Category: blogging

Positively Tarty!

Sometimes, the good guys can get ahead. But only sometimes.

Last week, I had occasion to work with someone at my company who I have a lot of respect and admiration for.

Long story short, my friend needed help. He’d gone and done something that is not *quite* in line with all the fun policies and procedures we have, and he knew it.

So he came to me. The Fixer.

And I did. Fix it, that is. I fixed it by taking a rash of sh– from a variety of Director-types. I knew the level and intensity of the sh– I’d receive, and was willing to take it. I pled the case and won.

But that’s really only backstory…

Turns out my friend is classier than I ever gave him credit for (he IS an engineer, afterall), and so Tuesday morning, this arrived on my desk.

Pretty, huh? I think so. I like the vase a LOT.

So upon receipt, I quickly scooped the flowers off my desk and ran to my boss’ office to show her the *gratitude* I’d received from a client team. I got proper ooh’s and ahh’s in return.

I also ran into my Director in the hallway who said, “Oh, are those from The Good Man?”

“Nope!” I replied quickly and explained the gift. She was also *very* impressed.

heh.

But that’s still not the point.

You’ll note in the photo that this arrangement has several large lilies.

I do love lilies.

They smell divine, they really do.

But now, here we get to the point of this rambling blog post.

I recently read a book by a lady named Cathryn Michon. The book was a mostly autobiographical telling of the horrors of her recent love life. It was a mostly throwaway book, but had a few good laughs.

One part, appropo of nothing, she was talking about being in a high level meeting and noticing a flower arrangement. She made a comment along the lines of how flowers are basically natures little oversexed organisms, what with all the throbbing pistols and yearning stamens.

I had a pretty good laugh at that when I read it. Tis true.

This was brought to mind again with these flowers sitting here on my desk.

The part that makes them smell so heavenly is the, ahem, rigid glistening stamen.

I mean, look at this thing!

SCANDALOUS! Right here at *work* even!

I have an austere Russian friend who once I witnessed going into a huge bouquet of Stargazer Lillies and unceremoniously ripping the pollen caked centers out of all of them. I think I actually winced.

Free love for flowers!
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(editors note: yes, I know, any writing instructor would advise students to HAVE A POINT when they write something. Much like fixing my friend’s breach of the rules, I’m willing to take the grief for breaking the rules for good writing. The joys of blogdom…)

The terrorists stole my plot line!

Was sitting at my desk at work, drumming my fingers on the faux wood surface wondering, “What on earth can I post about in my blog today”…and not finding many answers.

That’s when nature (and two cups of hot tea) called and I was forced to rise from my desk and use the facilities. I walked along thinking, “I need a topic, I need a topic, I need a topic”.

I went over to the other half of the building since the loo near me was being serviced by the faboo janitorial team.

When I went into the “other side” I noticed that the door to what I thought was a janitorial closet (and is always tightly closed) was slightly open. It’s NEVER open. Being the nosy Nellie that I am, I peeked in there.

Little did I know that there’s a shower and a small set of lockers in this building! I looked over the lockers and noticed that all you gotta do is slap a lock on the locker of your choice.

Nice.

So *immediately* my fiction writer brain thought “god…what a great place to stash something…”

Remember when airports and bus stations used to have lockers where, for the fee of one quarter, you could stash your suitcase or whatever for a bit while you did something else?

Whatever happened to those? They made for GREAT plot points in MANY a mystery story.

How the bad guy would stash the murder weapon there and thought he got away with it but no, he couldn’t resist going BACK to the locker and by now the police were tailing him and he gets flat *busted* there in the Greyhound station, red handed, red faced, red wristed when the cuffs get slapped on.

It was fun. It was convenient! It was a great hiding place.

Why don’t we have them anymore? 9-freaking-eleven, that’s why.

Ok, so no more in bus station and airports, but now THIS find. I bet they don’t check these lockers here at work all that often. I could put damning evidence like receipts from surreptitious wire transfers and plots to take over the world with my fleet of robot drones!

Ah hahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!

Oh, @#$%…..I guess I can’t do it now. I just published my idea on the interwebs.

*sigh*

Back to work.

When the Cat’s away the Mice will…

Blog.

The Boss Lady is on vacation today and tomorrow. So w00t!

She got on a plane this morning headed for Indiana, so, having made that agonizing, exhausting, necessary journey before, I figure except for a few iPhone email check-ins, she’ll pretty much have no idea what I’m up to today.

I cc’d her on a few emails this morning, just for good measure, but other than that… I’m pretty much value subtracted to the company today.

So that means I have plenty of time to blog.

Wonder what I should write about?

: tap tap tap :

Hmm.

: ponder, ponder :

Maybe I’ll just pop over to TMZ.com to see what’s doing.

berightback

Open Gratitude

A few weeks ago, I wrote an ode to a CalTrain conductor.

Today, an Ode to a Shuttle Bus driver.

Owing to working in the building farthest away from the main campus, I ride a small bus, with creaky springs and an uncomfortable ride.

It’s not fun. We had a driver for a time who hurtled that thing way too fast up California highways and byways, often popping unsuspecting folks (like me) up out of their seats. Yes, I caught air on more than one occasion.

Between that and CalTrain side sway, I often arrived home a little blue in the gills…

But that was before Jose.

This new driver arrived one day. A quiet, gentle man. And a gentleman as well.

He drives at an acceptable speed. He “hits his marks” without fail. He neither arrives too early (ugh, we had one guy who was perpetually five minutes early…if you missed it, tough nuts) nor too late.

His best point? He waits for us to come off the CalTrain so he can direct us where he’s parked the bus. We never get lost in the morning train station melee anymore! (other drivers wait on the bus, leave before everyone is on board, and tough nuts if you miss it)

And then Jose had a defining moment.

About a month into Jose’s tenure we had a blasting heat wave in the Bay Area. On the first day of this hot spell, Jose waited until we were all seated on the bus, then stood at the front, and quietly addressed the passengers.

“I want to tell you that the air conditioner is broken on this bus. I have put in a work order. I put in a work order every day. I keep copies. I have twenty work orders I can show you. But they won’t listen to me. However, my company, they will listen to you.”

I realized that Jose is on that damn bus for four hours in the morning and four hours in the afternoon. How miserable it had to be with no air conditioning.

But you could tell he felt it was an act of mutiny to speak out against his employer.

I’d recently worked on a project with the guy in Facilities who owns the commuter program. We’d outfitted the shuttles with WiFi access. So that morning I sent an email.

That afternoon, Jose came rolling up in a new bus with both a smoother ride and working A/C.

When I boarded, he thanked me profusely. And every day for about a week.

Upon my return from a recent week’s vacation, I stepped off the CalTrain, and dependably, there was Jose.

“Karen, where have you been? I’ve been so worried about you!” he said as I approached.

This is the kind of customer service you just don’t get anymore.

This morning, as I rode the CalTrain, I began writing this blog entry. I felt the necessity to proclaim my gratitude.

To my surprise, as I boarded the bus, Jose informed me that today is his last run. He’s being promoted to the big shuttle buses that run between San Francisco and work.

It’s a better situation, more pay, more comfortable bus.

I cannot tell you how sad I am.

How can I emerge from CalTrain every morning and not reliably know where my bus waits?

I wish him nothing but the best. We’ve heard rumors of the “new guy” who’ll be driving. “He drives to fast,” is what I hear.

Great. Dramamine and bungee cords all around.

Jose greets everyone on the bus by name. And we respond in kind. It’s a symbiotic relationship. He gets me to work every day, makes sure I get safely on the bus, and gets me back home to The Good Man every night.

Jose, I’m humbled by your dedication and grateful for your tireless service. The employees who now get the benefit of your services have no idea how lucky they truly are.

Well hey, little lady…don’t get mad there…

Grr.

I got mad today. At work. Really mad. Justifiably mad, actually.

It happens, right? You can never expect to go through life, or least of all, work, without someone ticking you off.

What with everyone having their own *opinion* and everything.

I was mad at a representative from a perpetually maddening organization (*coff*legal*coff*) and was, uh, vocalizing my opinions toward my computer screen.

Being that I sit in a cubicle environment, of course, those seated around me can hear such…vocalizations.

So a couple of coworkers came over…people who are working on this same project and had reason to feel as emotional as me about the recent developments.

Then *it* happened.

“Oh…that’s too bad…calm down,” followed by a pat-pat on the arm.

Here’s a little hint to dealing with me. Never tell me to “calm down” when I’m anything but…and NEVER pat me condescendingly on the arm or head or shoulder.

Never.

And you know who are the worst offenders of this? Women.

Oh yeah. Most women just want to “keep the peace” and have everyone “get along” or whatever.

Would anyone pat-pat a man on the shoulder and tell him to “calm down?”

Not bloody likely.

Oh, I have to be a “good” girl, don’t get loud, don’t get emotional, don’t express feelings. No, just caaaaalm down, : pat pat : and go along to get along.

Working a theme here in my blog this week, I say F that!