The Job Snob

I Almost Forgot to Add a Title

2011-09-06T17:55:00.000-07:00

I saw this article today when I was at work and even though it seemed like the perfect time to read it (I wasn't busy at all until the last couple of hours) I only read it now.

I saw the headline and thought to myself I will go home and come up with 7 reasons that combat those reasons because obviously working from home is the shit.

And then, as so often happens, I read the article and changed my mind.

At least I did after points 1 and 2 because let's face it, I'm all about staying in my pyjamas, unshowered, as long as possible and other people annoy me on a pretty constant basis.

But then he had to go and start making sense. Obviously I'm not looking to do the start-up thing. I do not have the brain power or the creativity. I'm thinking more that I stay home and do the Carrie Bradshaw

So I've come up with a new list (we've established that I love lists right? Good because that has actually come up three different times today): Reasons Why I Will Never Be Carrie Bradshaw

1. Am not a Whore. Obviously have top respect for Carrie and Samantha, even Miranda and Charlotte. Are you kidding? I worship at the SATC alter. But let's be real for a second. No one has that much sex with that many different partners. I don't even think that there are enough days in a year to accomplish those kinds of numbers. So no whoring, no writing about whoring, no Carrie Bradshaw-ing.

2. Do not get paid to Write. Why would I? I can't even decide to stick with any kind of format when making lists. Capitals? Some? None? But getting paid to write (even about whoring) is kind of an essential part of the Carrie Bradshaw way of life.

3. I can't do the SJP pout. You know the one I mean. I can't do it. I can't even do my own version of it (unless you count the Barbizon phase of my life when I was 20 and that's an inside joke so you can't count it) - I just look confused. But Carrie? There is a pout for all seasons! Angry pout, thoughtful pout, Paris, Big, make up-checking pouts!

4. Less Well Shod. Like women everywhere I cannot resist a beautiful shoe (I'm looking at you here Blasina) but I'm also a) much poorer than Carrie (see #3) and b) prone to falling down and also hurting my feet. The falling is getting better but it doesn't seem like there is anything that I can do about the bleeding feet. This probably has to do with budget. Bigger budget = better shoes.

5. I'm Not Neurotic. Again, don't get me wrong, I love SATC (you know, before they jumped the shark with that second movie) but Carrie has issues. And I'm a no nonsense kind of gal when it comes to relationships. Don't like something about a guy, don't dump on him to your girlfriends, tell him directly so that he knows and he can stop guessing why you're pissed. But if Carrie were so direct, what would she write about?

6. NYC is Not my Home. And I suspect I wouldn't fit in well there at all. Pretty sure that I am lacking that je ne sais quoi quality that is required to call a super metropolis like NYC home. We've all heard NYC referred to as the fifth lady on the show, so I feel like its safe to say that NYC is an essential Carrie-esque life quality.

7. I Don't Have Curly Hair. Always wanted curly hair. Don't have it. Can't even manufacture it. And let's face it, curly hair comes with Carrie territory. So unless I look into a perm...

There you have it. A list of all the things I don't have or am not. I'm pretty ok with it. But I would still like to work from home. In my pyjamas with cookies and greasy hair.

I guarantee The Boyfriend is thrilled that I do not work from home right now.

Roosters

2011-08-24T21:19:00.001-07:00

I am not a morning person.

That might be the biggest understatement that ever was. I can’t say for sure, I don’t live with me.

In so many ways, the Boyfriend and I are alike. Values and stuff. Also neither of us tan. At all. There are also many ways in which we are different. He’s Mr. Clean, I’m more likely to be slovenly. He’s a runner, I’m a couch surfer (at least I mostly was until we got Hugo). He was captain of his high school basketball team, I was in public speaking.

But all of these pale in comparison to our differences in the morning.

He’s one of those “let’s take on the day” kind of people. The kind that when doesn’t need an alarm because they get up before it goes off anyway. The kind of that gets right out of bed the moment they wake up/the alarm goes off. I’ve been told that he might as well get up because he’s already awake.

Which, to me, sounds insane.

I run more to the snooze button side of mornings. Once upon a time I used to set my alarm for 6:25 even though I didn’t have to be up until 7:00 just because it took me that long to gradually wake up. The snooze button went off every 10 minutes. Can you imagine living with that? Yeah, I’m not allowed to do that anymore.

We manage to work around the other on week day mornings. We leave at different times, have different responsibilities. The Boyfriend deals with all dog related business and I try not to walk into walls or fall down. Sounds simple, but you’d be amazed at how stumbly I am when I am drunk with sleep. My eyes are unable to focus, my reflexes are slow and my spirit? Broken from lack of sleep.

But on the mornings where we get up early to either get things done or go away somewhere we have to coexist. And this. Becomes tricky. We’ve come up with a few ground rules to get us both safely through the morning.

1. All outfits are to be selected in the evening.

2. Any required packing is to be done in the evening.

3. There is to be no talking until caffeine is introduced.

These ground rules go a long way to saving the relationship and getting me safely out the door.

But I still don’t like mornings. And I don’t think I will ever learn to be good at them.

Link Happy

2011-08-22T17:48:00.000-07:00

Why don’t I write down the ideas that I have for blog posts?

I swear that I do spend more than a millisecond coming up with things to write about – although evidence that proves my dedication is decidedly light in these parts.

What happens? I spend an inordinate amount of time looking at a blank screen, willing inspiration to strike. What ends up striking is a fit of randomness that threatens to destroy the shred of credibility that I might have built up with last week’s impressive roll of like 3 posts.

I could tell you about the work party that I went to last week but it got so out of hand that I’m not even sure that it’s appropriate to discuss the finer points in the safe anonymity of my blog. Not that I was the one doing anything untoward, but you know-there may or may not have been nudity.

I could bitch and moan some more about the lack of direction in my new role but I’ve been told that I’m not really allowed to complain anymore because I’m not the receptionist anymore. In many ways, I suppose that this is true. People really don’t want to hear any more bitching and moaning from a first world nobody when there are real problems in the world.

So what then? Do I regale you with more impossibly adorable stories of my little man Hugo? Do I recount, in detail, how we bought him a bunch of treats that ended up costing more than our weekly grocery shop? How we bought him a puppy puzzle that he figured out immediately? How I took him for a hike in the morning and he didn’t move again until late evening?

That part was actually awesome.

But it doesn’t fill up an entire blog post. But feel free to comment on the fact that our dog is clearly spoiled.

I could chronicle my chase for pictures of Kim Kardashian’s wedding dress. But you don’t really want to hear about how I can only find pictures of her from the shoulders up at this point. And I would have to tell you that I’m not terribly fond of the little headband thing, despite everyone saying that she looks like an Armenian Princess. I’d have to agree with you, and of course that would be extremely appropriate given that she is a self described Armenian Princess. But I just want to see the dress! And I still don’t really like the circlet thing.

In that same vein I could tell you about my excitement upon realizing that the September Issue of Vogue is already out. And, my delightful surprise that a real supermodel on the cover. And the pictures inside. Kate Moss. Wedding. I guess I could say that I’m going to need to carve out some time for that this week. I could tell you that I should finish reading the August one with SJP on the cover first but that I’m not sure how much “I struggle just like any other working mom” crap I can take out of that one. Not that I don’t love her as Carrie Bradshaw I would say, but her choices since Sex and the City – she ain’t no Carrie Bradshaw.

Or I could just give up on today and keep googling pictures of Miss Piggy and listen to the Backstreet Boys. And if you’ve read this whole thing, then that might just be the safest course of action.

Google Me

2011-08-11T17:39:00.000-07:00

I’ve been trying to do a better job posting regularly this week. It’s been a while. Know that I’ve missed it but I couldn’t think of anything interesting and some days I was just too busy to squeeze the time in (see posts on my dog). But you’ve been missed and I will make a better effort.

So in this frame of mind I decided to take a look at what kinds of searches brought people to me in the hopes that it would enlighten me as to what you would like to read about and maybe serve as some kind of inspiration. I have to say that I think some of these searchers and I would get along very well. Also, a lot of people seem to think that Dutch people are insane because that is a common search that brings you here. Here are some of my other favourites:

· Umbrella smells

· Video Russell brand homeless man jerk off

· Hangover policy

· Jobs for people with extreme patience (not sure how this brought anyone here though)

· Gloria bridezilla unibrow

This really is a safe space for all people. But sadly I don’t know what to write about for those of you looking for unibrows and homeless jerk offs. Good searches though. Creative. Hope you eventually found what you were looking for?

Today I forgot that there were going to be a bunch of clients in the office that I would have to dress nice for. It’s my Friday so I’m wearing jeans. But subconsciously this morning I must have remembered something because I managed to dig heels out of my closet and pop on a blazer. From my ankles up I look respectable and I’m comfortable, a masterful combination.

Ankles down it’s a different story. My heels were taller than I’ve worn in a long time. Turns out that when clients are in the office I run around a lot more than I’m used to. So my pretty feet were running around in size 10 torture devices. The round toe that make my clown feet look petite became frilled foot prisons, rubbing the skin off my toe knuckles. The nice little cushiony rubber bubble things (some might call them insoles of some sort) for the balls of my feet suffocated my swollen dogs (dogs as in another word for feet) until I could barely even fit them back in the shoe. And thanks for a skyscraper pair of shoes I tried on my knee is a little messed up, aggravated today by the height of the shoes I had chosen.

Solution? Flip flops. Which are no solution in an office. So my feet are tucked way under my desk and whenever I need to run back down to the meeting room to ensure the clients’ are accommodated I force my poor feet back into the shoes and hobble over. Until they can see me and then I walk proud hoping that no one can see the tears of pain in my eyes.

Also? My nails are a disaster. Someone actually asked me if I painted my nails with white out. I did not. But I can see how people might think that.

I need weekend. Thankfully, for me, it’s here.

PS if you have time (and you do) click here and do some good for the world.

Lady Drama

2011-08-10T20:54:00.000-07:00

My new role that I was kind of tricked into taking (its seriously a whole other post, that might never happen until I know exactly what the hell happened), involves being a part of a group of about 12 women that are in the same role on various other projects. We work closely together in that some of us are paired up, we are supposed to help each other out where possible and if we were a well oiled machine – well we could easily run this place.

But. A group of 12 strong personality-ed women can be a bit like navigating shark invested waters with a bloody steak in your hand.

Oh Lord the drama! The DRAMA. Everything is so horrible/stressful/difficult/life changing. The backstabbing. The constant undermining and under-the-bus-throwing. Women have come so far in the workplace and yet? Have we really?

This happens to be a more male dominated office (and industry). I feel like this really spotlights the different work habits and I am way more sensitive to the way that I, as a woman, am perceived in the office. Oh I know, we’re all supposed to be equal in the office, but we’re still not. And do you know why? Because of the following things that women still do at work:

1. Bake. Yes it’s nice to have the talents to whip up a batch of homemade cookies/cupcakes/pastries and I enjoy a nice treat as much as the next pleasantly plump jerk but why do you always need to bring these things into the office? It’s callous to say but if you bring in tasty treats like little Susie Homemaker, you are immediately demoted to housewife. If you want to be taken seriously, leave the treats at home.

2. Dress like a Ho. I don’t know in which Life manual it tells women that the way to get ahead is to dress like a skank. Yes, men will notice you. Yes, you will probably get male attention. But do you think that you will get taken seriously when all people see when they look at you are breasts and legs? Oh I’ve heard the stories of the girls who work in restaurants for a decade and have enough money to buy their own place, but at what cost? If you dress like a ho, the wrong kind of assumptions will be made. Cover it up.

3. Bring the Drama. It seems to me that, for some women, the only way to get through life is to be extra dramatic. Every little thing from stubbing a toe to extra paperwork is the end of the world. These women take their perceived troubles to their managers to get a boost. They create drama because, although they profess to hate it, they actually thrive in it. There is nothing an office needs less than drama.

4. Cry. Sometimes life is just overwhelming and that one harsh word from a colleague or a manager is the thing to start the tears flowing. Just like in baseball, there is no crying in the office. As per the book title of the infinitely wise Kelly Cutrone, if you need to cry, go outside. Ms. Cutrone knows what she’s talking about and these are words to live by. If you must cry at the office, might be a good idea to take a walk, or go to the bathroom. Just don’t go into your manager’s office and let him/her see you cry. This isn’t the schoolyard and your manager is not your teacher.

5. Talk About Their Kids. This might be my biggest pet peeve. I don’t have an issue with those people that occasionally offer up a funny anecdote about their kids or those that list an exceptional achievement by their offspring. Pride is natural and I enjoy a good laugh at the expense of others. But those women that constantly discuss all the brilliant/hilarious/adorable/disgusting/ridiculous things that their kids do on a daily basis? Not even daily. Constant. With the pictures too. All over their desks, on their phones always ready to show you the next adorable shot of their kid covered in cake, running around naked, wearing a diaper as a hat. And the baby voices. It has to stop. I can’t take much more. You never see a man engaging in the same kind of paternal pride. And they? Tend to reside more in corner offices.

It may not be fair, you may rail against the establishment for not catching up to 2011. But this is the way the world works. So you either have to play the game, or get left on the bench.

Put the baby pictures away, leave the baking at home and for god’s sake, stop with all the drama. I can’t take much more!

On a personal note I'd like you all to send some extra good vibes to my friend The Record today. She could use them! Record, you're on my mind today. Hang in there, I will talk to you later.

Weather Or Not?

2011-08-09T17:18:00.000-07:00

Weather is an obsession in this coastal city of mine.

Weather conversations have moved well beyond the realm of polite banter topics to an all consuming passion that is discussed with everyone from your nearest and dearest to the bus driver to the barista that makes your favourite caffeinated beverage.

For the record, I do not indulge in this bellyaching hobby. I prefer to take the weather as it comes. It’s not like I’m X-Men’s Storm and I can change it.

This year, weather griping seems to be at an all-time high. Ask any of the amateur weather casters in this city and they will tell you that it has been the coldest, wettest summer on record. Ask any professional meteorologist and they will probably tell you that this isn’t so.

When I was still the Receptionist here I would have upwards of 25 different conversations with people about the weather. Every day. I had to smile and listen to a-hole things like “sure glad that summer decided to stop by today!” or “hope you enjoyed summer yesterday” or even “ju-vember is sure shaping up nicely”

Ha! You’re so funny. ‘Ju-vember’- because its July but it feels like November right? Hilarious!

Shut up.

You know what’s nice about not suffering through some ridiculous heat wave a la the east coast? Old people don’t die from heat exhaustion. Entire forests don’t burn, swallowing homes and business as they tear through whole communities leaving only devastation and heartbreak.

And on a personal note, I can sleep at night, cozy in my bed, wrapped up in blankets because I’m not sweating out of every pore in my body. I don’t need to sleep on a cold wet towel, or take a cold shower before I spend the night wide awake on my bed willing the fans to blow cold air around instead of just circulating the hot air. I also don’t need to spend precious moments talking The Boyfriend out of spending hard earned dollars on an air conditioning unit we would use for maybe 2 whole weeks in the year.

I’m not sure what good it does to obsess over the various weather forecasts in this city either. Turns out we live in a coastal rainforest which means the weather often changes faster than we can predict it. I feel bad for the meteorologists in this city – they so rarely get it right and people here…they just set so much stock by the weather. Oh my god, what do you mean they said it would be sunny today and now its cloudy? You had a picnic planned and everything?!

Move on. Get on board with my philosophy: Vancouver weathercasters can tell you what it did today and what it’s doing right now. That’s all (and it’s really not their fault, they are victims of their environment). Admittedly its annoying to have to carry around an umbrella, an extra sweater, and different weather shoes every day but while you’re bitching about the weather, stop and take a look at where you live and maybe the extra load will be worth it.

Water Monster

2011-08-08T17:23:00.000-07:00

Bonus post! After weeks of nothing, 2 posts in one day? Lucky you!

The other day The Boyfriend was running a bath and nearly got knocked over backwards into it when a 50+ pound “puppy” came barreling into the bathroom to try and jump in the tub.

I expect these kinds of hi-jinks from a Labrador, but a German Shepherd? Especially a (generally) well behaved shepherd? Never!

We did a lot of research about the breed before we took the plunge. We recognized that we were taking on a BIG dog (oddly enough it still surprises us on a near daily basis just how big the dog is actually turning out to be) that a lot of people are automatically intimidated by and we wanted to make sure that we socialized him properly and introduced him to all kinds of situations. And in most of the books it said that German Shepherds are not real water dogs. They don't hate it, but they don't search it out either.

We decided that, living in Vancouver, it would just be silly for the dog not to be a water dog since we are so perfectly situated along oceans and inlets. Plus in the summer we see a fair amount of lake time and we wouldn’t want little Hugo Stiglitz to be left out would we? No. So we took baby steps. The first time we bathed him in our own bathtub it sounded like we were murdering him. He screamed and struggled and scratched and screeched and afterwards he looked pathetic and drowned and adorable all at the same time.

We took him to the water’s edge when we went up to the lake and let him get his feet wet just so he could see what it was like. We threw his toy just out of reach to encourage him to go get it. I went in the water to show him that it was ok (and even though it was June at the time, that water was FREEZING).

We set up a little kiddie pool in the backyard when we were up there and encouraged Hugo to play around in it, get his feet wet, splash around.

Hugo's favourite place: the lake.

But the real help came when The Boyfriend’s parents’ dog ran straight into the water from the boat launch, so excited for some swim time that she had little regard for the poor little puppy sitting at the water’s edge. The last time we were up there the two of them were swimming circles around me, almost daring each other to jump straight off the dock into the deep water (as it happened, they both fell off the dock anyway and were none the worse for wear. I’m sure next time we will vainly yell at them to stop before the disappear over the edge of the dock into the fresh cold water).

We were so proud of our little water adventurer, bucking the supposed German Shepherd trend.

Now it’s getting out of hand though. We can’t walk past any body of water without Hugo straining at the leash to throw himself in it. He walks through puddles just for the sensation. And hours after we sent him to the puppy spa he was frolicking off leash when he saw the pond at the university and ran for it. He stopped momentarily at the edge in response to our cries to do so, but only for a moment before he gave himself over to the wonderful feeling of being submerged in clear cold water on a hot summer’s day.

I laughed at the time, but this bathtub business is going too far. He’s way too big for my bathtub. I like taking baths and I’m not sharing my bathtub with some giant hairy dog, as much as I love the little bastard.

No, no. We’re going to have to nip that in the bud. What’s that? Close the doors you say? Would be an effective solution, if he didn’t know how to open them.

Two Weeks

2011-08-08T17:15:00.000-07:00

That’s how long it took me to start trolling the job boards for greener pastures in my new role.

Am I doomed to spend a professional lifetime looking for something better? Will I ever be satisfied with my professional lot in life?

That depends. Do you think that I can ever legitimately stay at home in my pajamas and still get paid? Because that’s what I would really like to do. If I were in charge of the world, I would initiate mandatory nap times, a no douche policy and rid the world of the incompetent nincompoops that are still allowed to roam free.

Until I realize my dream of world domination, I should probably try and find some silver linings in my current situation right?

I really like most of the people that I work with. Yes, there are those jerkwads that talked down to me for the simple fact that I answered the phones and there was the hazard of being a sitting duck for all those lonely hearts that just wanted to repeat the same stories with a refrain of “but isn’t that so funny?” (tip: if you have to ask if it’s funny, it probably isn’t) but now that I’ve been ‘rescued’ from the front desk, I’m safely hidden away. I’ve forgotten how quiet an office can be though. But (silver lining!) here we are allowed to talk to each other and no one gives you the stink eye for laughing.

I get every other Friday off. I work an extra hour Monday-Thursday and every other Friday is mine to do with what I choose. Sleeping, reading, dog walking, town leaving, shopping, loitering – whatever I want. And that’s pretty easy to get used to.

Here’s where things get a little tricky though. Technically I have been promoted out of Reception. I was told that this new role would encompass certain things and would not be a different version of Reception with bathroom breaks whenever I pleased (people always thought I was joking when I would tell them that I could only go to the washroom at certain, appointed, times of the day – I wasn’t). So I trained my temporary replacement and moved on up.

To…I’m still waiting to find out exactly what I’m doing. Pretty sure it’s the glorified reception work. I’ve been added to that email group. No one has said anything about my learning different aspects of the business, as promised. No one has discussed a pay raise. Or my becoming permanent which would bring with it certain other perks, namely vacation and sick days. And most days I spent large chunks twiddling my thumbs waiting to be assigned work. And people seem to a) be OK with it and b) not have any kind of plans to change it.

And so? This morning, I trolled.

Yes, I do realize that this post is totally out of the blue given my recent horrendous status as a non-blogger. I’d address it but we’ve heard that story before and it’s not a very good one is it?

The Happiness Project

2011-06-03T18:30:00.001-07:00

I recently finished the book The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. In it, the author chronicles her efforts at boosting her own happiness through small, simple changes after realizing on the bus one day that even though she has every reason to be happy (lovely husband, healthy kids, job she loves in a city she loves). She chooses to focus on a specific area for a month over a year (energy, marriage, kids, work etc) and makes concrete resolutions each month to kind of track her progress (she even has a chart for a more visual representation).

I first came across the book sometime last year when I wasn’t working. I remember walking away from the book at the time, telling myself that while I probably needed to read that book given my current state of affairs, I couldn’t justify the hardcover price while I wasn’t earning any money. But I kind of think that this was one of those times where the Universe intervened, knowing that I wasn’t in the right mindset for that kind of book. Had I read The Happiness Project just after I had been let go from a job that I hated, I would have dismissed it. I would have scoffed at the idea of being in control of your own happiness and I would have slagged it off to anyone who would have listened.

I guarantee I would have run out of listeners in a hurry because it’s exhausting listening to people whine about how shitty their lives are. And I’ve finally realized that. So

Even though I don’t think that I’m going to embark on my own official Happiness Project, although I do really think that what Gretchen Rubin did was very valid, I do catch myself thinking about things in a different way since I’ve finished it. When The Boyfriend and I argue about stupid things, instead of stewing about them like I may have done in the past, I really do try and just let it go. If I catch myself whining about things at work, I try and just stop and focus on something better. For those of you that have been around here for a while, that will be the most surprising. Right now, I’m not where I want to be professionally. I’m still trying to change that. But in the meantime, I have a paycheque coming in regularly, a lovely boyfriend who is hilarious and good looking, smart and supportive, a puppy that provides endless entertainment and some lovely friends who are all brilliant and fun in their own right.

It’s not an overnight change in mindset, but it’s definitely something I’m working on. It feels a lot better.

Anyway, if you’re interested in finding some more, you should pick up the book. Or you could just click here too. Simpler, and yet? Not as satisfying as holding a proper book is it?

Wanderlust

2011-05-25T18:37:00.000-07:00

Where have I been?

Here and there and everywhere. Most of my time these days seems to be taken up by my little dog. Who is becoming less little every day. It’s good though- he gets me out of the house whereas, if left to my own devices, I’m much more likely to sit at home under a blanket, remote or book in hand. Other than that, went away for the long weekend, still working as a Receptionist, still looking for other opportunities wherever I can.

And, watching entirely too much House Hunters International.

You know you’re getting *ahem* more mature, when you shun MTV for HGTV. House Hunters International has replaced my 16 & Pregnant fixation.

Well replaced might be a bit of a strong word. It probably has more to do with availability than anything else. House Hunters International has been on for a while now and has a lot of episodes (that are on daily) that I haven’t seen. And The Boyfriend is just as addicted at looking at property for a surf school in Nicaragua as I am. Which means that I don’t need to hide my addiction this time.

But what initially started out as something fun to watch in between attempts at exhausting the dog (who today figured out how to open doors), has turned into a full blown attack of wanderlust.

My wanderlust was comfortably tucked away beneath layers of job envy, puppy love, (local) apartment hunting and all the other detritus that makes up our everyday lives. Who had the money to be thinking about planning an amazing trip anytime soon? Plans for a return to the magic of Oktoberfest with a detour to Italy were shelved after the bout with funemployment lasted way longer than either of us thought possible. I was content to focus on other aspects of my life, rather than the frivolity of trip planning.

But moving to another country had never occurred to me. And after watching a few of these episodes, of the houses that you can get for about the same amount as what we paid for our apartment? It’s taking every ounce of willpower and common sense not to list my apartment, sell my belongings and move away.

Restore a small Portuguese cottage by hand while I write about the experiences? Find a converted barn in Italy so I can be closer to my husband who’s been transferred here? Extend our life in Brussels because we all love Belgium so much? These kinds of things play into the fantasy that is the basis of wanderlust: namely that everything will be so much better, more romantic, easier, more amazing, if it’s done in a foreign locale. They all make it seem so simple to up and leave the life you have for a new adventure and a new life.

Alas, I was cursed with a common sensical mind and am rather attached to the people that live near me. As much as I like to fantasize about my life on the north coast of France, it would mean leaving my people and as small as the world seems these days, I don’t think that the charms of a Mediterranean life would hold without the people that I adore. Plus I’d have to teach my dog a whole new language.

However, I wouldn’t say no to a well timed vacation.

Finally, even though by the time you read this, I will most likely have made the decision but if you were choosing one of the following to read, which would it be?

a) Queen by Right by Anne Easter Smith (historical fiction about Richard III’s widow)

b) Tulipmania (about tulip speculation in the golden age of the Netherlands)

c) The Happiness Project (a woman’s year long quest to do little things that make her happier)

d) King George VI’s biography

e) The Great Silence (about the period after the Great War and 1920)

The people I forced to answer this at work were torn between two.

Dog vs. Kid

2011-05-04T17:57:00.000-07:00

You know how people say that getting a dog is good training for having a kid? And then people that have kids are like having a dog is nothing like having a kid?

If that’s the case I’m never having kids.

My dog exhausts me.

Don’t get me wrong. I love him to pieces- I love hanging out with him and playing with him and feeding him and loving him and training him. He does the cutest things and he kisses and sometimes, when the mood strikes, he’s totally cuddly. He’s so trusting, looks to us to let him know that a scary noise or person is OK and counts solely on us for food and shelter. Whenever we can keep him still for more than 10 seconds, he makes for the cutest pictures. He’s growing like a weed and everyone we meet is in love with him on sight and I don’t blame them.

But the sleeping? The sleeping is a work in progress. And my hand could use a few less bite marks.

Not that my giant German Shepherd puppy is vicious. Far from it. But he is teething and learning. And part of that learning involves figuring out that my hand? Is not a chew toy. Neither is my leg, nor my arms, my hair is off limits (even though it’s so shiny and pretty- I get the attraction to shiny) and so are my feet. I try to be patient but every once in a while he catches me off guard with a sharp little jab in my leg. Yesterday I was walking away from The Boyfriend and he noticed a mark on the back of my leg and he was like “what is that on your leg?”

Blood. It was blood.

(The Record is never coming over again after reading that)

I think we would both be less on edge about the teething if we were sleeping more. But the little man (who I shall refer to on the blog as Hugo Stiglitz) can’t sleep through the night just yet. His little bladder isn’t big enough. He sleeps GREAT when he’s in his crate, but when he has to go, he has to go. And right now that falls anywhere between 12am and 4. And once I’m up at 5:45 well so is Hugo Stiglitz. And The Boyfriend.

The housetraining is going a lot better this week than it did last week. The first week we neglected to treat him when he did his business outside. And we had a lot of trouble reading the signs that he needed to go out. It was especially confusing to all when he started scratching on the closed spare room door. The Boyfriend and I assumed that because the door was closed he was trying to tell us that he thought it should be open so that he could have free reign in the whole apartment. But it turns out now that that’s his signal for the need to go out. Which is weird, because that door is in the exact opposite direction from the front door that would actually let him out.

Where was I going with this?

Oh yeah. Those people with kids that say that a puppy is not like having a kid? Maybe didn’t ever get a puppy? Because from what I’ve heard, this is kind of exactly like a baby (maybe sans hand puncturing). Except that as my puppy grows up, he will become less of an a$$hole.

And then The Boyfriend and I will look back on all the little puppy pictures and look at each other and say things like “Remember when he was cute and small like this? Wasn’t he so great? I wish he was still small like this” forgetting all about the bloody leg, the urine on the floor and the lack of sleep.

In that way, it has to be exactly like a kid right? So I’m trying to enjoy every puppy moment while I can because from everything I’ve read and heard, it’s over far too quickly.

Hugo Stiglitz

Training With Attitude

2011-05-02T19:05:00.000-07:00

I'm a terrible trainer.

I mean, I'm awesome at showing someone how to do a job. I will teach you the tricks of the trade in record time, hold your hand through the tricky bits and instil in you the confidence that you need to be a star.

But I will also give you a little bit extra.

Attitude.

I don't mean to do it. Back in the day when Anna first joined me in the 7th circle of hell (that's the worst one right? way too lazy to actually look that up) I remember taking pride in the fact that I let her form her own opinions and judgments.

Of course, I didn't actually train her. I just got up whenever she entered a room.

Just kidding. But I really did make the effort not to colour her experience of what I found to be the most excruciatingly soul crushing work environment, confident that in time she would discover it for herself. Or be Veronica's stooge in which case I didn't need to be talking to her in the first place.

So when I was handed the Seagull's replacement today with zero instructions as to what to do with her, I was confident that I would be able to maintain my professional distance and just teach the newbie what she needed to do in terms of job description.

She must be some kind of witch because before I knew it I was insinuating that the Seagull was crap at her job, that the Dinosaur was an a$$hole and showing her the results of my unofficial office census from last week: douchebags vs. people I like. The scary thing is results broke about even on that one.

At the end of the day she was ready to take the reins (the purpose of teaching her how to do my job when I'm not leaving the position? To cover the Seagull's vacation leave for the next month) and I left her on her own for the last hour to vote. In addition to knowing how to shut the Reception area down at the end of the day she was also equipped with the knowledge that if you needed anything from the Dinosaur you probably weren't going to get it, it's normal to be ignored by people walking by and I hate that people say my name wrong, most notably the Dinosaur.

I'm pretty sure that I will have her for the entire day again tomorrow. The Dinosaur labours under the misapprehension that Reception is a horribly tricky job that requires hours of patient tutelage to grasp. In this, as in many other things, she is very very wrong.

Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to indulge in some more Royal Wedding 2011 footage and photos because the 8 times I've watched it so far really didn't cut it. And then I'll probably check out some photos from The Met Gala tonight.

And you? You should read this.

A Horse Of A Different Colour

2011-04-27T19:17:00.000-07:00

Is it bad that the first thing I thought when I read that a Jersey Shore alum was pregnant was ew!?

You’re probably all with me are you not? That just seems so wrong/gross/insert your own adjective here. Why do people like that get to procreate? Oh yeah, that’s totally judgment that you are hearing.

It might be that I’m just being a cow right now because I’m not in a very good mood.

You’d think that after last night’s nail biting finish to the Canucks’ first round series I’d be flying high! And you’d have been right this morning. But since then, well this place has gotten to me.

I may or may not have been aware that today was Administrative Professionals Day. And as an admin pro, I may or may not have expected some kind of mini fanfare to recognize that I’m an office superstar and this place would fall apart without me. How do I know I’m a superstar? Please!

Last week when I was sick? The faxes weren’t handled, voicemail was left untouched, supplies weren’t ordered, people didn’t get their mail, and we ran out of shipping supplies. Little things right? But can you imagine if you were waiting on some important mail or a fax to do your job and it just never showed up? Or you went to grab some tool that you needed to complete a project and it wasn’t there? Life would be that much more, needlessly difficult. It’s my job to smooth those daily grind wrinkles out for you. To a point.

But I also expect some respect in return. You may look at me and assume that I’m uneducated, without any kind of experience behind me, or that I’m dumb and deserve to be a Receptionist, but you would be wrong.

I wasn’t looking for a flashy bouquet of flowers or balloons, gift or greeting cards, or a fancy lunch. But would it kill people to say ‘hey you know what? You’re doing an awesome job, thank you” ? It probably wouldn’t.

I had pretty well talked myself down, told myself to get over it and act like a grown up, that no one knows about it and that’s fine, when the Squirrel told me that the entire group of coordinators was being taken out for an extended lunch to celebrate Administrative Professionals Day.

The coordinators, whose lunches I order, whose packages I send out, whose shit I take. They get a lunch and didn’t even think about me.

And then this other a-hole came over to me with an O ring binder in his hand, demanding to know who exactly places the supply order. I told him that technically I placed the order, but that the Squirrel is the one that tells me what to order (which is true- it shouldn’t be this way since the Squirrel is a f*cktard but what can I do?). He starts to yell at me as he’s walking away about how O ring binders are so crappy and we should never ever order them.

This from the guy that once yelled at me about not ordering enough sandwiches on white bread.

I should have just rolled my eyes. I mean clearly this one guy is just an a$$hole and it has nothing to do with me. But added to the fact that today is just another day in office purgatory being ignored by everyone including The Dinosaur (my own manager!), it becomes a horse of a different colour.

Feel free to try and cheer me up. And if you neglected your admin people today, try and make it up to them tomorrow in my honour.

Gratuitous Puppy Picture

2011-04-25T18:10:00.000-07:00

In case you were uber concerned about my welfare when I failed to blog about anything last week, rest assured I was just busy dying. I’m better now and am back to blogging about nothing in particular and everything in general.

I always feel nervous when I return to work after any kind of absence. I was off work from Tuesday afternoon until this morning (thanks Good Friday) so it felt like an eternity. Those years of working in cubicle hell where any absence meant questioning looks and a $15 sick note have played havoc with my sense of what’s appropriate office behavior.

Which is why I was so surprised when every person that walked by me this morning asked if I was feeling better, folks came by specially to chat and tell me that they missed me, and one person gave me a big hug and told me how grateful she was that I was back.

And then there is The Dinosaur who has yet to acknowledge that I’m back, that I was sick or that I exist. And The Seagull is spending her day making excuses about all the things that she couldn’t do because she was “so busy”. When I asked her if she managed to get the supply order done she tells me they were “so busy”, I asked about the business card orders on the desk, she couldn’t do them because she was “so busy”- which begs the question: was it so busy because of high volume or because she is incompetent?

We’re definitely going with incompetence.

Oh yeah, I don’t get Easter Monday off. These are the holidays that I wish I had chosen to be a teacher. There are a lot of kids running around the office today- kids that have the day off who’s parents’ don’t. Daycares are closed. It’s kind of funny seeing all these little versions of my colleagues running around.

The good thing about having been sick for most of last week is that I got some extra time with my new puppy. When I got home on Monday The Boyfriend and the puppy came out to meet me and the puppy didn’t even recognize me until I was standing right in front of him. Heart breaking. And even though I could barely sit up, let alone take him for walks or play with him, my presence alone helped the bond.

Since we have had the little monster, we have washed his bed twice, cleaned the floor more times that I’d like to admit, crawled out of warm beds in the middle of the night for potty breaks in the freezing cold, endured night crying (we’re crate training), and spent early, early mornings amusing him.

We’ve also taught him to sit, gotten lots of puppy kisses, showed him off wherever we went and gotten him somewhat used to the car.

Considering he threw up after his inaugural car ride, I personally feel that this last one is a huge accomplishment. He’s also been introduced to a number of different dogs in the past 3 days and is starting to get really comfortable playing with other dogs. Which is hilarious to watch and a guaranteed way to knock him out for hours. Bonus points.

I’d say the good definitely outweighs the bad. I’ll try to collect some puppy stories to share in the near future. Until then you will just have to make do with this most adorable picture:

Dirty Secret

2011-04-14T20:20:00.000-07:00

I'm going to admit something that's kind of embarrassing: I'm a bit of a slob.

Its the least Dutch thing about me, because Dutch people? Are clean. OCD has nothing on tidy Dutch folk. Raised by a proper Dutch mother, a witness to proper Dutch cleaning all my life (I have an aunt that went to housewife school when she was 13, swear to God), I'm completely lackadaisical about clean.

And while in most things The Boyfriend and I pretty well see eye to eye, on the state of our apartment, our styles tend to clash a little (perhaps he's a little bit Dutch?).

I'm of the why-make-the-bed-in-the-morning-if-I'm-going-to-get-right-back-in-it-again-tonight? mindset; he's all about hospital corners. I throw my clothes on the floor; he folds his neatly on the bench beside the bed. I kick my shoes off the moment I walk in the door, land where they may; he lines his up with military precision.

You get the idea.

I like a clean apartment as much as the next person, but I'm not so down with the process that makes it that way. I have loads of memories of spending Saturday mornings with a cloth and a can of Pledge in my hand. Of whole weekends spent digging through the detritus that made up my tween life (Leonardo, I still love you). Of how much time that all took when I could be outside climbing trees, riding bikes or playing street hockey (those of you that know me now are probably fairly surprised to hear about how I spent my childhood- I had a brother, just the one sibling at the time).

Tonight was the first night all week where after work I could just go home and do nothing. I was so looking forward to it. Then I mentioned to The Boyfriend that The Record was coming over to watch the game tomorrow night and I could just see his eyes glaze over as he thought of the state of our apartment (which consisted of some clothes on the floor and a bit of a messy kitchen). No worries- he had a plan. We would spend at least part of the evening cleaning.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't put up a fight. I grumbled through the whole thing and when asked if I could sweep the kitchen floor for him (I'm always responsible for laundry) I totally balked (must have been a painful Saturday morning flashback circa 1994). I told him I didn't want to do it because I was like that child that is learning how to use a broom and he's Kate Gosselin and there's no point in my doing it if he's just going to re-do it.

He told me if I did it right, it wouldn't be an issue. Just sweep, then swiffer and he can steam mop it.

You heard that too right? The process for a clean floor? Sweep (big pieces), swiffer (dust particles), steam mop (makes the floor proper clean).

We're picking up our puppy on Saturday (eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!) and I suddenly realized that a) The Boyfriend is totally nesting and b) this will be his very last clean floor for years.

So I swept and swiffered the hell out of that floor. And our relationship survives another day.

That's right- my name is the Job Snob, I'm a slob and my boyfriend is Mr. Clean.

Add a puppy and life's alright on this snowy April night.

Sharing is HARD

2011-04-12T20:47:00.000-07:00

According to GoodReads, I’m currently 6 books behind on my reading challenge. I’m only 20% there.

Admittedly, setting a goal of 80 books read in a year that I’m not spending at least partially unemployed, was probably a bit lofty. When I wasn’t working (funemployment), I was sometimes reading 4 books a week! (is there any way, short of winning the lottery, that this could just become my life again? You know, without that whole income issue?)

It’s OK though. I’m not a quitter. I have a plan.

Instead of struggling through books like Daniel Deronda (who I blame for singlehandedly putting me so behind) and Cleopatra: A Life, I will focus on shorter, easier reads like A Little Princess and Bossypants. You’d think that since I already have a tower of books that I haven’t read from my birthday spree, that I would stop buying books until I’d finished them. You know- to save money since I’m turning into a slow reader anyway and apparently don’t need any extra reading material.

But you’d be wrong there too. I just can’t help myself. I think it’s actually turning into an illness.

My point? Is that those are my books. And I’m not good at sharing.

I got my hands on a copy of Bossypants by Tina Fey this weekend as a sort of reward for slogging through Cleopatra: A Life. (which is well written and good and informative and stuff but I get confused easily with all the ancients.) Knowing that Tina Fey’s hilarity was waiting patiently for me on my bookshelf did actually inspire me to devote some serious reading time to the ancients.

And then? The Boyfriend was all “so I was reading the cover of that Tina Fey book and it actually looks really funny so I thought I would give that a read?”

WHA?!!?

Immediately I regressed about 20 years.

But that book is mine! I get to read it first! You just got a book (that’s right, one for him, 15 or so for me)- you have to read that one first! (Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand in case you’re wondering.) What is happening?!

I gave in. He pointed out (quite rightly) that I’m sh*t at sharing and to prove him wrong (because in addition to being a book hoarder, I’m also always right) I let him have the book first.

On account of The Boyfriend wanting to start his awesome new book, we went to bed a little earlier. I’m trying to finish off the 70 or so pages of Cleopatra (I got through like 15) and all I can hear beside me is snickering, giggling, chortling and finally full out guffaws. Every few seconds, The Boyfriend pauses to look over at me, checks to see if I’m watching, shows me a funny picture, tells me that Tiny Fey writes 2 lines about her scar, he tells me a joke (only because Tiny Fey included my favourite joke of all time: 2 peanuts are walking down the street, one was a salted- get it? Assaulted/ A Salted? Kills me) etc etc

Sharing is HARD.

I can’t decide if he’s doing it because he wants to share the experience of the book with me or to rub it in that he managed to read it first. All I know is that he wants to get his hands on the travel Karl Pilkington book. And when he does?

Guess who’s reading it first? Giggling audibly the whole time.

International A$$hole Day?

2011-04-11T18:39:00.000-07:00

You know that place between asleep and awake? When you’re kind of dreaming, but it’s more like hallucinating because you are vaguely aware that you are dreaming?

I was there this morning. I was in the middle of a fight between Star Jones and NeNe Leakes. I think I might have been Donald Trump. And then NeNe hit on Ivanka- she was all “I would totally take off a piece of that”. Except Ivanka looked more like Ivana. In a wig. Confusing.

The really messed up thing is that I don’t even watch Celebrity Apprentice, so I don’t even know how this all worked itself into my subconscious. I mean, I watch some sh*tty TV (16 & Pregnant, Teen Mom, Sister Wives, Keeping Up With the Kardashians, The Hills, Real Housewives of wherever are some of my favourites), but somehow Celebrity Apprentice is what worked its way into my head. That’s some powerful stuff.

So after dreaming I was (possibly) the Donald, I woke up to find out that it was International A$$hole Day.

Let’s pretend that it’s your first day starting a new job and you have been asked to show up at 9am for your Orientation. What time do you show up? Probably sometime around ten minutes to 9 right?

Wrong. Apparently you show up at 7:30.

This will happen sometimes. People’s flights show up in a strange city and they come straight here because they don’t know where else to go. I’ll usually try and find a person to take them off my hands, or suggest that they run downstairs and grab a coffee and come back at 9. This morning the guy’s manager was out of the office. He ignored my suggestion to grab a coffee. So he sat and waited. In my reception. For an hour and a half. Around 8:37 he stands up and says “maybe now you can call [name] and let her know that I'm here? Thanks” as if I’m the one that’s been keeping him from his orientation.

First of all, you’re not the only one that’s getting an Orientation this morning. Secondly, the HR rep responsible for your Orientation? Is in a meeting and not available to you. And finally? I’m the Receptionist ok? Not your Receptionist. And if you talk to me like that again, you are going to have a very hard time getting your phone calls, business cards, meeting requests, lunch orders or anything else that I feel like holding back. Mmmmkay?

Now I understand that, this being Reception, things might get delivered here for you. I suppose that you’re not that far off in that assumption. But if something is being held here for you? I will call and let you know. If someone sends you an email and lets you know that they are holding onto your access card for you until you come and pick it up, they have it, not me. I find that reading my emails goes a long way towards not wasting other people’s time. I also find that not acting like a cow is a really effective way to deal with other people.

But that might just be me.

All morning this woman was calling me asking me for access to this “big document”. That was all she would say by way of explaining what she needed. Well there was more, but her heavily accented English made it impossible to know what the hell she was saying. I’m actually pretty good at understanding through accents. Normally. This woman? No. F*cking. Clue. But she kept calling back. I was finally able to figure out (sort of) what project she was after so I transferred her to the other receptionist, thinking that now at least she wouldn’t be my problem.

Wrong. Turns out she got a hold of someone upstairs but they aren’t able to help her and directed her to another company that could. But she wouldn’t take a flipping hint and kept calling, asking how to register, how to access “big document”. I was ready to reach through the phone and slap her. I finally had a pow-wow with the other receptionist and was given the power to hang up on her should she call again. We must have voodoo’d her out by talking about her because she didn’t call back.

Well she didn’t call me back. Which is really all I cared about.

Since then, I want to say that it’s been pretty smooth sailing. I want to say that, but I won’t because I’d rather not jinx the rest of my day.

At least when it’s over we will all have managed to get Monday out of the way. International A$$hole day or not.

Sugar Ray Leonard

2011-04-06T22:14:00.001-07:00

Although I’m sure that you all have experienced workplace idiocy, sometimes I feel like I’m the only one that sees it. Probably has something to do with this whole one-way media thing. I talk, you (ostensibly) listen. In order to disprove this notion of mine I give you a snippet of an email The Boyfriend sent me. I’m glad to report that he is fine- it does kind of seem like he is on the verge of a rage stroke in the email…

I just listened to the following conversation. It took all of my energy not to correct all the mistakes.

"Hey, so that boxer on dancing with the stars is really good, what’s his name again. I don't know, but he used to sing like a butterfly, or was light on his feet or something. Who, Mohammed Ali. Yes, that's the one, fly like a butterfly, sting like a bee. Yes, he's a good dancer, good for him for doing that.”

HOLY SH*T! First, it's Sugar Ray Leonard who's dancing, ALI has Parkinson’s and although he could probably do a mean shake across the dance floor, is not on DWTS. Second, it's float like a butterfly, FLOAT!

It made me laugh. I thought it might make you laugh too. You maybe see a little bit of why we get along so well?

Speaking of things that were overhead, when I went for lunch today I think I overheard (fine was eavesdropping on) a managerial type woman getting some kind of peer-review and witnessed her taking offense to it. I mention it because it brought me back to the days of Amy/Veronica. This would be their exact reaction (actually Veronica would probably have taken it a step further and somehow managed to turn it around so that it was someone else’s fault). The girl who was administering the ‘review’ (I say girl because she was closer to my own age AND she was quite a bit younger than the woman she was reviewing) started it out by going over the positives: how this woman contributes effectively and efficiently to the bottom line, has made considerable strides in meeting team goals yadda yadda yadda. Good job Amy…I mean lady.

Do you think that she actually thought she was doing a perfect job? We all realize that there are things that we could change about the way that we do our jobs that could make us better right?

Not this woman. When the girl then mentioned that some people had brought up that she could maybe offer some more positive feedback more often (instead of only negative, a conversation I had with Amy AND Veronica several times) and that people felt like she wasn’t always available to answer questions and that maybe she could be more clear with her instructions…well you could have heard crickets. The woman was stunned.

And I promise you that Amy and/or Veronica would have had the same reaction. Then the backpedaling began. I could tell that the woman was trying really hard to figure out who exactly in the department had made these ‘allegations’ (so that she could make their life more miserable no doubt) but the girl wasn’t helping her out on that front. Apparently these comments were meant to be anonymous (effective in a large company/department- in a small one like where these women worked, less effective). Then the woman started saying that she has never told anyone that she doesn’t have time for them, that she is always explicit in her instructions, that she hasnever heard that people maybe have an issue with the way that she handles situations.

Sure lady, whatever.

That in a nutshell is the problem with managers though, isn’t it? They think that because no one has ever mentioned anything (directly to their faces), that there isn’t any problem. When in fact, it’s much more likely that the manager isn’t approachable and therefore employees don’t feel comfortable addressing these issues. Sometimes these things aren’t addressed because folks live in fear of the repercussions that they might face should they bring their ‘superiors’ to task for not handling things the right way.

Honestly, we’ve all tried to address these issues have we not? I can’t count the number of times I asked to sit down with John or Amy or Veronica and tried to talk about the problems that were coming up in a completely constructive, non-confrontational manner. And do you know what happened? Nothing. Either an ineffective blanket email was sent out, or the issue was misunderstood or absolutely nothing was done. At all. Not even an effort made to make it look like they were taking things seriously.

And so managers continue to suck at managing, blaming the little people (you) for all the things that go wrong. Not listening, not caring, continuing to make the workplace unbearable for you until the day that you have just had enough and walk away into another situation that, more than likely sooner or later, will turn out exactly the same way.

(Bad) Managers suck don’t they?

Freebie Hoarders

2011-04-04T17:58:00.000-07:00

What is the deal with people and free stuff?

Offer something free in your workplace and people will fight to be among the first to shove a choice donut down their gullet, or elbow their way ahead of everyone to reserve a particularly festive container.

For whatever reason my office finds itself the home of excess food or sparkly goodies left out for the enjoyment of all. And people? Lose their minds for free stuff. It doesn’t matter if it’s the sandwiches that no one wanted, the veggie scraps left in the sandwich basket or the festive receptacle from some floral arrangement- people go apesh*t for free stuff.

I’m not even exaggerating here you guys. The following is a list of true-life stories about people that are greedy for freebies.

I was asked to schedule a lunch for a meeting that was being held in the office. I followed the instructions to the letter. One of the guys that was eating the lunch complained about it. Doesn’t like “all the fancy spreads” the place used. Asks me (I’m putting this nicely) to ask the Squirrel what she usually orders because that’s what he likes. Do you know what he likes? White bread. He’s offended because the place we order from doesn’t use white bread. For his free lunch he can’t eat some brown bread like a grown a$$ man, he wants white bread. I was waiting for him to request that I also cut the crusts off. Its free buddy, pick a sandwich, grab some carrot sticks and sit the f*ck down.

Speaking of the Squirrel- she is among the worst offenders, interrupting important client meetings to “clean up” lunch debris so that she can do the first leftover onceover and keep all the choicest bits for herself. Rumours abound about her cellophane lined pockets and stash of containers to transport her stash. I’ve never actually seen her stuff leftovers into her pockets (although I honestly wouldn’t put it past her) but I know that she is always overly eager to clean up after other people’s lunch meetings.

You think the Squirrel is bad? There’s another one- let’s call her the Magpie. The Magpie likes leftovers but loves shiny things. In the beginning of the new year we kept getting vendors sending 2011 calendars to various people at the company, some that no longer worked here. Magpie was always first on the scene- I thought she was just being helpful, what with me being fairly new at the time. No, no there was a method to her madness. She was the first one there because she wanted to be the first to go through these calendars and see which ones were worth taking. What anyone would do with 10 different 2011 calendars is beyond me, but hoarders just can’t help it. Yeah, I used the H-word. She has a storage container that she pays a monthly rent for, that is filled with boxes and tins. Woman loves tins. And boxes. Whenever we get a complimentary floral arrangement from the building management company, the Magpie is always the first to put her name on the vase. At Christmas she wanted the poinsettia basket. Woman? Is a HOARDER.

I’m waiting for the day when I have to referee a fight between Squirrel and Magpie over some amazing glitter encrusted lunch. The Squirrel is currently rifling through the mail looking for whatever excess magazines/offers she can pilfer no doubt.

I’m powerless to stop the freebie monsters. What am I supposed to do? Tell a grown woman that she can’t have the vase, even though no one else has claimed it? Tell the guy who wants white bread that he will eat what is ordered for him or he can’t leave the table? The Squirrel…well that is an entirely different matter. People know she takes food and they don’t like it. Especially when clients are paying for the food. Plus she’s not a fan of showers so her wandering around anywhere near the food-well that could be strategy on her part. Maybe she hopes that appetites will be lost and she will have more food to choose from. I personally try really hard not to be anywhere near her dandruff-y head before I take off for my lunch.

But that’s just a personal choice.

Zero Prep Work

2011-03-31T18:03:00.000-07:00

A couple of things to get to before we dive into today’s post (as I’m writing this I have yet to think of something to write about as a bona fide post, so this is my way of procrastinating):

1. I made sure to visit Translink’s website last night and put in a “commendation” for my bus driver. He absolutely deserves recognition for the great job that he does and I’m glad to be able to play a small part in him getting it. So thanks for those of you that commented with the suggestion!

2. Sweet Valley High has returned!!! Well sort of. Francine Pascal has finished the new Sweet Valley book and 20-somethings the world over are losing their sh*t and running to the bookstore to get their hands on it. Rumour has it that Jessica and Elizabeth Wakefield don’t even like each other in their 27 year old incarnations. What the what?! Obviously am running right to the bookstore to find out what the H is going on. How can they not like each other?!?! They are TWINS!

Naturally I have done zero prep work for this post. Which, let’s face it, is often the case. But most times when this happens, I manage to pull something out of my a$$ that sounds half way decent. Today is clearly not one of those days. Which means that we are going to have to bust out some collection of thoughts that are rolling around in my head today. There’s no accounting for what rolls around in this brain of mine. You’ve been warned.

Yesterday I was messing around on Twitter and decided that maybe I would like to see who Twitter thought I should follow. It’s based on who you already follow. Here are some of the names that Twitter gave me: Kris Jenner, Kylie Jenner, Kendall Jenner, Rob Kardashian. I guess I’m not following enough Kardashians. I only follow Kim, Kourtney and Khloe. For now. We will see. Twitter may wear me down. I love the Kardashians. I can’t even help it. I’m mesmerized by their beauty and fascinated by their lives. Jen Lancaster would be so ashamed of me. Let’s face it- you’re all ashamed of me. I’m losing readers aren’t I? Damn, with only 39, 1 is a serious percentage!

Also Pee Wee Herman was suggested.

Have you discovered Flavia de Luce yet??? I’m OBSESSED. She is the heroine of this series of books by Alan Bradley and she has been described as being a cross between Harriet the Spy and Agatha Christie. You guys. If you haven’t already, you need to get on these. They are hilarious and fantastic. I think I was trolling around the Book Depository (this is like a daily thing, I like to watch the live buying as a kind of meditation) and it suggested that I might like The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie and when I got all these gift certificates for my birthday (to the bookstore naturally) I bought the first 2. Might? I might like these?! LOVE. I thought there were only 3 books. Wrong. There will be SIX. Read them.

I gave up my seat on the bus yesterday. Clearly inspired to do a good transit deed. Do you think bragging about giving up my seat to a girl with an ankle injury on the internets cancels out the good karma I had acquired? Probably.

Do you have big plans for the Royal Wedding? For those of you that aren’t aware, I’m obsessed with royalty. I love them all: Dutch, Danish, Spanish, Moroccan, Swedish, Norwegian, Jordanian etc but especially the English. Come on. Are there any better? Please. Plus, there used to be the small matter of deluding myself into believing that I was going to marry Prince William and become a princess myself. I had to do the research to be prepared for my future role. What? It could have happened. I just went to the wrong school.

But seriously-wedding of the century. I wasn’t around for Charles and Diana’s wedding I’m definitely not missing this one. I'm a little confused about how my wedding invite got lost since I feel like I was pretty clear about having changed my address, but I guess if it comes down to it I can watch it live at home with some booze. 3am is a perfectly acceptable time to be drinking. And. It’s my Friday off on the 29th. It’s like it was meant to be.

Alright kids, good talk.

Bus Driver Inspiration

2011-03-30T18:35:00.000-07:00

Remember how a couple of days ago I was all braggy about the sunshine and mild temperatures in Vancouver? Mother Nature set me straight this morning.

I could hear the rain running through the drain pipes when I woke up. I could hear it against the windows while I was eating breakfast. I could see it coming down on the local news station. And yet? I was completely unprepared for the monsoon that greeted me when I stepped out the door. For some reason I thought that runners (my special looking ones at that) would be appropriate footwear for wading through puddles and swimming through storm drains overflowing with Now and Then-esque force.

Do you totally know what scene I’m talking about? Poncho? Night time? Crazy Pete? Alright.

So my feet were wet, my umbrella was a sham and my bus driver? Downright chipper.

Normally, this would irritate me. How could someone that drives around city traffic, dealing with a-hole commuters at their worst, be happy? At 6:30 in the morning?!

It’s not like I interviewed him for an answer or anything. I’m amazed that I can sit upright for the entire journey at that hour of the day, let alone badger the bus driver (while he’s trying to drive) about what inspires him to be pleasant. But it is something that I’ve been noticing. Because my new earlier bus driver? Is above and beyond awesome. So Translink? Read further.

Because I start work earlier, I’ve started taking an earlier bus. I wish that I could tell you what route I take in the morning and what bus number- but I kind of feel like that crosses the line into my real life a little too much. Not that I think you are all crazy and will stalk me (although it might have crossed your mind) common sense prevails. Suffice it to say I leave my stop about 6:35 and arrive downtown at about 7:12- for the benefit of Translink so they can recognize this awesome employee (although come to think of it, there are probably lots of different routes that fit this criteria).

First off, he greets each passenger with a good morning AND a smile. Which seems small but let’s face it, in today’s world, that amount of interaction with a stranger is noteworthy. Then he drives in a safe and timely manner. Again- seems minor. But on city streets with the stresses of working life, people drive like maniacs wanting to get to their destinations yesterday, and woe betide those that get in the way. Safe, calm driving is important.

Finally, this bus driver (I feel like I should know his name) interacts with the passengers over the bus PA. Before the last few stops he gives us a weather update (which this morning included lots of rain and that he hoped we had all brought our umbrellas), lets us know about anything newsworthy and even includes some safety tips, urging us to please use marked crosswalks when crossing the streets. Today he even included a transit etiquette tip: that even though its wet outside, to please not leave wet umbrellas on the seat beside you, as a courtesy to other passengers who may not want to sit on a wet seat.

Its effective guys. His demeanor is catching. He has turned what could be a miserable job (city traffic, nasty weather, a-hole sleep deprived commuters) into a pleasant, uplifting interaction. Nearly everyone thanks him as they de-bus which is rare. Whenever people yell thank you as they leave the bus it still catches me by surprise (even though I do it too) because it almost never happens. In the morning now? You look like a jacka$$ if you don’t say thanks.

I’m impressed with his attitude. I’m impressed that he gets me to work safely every morning. I love that he seems to love his job and wants to make everyone else’s day a little bit better. I look forward to his weather reports, his one-way banter. I was disappointed when one day last week I got a different bus driver.

I hope that he gets recognized for the awesome job that he does. People definitely respond to his attitude. And I thought that I would tell other people about this bus driver, in the hopes that it maybe inspires other people to pay it forward? You know, make some of your daily interactions a little more pleasant- even if they are with grouchy, damp, zombie-like commuters.

It looks like things really have changed around here!

"Welcome to Paradise"

2011-03-29T17:56:00.000-07:00

In response to Molly yes, I do have a job. Not a career kind of job, but a job that pays the bills and so far hasn’t prompted me to do anything rash like jump out windows or attempt to have my manager fired.

Well, strictly speaking, that’s not totally true (the part about management is kind of true in this job as well- do managers exist that aren’t complete f*ckwits?) but its progress for sure.

On one of my very first days here the girl that was training me said something along the lines of “welcome to paradise” because I expressed awe that we were allowed to just go ahead and order lunch for meetings, that supplies were ordered willy-nilly and that people seemed to like their HR department. Not just like ,but seek out and laugh with the HR department (probably because that’s who orders the booze for all the parties).

Despite having once referred to HR reps as corporate prostitutes, I’m now wondering if there is space for me in this department. Or the Corporate Learning Centre (which I would probably have thought of as some kind of brainwashing scam but here they offer cookies). Only here though. I still believe they mostly exist to protect corporate bottom lines, not the people that they work with.

Where am I going with all this? I guess what I’m trying to say is that I sense a fundamental shift in the way I view my working life and nowhere is this more apparent than in my dragon boating.

Not only is this physical exercise (something I’m apparently allergic to normally) but it involves hours spent on the water (with nowhere to go) with the people that I work with. Before, I couldn’t even stomach eating free cake around the people that I called my colleagues (using the term in its loosest possible interpretation) and now? I’m wearing sweatpants, throwing my hair in a ponytail, and grunting with the effort of pushing the paddle as deep in the water as possible around these folks. And? Sometimes my mascara runs.

The strangest part of all is that I like it. I look forward to it. I try to recruit other people because “it’s so much fun” and “the people that are doing it are so great”. What is the matter with me? Who is this person I have become?

Even though I’m stuck in kind of a sh*t position (no matter which way you slice it, Reception really can suck), in general, I really like it here. I like the fact that I get every other Friday off (as a reward for getting here at 7:30 every day and working til 5), I like that they organize dragon boat teams and curling nights and Christmas parties that actually serve alcohol (you didn’t know that my last place wasn’t for the alcohol? No booze ever) and that they even have a social conscience (blood drives, food drives [not even just at Christmas time] and all sorts of runs to end poverty and disease).

I think I’m trying to tell you that, on most days, I like coming to work.

And I’m still trying to get used to that feeling.

Of course there are still days when someone beckons me over with the curling of a finger, a gesture filled with condescension, or when the Squirrel does/says something really petty and ridiculous. The Dinosaur has her head so far up her a$$ her eyes are brown so she can be a real challenge to work around. But I’m not the only one that sees these things. Other people are aware and they are trying to help.

And in the end?

That makes a world of difference to me.

Did You Feel Kind of Neglected?

2011-03-28T17:53:00.000-07:00

I’ve been away from here for a while haven’t I? Is a catch up in order?

Here’s what’s been going on:

1. I had a birthday. The big 2-6. Felt like the first real OLD birthday. Didn’t help that a few days later I was called ma’am. I can’t recall that ever having happened before, what with my youthful complexion and all. Although it’s my policy to take the day off work for my birthday, that wasn’t possible this year. I was really dreading the experience too, especially when the day before The Dinosaur blamed me for an incident with the Squirrel that was 100% not my fault. But my new co-workers came through for me in a HUGE way spoiling me with a little individual cake (chocolate mousse with a brownie INSIDE), a card and some flowers. Everyone wished me a happy birthday all day as well! For someone that believes their birthday is the most important day of the year, this was an appropriate celebration. And after work I got to spend a lovely evening at a shady bar with my wonderful friends who spoiled me further. It even went so far as to end in karaoke. No one needed to be subjected to a very drunk me belting out Backstreet Boys classics, and yet, it happened.

2. I have given up sweets for Lent (except for that day where I was forced to eat a chocolate mousse cake with a brownie inside. Or the day before where there was homemade Guinness cheesecake in honour of my birthday- again, totally forced). I really have. For someone that eats chocolate and cakes and cookies and ice cream like there’s a shortage, abruptly abstaining from them has been surprisingly easy (aside from one or 2 little hiccups- see birthday). Plus, people totally back off when you tell them that you can’t have a cookie because of Lent, like they respect your spiritual journey. If I was to say that it’s because I’m on a diet, they would be all “just have one, one won’t kill you” but Lent? Free pass.

3. I mentioned that I’m old now right? If you are older than me I’m sure you are shaking your fist at the screen but it’s all relative right? I attended my little brother’s 13^th birthday yesterday- yeah, he’s HALF my age. I spent part of the time watching Rebecca Black parody videos on youtube courtesy of my 14 year old sister. OLD.

4. I joined a Dragon Boat team at work. Yeah, you read that right- I’m participating in a work extracurricular activity that involves hanging out with people that I work with. And it’s so much fun. It’s actually worse than the fact that I just joined- I’m almost a cheerleader. I get PUMPED for it and try to amp other people up for it too. Disgusting. I will create a much longer post about that, because I feel like it deserves some extra attention. And? I’m going to have awesome arms when I’m done. That’s really the reason I did it. Vanity can be an excellent motivator- see Lent.

5. The biggest news of all: I’m officially getting a puppy. OK. You already knew that because I already posted about that. But the little critter has actually been chosen now. The Boyfriend and I went out to the breeder in the middle of February and met a bunch of the breeder’s adult dogs. We’re getting a German Shepherd for those of you that missed that little tidbit of information. Some people (The Record) might be terrified of German Shepherds having been chased onto playground equipment by gigantic, terrifying, snarling German Shepherds. But if The Record had seen these dogs, even she would have had to admit that they were sweet and adorable. And if she hadn’t (she is one of the most stubborn people I know) then if she had come out with us this weekend to see the little tiny, 5 week old German Shepherd puppies, she would have fallen in love. I tried to send her a picture of them but her phone is from 1996, back when cell phones only did things like call people. I’m totally digressing here though. Puppy. These are the 2 puppies we will be choosing between (there is one other person ahead of us looking for a show male dog so there is a chance that one of these will be chosen, that’s why we had to choose 2)- we go back this weekend for the final selection!

6. Its Spring! I don’t know about where you live, but out in Vancouver? Spring is here and its awesome. Cherry blossoms are out, temperatures are rising, I don’t need to wear tights every day, and you can SMELL spring in the air! I definitely ran out and bought some new dresses to encourage Spring to carry on in this same vein.

And I really think that that’s all that I have for you. Oh if you have time, you should check out my super stylish, hilarious, all-around fantastic friend Niki’s contribution to MTV’s style blog! We all realize that I’m more fabulous by association right? Good.

Umbrella-ella-ella

2011-03-09T18:02:00.000-08:00

Things people googled recently that brought them here: are dutch people snobby (can be), keith richards narcissism, how to stop midweek drinking (can’t imagine I was much help) and my favourite, things to do with a rubber mallet which brought them here.

Today we’re going to discuss umbrellas.

Its nearly spring, which means that a lot of us are probably getting caught in some spring “showers”. Unless you live in Vancouver (holla!) in which case you practically live with an umbrella glued to your hand because you’re basically living in a downpour this time of year. I remember a local TV personality espousing all the positive qualities of rain in this city because it keeps us all green and young.

Possibly true but it also has a tendency to keep you soggy and damp.

Don’t get me wrong- I love the rain. I love the sound it makes against the window when I’m snuggled under the covers in bed, or on the couch with a blanket, a book and a cup of tea (although, the cup of tea portion is usually much more in that nice cozy part of my imagination than something that I actually do for myself on such rainy days)- I’m even OK with a reasonable shower if I’m outside.

Not a huge fan of the gale force winds and sideways rain though.

Anywhoodle. If you live anywhere with rain, like I do, an umbrella becomes less of a fashionable accessory and more of a necessity.

What’s that? A raincoat? I don’t think I have worn a raincoat since I was 11. I have a waterproof jacket but that only holds up so long in the torrential, days’ long downpours that my fair city sometimes imposes upon me.

This morning I watched a young man fight with his umbrella at the bus stop. It wouldn’t collapse. Initially, I admit, I smiled to myself what I believed was a smile of fellowship- many times have I found myself in the same predicament. But it soon became apparent that if this umbrella didn’t do what it was supposed to do before the bus arrived, the young man in question could very well have thrown a fit. I for one wouldn’t blame him. Umbrella collapsing and stashing is already such a delicate balance of agility and etiquette, that when it doesn’t collapse the way it should, the whole fragile dance and routine is thrown way off course leaving you the holder of a soggy, splashy mess.

What does your umbrella say about you? Does your broken down, busted up give-way-at-the-slightest-breeze umbrella give the impression that you are a disorganized procrastinator? Or just a person that is happy with the status quo? Does the brightly patterned umbrella give off an air of youthful enthusiasm? Or flighty naiveté? Does the designer umbrella, crafted from the very finest umbrella materials available show others that you are right where you thought you would be, successful and driven? Or is it a gauche indicator of the noveau riche, offputting rather than classic?

Being the proud owner of a hand-me-down basic black umbrella that has one of its ‘spokes’ exposed to the elements, and has flipped in the wind on many occasions, I tend to think that my umbrella probably does say something about me: I’m just trying to stay dry! But I like to look at what other people’s umbrellas look like and try to imagine their thought process behind the purchase.

Mine was literally left behind. By The Swede who had no use for it back home. I wonder about those folks that choose to bring a golf umbrella to work sometimes. Where do they store it? How do they deal with it on the bus? Do they rest it against the seat? What about if they are sitting along the aisle? Do they let a wet umbrella rest on their legs? Does everyone’s umbrella smell faintly of mold?

OK that’s disgusting, you’re right. But I’m too superstitious to allow my umbrella to be open inside. So rot away in rainwater all day it does.

I should probably look into a new umbrella- I fear that mine has reached the end of its life. I wonder if it would just last until summer? How much could it possibly rain until then?

That. Is the sound of the Universe laughing at me.

Step Backward for Womankind

2011-03-08T18:04:00.000-08:00

Happy International Women’s Day!

I should be a lot more jazzed. A day to celebrate women and womankind? Awesome. Cheesecake? Yes please.

The fact of the matter is, that a day to celebrate women is really nice, but we have a long way to go.

According to The Record, in Canada women still only make $0.71 to the dollar for what men make doing the same job. Women are far more likely to suffer from the stress and anxiety related to a work/life balance. Not to mention that baby girls are still abandoned in China in favour of baby boys, women are still the victims of honour killings, and girls still suffer from the horrors of female circumcision.

But perhaps the biggest injustice to womankind has come at the hands of the publishing industry.

Snooki, Hilary Duff, and Lauren Conrad have all been allowed to write books.

Fiction.

The publishing industry has actually given these ladies money to make up stories and then force them onto the public. And young women are buying them! I’m throwing Hilary Duff a bone here- her book Elixir actually had a story line that she had to make up. LC and Snooki? Just fictionalized their lives. Then again, did you see the font size they used for Elixir to take up an entire book? Like proper book size? Not even a long book. But the font size was like 36.

It’s a Shore Thing and LA Candy though? Really? A Jersey girl moves to the Shore looking for love? A privileged California teen moves to LA to pursue her dream of becoming a fashion designer and her life is chronicled for a reality show?

Sound familiar?

I’m 25. I admit. I watched The Hills. Religiously. I watched The City too. I was hooked. Couldn’t get enough. Will still watch it if I happen to catch it on TV. I don’t need the book version. I watched it happen. And yet. LA Candy was followed up with a sequel because it sold so well.

Why publishers? Why are you inflicting these women on us in our bookstores?

Bookstores should be a safe haven of literature and culture. Filled with the brilliance of Jane Austen, the Bronte’s, Jen Lancaster and JK Rowling. Of course the way life is going, bookstores could well be a relic of the past.

E-readers. I hate them. Oh the kindle doesn’t have a glare? So you can read it in the sun? That’s so cool. You know what else doesn’t have glare? An actual book. You can take a book into the bathtub without worrying about getting electrocuted too. And you don’t have to worry about sunscreen fingers with a good old fashioned book.

An e-reader doesn’t carry the scent of ink and paper. You can’t treasure an e-reader the way you do a well-worn, well-loved copy of your favourite book. An e-reader doesn’t wink at you on your bookshelf, full of the memories you shared.

The written word is not to be deleted off your mobile reading device when you need more space for new titles!

E-readers and Snooki. Together they have the capacity to completely destroy any education and literacy we might have hoped for for future generations of girls. When we take the LCs out of bookstores, we take a giant step forward for womankind.