Tag Archives: job

If you’re happy and you know it…

The other day, someone to not be named told me that maybe if I was a little HAPPIER I wouldn’t still be single. Instead of snapping their neck, I decided to think about what it would take to make me one of those, don’t make me say it, Happy People. I had one of those moments like you get when you’re driving and your mind goes blank then all of a sudden you’re at home and you’re like OMG what just happened how did I get home? I don’t even remember driving here. Well right, that happened when I started thinking about being a happy person, and when I came to, I found the following:

Dear Personality Traits and Readers:

It is with great regret that I inform you my Cynicism and his assistant Negativity have announced their first retirement of January 31, 2012. With nearly 27 years of loyal service, these two will be undoubtedly missed by all. C & N have high hopes for their future outside of My Brain. They plan to travel and are optimistic that they will find their true loves: Pessimism and Despair in that of someone else.

A feeble attempt to fill the gaping holes they will leave in my heart will be made by two new traits, Bubbly and Optimism. We, here in My Brain, don’t have high hopes for these 2 new hires, as we suspect they will get walked all over by assholes and cuntwads, but upper management can be a real bitch.

With that being said, we hope that you will welcome these new un-funny personality traits with open arms. An incentive program will be offered to any other traits that can help B & O become accustomed to our late nights, love for tall dark and handsome men, and desire to become an Australian citizen by that of marriage. (Or don’t welcome them, tell me you hate them, and it will be an AWESOME excuse for me to fall back into being unlovable. I’m cool with it. My family, friends (except Lucky), and co-workers however, are not so kosher with my hatred for humanity, and insist I am still single because no one can love a sour puss.)

In order to have a smooth transition and on-board our new hires, I have brought in a few professionals to help with training: Mr. Captain Morgan and his associate Ms. Cherry Pie (because who can hate a fat drunk girl?). Mr. Morgan has been a colleague of mine since the early 2000’s and is proud to introduce his newest fad in training techniques, one he calls Lime Bite.

We, here in My Brain, are excited to work with Mr. Morgan and Ms. Pie and hope that you, out there, won’t judge us for being drunk and fat. Not only has Cynicism taken our best hidden asset Negativity with him on his travels, our Gym and Tanning memberships got word of the restructure we are undertaking and decided to jump ship as well. Gym and Tanning fees are rising in 2012, and with the outsourcing our new trainers Mr. Morgan and Ms. Pie, we can no longer afford to provide this benefit to our Body Department. Chances are, things are going to get pretty bad around here. We will be looking ugly and pale, not to mention fat and drunk, but by god people will like us because we’ll be happy. If upper management wants us to be peppy and upbeat, we will show them the repercussions of the kind of sacrifices we have to undertake in order to put up with our new posers, Bubbly and Optimistic.

I hope that you can bear with us in the coming weeks as C & N clean up their desks and tie up any lose ends of things that may be bothering us. 2012 is going to be bitchin!

Sincerely,
That part of Gizzy’s brain that blacks out and writes weird letters

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Texas Returns and I still hate my job

Well the long weekend has come to an end and in my neck of the woods it seems like fall has almost arrived. Typically I hate fall, that’s when bad things always happen to me, but this year I don’t have some guy that can shit on me just because it’s getting cold out and because our summer time drunk has worn off, so I’m actually kind of looking forward to it for the first time ever.

And with that being said, I got a text from Texas this weekend. Does everyone remember Texas? Texas is one of the first gentleman callers that I introduced here on the blog, we’ve been friends for about a year and a half now and it’s almost been a year since we’ve spoken. I randomly facebook creep on him to see if him and his girlfriend are making the long distance thing work, which it looked like they broke up a few times – now the link is gone but she posts on his wall 24/7 as per usual.

So when I see an unknown number appear in my text box I google the area code and when I see a city in Texas I knew it could only be one person. I write back being all hey what are you up to long time no talk and he’s all yeah…. so I’m in your city for the next 2 weeks interviewing for jobs and I’ll be moving here at the end of September, up for hanging out? Um DUH!

Update on the count up: Months since I’ve had sex:16 — Months since I’ve made out with someone: 7 — so sad.

This is completely necessary, meeting up with him must happen. Because if you recall there were several occassions when we would talk about randomly hooking up but never made it happen. He might still have a girlfriend, but which I normally would want no part of… but I’m pretty desperate. We are supposed to meet up for dinner and drinks tonight, so hopefully come Thursday I will have some exciting news, and if not at least some good stories because we usually get stupid drunk together so I’m sure something entertaining will happen. Even if it is me puking in my shoes… again.

Annnd on to work news, story of my life. Does anyone else have people in their office that don’t pay attention to detail? I’m pretty sure I am the only one in my office that does and it’s really starting to irritate me. Like you best believe that if I am going to send someone an email acusing them of not doing their job I’m going to have my shit straight before I do so, so that I don’t look like the asshole. But yet no one else in my office seems to do this, they don’t care if they look stupid and if they are being petty.

So here’s the situation, I have to approve a lot of things – some of them have monthly deadlines some of them don’t. If something that I have to approve doesn’t meet the monthly deadline oh well, I don’t really care, the person submitting it to me should’ve gotten it to me further in advance and it’s their bad – it’ll get in next month. Especially when they are late to begin with, if something is older than 90 days we consider it “late” and if they want to do anything with it, first it needs my approval then it has to get my boss’ approval. Which can take a few days because she is a very busy lady.

So this morning I come in to find an email from someone in the payroll department bitching at me for not getting something to them when they think I should have, they sent it like literally the moment they got the packet that I sent over on Friday. I already deleted the email but it went something along the lines of telling me that the packet was going to miss the payroll month end cut off and how I should really pay more attention and try to get thing to them on time because they saw where I signed off on the packet on 8/30, but it didn’t get to them until 9/2 at 4:08 pm so it wouldn’t get processed until September.

Now, the thing is… IF they had flipped past the first page in the packet they would have seen the notification that it was late and that my boss didn’t sign off on the “late” transaction until 9/2 – therefore I got it to them the same fucking day that it received all of the necessary approvals and they can eat a big fat dick and shut their damn mouths. But they didn’t do that, instead they wasted their time and mine falsely accusing me of not doing my job. But did I reply bitching at them for falsely accusing me? Nope. They aren’t my boss, they aren’t in my department so I really don’t give 2 shits if they think I’m not doing my job correctly. If they want to man up and come talk to me in person I’ll ask if they flipped to the next page and when they say no I’ll say well why don’t you go do that and then tell me I’m not doing my job because then they’ll feel like idiots because I AM! And IF they say something to my boss about it and IF she comes to talk to me about it then I’ll tell her yeah, it was a late transaction and you didn’t sign it until 9/2 so we did nothing wrong, then she’ll talk shit about how they don’t pay attention to anything and how they all suck and I’ll agree and we’ll have a good old laugh about it.

But yeah, I’m not going to waste my time writing out an email to correct them because I really don’t care and I’m not petty because really whether the transaction gets processed in August or September really does not fucking matter and people just want something to complain about. What’s better is I am the youngest person in my office – yet clearly the most mature when it comes to matters of business. I’m seriously at my wits ends with these dumb fools. Thank god it’s almost Jerseday!

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Leave me aloooone!!!!

Can I just start out by saying I am getting pretty good at the whole blogging at work thing? It’s pretty nice to take some time to myself and sit with a bag of chips on my desk pretending to eat lunch for 2 hours a day.

My weekend wasn’t nearly as exciting as Lucky’s, as per usual. Friday night Anth and I stayed in to do some work on the 3 cases of beer we had purchased the weekend prior for JM’s going away party, we played drinking games, gossiped, and watched AFV and played drunken Jeopardy. The perfect night if you ask me. I was pretty hungover the following day after drinking literally half a case of bud light and summoned myself to bed for the next 2 days with flu like symptoms. I don’t know if it’s because I was feeling under the weather or if I’m just starting to come to my senses a little bit, but anything any of the guys did just got under my skin the whole weekend. Then I started to get annoyed with the men on tv, and even my dad. Like seriously? Why are guys so annoying?

I whined most of Saturday morning to Anth about how I didn’t feel good and how he needed to shut up so I could take a nap. Finally at 3pm he said he was going out to a party. Then, just as I was about to drift off to sleep I hear him knocking on my door, asking if I will take him to the party. “NO! Drive yourself. Go away!” I think I should probably back up a little so everyone can see just HOW nice I am to these guys. Wednesday evening I’m sitting in my new room, putting my new dresser together, enjoying some solitude because the boys went to a concert. My phone rings, and it’s Anth. “Um, they won’t let us into the concert because I’m wearing shorts and Doogie has on flip flops. Can you bring me some jeans and Doogie his Chucks?” “Are you effing kidding me? Where is it, I’m not driving more than 10 minutes each way.” “It’s at the House of Blues.” Ooooof course it is. I gathered up their crap and dropped it off to them. An hour and some odd minutes later I was back to my dresser. So that’s 1 nice thing I did. Not to mention I bought a bunch of bananas to try and force myself to eat breakfast and only got 1 of them because Anth hoovered the rest of them. Now he’s asking me to take him to a party on a Saturday afternoon when traffic is at its ultimate worst, I have no gas, AND I don’t feel good. He can eat one. I stuck to my grounds and told him to leave me alone. Then the BBM’s started.

A: Pleeeeaaaaase
G: NO! Sleep.
A: I’ll buy you dinner
G: You still owe me for bringing you pants, lets not bite off more than we can chew here.
A: Gizzy, please. I have to take chips, salsa, and beer. WTF.
G: You don’t even have any chips and salsa.
A: I know…. All the more reason not to take a cab. Gizzy, come on I would do it for you.

Here’s where I got really pissed. NO, you would not do it for me, because I would never ask. I would either drive myself, take the subway, or take a cab. But I would NEVER ask you to take me to the grocery store, wait in the car, and then take me to a party. I would not. Because I have manners, and consideration for others and their time. I wouldn’t mind doing it for someone every now and then, but it’s seriously starting to get ridiculous. I would say on average I drive him somewhere to get drunk at least once a week. It also wouldn’t be so bad if traffic in this city didn’t make you want to kill yourself. So I stuck my grounds and ignored him.

Then I hear the banging on my door again. What now? “Doogie said he would drive me if he can take your car.” His is dead and Anth’s is a stick. Of course he can’t drive a stick, because what man can? So I throw my keys at them and tell them they better put gas in it because it’s empty.

Sunday rolls around and I decide to eat my left over pizza from Friday night. I go to the fridge and it’s gone. I know what happened to it, but I want to make a big deal about it. “SO WHERE’S MY GD PIZZA?!” Doogie: “Oh yeah, sorry I smashed that last night.” Gizzy: Are you serious? Did you pay for it? Did you order it? Did you only get 1 piece of it? Doogie: Sorry, I owe you big. Gizzy: Seriously, leave me alone. Both of you. So I go out to my car to go to get food and what do I find? No gas and 2 apple cores sitting in my console left by them to rot. My new sunglasses tossed in the backseat with everything else that was in the passenger’s seat on top of them.

So while I’m at the store I get this BBM from Anth:

We’re grilling out Brats do you want one?

I replied that I had 2 hot dogs left in the refrigerator so if he could throw ONE of those on for me it would be stellar and would not even begin to make up for what they had done to me. Then a few minutes later he replies asking if I am going to eat both of the hot dogs because if not he’ll eat the other one. I reply, “YES. Yes, I am going to eat both hot dogs at some point. I don’t buy food for you to eat, and for me to not eat.” He replies, “Oh, well you might want to buy some more while you’re at the store then.” I reply “I said to make 1 of them. IDIOT.” So, I come back, call him a dbag, “accidentally” break his favorite glass and retreat to my room for the rest of the night without saying a word to either of them.

Like I’m sorry, but can someone please explain to me what makes them think it’s ok to eat food that someone else purchased for themselves? Like I would just never do that. Okay, like a cheese slice here and there or something like that is no big deal. But we’re talking they will eat full on meals that I have in the fridge or if I bring home leftovers I don’t even get the opportunity to eat them. Like saying that you owe me one does not make this ok. I don’t make a ton of money and I certainly don’t like having to go to the grocery store every 2 days to replace food of mine that they ate.

I am planning on bringing my mini-fridge from home this weekend to house any leftovers and things I don’t want them eating. But these guys are 26 years old, they have money and ways to get to the store to buy themselves food so why do they insist on eating mine? Well, I’m not going to stand for it. I’m going to continue to go off and break dishes every time they do it. That will show them. The next time they go to eat MY food, they won’t have anything to eat it off of. HA! This is not my first rodeo.

Just to add fuel to the fire, after work yesterday while I’m sitting in rush over traffic I get this email on my phone:

Subject: Cleaning Sesh
To: Doogie, Gizzy

Sometime this week? Landlord is coming to fix the ice maker this week sometime he said.

Reply from: Doogie

Yeah I got the upstairs and downstairs bathrooms, ours is gnarly. We need to organize the freezer, I have no idea where my stuff is.

Ok, boys. HAVE AT IT! I am sitting this one out, because I’ve had about 10 “cleaning sesh’s” by myself. UGH! And I would like to throw out a special thank you to all of you for listening to me rant for the past 10 minutes. A good Tuesday to you!

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I’m being office sabotaged!

It’s the moment you’ve all been sitting on the edge of your chairs waiting for since Tuesday.  Drum roll please…. MY LUNCH WITH CORNED BEEF.  Annnd the crowd roaaars.  I’ve been wining and dining myself tonight, clearly.  But on to the story…if you haven’t read my post from last week about an email I got from a co-worker it may be helpful to catch up on the situation before reading the rest of this.

Tuesday quickly rolled around this week, and that morning I was so nervous I could hardly do any work before lunch.  I was texting Lucky on my way to work about how sweaty my hands were and I wasn’t even there to feel out the vibe yet.  When I did get to work I was there for a few hours and Corned Beef finally showed her face at my desk to ask if I had any questions.  She was normal.  Hrmmm.  She went back to her desk, then sent me an email:

11:30 sound ok for lunch?

I told her yes and then immediately texted Lucky saying how weird it was that she would email me that and not ask me when she was at my desk 2 SECONDS before that.  She definitely didn’t want anyone to know we were going out to lunch.  

Finally 11:30 rolled around, we made small talk on the way to the elevator and as soon as we stepped outside shit got cray cray.

“So the reason I didn’t want to talk in the office is because I didn’t want Cigarello to hear.”

Which was kind of what I had figured and I told her that.  Then she proceeded to tell me that she thinks he was trying to sabotage and mess up my accounts to make himself look better because she had found 40 pages worth of mistakes he had made on over 500 accounts (that’s half of my accounts, in case anyone was wondering) and it’s taken her 3 weeks to get it corrected.  She said she informed all of the bosses that it wasn’t me who was messing up that it was Cigarello.  I guess this is the exact same thing that the guy who I replaced got fired for, so it was some need to know info for me.  She didn’t want anyone to come to me accusing me of messing everything up and trying to fire me over it when I really did nothing wrong.

She proceeded to inform me that I’m doing a really good job and catching on really quickly but that I do need to watch out for Cigarello basically that he is crazy.  Which I have been starting to catch onto since he ran his face into the window a few weeks ago trying to look at the clouds and is still talking about it 3 weeks later.  

Apparently when she sat at my desk he would listen in on her private phone calls concerning her health and things of that matter and go and tell everyone and would just make laps around the office for no apparent reason.  Not to mention it’s super creepy and weird when he pops his head up over our half wall and just stares at me, just like Wilson – only creepier and weirder:


Personally I wouldn’t ever take/make any call that I didn’t want people to over hear at work, but I get what she’s saying – a grown up wouldn’t run and tell all their friends that Corned Beef has a bad heart and might die soon and then come back and look over the half wall like a child molester who just got caught with his hands down his pants.

But as we were entering the holy grail of lunch spots swarming with young hot doctors she tells me that Cigarello used to work at the Press at our company for 18 years and got fired for sabotaging his co-workers.  He’s friends from high school with our boss’ boss (the one who gave me the best baseball seats ever) and that’s how he got the job in our office, he doesn’t even have an accounting background.  Well that explains why he sucks at his job, but not so much why he sucks as a person.

So she went on to tell me some other Cigarello tid bits about how he has mastered the art of turning a professional phone call into a personal one, which I’ve noticed and I’ve also noticed he calls everyone he knows if he’s leaving an hour early or taking a day off.  She also said basically everyone hates him so I shouldn’t feel like other people won’t like me if I’m not nice to him. Pretty much solving all my problems 1 by 1.  

When we got back I saw all of the boss’ go into the conference room with Cigarello for the rest of the afternoon (we’re talking at least 3 hours.)  I crossed my fingers and wished on my lucky stars that he would get fired but he was still there today being annoying and weird as ever.  

The good part is I think my boss thought I was the one fucking everything up and now that she realizes it wasn’t me she has been overly nice to me.  She even came to my desk at quarter to five and asked why I was staying late.  Um you don’t have to tell me twice, I’ll leave.

Anyway, the moral of the story here is that Corned Beef is a nice lady and my friend like I thought and hoped, she was just looking out for me and wanted to make me aware of the situation.  She even sent me an email today asking if we could make going out to lunch a more regular thing so that we can get out of the office and she can introduce me to more people.  I agreed, especially considering when we walked into the young doctor lunch hot spot I nearly fainted and told her I was husband hunting for my dear friend Lucky and I while we chatted.  Hopefully she can introduce me to a few prospects, or at least a few friends more my age.

The end.   Wasn’t that a nice happy ending? For now…

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There goes my self-esteem.

A few weekends ago, you might recall The Great Bloody Nose debacle of 2011, starring Shyneesha—same star of The Great Slumber Party debacle of 2010.

Well, needless to say, after the GBN 2011, I needed to keep my distance from Shyneesha. As bad as it sounds, I was pissed at her. I felt like what I did for her went completely unnoticed, if not deserved. I didn’t mention it in my previous entry, but while we were waiting in the triage for her nose to quit bleeding, she was on the phone with her family members and her married boyfriend just saying, “Oh no, when I get ot of here I will just go take a nap at Lucky’s.”

Umm…no you will not you ungrateful bitch.

So anyway, the week after that, at work, I pretty much avoided her as much as possible. A few of my coworkers heard about the drama and asked me what happened—to which I tried to be as polite as possible. Most of them reassured me by simply asking, “where was her family?”

After a weekend of less-drama, I warmed myself up to the idea of at least talking to her some at the office (do NOT mistake “talking” for me agreeing to hang out with her, because that is surely not the case).

Our first encounter was less than pleasant. I was wearing a pair of earrings I got from Nicole and I’s garage sale. They used to be Nicole’s and super cute (bronze leaf-life with tiny spearhead dangles). As soon as Shyneesha saw me wearing them, she said, “I like those earrings! I need to wear them Saturday night.”

I slowly backed away and went to my desk.

Later, I shared my frustration with Gizzy (as I often do) and she pointed something out to me that I really never thought of—race. Between the black people Gizzy and I have known, they’ve all felt some sort of undeserved entitlement.

Of course, I shouldn’t make sweeping generalizations, but it’s just a thought.

Last week, I started to notice every time I did talk to Shyneesha, she was informing me on how much weight she’d lost since the last time we’d talked. You see, she’d gotten back on a diet plan (complete with weight loss pills and no exercise plan) and I guess she was pretty excited over the water weight she’d lost.

She kept telling me that she just forced herself to eat, although she “had no appetite.” And, now she lost 15 pounds as opposed to yesterday’s 12, etc. It was annoying and sort of weird. But it got weirder.

She had just forced herself to eat some oatmeal, when she was bragging to me about how baggy her pants were after all the weight she lost. She said she was currently a size 12, and her goal was to get down to a size 9.

Then she uttered words I never imagined I would hear:

“I haven’t been that tiny since high school. It’s going to be so fun to be small, like YOU. I’m going to go into your closet and be like, ‘Lucky! Can I wear THIS!?'”

Now, I’ve never been one to obsess over my weight too much. I try to eat healthy, so I don’t have to workout. However, if I’m feeling a little chubby (I don’t own a scale), I just lay off the fast food for awhile, but I still get into my bikini.

However, I’ve never been mistaken for a size 9. I’m a 2.

I slowly backed away from Shyneesha’s desk and found the first coworker I could—”am I a size 9?” I pleaded while on my knees, hands clasped.

“No!” he replied. “Obviously she doesn’t understand sizes.”

But my ego had been shot. Didn’t she understand girl code? We just DON’T talk about each other’s sizes. Not to mention the fact that she assumed it was fine to just waltz into my closet and borrowed my clothes—NEVER. GOING. TO. HAPPEN.

The whole scenario just bothered me. I have friends (ahem, Gizzy and Buttons) whom I’ve known for years and never shared clothes with. Call me a bitch, call me selfish, whatever, that’s just not how I am.

It’s safe to say, I’ve learned my lesson with her—even though it took me quite awhile. But don’t worry, it doesn’t end on a bad note.

A few days later, my office signed up to eat at a charity luncheon. All week I’d heard about how excited she was to eat the food, as we’d seen the menu beforehand: chicken, rice pilaf, veggies, roll, and cake. Pretty tasty!

But when Friday came, of course, it was almost as if she was bragging about how much she WASN’T going to eat because she just “had no appetite.” I, on the other hand, was ready to dig into that charity case.

So, we sit down at the lunch and I see Shyneesha across the way. She scarfed down her entire plate and dessert in under 7 minutes. While I, the so-called size 9, happily nibbled on my chicken.

“Oh man, I’m so full. I’m not going to eat for the rest of the day,” she said.

Sure you ain’t. Eat my size 2 ass, bitch!

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