I was having a pretty terrific birthday weekend up until the last five minutes of it. I turned twenty eight on Saturday and felt surprisingly good about it. Twenty seven was hard, because I had the shocking realization that I could no longer legitimately say I was in my early/mid-twenties, it was the beginning of my late twenties. Now, the pieces of my game are starting to align in position, and I can begin to see how I'll move them in the near future to bring them into even better position, whereas between twenty one and twenty seven I was barely aware what game board I was even looking at. I just feel much better about where I am in my life; my decisions are feeling somewhat reasoned and intentional rather than arbitrary and vaguely shameful.
I also came away with some fantastic loot. In addition to sticking with me for another year, Beans got me a Wii! She also pulled a fantastic switcheroo, tricking me into thinkign I was getting a real clunker of a present. She knew I had to read this horrible, intelligence-insulting corporate self-help book called Who Moved my Cheese (seriously, avoid at all costs), and she seemed to have bought me a copy of the same author's follow-up book, some dreck about being a better manager. She wrote a little note inside the cover about how she hadn't had time for a more exciting present, but then underneath a little paper flap it she'd written, "Just kidding, the real present is a Wii! It's in the mail!" We had had a grumble earlier when the stimulus checks were on the way, where I wanted to buy something fun like, say, a Wii, this being the first time I'd actually thought about it. I feel ridiculous because it's so expensive, and she's sooo frugal, and never spends money on herself.
Then my brother and his girlfriend got me a bottle of this fantastic scotch we both love, McCallan. My mom gave me a fair chunk of cash, and my dad offered to get me a guitar pedal! (I've been looking into an MXR analog delay, but I've read some reviews about a reliability problem in the line...)
All in all, everything was looking really good until literally moments before we were going to leave our parents' house, the phone rang. My brother is going off to grad school to get a PhD in psych at Western Michigan (he's always been more sure of what he wants to do and how to go about doing it. Or maybe he's less apprehensive about following a trodden path. OR maybe he's more practical and thorough about life choices), and we were all kind of wanting to say goodbye without drawing it out awkwardly.
The phone rang at about nine and all of us stopped and just looked at the phone. Minna offered to pick it up. Obviously, this situation is s weird as it would seem to you, if anyone were reading this other than me.
I've had phone anxiety for ages now. When I was in middle school, the phone was frequently someone callign for me that I didn't ant to talk to: girls I was too scared to talk to and had NO idea hwo to flirt with, or even if I wanted to, or guys that I'd wound up hanging around with but didn't want to actually be friends with, friends I felt too bad about getting rid of, and then one afternoon my half sister called and told me she was an alcoholic. She made all these weepy apologies about how she wanted t be a bigger part of my life and felt bad about not having been a real sister to me. I hadn't realized how true that was until she said it. At the same moment, I began to realize (or admit to myself) how much I didn't want that. Even though we have the same father, I have much more in common with my cousins, whom I also never see, than with her. She's the epitome of spoiled, entitled, ignorant, classist/racist, self-absorbed poor little rich girl drama queens. I've never seen someone who's made so many terrible choices, ignored so man people, put herself ahead of so many, blamed so many for her own failings, expected to be given so much and do so little with herself, and abdicated so much personal responsibility for everything. Obviously, I have a troubled relationship with my "sister".
Minna answered, said, "Oh, hi E," and then listened for a few minutes. Then she handed the phone to my mom (even though she's not related to my mom, she's the only one she'll talk to). My mom said, "Uh huh, uh huh, OK, oh, you can't talk now? You'll call me back, OK, when?"
Apparently, she apologized for not having called in awhile, was getting back from a wedding and stuck at the airport, called to say hi and then claimed to not have time to talk. You called to to say you don't have time to talk? I wasn't sure if I was angry or worried. Beans picked up the phone, and this didn't appear to register as unusual with E. Part of me was worried for her safety; she seems like she's made her life into such a colossal wreck, and I worry about her ability to discern reality from imagination, and even to stay alive. This is a person who can do, apparently, nothing for herself and she has two children, one of whom is severely developmentally delayed and she's of course in total denial about it because she can't admit that something could be wrong with her "perfect life" and no, she doesn't realize what a fucking cheap cliché that is.
Mostly I was angry and disappointed. For a nanosecond I thought, maybe, just maybe, my fucking sister remembered it was my birthday and called to say happy birthday. I can't help but feel cheated; I have all the resentment, anxiety and awkwardness that comes with having a sibling, and none, none of the good parts.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Friday, August 22, 2008
Mail Room Drama
Well shit, dick-lickers! I saw a fist-fight almost break out in my office, and got personally called-out as a back-stabber/bitch by the second laziest co-worker I've ever had.
I work in a mail room at an educational publishing company (right industry, wrong position, but it serves its purpose), and we see a few different types of employees roll through for longer or shorter periods of time: a few smart, over-qualified eccentric types who maybe are trying to get their foot in the door, or looking for a low-key job to work while going back to school (ahem), a few bright hard-working guys who maybe lack education, are straight up young, or have a pre-disposition for hands-on work, and a few incompetent space-case ass-backwards nutbars. This one dude, A, has been grating his fork across his plate since he got hired and basically no one likes working with him. The problem is he tries unbelievably hard to be a nice guy (socially). He weasels out of work and makes it into a joke any time you mention it, his co-workers simmer in irritation for awhile, it comes to a head and he blows up, saying why didn't you say so to my face?!
This other guy K is absolutely the back-bone of mailroom 1, and he works with A every day. K is the go-to guy for everything, and our bosses, maybe unintentionally due to passivity and laziness, maybe due to incomprehension of how to manage problem employees, put a lot of pressure on K to deal with A's BS. I'm kind of like K in mailroom 2, but my team is much more reliable, so my position is not as difficult, or as akward. That's really the problem: A is so easy-going, so unwilling to take work or anything seriously, that it's almost impossible to talk to him about pulling his weight. When shit finally boils over, he pulls this et tu Brutus act, then plays it down five minutes later.
So A has been slacking off since our assistant manager B has been on vacation. Around lunchtime K and A got into a pointless argument over some small bullshit, and for whatever reason, it escalated further and further. I started trying to calm it down but they totally ignored me. Finally they started shouting and K starts going into A in general about his sloppy work, then he brings me into it to back him up, and K got a little too personal about it, I do have to say. I wasn't prepared to go into it right there, but it was going to happen sooner or later. A gets really upset and starts fronting this gangsta bullshit, you wanna step outside, etc. I open my mouth and he calls me a two-faced backstabber, flips me off.
Meanwhile, our brand new superviser, M, in charge for the first time without the assistant superviser, is in the corner on a conference call with our big boss (the operations manager) and HR, starts leaning over, trying to figure out what's going on and calm A and K down.
She hangs up the phone, gets between the two of them and miraculously diffuses the tension right away. At this point, knowing that to throw a punch would get him fired, and knowing that A won't do it first, K zips his lip and cools down. A advances twice, still trying to look like the better man. Our super shuts him up, separates the two of them, and makes sure nothing worse is going to flare up. She's definitely green, and definitely not much for paperwork, bullshitty office protocol, etc., but girl knows how to stop a shouting match from turning into something worse.
The thing is, this is the second time it's gotten this bad. Every time A gets this heated, five minutes later he calms down and goes into super-apologetic mode, and comes up with a million semi-plausible excuses for why he doesn't like to do certain things, and he's willing to share the load more if you just ask him, blah blah blah. My whole deal is why, should I have to ask you at all, let alone over and over? Meanwhile, he still didn't pick up the mail, sort anything, process any letters, or in general pull his share of the daily weight. He cleaned up his act by a factor of one where it should be a factor of ten.
Here's the thing thing that sticks under my fingernail: after the intial deal, A and K had to step into the big boss' office to have a conference call with her. Over the phone, she chastises both of them. I'm not saying it was fine for K to call A out like that, but if the blame goes 5%/95%, is it fair to give out a 50%/50% reprimand? Fuck that shit.
I work in a mail room at an educational publishing company (right industry, wrong position, but it serves its purpose), and we see a few different types of employees roll through for longer or shorter periods of time: a few smart, over-qualified eccentric types who maybe are trying to get their foot in the door, or looking for a low-key job to work while going back to school (ahem), a few bright hard-working guys who maybe lack education, are straight up young, or have a pre-disposition for hands-on work, and a few incompetent space-case ass-backwards nutbars. This one dude, A, has been grating his fork across his plate since he got hired and basically no one likes working with him. The problem is he tries unbelievably hard to be a nice guy (socially). He weasels out of work and makes it into a joke any time you mention it, his co-workers simmer in irritation for awhile, it comes to a head and he blows up, saying why didn't you say so to my face?!
This other guy K is absolutely the back-bone of mailroom 1, and he works with A every day. K is the go-to guy for everything, and our bosses, maybe unintentionally due to passivity and laziness, maybe due to incomprehension of how to manage problem employees, put a lot of pressure on K to deal with A's BS. I'm kind of like K in mailroom 2, but my team is much more reliable, so my position is not as difficult, or as akward. That's really the problem: A is so easy-going, so unwilling to take work or anything seriously, that it's almost impossible to talk to him about pulling his weight. When shit finally boils over, he pulls this et tu Brutus act, then plays it down five minutes later.
So A has been slacking off since our assistant manager B has been on vacation. Around lunchtime K and A got into a pointless argument over some small bullshit, and for whatever reason, it escalated further and further. I started trying to calm it down but they totally ignored me. Finally they started shouting and K starts going into A in general about his sloppy work, then he brings me into it to back him up, and K got a little too personal about it, I do have to say. I wasn't prepared to go into it right there, but it was going to happen sooner or later. A gets really upset and starts fronting this gangsta bullshit, you wanna step outside, etc. I open my mouth and he calls me a two-faced backstabber, flips me off.
Meanwhile, our brand new superviser, M, in charge for the first time without the assistant superviser, is in the corner on a conference call with our big boss (the operations manager) and HR, starts leaning over, trying to figure out what's going on and calm A and K down.
She hangs up the phone, gets between the two of them and miraculously diffuses the tension right away. At this point, knowing that to throw a punch would get him fired, and knowing that A won't do it first, K zips his lip and cools down. A advances twice, still trying to look like the better man. Our super shuts him up, separates the two of them, and makes sure nothing worse is going to flare up. She's definitely green, and definitely not much for paperwork, bullshitty office protocol, etc., but girl knows how to stop a shouting match from turning into something worse.
The thing is, this is the second time it's gotten this bad. Every time A gets this heated, five minutes later he calms down and goes into super-apologetic mode, and comes up with a million semi-plausible excuses for why he doesn't like to do certain things, and he's willing to share the load more if you just ask him, blah blah blah. My whole deal is why, should I have to ask you at all, let alone over and over? Meanwhile, he still didn't pick up the mail, sort anything, process any letters, or in general pull his share of the daily weight. He cleaned up his act by a factor of one where it should be a factor of ten.
Here's the thing thing that sticks under my fingernail: after the intial deal, A and K had to step into the big boss' office to have a conference call with her. Over the phone, she chastises both of them. I'm not saying it was fine for K to call A out like that, but if the blame goes 5%/95%, is it fair to give out a 50%/50% reprimand? Fuck that shit.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Awesome Science (is Awesome)
I stopped drinking robot urine yesterday. Let me back up. At work we have these coffee machines that spit out foul mechemical brew from freeze-dried packets. It tastes like arsenic, but it's free. HR people love to mention that when large companies send out employee surveys about what would improve worker morale, the overwhelming response is showers at work and free coffee. Why raise pay, subsidize health benefits, give management classes to shitty bosses, or other low-efficiency pinko shit when we can spray frothing robot urine down the gullets of the hoi polloi? And yet, we drink this crap thankfully. I'm not sure with whom I'm more annoyed.
At any rate, recently I've been getting these intense headaches in my right temple that periodically flare up, especially if I bend over at the waist, as if some sort of sludge is sliding from my brain stem into my forebrain (that must be it). I'm actually fairly healthy in terms of my eating habits, staying hydrated, taking my fish oil and vitamins and other assorted herbs and supplements my wife (hereafter refered to as The Bean) suggests. I do drink a couple few beers most nights, but that never gave me this type of headache. Then I realized how many of those nasty little coffees I've been having.
I frequently punctuate my day with a coffee break, especially this week when I've been working with one particularly annoying co-worker. Sometimes I just need to go somewhere where he won't annoy me. Part of me feels like it needs an excuse, or a psuedo-excuse to leave the room, so I get a coffee because why not? Part of it is not wanting my boss to see me sitting around doing nothing. As if it were any better or more productive to be walking around drinking coffee, poking around random papers. I really resent people so small-minded that they would honestly, seirously, as in, admit it out loud, prefer you to "act busy" than to do nothing.
So I stopped drinking chemo-cafe for one or two days. The headache was still there, but not quite as constant or as intense as before. Obviously, it was the cofee, and the symptoms will continue to reduce as the sludge works its way out of my brain (that's where bad coffee crystallizes. That's why you sometimes get those coffee flashbacks) Now that's what I call a statistical link!
At any rate, recently I've been getting these intense headaches in my right temple that periodically flare up, especially if I bend over at the waist, as if some sort of sludge is sliding from my brain stem into my forebrain (that must be it). I'm actually fairly healthy in terms of my eating habits, staying hydrated, taking my fish oil and vitamins and other assorted herbs and supplements my wife (hereafter refered to as The Bean) suggests. I do drink a couple few beers most nights, but that never gave me this type of headache. Then I realized how many of those nasty little coffees I've been having.
I frequently punctuate my day with a coffee break, especially this week when I've been working with one particularly annoying co-worker. Sometimes I just need to go somewhere where he won't annoy me. Part of me feels like it needs an excuse, or a psuedo-excuse to leave the room, so I get a coffee because why not? Part of it is not wanting my boss to see me sitting around doing nothing. As if it were any better or more productive to be walking around drinking coffee, poking around random papers. I really resent people so small-minded that they would honestly, seirously, as in, admit it out loud, prefer you to "act busy" than to do nothing.
So I stopped drinking chemo-cafe for one or two days. The headache was still there, but not quite as constant or as intense as before. Obviously, it was the cofee, and the symptoms will continue to reduce as the sludge works its way out of my brain (that's where bad coffee crystallizes. That's why you sometimes get those coffee flashbacks) Now that's what I call a statistical link!
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