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You like me! Of course, you probably don't know me very well.

Posts Tagged ‘work’

blah blah blah my life is so hard

Friday, June 18th, 2010

Ok SO.

I have this picture of me and Crockett from derby prom on my office wall. It’s wallet sized, but it’s right in front of my desk and we’re ten kinds of adorable in it (go look at my faces page if you don’t believe me).

So the other day I’m on the phone with this salesguy from wherever area code 503 is (I can’t currently be bothered to look it up because that would involve opening ANOTHER TAB IN MY BROWSER and IT’S FRIDAY SO NO). I’m explaining something to him about how if he had bothered to read the instructions that we helpfully provide to all sales people then he wouldn’t have had to call me in the first place, and then he fairly abruptly changes the subject.

“So you have some tattoos on your back, I heard.”

“Um….I’m sorry, what?”

“Someone told me that you have huge tattoos on your back, but I’m not going to tell you who. What are they?”

“It’s kind of a long story.” This was me trying to avoid talking about my tattoos with an out of state coworker who I would likely never meet. Because, why, amirite.

“Come on, you can tell me. I have time for a story.”

“Nah, they’re not a big deal. But really, who told you?”

“I’m not going to tell you unless you tell me what they are.” Because we’re in third grade, not corporate America (apparently).

I wanted off the damn phone, but more than that I wanted to know who on EARTH was talking to this sales guy about my tattoos, of all things. It’s not like I wear backless shirts to work – sometimes you can see them through my arm holes if I’m sitting at a desk and have taken off my cardigan, but that’s about it. I’m not ashamed of them, but neither am I nuts about them being a topic of discussion at my place of work.

“Fine. They’re wings.”

“That wasn’t a long story. What are they about, why did you get them?”

“That’s the long story part. It doesn’t matter. Who was talking to you about them?”

“Ok, Mikey McMikerson (not his real name). He thinks you’re hot, but I don’t know if you are since I’ve never met you.”

Really, HOW did I end up having this conversation at work? Really?

“Ok, thank you for telling me who told you. I’d appreciate it if you two didn’t discuss me unless it’s with regard to work, in the future, ok?”

“Oh, ok. So, do you have a boyfriend?”

Well, hell.

“I do.”



“I’m sorry, I have to run. If you have any problems with the work issue that’s the reason we’re talking, feel free to shoot me an email.”

I realize that people thinking I’m attractive is not in fact a bad thing, but this was just ridiculous. I don’t know how old this sales person is, but Mikey McMikerson is roughly my age and sits on the same floor as me, and I see him every day. Since I had this conversation with the salesguy, Mikey has been by my office several times for transparently trumped up reasons (Emma, do you know how to staple two pieces of paper together? You do? Can you show me?) and I don’t know what to do with it. QueenB had some brilliant advice on turning down unwanted advances, but he’s not actually making advances. He’s just talking about me to our coworkers, apparently.

Really, I don’t know what to do. Get a bigger picture of me and Crockett? Ignore him unless he actually asks me out (currently the plan)? Tattoo ‘not interested’ on my forehead? More ideas are welcome.

And…. scene.

Tuesday, May 25th, 2010

Setting: First meeting of the day.

Coworker #1: Today’s Very Important Point (TVIP), well thought out and clearly articulated.

Me: (Listening closely, truly considering TVIP.)

Coworker #2: Exactly the same TVIP, re-articulated as if it’s a brand new idea that he thought of himself.

Me: (Looking at him, listening, and doodling.)

Coworker #3: TVIP, barely altered, with additional phrases like ‘kind of thing’ and ‘and stuff’ inserted at random intervals.

Me: (Idly staring at the woman next to me’s adorable shoes.)

Coworkers #1, #2, and #3: Congratulating themselves on their piercing insights and go-get-em spirit.

Coworker #1: Emma, what do you think?

Me: (Silence.)

Coworker #4: About TVIP, we mean?

Me: TVIP, completely unchanged, except using the word ‘championing’.

All coworkers: (Spontaneous applause and flower throwing.)

bubble bubble

Tuesday, May 18th, 2010

My boss thinks I’m a witch.

At the very least, he thinks I’m capable of giving the evil eye.

Last year I got a not so stellar review, and it was 100% his fault. No, really. I didn’t do a single thing wrong, I swear. Last night, a friend from work told me he’d heard that that I wasn’t doing so well again. Not only does this mean that the actual hard work I’m doing is either going unnoticed or unappreciated, it means that my boss is talking to other people about it instead of me.

Obviously, the only possible explanation for this strange state of events is that he’s frightened of me. Since I’m teeny tiny, quite ladylike (shutUP), and ten years his junior, he clearly isn’t frightened of me physically. Since I’m always polite and sweet, he isn’t frightened of me emotionally.

The only possible remaining solution is that he thinks I have magic powers. Since I’m obviously not a unicorn or a narwhale, the only remaining option is witch.

It explains so much! He doesn’t look at me or talk to me unless it’s absolutely necessary – evil eye fear. He always lets me talk very first when we’re doing round table meetings – he doesn’t want to anger me. He sometimes makes a cross with his fingers when I walk by – that probably needs no explanation.

I’m sorely tempted to leave some dirt on the floor of his office, and then just casually mention that I was in a graveyard the night before. I’m not a witch, and I’m not even sure that would make sense if I was, but he wouldn’t know the difference either. He’d probably try to call a priest, and then I could have Crockett dress up in a … priest neck thing… and then Crockett could tell him that once a lil ladylike witch has you in her sights the only sure way of distracting her is with a promotion.

This plan is foolproof.

Come on skinny love, what happened here?

Wednesday, January 14th, 2009

Saturday is my 28th birthday. That’s right, I’m now a mere two years from the big 3-0. I have gone through a couple of very short ‘what am I doing with my life’ periods in the past couple of weeks, but aside from the aforementioned dubious taste in men, I think I’m actually doing pretty well.  Therefore, my birthday is going to be a full week of celebration.  That’s right, an entire week – I personally am glad I was born and I believe my friends are too. And if they’re not, they better pretend.

Wednesday (i.e. today): Started invoking the ‘birthday princess rule’.  For those of you who aren’t familiar, the rule goes like this: I’m right and I get whatever I want. Simple, easy to follow. Also, had happy hour with some of my darling girls from my old place of work.

Mm hmm. I dont actually have one of these, but if I did Id put it on now and take it off next Tuesday.

Mm hmm. I don't actually have one of these, but if I did I'd put it on now and take it off next Tuesday.

Thursday: Dinner with friends from my new place of work.

Friday: Lunch with slightly less good friends from my new place of work.  There’s actually a story here, but it makes me sound bratty and as the birthday princess it’s my right to not tell it.  Although I kind want to…. ok, I’ll tell it.  First it was me and my good buddy. Then it was me and my good buddy and someone I didn’t know very well but who seems cool and likes sushi, which was our meal of choice.  Then it was those two and a guy on my team.  Then that guy opened his mouth and now there are like TEN people and one of them’s birthday is actually Friday!!! So not fair. He’s gonna steal my thunder. Unless of course I bring my birthday princess tiara.

Also, cutting out of work early (shhh, don’t tell) and then having a geniune old school sleepover. That’s right, my best friend since I was 12 and my newest darlin’ friend are coming over and there will be movies, manicures, champagne cocktails, and likely pillow fights in our underwear. No axe murderers though. I’m the birthday princess and I won’t allow it.

Ok, these are (obviously) Playboy bunnies. At least I think they are. I would have posted a pic of us but my friends didnt dig the idea of being photographed semi-nude. Neither did their husbands.

Ok, these are (obviously) Playboy bunnies. At least I think they are. I would have posted a pic of us but my friends didn't dig the idea of being photographed semi-nude. Neither did their husbands.

Saturday: Indoor skydiving with mom!!

Sunday: Brunch with father and father’s girlfriend. Champagne brunch. Bottomless champagne brunch. Yeah, that’s how I roll. She’s a psychologist prone to asking me questions that make me slightly uncomfortable, but champagne is going to make that quite a bit easier.  Picture this: “Emma, how do you feel about being 28 and single?” Me: “Well, ya know, it’s better this way cause nobody cares if I have indiscriminate sex with strangers. I can’t be tied down, man”.  

*I don’t actually have indiscriminate sex with strangers, just fyi. And now that I think about it, she’s big in the Boulder feminist community. She may congratulate me if I actually said that.

Monday: Open but I’m sure as hell gonna find something to fill in here…. OH! Lunch with Les! See, she’s a gov’t employee so she doesn’t have to work. Lucky. Aside from the ‘government worker’ part, of course.

Tuesday…. is this starting to seem a little ridiculous? Well, if I can push it this far I will. Otherwise, I’ll fold on Monday. Still, not a bad run.

Now would be when I’m going to talk about gifts, right? However, I have something very specific that I want to talk about on the gift front, and it definitely deserves a post all it’s own. Next time, folks. In the meantime, happy birthday to me. For my own personal gift, I’m going to get myself either an espresso machine or the Bon Iver album For Emma, Forever Ago. As far I as I know I never met the songwriter, but a girl can dream.

Kinda love it. Maybe not the most practical, but pretty is important too, right?

Kinda love it. Maybe not the most practical, but pretty is important too, right? Plus it kinda looks like Wall-E, and I'm secretly an Eve.

Excuse me, is this 2%?

Friday, December 19th, 2008

*This post is part of a ‘blog off’ between my brother and I. Why, you ask? He said “Em, post a new blog already”. I said “about what”. He said “I’m writing about coffee”. And the blog off was born. He posted the link to this site at the top of his, but you’re going to have to read to the bottom of mine before I let you make that jump. Sorry, dems the breaks.


There are many things to be said for working at a small company.  At my last job, I could indentify 9 out of 10 people by name. I’m not implying that small companies are better, of course – I have made the jump to a big ship (is that a viable metaphor?). My new employer is public vs. private, 25 times the size, and has regular layoffs.  But there is one way that my new place beats the old one, hands down, no holds barred.

Ready? Two words: onsite Starbucks. Two of them, actually.

I know some people hate Starbucks. I have no idea what their problem is. I think they relate it to hating Walmart, but Starbucks is not the Walmart of coffee. Starbucks is the Target of coffee. And everyone loves Target – therefore, people who hate Starbucks are stupid. I know, that’s saying a lot, but if they’re entitled to their opinion I’m entitled to mine.

That being said, here are some things that I’ve learned when I have a Starbucks available to meet my every whim.

1)      People order drinks that are like them. Like, you know how people say that after a while you start to look like your dog? This afternoon I popped down for an afternoon beverage with two new friends. One, who could not put down his blackberry or focus on the conversation, ordered a small drip with a shot of espresso. The other, who is tall and laid back and spends as far as I can tell roughly half his day on Facebook (yeah I know, how would I know if I weren’t there too), ordered a tall chai.

It’s possible that I’m reading too much into this, of course, but there are other examples. A woman who clearly loves both her jewelry and her carbohydrates is ordering a large caramel vanilla latte with whipped cream every time I see her.  An intern I know gets a large drip and pours in a ‘jakfruit powershot’ that is sold on the counter, and every time I see him he’s pointing a gun finger at someone like he’s a 70s swinger.

Anyway, I’m pretty sure this is actually a very good indicator of personality. It will only work on people who have easy access to a coffee shop though, so it’s not for beginners or occasional caffeinators – consider yourself warned.


2)      Coffee is now what smoking used to be. We use it to bond, to take much needed breaks, and to feed an addiction. Although you never know, Snus might be huge.


3)      There is a very clear line between enough coffee and too much coffee.  That line is somewhere between throwing together a kickass powerpoint in a half hour, and blabbing endlessly at double speed about what you did last weekend to anyone who will listen.


4)      There are people who seriously do not drink coffee, but apparently not a single one of them works here. Look at the graph – in my age group, less than half of us drink coffee. What? Is it possible that NONE of those people work here?


5) I drink too much coffee.


Now that you’ve read my thoughts on coffee, why don’t you go check out what the tiniest sprinter has to say?