Boobs Bringing Me Down

I'm just going to come out and say it.  I had a bad boob day.  I wore one of my bras that didn't have a lot of padding to push what boobs I have up, so they were kind of sagging.  Any day that starts out with saggy boobs can't be good.  I also wore a dress that is kind of low cut in the front, so it was bugging me.  My boobs were jiggling around as I was walking.  And, if that isn't bad enough, the dress I wore is one of my favorites, but it has some challenges.  It's a ivory colored lace dress with a black slip sewn in so it shows a little of the black through it.  My problem is that I also wore a black FCD slip under that (Fat Controlling Device, for you newbies).  I went walking into the bathroom and noticed that the FCD slip and the sewn in slip had created a bond and decided to start fornicating in a way that left a lot of leg showing through straight lace.  Now, I've said it before and I'll say it again...people...people of the Glass Palace that claim to be my friend, PLEASE TELL ME WHEN I LOOK LIKE A FREAKING PROSTITUTE  that appears to be stumbling home drunk after a party.  How many times I gotta ask you this?

The struggle is real.

Anyway, I was kind of preoccupied by my low cut dress and sad, sagging boobs.  But then, you add NeverShutsUp Barbie to the equation, and it's a stressful day.  For those of you that don't know, I have taken to trying to train her through the use of behavioral conditioning.  The kind of conditioning that requires the use of a king sized fly swatter that I found and a spray bottle full of water.  If it works for cats and dogs, there is no reason to believe that it can't work for a perky co-worker.  I have added the words "No-No" to the swatter part of the device.  Every time NSUB won't stop talking, she gets swatted and I say, "No-No." If the behavior continues, I resort to the squirt bottle, because correct me if I'm wrong, it doesn't look good for me if I leave waffle pattern welts on her.  I think she was testing me today, because she came up and leaned on the front of my desk while she was texting someone. Just pushing the boundaries, as any toddler does.  She was in my space uninvited.  I grabbed the bottle and managed to get her good in the temple and several other shots to her head before she retreated.  She got back to her desk and said, "Cassondra, you got me wet!"  And then, her dirty little mind kicked in and she got this sheepish look on her face.  Face...palm.  I have moments of giving up. NSUB is fiesty.  She is a mustang.  She is the spirit that cannot be broken.  This is going to take some time...and possibly a shock collar.  At one point the Boot Bitch Mascot came over and literally beat the crap out of NSUB with the swatter, but NSUB just giggled.

This is just a snapshot into my life today.  There were a myriad of other things that happened, some of which I can't talk about, some of which I can, but all of them happened while I was nursing a serious headache.  I've got people all around me talking about how they have the flu, the shits, allergies, a strange cough that they don't know what it is, etc.  I know three people that have shared with me that they have the shits.  Ain't nobody got time for that!  Whatever it is they have, I don't want.  Then, we have some more testing going on because we are hiring.  Riddle me this, Batman, if you are going in for testing and interviewing, would you show up two minutes AFTER the time you are supposed to be there, or are you going to show up 10-15 minutes early?  People amaze me.  Why is it so hard to get a job out there when all of these Barney's are the ones out there competing with you?  Seriously.

Then, in an epic turn of events, I had to give out a hug today.  Perky Pony is leaving the Glass Palace and today is her last day.  Perky Pony was the last line of defense against NSUB.  She was usually able to distract her, or occasionally redirect her focus.  I didn't know who would cry first, me or Perky Pony, however, since I had a headache and had been engaged in behavioral conditioning all day, I didn't have any energy left for crying.  Don't get me wrong, I am very sad, but today, no tears, which is odd considering the number of days out of the year I do end up crying.  Huh.  Anyway, I did the next best thing, I walked up to her and told her to prepare herself for an event of a lifetime, a hug given of free will and actual feelings while in the work place.  I can't say for sure if it was magical for her, but I put some effort into it and it was genuine.  I notice tonight there is a post on my Facebook page saying that 12 hugs a day are required.  Uh, no.  I mean, I'll hug Shark Bait, hell, I'll even dry hump him if need be, but I'm not going to run around hugging people like a mother trucking hippie.  The only thing free in the Glass Palace is disease, not love.  <<Shudder.>>

So, that is the long and short of it.  The Glass Palace. Headache. People. The shits. Wardrobe drama. Behavioral conditioning. Hugging.  It was a full day.

I did ask New Boss on the way out if she believed in April Fool's Day shenanigans, because, frankly, I'm not into them.  Luckily, we are on the same page on this.  This is good news.  Now, the rest of them, that is another story.  I mean, I like to think of things to do to people, but I don't actually act on them.  For example, tomorrow they are giving out cupcakes for this launch we are doing.  I suggested it would be hilarious to put Colon Blow in the cupcakes.  Freaking hysterical.  Well, until I need to use the bathroom.  See, there are consequences to even the best laid plans.  Anyway, I'm going to finish my mudslide in my pink Solo cup and head to bed so I can have some more horrifying and disturbing dreams.

Night night kids, and go ahead, have a cupcake tomorrow, I'm sure it's fine. 

Half Naked in Stall One on a Friday

So, Thursday was exhausting, but today, this lovely Friday, I felt like the worst was behind me.  I arrived at work on schedule and had already stopped at the store to pick up gift cards that the visiting VIP asked me to purchase.  I chit-chatted with New Boss for a few minutes and then started in on my work. 

Not surprisingly, I had two emails that sent me over the edge.  Dealing with stupid situations first thing in the morning is never the way to kick off the day.  Then, the phone rings.  It is a representative from the company that services our copy machines.  The rep wants to know if the service request I put in on January 15th was worked as I had requested.  I was dead quiet for just a moment.  Today is March 27th.  I finally answered her, "I don't really remember a lot about January, to be honest.  I would like to believe that, by now, he has come and serviced the machine.  And, since I've been using it without incident and I'm the one that puts service requests in, I'm guessing he must have come in January."  She said, "Okay, well we are just checking."  Wow, must be a slow day for her if she is checking on what happened in January.  Wish I had that kind of time.

Just then, Sassy Pants came over to say good morning.  We decided that I needed a moment away from my desk, so we went to get water and stop by the bathroom. We took care of the call from nature (to be clear, we went pee) and then were standing at the sink washing our hands when I noticed that my zipper was down.  Well, that's odd, I thought I zipped that up.  I go to pull it up and realize, my zipper is broken.  A moment of panic as I am fumbling around with the zipper.  The whole bottom of the zipper just came apart. Well, SHIT!  I have the VIP's waiting at my desk and here I am with my vagina with a window to the world.  Sassy Pants was not empathetic, compassionate or helpful at this moment.  You know why?  Because she was laughing.  Today I had even worn a top that only just barely covered my waist band.  My dilemma was obvious for the world to see!  Mother Trucker!  I frantically worked the zipper, begging it to re-align.  But no, that frigging zipper was not going to work with me.  Sassy Pants suggested that I go into the stall, take off my pants and that I may have better luck fixing it.  Son of a bitch.  I go in there and removed my pants muttering and cussing the whole time about how exposed I was just standing there in my underwear fighting with a pair of pants made in some  third world country by a toddler.  Damn you, Old Navy!  I got these pants, fair and square off the clearance rack for $11.  WHO would have seen this drama unfolding?  Bastards.  I prayed, begged, cussed and when that didn't work, I went on a crazy rant about how I can't believe Old Navy did this to me and how I was going to be showing my vagina off all day and what the hell was I supposed to do, etc. 

Finally, I got the zipper to re-align and ever so gently pulled my cheap-ass Old Navy jeans back up.  I walked out of the stall and thought Sassy Pants had left me because it was so quiet, but no, there she was by the sink laughing so hard that she was not making noise and her face was completely red.  When she finally came up for air, she said, "I wish I had thought to record that."  Yes, that is what I needed, my vulnerable moment caught on video.  I stood there in front of the mirror, nervous.  Would the zipper make it out in public?  I asked Sassy Pants what I should do.  Should I just hold my hand there, like I had cramps?  Should I put my thumb in my waistband and hold my hand flat against my belly like I was a gangsta? I came up with a few plausible poses.  One of which was this one.

Look at me, my zipper isn't broke, I'm just getting down with my bad self.

We decided this might just work.  After a few more poses, I decided on doing a swagger, like I was a Texan just walking from the OK Corral.  Seemed legit.  I mean, I have horses and boots at home.  Perhaps it may make people wonder just what transpired in stall number one, but they sure wouldn't be looking at my zipper.

With reassured confidence, Sassy Pants and I set out to make the trek back to my desk.  The zipper seemed to be holding up.  I had a message from New Boss flashing on my screen.  I wrote back that I was sorry, but I had been unexpectedly detained in stall one with my pants off.  She asked if I needed to go shopping for new pants.  I told her I was going to see how this went, but to please tell me if I had any extra body parts showing.

The day continued with events that made my head spin.  Valerina came down and took me to lunch.  She said she was worried that if I didn't leave, there would be a hostage situation.  We went, grabbed a bite and returned.  Again, I was worried about the zipper, it felt kind of baggy in the front.  I showed her my sample poses that might work to detract from the zipper situation.  I showed her my best gangster, which on any given day is the whitest of white, middle aged woman looking ridiculous.  I even tried it with sunglasses this time.

Let's not talk about what the two fingers even mean or represent.  Mostly, they are a distraction.  I think.
Anyway, made it back in the building without any drama.  About an hour later, Sassy Pants returns to my desk.  It's time to go to the bathroom again.  I hadn't been back since this morning's incident.  I think she was secretly hoping for more drama.  That sick bitch.  We go in there and I ever so gingerly pull my pants down, but I was not easy enough.  Mother Trucker.  Here we go again, round two with the Old Navy slave labor pants.  I was not amused.  I went on a screeching monkey rant.  I was going to write Old Navy a letter and tell them what bastards I thought they were for leaving a fat girl trapped in the bathroom like that.  Clearly they support violating the rights of private body parts.  I finally got the zipper in check again and come out of the stall when I see Sassy Pants standing there with her phone on recording my rant.

https://www.facebook.com/video.php?v=10153138293154693&pnref=story

(not sure if this link will work since is on a certain someone's page)

Oh, Sassy Pants, you are Hi-Lar-ious.  Well, whatever, this wouldn't be the first meltdown captured on film.

Having battled the zipper a second time, I do manage to finish the day without exposing my lotus flower to the world.  I head home and remember that I told Suction Sister she can have her debut party at my house.  That's right, for those of you that read about Sexy Time at Mom's House, you know all about those kind of parties.  I think it will be okay.  I mean, I'll pour a mudslide, listen to Suction Sister talk about lotion, lube and "adult novelties" and it will be okay.  AND, I will get to heckle her. Sounds like the perfect end to a day.

As luck would have it, only a couple people showed up.  That meant more one on one attention and sampling of products.  If you read my last blog about the last party, you know I was dying to put Mr. Dependable to the suction test.  I mean, I didn't want to ride him personally, I just wanted to stick him to whatever surface I could and see how strong he was.  For no other reason than the fact that I am fascinated by this big purple...thing that you can just suction to wherever you want it. I suppose some people would like that or want that, but I seriously just wanted to see if it would fall off wherever you put it.  Think about it, some poor lonely girl suctions it to the washing machine and gets bucked off.  That's a tragic tale, right? How do you explain that in the ER?  Riding accident?  I don't know and I'm not gonna know, but curious nonetheless.  Suction Sister would not let me try him out for most of the party, but by the end, I think we had wore her down.  I put that thing on the window, the washing machine, the mirror, the shower, the microwave the stove and even to a wooden chair.  The suction was AMAZING, you had to get both hands on that thing and I'm pretty sure I almost pulled our window out of the frame.  I mean, I don't need this product, I have Shark Bait, but, I think if Suction Sister is going to market this thing, she needs to know what it is capable of.  I have pictures of all the places I put it in the house, but I will refrain from posting it to my blog.  As funny as I find it, I know some people would cringe.  It's just a big purple...thing, I mean, really. 

Anyway, it turned out that a drink, some heckling and advanced knowledge of product suction was just what this girl needed to wrap up her Friday. 

Now, tomorrow, I will likely find myself shopping for new jeans.  I can't take anymore zipper drama.  I need to lock and load the lotus flower. 

Have a great weekend, all, and please, do yourself a favor, check your zipper.

Open Letter to Bath & Body Works

Dear Bath & Body Works,

I HATE YOUR GUTS!  Here's the thing, B&BW, I am sick and tired of you deciding when I get to stop liking my favorite lotion.  You just put that smelly over-priced lotion out there and then you hire a bunch of obnoxious lotion-pushing whores and you suck people in with your "3 for $18" or whatever the frig you sell it for.  Then, when I have three freaking lotions, it takes me a while to use them.  By the time they are gone, I'm like, I really like that stuff, maybe I should get more.  BUT NO, I CAN'T!  You know why?  Because the  B&BW bastards have decided to try something else.  Oh, don't mind me, I'm just addicted to your fucking lotion and now it isn't there. I guess I'll just go buy some heroin instead!

I'm not bitter...the HELL I'm not!

Never mind, I just won't smell like Cucumber Melon, or Coconut Lime Verbena, or Coconut Breeze or Cool Water Cucumber.  Never mind me, the stupid consumer who came into your store for lotion therapy.  Never you mind that I have needs.  That I need to smell like a summer's afternoon at the beach, or like a sweet piece of fruit.  You don't care about me, you just want me to walk out of that store with a 3 pack of lotion, body butter, body cream, body wash, sugar scrub, anti-bacterial hand sanitizer, hand soap, lip gloss, candles, scent warmers, car air fresheners and a bunch of other stuff that I don't freaking need!  I hate you.  All of you.  I want to know who the mastermind is that does this to people.  Do you have local criminals on death row creating your mission statement and marketing tactics?  People that are sick of smelling themselves and their stinky-ass cell mate?  Are those the fascist bastards running your company? ARE THEY?

And, another thing, I don't want to have to go on-line to find something that is practically extinct.  I want it in the store, so I can fight my way through your legion of lotion whores and buy it when I want it and not have to pay shipping and handling!  If I want to smell like coconut today, then I want it TODAY!

You know what else you did to me, B&BW?  You want to hear about something else I am harboring deep-rooted resentment about?  I'll tell you.  Remember that one year at Christmas time you had some body butter lotion called "Toasted Marshmallow?"  DO YOU REMEMBER?  I'M ASKING YOU A QUESTION!  Well, I remember, because I got some as a gift and when I put it on, I transformed into something that smelled kind of like vanilla frosting and toasted marshmallows.  My husband could not deny me anything when I was wearing that stuff.  Like, I could get him to have sex with me anytime I put it on.  And then, do you know what happened?  The season ended and I ran out.  There wasn't any on your website, there wasn't any anywhere.  I was saddened, but figured I would just wait until Christmas came around again so I could get more.  I'd just have a dry spell until then with extra-terrestrial super seducing powers.  It's okay, I understand.  I'll just smell like coconuts until then.  But then, do you know what happened at Christmas?  NO FUCKING TOASTED MARSHMALLOW body butter.  You know what the little lotion whore said to me?  She said that each season you go with new scents.  Well, that's freaking great, I'll never get to have sex again, or, I'll have to think of something else...like rubbing gun oil on my skin or fried chicken.  Just great.  Just fucking great.  And, let me tell you, your Vanilla Bean Noel, it's NOT THE SAME.  It's not.  Not even close.

So, now, you've taken my seasonal favorite away, you've taken away the classics, you've taken away my spring and summer favorites and I'm supposed to swoon when I see one of your sales or freaking coupons?  NO.  I will not swoon!  I visited your store today for some Coconut Lime Breeze or whatever the frig you called it and now you have replaced it with some Hawaiian scented shit.  Doesn't even come close.  Not even.  Sub-par product.  After doing several laps in your store and realizing you had ruined my life AGAIN, I left and I'm NEVER COMING BACK!  Do you hear me?  I'm not.  I'm protesting against your shenanigans in bait and switch.  I will not spend way too much money on some lame lotion that you won't even have in a few months anyway, even if I did end up liking it.  And, I might have bought some sugared shower scrub, but you know what? $14 dollars is highway robbery.  I almost threw my hands in the air and dropped my purse right there.  I thought this was a stick up!  Well, no more.  I'm over you.  Done.  Like, I'm serious, I'm not coming back.  I'd rather smell like a pig's armpit, or that crusty part under their tail.  That's right, I'd rather smell like a pig's ass and rub it all over my body before I would purchase one more of your piss-poor lotions. That's how much I hate your guts, B&BW.

I hope you choke on your Hawaiian collection of mediocrity.  Bastards.

Sincerely,
Not Smelling Like Coconut Lime Verbena!

Hump this, Wednesday

To say that I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning is a dramatic understatement.  I've not been sleeping well for a few weeks now and this morning I just didn't know if I had the energy to make it all happen.  Apparently, Shark Bait was in the same mood, so maybe it was full moon residual, or planetary alignment.  Or, we both just needed more sleep.

Somehow, either by the grace of God, or a dark force, I managed to get myself dressed and to work.  If there was a medal of honor for forcing yourself to go to work, I earned it.  I walked in and put my stuff down at my desk. I did not go in to say "good morning" to my boss and I planned on easing into this gently. One of my co-workers that recently moved her desk by mine, Nevershutsup Barbie, likes to mess with me.  She starts in, "HEY, GOOD MORNING!!!"  Oh, I wasn't ready for this.  I turned my head slowly, like all the demons do in the horror movies and looked at her cooly, "I am not in a good place today, I would, for your own safety, not attempt to engage me.  I fear the result may not be in your favor."  She was unafraid.  It's the unafraid people that are in the most danger, really.  As they up the ante with their shenanigans, I thusly, escalate accordingly.  I ignored her the best I could, for now, and sat down.

My email had only been open for moments when the words, "Are you fucking kidding me?!" came out of my mouth.  It seemed as if every email I opened was filled with stupidity.  What is wrong with people?  For example, I've been advised I have to order freaking cakes for all our employees for some anniversary celebration. A celebration that I'm in charge of on the same day I'm in charge of running another open house hiring event. The person in charge of this anniversary thing has a budget, so I'm told, so I should be mindful of the budget when ordering.  Hey, genius, how about you tell me what the freaking budget is?  I shoot an email back to her requesting this mystery budget.  She sends back an email saying that my budget to get enough cake to feed approx 150 employees is $40 - $45.  You don't have to be a rocket scientist or culinary mastermind to know that a sheet cake costs more than that and we need 2-3 of them.  What is wrong with people?  I fire her an email back, "so, should I just buy $45 worth of cake and for anyone that doesn't get any, I just tell them "it sucks to be you?"  Or, should I actually order enough to feed everyone?  The sheet cakes are $59 each at the local grocery store." She responds back to buy for everyone.  Then why in the fuck did you tell me my budget was $45?

Just then, Valerina sends me an instant message, "Good Morning!!!!"  Are you kidding me?  FOUR exclamation points?  That is WAY too much excitement for this morning.  I responded, "not."  She responds, "Do I need to come hug you?"  I advise her, "Not if you value your life."  Just then, I realize that my FCD (fat controlling device) is actually sucking the life out of me.  I couldn't take it one more minute.  I utter, "That's it!" and head off to the bathroom to remove it. As I'm walking, I notice I have my hand clenched very tightly with all my fingers except my pointer finger and my thumb.  My pointer finger is pointed at the ground and my thumb is sticking out.  It looks like I'm making a gun with my hand.  Wow.  I need to simmer down. It's only 8:30am.  This is going to be a long day. 

On the way back to my desk, Dish Guy stops me and asks how it's going.  I don't remember a lot about this conversation, in retrospect, but I think I recall using the phrases: Mother effer, stupid piece of shit, head so far up her ass, and a few other choice words...at some point I think I said, "and any other swinging dick in the valley..."  Clearly, I was channeling my father.  He didn't work in corporate America, and there is a reason for that.  When my rampage subsided, I looked at Dish Guy's face and I don't think his eye brows could have gotten much higher and he was sitting as far back in his chair as he could. It's like he had been in a verbal assault wind tunnel. He finally said, "Okay...well then...I see this day is getting off to a rough start."  You bet your ass it is.

I got back to my desk and one of the admins to one of the important people in the company starts in on me.  She just wants to know what our headcount is.  I provided it to her yesterday.  This morning, she is still not clear.  I send her another email breaking down each group and how many people are in them.  She then calls me.  I ignore it.  I can't talk to her, I will get fired for what I would say to her.  She is being stupid and I don't have the patience for stupid.  I didn't answer.  I retreated to our balloon and helium area in the back corner of the center and checked on our St. Patrick's Day balloon supply.  I needed to do something mindless.  After acquiring all the information I needed about our balloon supply, I decided to go back to my desk and try again.  I have an email from that damn admin waiting for me.  It says, "call me."  Babycakes, I'm not calling anyone, especially not you.  She sends me another email telling me how she doesn't understand.  I cut and pasted what I had already written, plopped it in a new email and sent it to her.  She sends another email wondering if I understand about which groups are which.  I was losing my mind.  I drafted an email that may have been the rudest thing I have ever written, professionally speaking.  The tone of it actually came clearly across as "you are the stupidest human being I know."  However, I let it sit there on my screen and mulled it over.  Did I want to get fired today?  Or, should we try and prolong this a bit?  I changed some of the wording.  It was still not "friendly" but it was the best I could do.  I hit send.  I get an email back, "Okay, thanks!"  She was purposely torturing me, she had to be. 

I send another email off to one of the other admins who was waiting for a presentation from my boss. I advised her that I was just waiting for New Boss to send me the details and then I would put all the details into the powerpoint presentation template she had sent me earlier.  I just wanted her to know that I was on it and would have it in on time.  She responds, "Okay, make sure to use the template I sent you."  I can't remember what words I uttered at that moment, but they were not work place appropriate and they were loud.  Is it a conspiracy?  Is EVERYONE against me?  I send her a reply, "Yeah, that's what I said I was going to do." 

This all sounds silly, but when you factor in all the minor details I am not sharing with you about little instant messages other people are sending me and things they need from me, it's a lot to handle for a girl on the edge. 

I decided to go over to Angry Stallion and talk to him for a little while.  I don't know how we got on the topic of flying, but we started discussing my upcoming trip to CA.  I was sharing I was having some anxiety about flying because you never know when the plane is going to crash or terrorists will take it over, or the pilot dies, or any number of things.  He agrees.  The terrorists are coming, and likely next time they will do massive number of flights all at the same time all over the United States.  We don't know when it is going to happen, but it is going to happen, he is sure of it.  This was not really helping my anxiety.  I excused my way out of that conversation and again returned to my area.

This day was ridiculous.  I didn't feel good, I'm over tired, I have a headache and I'm about to lose my mind.  I decide to leave at lunch.  I rarely if ever do, but today, if I were to have any chance of not creating a hostage situation, I had to get out for a while. 

When I returned from lunch, New Boss wanted to talk to me about something going on, so I went into her office.  The subject came up about parking.  I guess we are getting new tenants in the building on the South side and they are going to take over part of our parking lot.  Mother Trucker.  Now I'm going to have to walk my fat ass all the way in from Bum Fuck Egypt.  I started to have a tantrum about it, voicing my displeasure, and  one of the managers from another department  comes in her office telling me to calm down.  New Boss, egging me on, says, "I think she needs a hug."  I look at this visiting manager with rage in my eyes, "I wouldn't if I were you."  He starts talking about how everything is rainbows and sunshine and how he turned a whole center into a hugging center one time.  I stop him right there, "Don't go bringing that sunshine BS in here.  NOT interested."  He's like, "you need to smile."  Don't tell me what to do. Nobody tells me what to do.  New Boss explains to him that we are not a huggy people and any hug-based initiative will be veto'd.  She gets me.  I decided to excuse myself and updated the white board at my desk with a simple message, "No Hugging Zone."  Eff you, people.

I decided to go over and see the folks we have in our on-the-job training area.  It's cute when people are shiny and new.  Maybe I just needed a little positive energy to rub off.  I walked by this one guy that thinks he is all that and a bag of chips, I mean, like big time. He thinks he is a bigger deal than a giant sized Reeces Peanut Butter Cup.  I said, "you sell anything yet today?"  He says he has, I said, "good, I have high hopes for you."  He says back to me all puffed up and cocky, "Wow, do you really like me that much?  I mean, wow."  I needed to remedy this situation right away, "Um, no.  You're always talking the talk, just curious if you were gonna put your money where your mouth is..."  Maybe it wasn't their newness that was going to rub off on me, perhaps I should leave the area.

I did manage to survive the rest of the day, but as I am getting ready to leave, one of my peeps, Bacon Barbie, comes walking up with two boxes of pens.  She went on her lunch hour to the store and bought pens and was passing them out.  I asked her what in the hell she was doing since I order supplies for the center and if she wanted a pen, all she had to do is ask.  I've sent emails out about it.  I sat there amazed.  She said, "well, we don't want to bother you with little stuff like this..."  I said, "The company will provide you basic supplies! It is my job to make sure you have what you need...you don't want to bother me?"  I could not comprehend it.  I mean, if there is so much as a skid mark in the toilet, or pee on the seat, people come find me no matter where I am.  They will travel to another floor and find me, they will attack me as soon as I walk in the door, they will follow me in the parking lot, THEY WILL MESSAGE ME ON FACEBOOK to tell me about the fucking bathrooms, but no one wants to bother me for a mother trucking pen or a post-it note?  ARE YOU SERIOUS?  So, to recap, pens, something you use all day everyday, no big deal if you don't have any, but if some skanky ho plays rodeo round up with her tampon in one of the stalls, I have to hear about that?  It's actually funny, if you think about it...when I'm not hysterical. 

I don't understand anything about today.  What I do know is that I cannot possibly sustain that level of  ridiculousness for another day.  Things must be better tomorrow.  And the great news is, it's Therapy Thursday tomorrow.  After skipping the last session, I think I need to go.  Like, seriously.

Three cheers to hitting the Mudslide so I can sleep tonight...

Appreciation Day

Appreciation by definition means: 

1. gratitude; thankful recognition:

They showed their appreciation by giving him a gold watch.

2. the act of estimating the qualities of things and giving them their proper value.

3. clear perception or recognition, especially of aesthetic quality:

a course in art appreciation. 

4. an increase or rise in the value of property, goods, etc.

5. critical notice; evaluation; opinion, as of a situation, person, etc.

 

Today was "Employee Appreciation Day."  We weren't making a huge production about it, but several people had gone to great lengths to pick a gift, order enough for all the employees in each location and to arrange for point of contacts at each location to distribute and make it a special surprise.  This is not a small task but it is one that was well-executed by several of my admin peers and myself.  Not really an "appreciation day" for the people doing all the work, but it goes with the job title.  We do it because someone has to and we are paid to do it.  Our leaders ask us and trust us to take care of these things.  To have that trust is both a privilege and a burden.

 

My boss wanted to add some "pizazz" and have it be an extra special day, which apparently means a balloon arch.  When you have a boss that likes balloons, there is hardly an occasion that doesn't qualify for a balloon arch.  It really just says, "You are amazing! Walk under this arch of happiness!" To the person making it, it really just says, "Mother trucking clips, damn skinny, invisible effing wire, stupid balloons..." and a range of other cuss words. Nonetheless, I am paid to support my boss and the center, so if she wants an MF'ing balloon arch, she gets one.  And, I know she appreciates it.  I do this for her, without malice or ill-will...but admittedly, a lot of cussing.

 

So, all that aside, no one has an effing clue it is Employee Appreciation Day today.  I can guarantee it.  I know tons of people that went to work at other companies today and DID NOT see a fucking balloon arch.  That's a fact, Jack.  Bet on it. Take it to the bank.  Our employees, on the other hand?  They experience the magic of my balloon arch!  They come in questioning what's up, making cute little jokes about how special the balloon arch is, etc.  Mission accomplished.

 

Cuteness wears off quickly as I am taking the gifts to different department managers to hand out to their employees before we get started on handing out to ours.  As I'm walking I hear someone say, "So, when are we going to be appreciated?  What do we get?  Usually we get coffee or food or something."  I said to this person, jokingly, "So, my appreciation email and the balloon arch aren't enough?"  She says, "No, I want money."  I'm seriously irritated.  I respond, "You know, some gifts have a value that transcends money."  She says, "Not for me."  Okay, first off, I get it could have been a bigger deal, it could have been a coffee and donuts thing, but you know what?  People wouldn't have liked the coffee, or couldn't drink it, or they can't have donuts because they can't have sugar or gluten or they are on a diet.  So, still, you can't make everyone happy.  I tried to shake it off, but her words just pissed me off. It's apparently actually "Un-Appreciation Day."

My boss was finally ready to pass the little gifts out.  She ventured out on her own and I prayed she didn't hear that crap from other people.  It wasn't long and I received an email from one of the more cynical employees that never talks to me unless he wants to complain about something.  He informs me that he wants to know where his sandwich is.  I respond back to him that it never fails, it's never enough.  He responds back that he wants to exchange his gift.  I inform him I want to exchange him for someone that doesn't complain.  He then gets pissy with me because how can I not just take his joking and thoughts as his right?  I thusly asked him to put himself in my shoes.  Every reward, recognition or appreciation event is somehow my responsibility, so I am always hearing the negative "why did you order pizza from Pizza Hut and not Papa Johns? " or vice versa.  "How come there are no vegan options?"  "How come you got Diet Coke instead of Diet Pepsi?"  "I'm gluten intolerant, there is nothing for me here..."  And the list goes on and on.  I asked him if he were in my spot how he would feel about people only bringing up how it isn't good enough.  Funny, I never got a response back after that.  Don't challenge me you little Asshat.  You don't ever talk to me to say anything nice.  I'm done with YOU people.  You negative unappreciative people.

So we didn't shower you with money or gift cards.  So we didn't buy you lunch.  So you only got a little gift of appreciation.  Oh, you think it is a slap in the face for all you do?  Really?  You want us to show monetarily how much we appreciate you?  Look at your fucking paycheck!  How about that?!  You wouldn't have thought anything about this day if we hadn't given you a little gift, but now that we have, you are outraged because it wasn't enough.  Wow. Just...Wow.  I mean, don't even stop to consider any of the other rewards you have been given in the past six months or so.  There are at least TWO major parties I have organized for YOU people.  There have been many other smaller events that have involved me going the extra mile to make sure you get free coffee or drinks or snacks or WHATEVER, so it isn't like you NEVER get appreciated.  But those events don't mean anything because on this day, this Appreciation Day we didn't bend over and kiss your ass and hand you a $100 gift card.  You know what?  Sorry we did ANYTHING for you. And, you do your job so flawlessly that you deserve the royal treatment?  No.  We all work hard.  And, yes, there are days you feel like you get kicked in the teeth and you don't even so much as get a "thanks for coming in today" from your boss.  I get it.  I do.  But today, a little gift, a little kindness, a little smile and you show yourself to be selfish and unappreciative.  Shame on you.  Doesn't mean I love everything this company stands for, and yes, I bitch about stuff, but I don't bitch when someone does something nice for me.  Something unexpected. Something that they put some thought into.

 

I will say, not everyone was unappreciative.  It was actually, only a few. But, as in most cases, the few ruin it for the majority.  In my mind, they tarnished the experience for me.  Most people appreciated their little gifts and it made them smile.  They get it.  I like those people.  The others...well, they incur the wrath of Angry Pony, Admin Edition.

This whole day is a great reminder to myself, who often sees the glass half-empty and often gets wrapped up in the things I don't have or have not achieved. It's a great reminder to focus on the things I do have and not the things I do not.  So, thank you, to the selfish asshats that remind me to be appreciative.  I appreciate you...in all your selfish splendor.

Tonight's blog edition is in response to someone concerned I had not blogged in several days.  To Mrs. Sassy Pants...there it is.