missed a period in there. I was thinking he meant "not the same machine" and I was ready to hit something. So, okay, not the same. That still doesn't tell me which to order. And the last bit? No friggin clue.

I called his extension but it rang and rang until it went to voice mail.

My follow up reply instead: "Not the same part. Got it. So which part IS needed? And what the hell does "tai" mean? Call me when you're not busy. I need help deciphering your crazy language."

A couple of minutes later he called.

And clarification was finally achieved.

Five seconds of his life to say 'order this one not that one.' It required no further research on his part. All he had to do was look at the numbers and go 'oh, this one.'

S I M P L E

Yet the ability to type that in an email was beyond his capabilities. Don't give me a history of the machine. I don't care. I. Don't. Care. Just answer the damn question.

I know he's not stupid, so I'm left believing he's doing it just to be a pain in my ass. To 'get my goat' as the ol' goat would say.

I think I'll blame my premature grey hair on him.

I Has Question

Man, this place has been neglected like a sandy vagina. Let's remedy that, shall we?

Because you see, I have this question. Not an IMPORTANT question or even an INTERESTING question. Just a thing that made me go HMMMM.

If I send an email to someone requesting something, and end it with a "thanks for the help", do I need to send another 'thanks' email in reply once that someone follows up with the request? It seems a bit redundant. I already said thanks; I don't want to beat them over the head with it. But not saying it makes me feel guilty. Especially since it’s a work related email because those should be handled differently, than, say, my friend Jack sending me a picture of kitty porn.

Not that I can't find that stuff for myself mind you.


see more Lolcats and funny pictures

Here's an example of a recent email exchange between me and a vendor I deal with at work that inspired this awesome post.

From: Moi
To: Person I Need Help From
Subject: Dude, where's my invoice?

Hello Person I Need Help From. Could you email me a copy of an invoice from FOREVER AGO. Blah blah relevant info to aid in your search for the desired invoice. Thanks in advance for the help.

To: Person in Need
From: Person With The Goods
Re: Dude?

Here it is. I thought I'd never find it! :-)
Nicey nicey warm wishes.

I thought about responding with a "Thanks!"...

...then thought, "but I already said thanks"...

...and then thought, "she was nice about it... and quick too"...

... and then thought about responding to her 'finding it' comment with a "I know OMG its so old lolololol :) :) :)"...

... and then I felt nuttered for even thinking that.

The internets. They have warped me.

Sigh.

Maybe I shouldn't include the preemptive 'thanks' with the original email; that would save all this pondering. But then the email doesn't sound nice enough. And I want it to be exploding with niceties because I'm asking someone for a favor. Maybe I should send them another email and clutter their damn email box with thank you's and smilie faces and all around warm communicative fuzzies.

I don't know what it is exactly; I have this paralyzing fear of being cute in my work emails. And the ones where I send Jack kitty porn don't count. Which reminds me... Jack is due for an email!


see more Lolcats and funny pictures

So why not just be boring and respond with a plain, "Thanks"? Good question Self. You're an idiot. Excellent answer Self.

Am I making an email faux pas by not replying back with my humblest of thanks and praise? Inquiring neurotics want to know. Because if so? I have a lot of emails to reply to :(

Why?

Why must people take it upon themselves to inform me that my face is sunburned.

Really? My face is sunburned? I hadn't noticed. Nope. No mirrors in my house. Or in my car. Oh! And you know what? I can't feel the heat radiating off of my face like a disco inferno. No way, Jose. And every time I touch my face the skin doesn't feel like it just wrestled with a giant tumbleweed. So thanks Fellow Coworkers for stating the fucking obvious. Because I obviously didn't know!

If you are curious as to why my face is a tomato, then please, by all means, inquire into it. I will tell you I had a fantastic time this weekend. But don't try and start the conversation off with a dumb ass remark. Because all you'll get is a smart ass remark in return.

Him: "Hey! You're face is sunburned."

Me: "Hmmm. I hadn't noticed."

Him: "You hadn't noticed?"

Me: "Noooooooooope."

Him: "Errrr..."

Me: "Hold on, I need to ignore you now and make a phone call."

I'm secluded in the back office and have only seen two people today. And both have made these brilliant observations. And now? I have to go to school. Where I'll be surrounded by people. Some of whom will be endowed with a keen sense of Must State The Obvious.

If only I had a biting comeback for all of them. Because really, after the first person let's you know you've got a sunburn, it gets really annoying really fast.

I need a t-shirt for just such an occasion. One that reads:

"My sunburn irritates me. You will too if you mention it."

But with more snarky attitude. And with a picture of a crazy lady with a gun or butter knife or something underneath so they know I mean business.

My coworker smells like Electric Youth

My coworker smells like Electric Youth

And I don't necessarily mean that in a good way.

When I was a tweeny-bopper (oh lordy I hope it was back in my pre-teen/tween years and before high school...) my parents bought me Debbie Gibson's Electric Youth perfume. It was an awesome gift.

I was a big fan of Debbie Gibson. (Still love her actually. Her greatest hits CD is full of electric and youthful win.) I listened to that Electric Youth cassette tape every night, singing along, imaginging I was the one singing on stage, or in a music video/beach movie type scenario, until the cassette died from exhaustion due to excessive rewinding after favorite songs.

The bottle of perfume looked bitchin', what with the neon pink spiral tube spiraling through the pink tinted liquid.

I was never cooler than when I spritzed on my Debbie Gibson Electric Youth perfume.

That was then, back when my nose never thought to distinguish the difference between wal-mart perfume and holy-shit-this-tiny-bottle-costs-how-much perfume. Like I would have cared back then anyhow.

I was wearing Debbie Fucking Gibson's Electric Youth perfume, yo!

But now? Yeah... the smell of that pink neon mist has not aged well.

And I keep getting a whiff of it, or its evil sad red-headed stepchild counterpart every time I walk anywhere in Ms Coworkers wafting zone. Now, I'm not saying "Wear the Good Stuff or GTFO" because lord knows I rarely bother to get spritzed up myself. I'm trying not to be a perfume snob or anything. But there are alternatives! Ones that won't make me want to gag! Skip the $2.00 perfume aisle and go look for the smelly lotion aisle. Even non-fancy smelly lotion smells a hell of a lot better than the crap perfume does.

Save that crap perfume for home. For date night. For grocery shopping night when cute clerk boy is working his shift. For going out and checking the mail.

Maybe you can find some good smelling cheap stuff. Good for you! No, really, that's awesome. Tell me where you bought it!

But if you buy something and it smells icky?

DON'T DOSE YOURSELF IN IT BEFORE WORKING IN MY OFFICE.

Thanks,
Management

I spent my load writing this post so I have nothing left for the title

Today is the day I've been dreading since I hit the ADD button next to the second to last creative writing course I'll be taking at UCR. I'm not dreading the class itself. No, the feeling that class evokes is more like an intoxicatingly wonderful anxiousness. What I'm dreading is the fact that this class is from 6:00 pm to 9:00 pm. That's PM. As in holy crap Monday's going to be a painfully long day.

Monday's Schedule (for the next 9 or 10 weeks or however long the damn quarter lasts)

5:00 AM - wake up

This isn't too bad. I was waking up this early last quarter. Even earlier on Thursday which was that quarter's super long day. I almost wish though that I'd kept myself conditioned over the holiday break to waking up this early. Set the alarm at 5 then sleep in until I need to get up. Although... I bet that would have conditioned me into the wonderfulness of sleeping in on a chilly winter morning. I had to force myself to jump out of bed as soon as I heard the alarm this morning. The FIVE MINUTE SNOOZE BUTTON OF DOOM will not be tolerated this quarter.

5:30 AM - leave the apt

Hopefully I've managed to brush the appropriate areas and clean other areas and dress with nothing that clashes too badly. On Monday's I'll probably go casual and wear jeans to work because fuck it! I'm going to be comfortable on this long ass day. So clashing shouldn't be a problem.

Hopefully I've also managed to move fast enough thru the haze of the early morning to make lunch. There won't be much time to stop for food either to or fro school/work. The HB and I are also trying really hard this year to save money for a house so if I don't make sandwiches before I leave I'll be snacking on whatever I can find in my desk drawers.

NOTE TO SELF: stock up on snacks!!!!!

6:00 AM - clock in at work

Turn on the computer. Tell the cleaning lady she doesn't need to clean the two inches of visible desk space - for the umpteenth time. Mourn the absence Mr. Desk Neighbor as he has been relocated to a corner of the prestigious upstairs front office space. Debate whether I should have a cup of coffee or not.

6:15 AM - get coffee

There's nothing else to do while I wait for the computer to boot up from the weekend shutdown. It's either Get Coffee or Clean My Desk, and the latter is rarely a winning option.

11:00 AM - clock out and leave for the first class of the day - Spanish 2

Mi clase de espanol es desde las doce y diez hasta la uno un punto de la tarde.

Translation = My Spanish class is from 12:10 to 1:00 pm

(God I hope I got that right. It was only on a couple of tests last quarter!)

1:30 PM - clock back into work

1:30 is the goal, though depending on traffic and how far deep into BFE I had to park this very by 5-10 minutes.

4:30 PM - clock out for the day and leave for the second class of the day - Workshop

Ugh.

As if Monday's weren't already a barrel of SUCK.

Now I have to drive back to school in the same day. This is going to kill me. I really think it is. I'm going to keep reminding myself though that its only once a week. For only 9 or 10 weeks. And there will be two holidays coming up! So I'll only have to do this 7 or 8 times. Only only only.

Ugh.

It's now rush hour traffic, and I have an hour and a half to drive what normally takes a half hour, and I'm not sure if I'm going to make it on time. They're no longer doing construction like they were a couple years ago when I had a night class, so I'm hoping its not too bad. But its still rush hour time. :(

Class is from 6:00 pm to 9:00 pm. Since there will be so few classes she might keep us the whole time. And since there are so few classes there will be lots of writing due very shortly. Eeek. So that's why this is post is so long. I'm trying to get used to writing crap again. :)

I really need to start journaling every day - even if its boring like this. This is a like a New Year's Resolution of sorts, only I don't like doing those because I feel bad when they're not kept. So I'm disguising it as something that I Really Need/Want/Should/WILL Do.

Up next? A post about nipples! The fun is just starting folks.

10:00 PM - arrive home

Ugh.

On the bright side, I don't have class on Tuesday's this quarter, so Tuesday's will be a little bit of a reprieve. That means I can sleep in until 6 in the morning tomorrow!

WOOOOOHOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!