My current rage is making me want to make regrettable decisions.
Thank you work for making this day stellar! Thank you work for not making a donation to my marathon despite doling out a grand to my coworker. Thank you work for acknowledging the NEWEST employee for her administrative help on this fine fucking ADMINISTRATIVE ASSISTANT'S DAY.
Fuck you work. Fuck you and your constant determination in making me want to throw myself in front of one of the moving trains that go past my bedroom window.
While I don't want to identify myself as an admin, the sad fact in this job is that I am. Bottom of the totem pole. An intern is getting offered a position here and something tells me they will make more than me.
So, is it wrong to want one day of appreciation? Especially since the last two years in a row I have brought cookies and cards on boss' day. (And no, it was not called Shitty Boss' Day which would have been a more appropriate celebration.)
So, shitty bosses, no more fucking cookies for you!
I will eat all the best intentioned cookies that I was planning on making for you. And thankfully rage calories do not stick to your ass as they get burned immediately by the hate fire within.
So to summarize: Work, you fucking suck. Bosses you fucking double suck.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Things That I Like That I Didn't Know I Like
I doubt that I am alone dreading the many ways that I have become my mother. However, as I get older, I realize it's not such a bad thing. With the exception of passing on the Rodriguez women's curse, i.e., batshit crazy moodiness (the end result being that my medicine cabinet looks like a pharmacy. I would be depressed about it but thankfully I have a pill for that.) my other shared traits have been smooth sailing.
One of the more pronounced similarities is our shared rage for slow people. Slow as in slow moving, not as in dumb. There is nothing that irritates me more than people who walk in front of you at a snail's pace, blocking any hope you have of passing them. Oddly, my rage is contained to walking only and rarely comes out during driving. Like me, my mom reacts the same way - internal and near combustible rage.
To look at us, one wouldn't suspect that we are fast. Both hovering somewhere around 5'4" ish, we are not tall people. Yet, perhaps we have both been cursed by our predelection towards tall men lacking awareness at the double strides we have to use to keep up with their leisurely ones.
Despite our shortness, we want to move people! Slow walkers are one of the primary reasons that I avoid malls and amusement parks. Grocery stores cause me heart palpitations as well. It takes a lot of self control to not scream that they "GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY!"
I run because it calms me. However, my rage towards slow walkers is only intensified when I am on the trail. Although I hate slow walkers, I admit that I am a slow runner. In my defense, I adhere to proper etiquette - slow people to the right on a two way trail (to the left on a track if you are going counter-clockwise). So if a fast runner is coming up behind me, I move closer to the right so they can happily pass without breaking stride. SLOW WALKERS on the other hand tend to hover somewhere around the center yet take up so much space that you can't pass to the right either.
I hate them! There is nothing worse than breaking your pace. SLOW WALKERS of course don't get this at all because slow doesn't have a pace that is worth maintaining.
In short, I hate slow walkers. I think it may result from anxiety about not being in control of my surroundings. It sort of feels like claustrophobia only with big wide spaces that have been unfortunately bifurcated by slowness. I don't like to feel caged in. My heighthened fight or flight response may be the cause. You see, my only hope is going to be flight as I am no fighter. (Although is words were punches I could lay off the slow walker hate.) This is all of course probably yet another manifestation of the Rodriguez Women's curse. We have created a fine pairing of anxiety and control into one single stream of crazy. I accept it yet I hate that I can't push people out of the way.
Unrelated to slow walkers - did you know that I like hemp protein? I didn't know it until last night! My smoothie was delightfully free of grainy chunks and tasted like an unadulterated smoothie the way it was intended to be. So thank you helpful smoothie ladies at Castle Hill!
One of the more pronounced similarities is our shared rage for slow people. Slow as in slow moving, not as in dumb. There is nothing that irritates me more than people who walk in front of you at a snail's pace, blocking any hope you have of passing them. Oddly, my rage is contained to walking only and rarely comes out during driving. Like me, my mom reacts the same way - internal and near combustible rage.
To look at us, one wouldn't suspect that we are fast. Both hovering somewhere around 5'4" ish, we are not tall people. Yet, perhaps we have both been cursed by our predelection towards tall men lacking awareness at the double strides we have to use to keep up with their leisurely ones.
Despite our shortness, we want to move people! Slow walkers are one of the primary reasons that I avoid malls and amusement parks. Grocery stores cause me heart palpitations as well. It takes a lot of self control to not scream that they "GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY!"
I run because it calms me. However, my rage towards slow walkers is only intensified when I am on the trail. Although I hate slow walkers, I admit that I am a slow runner. In my defense, I adhere to proper etiquette - slow people to the right on a two way trail (to the left on a track if you are going counter-clockwise). So if a fast runner is coming up behind me, I move closer to the right so they can happily pass without breaking stride. SLOW WALKERS on the other hand tend to hover somewhere around the center yet take up so much space that you can't pass to the right either.
I hate them! There is nothing worse than breaking your pace. SLOW WALKERS of course don't get this at all because slow doesn't have a pace that is worth maintaining.
In short, I hate slow walkers. I think it may result from anxiety about not being in control of my surroundings. It sort of feels like claustrophobia only with big wide spaces that have been unfortunately bifurcated by slowness. I don't like to feel caged in. My heighthened fight or flight response may be the cause. You see, my only hope is going to be flight as I am no fighter. (Although is words were punches I could lay off the slow walker hate.) This is all of course probably yet another manifestation of the Rodriguez Women's curse. We have created a fine pairing of anxiety and control into one single stream of crazy. I accept it yet I hate that I can't push people out of the way.
Unrelated to slow walkers - did you know that I like hemp protein? I didn't know it until last night! My smoothie was delightfully free of grainy chunks and tasted like an unadulterated smoothie the way it was intended to be. So thank you helpful smoothie ladies at Castle Hill!
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Maths Make You Mean
So, clearly I have taken a long hiatus. It could be because I had nothing to write about or that I have been super busy. That would be partly true but the main ingredient would be that I am incredibly unmotivated to maintain activities even if I enjoy them.
So to catch things up to speed briefly - marathon training is still in full effect. I am fundraising still which means that I am constantly baking cupcakes. It's all I do. That and run. I also am still having job woes.
I was able to tweak my roles here and that has helped quite a bit. The problem has been the residuals of my old position. Until we hire a glorified receptionist, I am still having to take care of processes that are huge time distractions.
The upside is that my old boss isn't really my boss anymore. This is good. The downside is that I still have to do things in conjunction with our accountant who may be the punishment my past life was deserving but I can't say I am certain about that.
At one point, I would argue she had every right to be frustrated with me. I was behind on projects - the cause stemming from coordinating our office move. This was truly the low point in my job and left me in tears on a daily basis. I stopped sleeping the whole night through, constantly freeting over the day I had just left behind and the awful one awaiting me. I spiraled into a hypomanic mess and was taking a pharmacy of drugs to get me through the day. (Months later I was rewarded by my boss with a criticism of what an awful job I did on the move overall. Very motivating when I look back on the toll it took on me mentally and physically). Moving an office shouldn't be the hardest thing in the world. However when it is being overseen by three people who refused to make timely decisions or contradictory one it became a logistical nightmare. Couple that with no help from anyone and the demands of a job that were already out of hand and it became a hellish.
Back to the point. I offer that as explanation and not an excuse. Although I guess it could be argued that they are one and the same. However, it was a difficult time and I was very overwhelmed. And in that meant that I was not as swift as I would have liked in completing my daily tasks, which didn't stop just because I was trying to take care of a huge project.
The accountant took all of this personally. I didn't get her things when she wanted them because I wanted to hurt her. Seriously, this is the stance she took. She told me this with tears in her eyes. Before you think I am an awful person, I would like to clarify that NONE of it was personal. I would never willfully ignore my work to get at someone. The fact that she saw it this way was beyond irritating. Since this time, after I apologized to her and calmly tried to explain that I was in an unforgiving situation at the moment and taxed well beyond my reserves, she has continued to operate on the pretense that I want to hurt her and try to make her life difficult.
How do you reason with someone who is taking an emotional slant on something that is not a result of intentional malice? Since then she has taken a passive aggressive stance with me and attempts to undermine me at every turn. I try to remain pleasant and kind to her because I have no choice. Even when I hear her grating giggle and ass kissery, I remain sweet and as accomodating as possible. While I don't indulge her ridiculous requests - it is not my responsibility to hand deliver her fedex packages to the mailroom - I try to stay on top of valid things she needs. I am in turn treated like a vile human being. The moment I leave her cube I hear her discuss me to whoever is closest.
She is toxic. I feel like her goal is to poison everyone against me. This in turn makes me feel paranoid and insane. Any interaction with her makes me feel like an insecure middle schooler certain that no one will let me sit with them at lunch.
I don't know how to handle her. Any time I have tried to confront her in the past, she acts like I am attacking her. She refuses to offer solutions and meets every request with a complaint.
I hate it. I hate her. Things are finally looking up her but she is tainting every day that I have to talk to her. I hate her, hate her.
So to catch things up to speed briefly - marathon training is still in full effect. I am fundraising still which means that I am constantly baking cupcakes. It's all I do. That and run. I also am still having job woes.
I was able to tweak my roles here and that has helped quite a bit. The problem has been the residuals of my old position. Until we hire a glorified receptionist, I am still having to take care of processes that are huge time distractions.
The upside is that my old boss isn't really my boss anymore. This is good. The downside is that I still have to do things in conjunction with our accountant who may be the punishment my past life was deserving but I can't say I am certain about that.
At one point, I would argue she had every right to be frustrated with me. I was behind on projects - the cause stemming from coordinating our office move. This was truly the low point in my job and left me in tears on a daily basis. I stopped sleeping the whole night through, constantly freeting over the day I had just left behind and the awful one awaiting me. I spiraled into a hypomanic mess and was taking a pharmacy of drugs to get me through the day. (Months later I was rewarded by my boss with a criticism of what an awful job I did on the move overall. Very motivating when I look back on the toll it took on me mentally and physically). Moving an office shouldn't be the hardest thing in the world. However when it is being overseen by three people who refused to make timely decisions or contradictory one it became a logistical nightmare. Couple that with no help from anyone and the demands of a job that were already out of hand and it became a hellish.
Back to the point. I offer that as explanation and not an excuse. Although I guess it could be argued that they are one and the same. However, it was a difficult time and I was very overwhelmed. And in that meant that I was not as swift as I would have liked in completing my daily tasks, which didn't stop just because I was trying to take care of a huge project.
The accountant took all of this personally. I didn't get her things when she wanted them because I wanted to hurt her. Seriously, this is the stance she took. She told me this with tears in her eyes. Before you think I am an awful person, I would like to clarify that NONE of it was personal. I would never willfully ignore my work to get at someone. The fact that she saw it this way was beyond irritating. Since this time, after I apologized to her and calmly tried to explain that I was in an unforgiving situation at the moment and taxed well beyond my reserves, she has continued to operate on the pretense that I want to hurt her and try to make her life difficult.
How do you reason with someone who is taking an emotional slant on something that is not a result of intentional malice? Since then she has taken a passive aggressive stance with me and attempts to undermine me at every turn. I try to remain pleasant and kind to her because I have no choice. Even when I hear her grating giggle and ass kissery, I remain sweet and as accomodating as possible. While I don't indulge her ridiculous requests - it is not my responsibility to hand deliver her fedex packages to the mailroom - I try to stay on top of valid things she needs. I am in turn treated like a vile human being. The moment I leave her cube I hear her discuss me to whoever is closest.
She is toxic. I feel like her goal is to poison everyone against me. This in turn makes me feel paranoid and insane. Any interaction with her makes me feel like an insecure middle schooler certain that no one will let me sit with them at lunch.
I don't know how to handle her. Any time I have tried to confront her in the past, she acts like I am attacking her. She refuses to offer solutions and meets every request with a complaint.
I hate it. I hate her. Things are finally looking up her but she is tainting every day that I have to talk to her. I hate her, hate her.
Friday, January 30, 2009
God Damn It, Gillian!
Today's post was promised to Gillian who has requested I put something up for Christ's sake! (I take the lord's name in vain a lot.)
I have been pretty bad about posting but I would like to blame that on the constant stream of Gmail Chats that keep me from killing myself during my work day. Really, Gmail Chat sessions should be considered necessary by my employers and not time theft.
Lots to update briefly!
First - OMG. Was my last post a little sad and melodramatic? I can't tell. I reread it and am cringing even though I stand by everything I wrote. I just hope I didn't verge into teen angst territory.
Second - Holy hell I hate my job. I guess that isn't so much an update as it is a statement of fact.
Third - Gillian, also known as "The Instigator" has convinced me that what my life is missing is kickball. Let the record show that Gillian is sure that MY life is missing it and that hers is not part of that equation at all. However, I think that her life is missing cheerleading me through kickball. Thus, I am holding her to our pizza parlor pow-wow (also known as Jesse's Temporary Farewell party). Gillian, since I know you will be reading this post, you have to attend AT LEAST 4 of my 8 games.
After agreeing to kickball I realized that I have never participated in a team sport. Ever. Running doesn't count. From what I've been told, the only thing I really need to brush up on is my shittalking skills. Luckily I feel pretty confident about those.
Fourth - I am going to run a motherfucking marathon! I think that 26.2 miles deserves some serious swear words. I am doiong it through Teams in Training which you can read about here: http://pages.teamintraining.org/ctx/rnrseatl09/jwheelehuz . While you're there give me some money! I have to raise $4,100 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society before the event. It's kind of a daunting goal but I am willing to whore it up for anything that goes towards cancer research and patient support.
Fifth - It's cold in my office which is odd because it's hell here. Go figure.
Ok, that's it. Have to work.
Jesse - if you happen to come across this post - Peaches and Bears!
I have been pretty bad about posting but I would like to blame that on the constant stream of Gmail Chats that keep me from killing myself during my work day. Really, Gmail Chat sessions should be considered necessary by my employers and not time theft.
Lots to update briefly!
First - OMG. Was my last post a little sad and melodramatic? I can't tell. I reread it and am cringing even though I stand by everything I wrote. I just hope I didn't verge into teen angst territory.
Second - Holy hell I hate my job. I guess that isn't so much an update as it is a statement of fact.
Third - Gillian, also known as "The Instigator" has convinced me that what my life is missing is kickball. Let the record show that Gillian is sure that MY life is missing it and that hers is not part of that equation at all. However, I think that her life is missing cheerleading me through kickball. Thus, I am holding her to our pizza parlor pow-wow (also known as Jesse's Temporary Farewell party). Gillian, since I know you will be reading this post, you have to attend AT LEAST 4 of my 8 games.
After agreeing to kickball I realized that I have never participated in a team sport. Ever. Running doesn't count. From what I've been told, the only thing I really need to brush up on is my shittalking skills. Luckily I feel pretty confident about those.
Fourth - I am going to run a motherfucking marathon! I think that 26.2 miles deserves some serious swear words. I am doiong it through Teams in Training which you can read about here: http://pages.teamintraining.org/ctx/rnrseatl09/jwheelehuz . While you're there give me some money! I have to raise $4,100 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society before the event. It's kind of a daunting goal but I am willing to whore it up for anything that goes towards cancer research and patient support.
Fifth - It's cold in my office which is odd because it's hell here. Go figure.
Ok, that's it. Have to work.
Jesse - if you happen to come across this post - Peaches and Bears!
Monday, January 19, 2009
Bed In, Bed Out
I am going to talk about habits today - both good and bad.
As you can see, I have been stellar in updating. I am off to a slow start this year but have at least adhered to my initial goal of making the bed. Is it supposed to take 28 days to form a habit? I can never quite remember the numbers although 28 makes sense; since it seems to be the magic number of days you go to rehab let's go with that. I have reached a month now of my bed making endeavor and despite rushed mornings and a general disdain for routine it's stuck.
I know that making a bed seems like such a small thing to accomplish but for me it's a beginning. I have a lot of half starts in my past. A lot. So many, that I've spent a lot of time feeling like a failure because of it. And the more I feel like a failure the less inclined I am to try anymore. Making the decision to do one thing and to keep doing it gives me a little bit of hope that the more important stuff will get easier to tackle.
Right now I need this small shred of hope. I need something to keep my spirits high and my motivation strong. If making the goddamned bed is going to fuel this spark then I am going to keep it up.
I am at a point in my life where I am trying to sort out where I want to be. Maybe it's because my impending birthday has me sweating stuff. Although, it is more likely a result of my overwhelming unhappiness about the 40 hours I spend each week miserable and defeated.
I don't want to feel like this anymore. Every morning as I drive to work, I feel like I am handing myself off to my executioners. I find it hard to have faith in myself when I get so little back day after day. There is only so much criticism you can take before you start to adopt it as the truth.
I am failing myself and wasting my potential (And it was expensive potential! It takes a lot of pennies to pay for grad school.)
I listen to myself talk about this and keep going back to how familiar it feels. I've been here before, trapped in a situation that I feel like I'll never get out of. I've made a habit it seems to drive myself to frustration trying to turn the impossible around.
So I am making my bed. Every morning. I make it and remind myself that one day I'll get to roll out of it without a lead ball in the pit of my stomach.
As you can see, I have been stellar in updating. I am off to a slow start this year but have at least adhered to my initial goal of making the bed. Is it supposed to take 28 days to form a habit? I can never quite remember the numbers although 28 makes sense; since it seems to be the magic number of days you go to rehab let's go with that. I have reached a month now of my bed making endeavor and despite rushed mornings and a general disdain for routine it's stuck.
I know that making a bed seems like such a small thing to accomplish but for me it's a beginning. I have a lot of half starts in my past. A lot. So many, that I've spent a lot of time feeling like a failure because of it. And the more I feel like a failure the less inclined I am to try anymore. Making the decision to do one thing and to keep doing it gives me a little bit of hope that the more important stuff will get easier to tackle.
Right now I need this small shred of hope. I need something to keep my spirits high and my motivation strong. If making the goddamned bed is going to fuel this spark then I am going to keep it up.
I am at a point in my life where I am trying to sort out where I want to be. Maybe it's because my impending birthday has me sweating stuff. Although, it is more likely a result of my overwhelming unhappiness about the 40 hours I spend each week miserable and defeated.
I don't want to feel like this anymore. Every morning as I drive to work, I feel like I am handing myself off to my executioners. I find it hard to have faith in myself when I get so little back day after day. There is only so much criticism you can take before you start to adopt it as the truth.
I am failing myself and wasting my potential (And it was expensive potential! It takes a lot of pennies to pay for grad school.)
I listen to myself talk about this and keep going back to how familiar it feels. I've been here before, trapped in a situation that I feel like I'll never get out of. I've made a habit it seems to drive myself to frustration trying to turn the impossible around.
So I am making my bed. Every morning. I make it and remind myself that one day I'll get to roll out of it without a lead ball in the pit of my stomach.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Pajamaland Resolved
I've got a couple of things to tackle today. First, let's talk food!
Last night, after reading Jesse's post (http://breadbaby.blogspot.com/) about her imminent departure to pastry school in San Francisco, I was craving nachos. There is actually a logical explanation as to why nachos fell into my stomach's craving center. Jesse had expressed concern that Mark, her husband, will become severely vitamin deficient once she leaves as he seems to gravitate towards nachos only when she's not around.
Anyway, I had a nacho craving to appease! In my heart I was craving nachos from El Chile. However, seeing as I had already put on pajamas, I wasn't too thrilled by anything that wouldn't allow me to sit sheilded in my car. Just in case you were concerned, I did put jeans on - underneath my pajamas of course. I'm telling you -once those things are on they aren't coming off.
Last night, after reading Jesse's post (http://breadbaby.blogspot.com/) about her imminent departure to pastry school in San Francisco, I was craving nachos. There is actually a logical explanation as to why nachos fell into my stomach's craving center. Jesse had expressed concern that Mark, her husband, will become severely vitamin deficient once she leaves as he seems to gravitate towards nachos only when she's not around.
Anyway, I had a nacho craving to appease! In my heart I was craving nachos from El Chile. However, seeing as I had already put on pajamas, I wasn't too thrilled by anything that wouldn't allow me to sit sheilded in my car. Just in case you were concerned, I did put jeans on - underneath my pajamas of course. I'm telling you -once those things are on they aren't coming off.
Seeing that I was going to be limited by my wardrobe choices, Taco Cabana seemed liked the second best option. I was wrong. I ordered nachos and they were gross - like movie nachos. In and of itself this wouldn't have been so bad but I had real nachos in mind. Had the bag not already been a sopping mess once handed to me, I would have made it home and discovered it once it was too late. Thankfully I noticed it and was able to pull into the McDonald's drive thru just in time.
I ordered a Happy Meal because I suddenly lost all desire for anything nacho-like by this point. However, once the Happy Meal was handed over I felt really sad. Have you ever seen the old HBO "Families in Crisis" series? They were dramatizations of real stories. At the end, usually the parents (that was all that was left since a child ALWAYS died) would come on and give you a hotline number. I was OBSESSED with these as I seem to gravitate towards any show depicting tragedy.
One episode had Calista Flockhart - pre Ally McBeal and Harrison Ford - and she played a bulimic. Although I am not sure why, this scene is seared into my brain - she went through about 6 different drive-thrus and then binged in her car. It was pretty disgusting. (She also would vomit into old pickles jar that she hid in her closet.)
Although that is an extreme example, that is how I felt last night. I went to TWO different drive-thrus by myself. It felt pretty nasty. And even though I threw out the nachos and only ate a smidge of fries and my kid sized hamburger, I have yet to shake my shamed filled evening.
Luckily, this leads into my second topic! It revolves around past due resolutions. This is only a small tip of the iceberg. But to start:
1. Done with fast food. Although Taco Bell and Starbucks do not count. I don't eat it frequently by any means but I think it's time to swear it off completely. Oh, except for P. Terry's too! They have a super delicious chicken burger so that classifies as marginally healthy.
2. This piggybacks a bit on number 1. I am going to stop spending so much money on food. Specifically premade food from Whole Foods. Not only am I seeking to spend more wisely but I am also trying to cook more at home. My Whole Foods addiction is sad and mainly a result of laziness. However, I have managed to avoid them for the whole week and it has sadly shown to be a positive in more ways than one.
3. I need to moisturize. I know this sounds gross but this ridiculous weather has left my skin as leathery as my shoes. It's pretty unappealing.
4. Cookies. It is time for me to let go off my holiday habits. I can't have a cookie for breakfast anymore. In fact, I should probably stop expecting to eat one daily. Sigh. I will miss you cookies. I will miss you indeed.
Oh! I just realized that I HAVE gone to Whole Foods this week. But it was only once and it was to get a cookie. Sigh. I have problems.
There was another topic but it escapes me at the moment, so for now let's just sit happily with pajama fast food and resolutions.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
The Oprah Wars
Did you know that Oprah is offensive in my office?
I put her on the TV yesterday and joked to my boss that 4 - 5 would now be our office's self help hour and that it was mandatory that everyone come watch it. He laughed and confessed that he watched Oprah.
My other boss however was not amused and sent me an email reprimanding me that this was improper use of the TV and that it being on would convey the wrong message to our clients.
Two things that I should make clear before continuing. The first is that this was the first day the cable was up and running so it is not as if there has been some ongoing dictate that I went against.
Secondly, to say I work in an inappropriate, female hostile environment would be a gross understatement. I have CONTINUALLY listened to conversations that objectified women, engaged in debates where my boss told me that he believed in women's respect but not in women's rights (what does that mean?! Even after an hour of discussion I am confused), been told that men have more testosterone and thus are more likely to be aggressive and justified in violence than women (this was somehow a supporting argument to their theory that men, more than women, are the victims of emotional abuse) and that being attractive is as important as intellectual talents (actually MORE important) and a fair justification for career success.
Oh, and during the summer when they were ogling a potential hire, I was told to not worry, they talked about me the same way before I was hired (oh you men and your flattery! Of COURSE I was upset by their talk because I was WORRIED that they might think I am ugly, because that is the ONLY reason that could have possibly been offensive).
That being said, I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised by the two emails I received from my bosses. Oprah is WAY offensive and may totally convey the message that we AREN'T an office of misogynistic misinformed idiots. No, we must uphold our image of being completely in line with the rantings of Rush Limbaugh and his Feminazi witch hunts (Damn women and their wish for equality, let them burn at the stake!).
And heaven forbid I cross the line with my joke about self help hour. I could make a joke about being a stripper, someone coming on my face or smoking crack in my office and no one would bat an eye at the impropriety of such things. The jokes they tell are far worse.
I am drowning in this environment. I am fed up with the way things work here. More than any place I've worked, I am made aware on a daily basis that I am a second class citizen. My words have no real weight (I guess unless they are attached to Oprah).
I wish that the whole TV issue was an isolated event of what makes working here so difficult but it's hardly the first thing that has sent me into near crying fits of frustration.
There is little appreciation for what I do. Do you know that my responsiblities include negotiating our health insurance and processing completed deals? Do you know that I coordinated our entire move by myself? That is just the tip of what I do. Do I get thanked or congratulated for these things? No, instead, my praise comes through ensuring that there is constantly a cold supply of fresca in the refrigerator. I get yelled if I fail to remind the office of a meeting we've had biweekly since our inception (even though that meeting is in everyone's outlook calendar, listed in a bound book of meeting schedules possessed by EVERY employee and is posted on a wall sized calendar in our workroom).
I am damned in every way. Sigh.
Can you blame me for my planned escape?
In times like this, I am at least comforted by my continued bed making committment. It's so much nicer collapsing into a made bed after a horrible horrible day!
I put her on the TV yesterday and joked to my boss that 4 - 5 would now be our office's self help hour and that it was mandatory that everyone come watch it. He laughed and confessed that he watched Oprah.
My other boss however was not amused and sent me an email reprimanding me that this was improper use of the TV and that it being on would convey the wrong message to our clients.
Two things that I should make clear before continuing. The first is that this was the first day the cable was up and running so it is not as if there has been some ongoing dictate that I went against.
Secondly, to say I work in an inappropriate, female hostile environment would be a gross understatement. I have CONTINUALLY listened to conversations that objectified women, engaged in debates where my boss told me that he believed in women's respect but not in women's rights (what does that mean?! Even after an hour of discussion I am confused), been told that men have more testosterone and thus are more likely to be aggressive and justified in violence than women (this was somehow a supporting argument to their theory that men, more than women, are the victims of emotional abuse) and that being attractive is as important as intellectual talents (actually MORE important) and a fair justification for career success.
Oh, and during the summer when they were ogling a potential hire, I was told to not worry, they talked about me the same way before I was hired (oh you men and your flattery! Of COURSE I was upset by their talk because I was WORRIED that they might think I am ugly, because that is the ONLY reason that could have possibly been offensive).
That being said, I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised by the two emails I received from my bosses. Oprah is WAY offensive and may totally convey the message that we AREN'T an office of misogynistic misinformed idiots. No, we must uphold our image of being completely in line with the rantings of Rush Limbaugh and his Feminazi witch hunts (Damn women and their wish for equality, let them burn at the stake!).
And heaven forbid I cross the line with my joke about self help hour. I could make a joke about being a stripper, someone coming on my face or smoking crack in my office and no one would bat an eye at the impropriety of such things. The jokes they tell are far worse.
I am drowning in this environment. I am fed up with the way things work here. More than any place I've worked, I am made aware on a daily basis that I am a second class citizen. My words have no real weight (I guess unless they are attached to Oprah).
I wish that the whole TV issue was an isolated event of what makes working here so difficult but it's hardly the first thing that has sent me into near crying fits of frustration.
There is little appreciation for what I do. Do you know that my responsiblities include negotiating our health insurance and processing completed deals? Do you know that I coordinated our entire move by myself? That is just the tip of what I do. Do I get thanked or congratulated for these things? No, instead, my praise comes through ensuring that there is constantly a cold supply of fresca in the refrigerator. I get yelled if I fail to remind the office of a meeting we've had biweekly since our inception (even though that meeting is in everyone's outlook calendar, listed in a bound book of meeting schedules possessed by EVERY employee and is posted on a wall sized calendar in our workroom).
I am damned in every way. Sigh.
Can you blame me for my planned escape?
In times like this, I am at least comforted by my continued bed making committment. It's so much nicer collapsing into a made bed after a horrible horrible day!
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