Category: fate

Sphincteritis

Not the medical kind. The emotional kind. And, oddly, in this case related to medical personnel.

This morning I read this brief article in today’s ABQjournal: Hospital Officials: Prank Not Funny

My first thought was “I’ll bet it is.” I mean, really, office pranks are funny. And hey, a hospital is *prime* for good office comedy. Lots of ways you can go with that.

Well, in reading the article, I discovered the joke in question wasn’t actually all that funny, at least not to me. It probably was to the hospital workers who had put in a twelve hours shift and were punch drunk and silly. And generally an office prank arises out of people being 1) tired, 2) fed up and 3) both.

So these hospital folks were caught on the security camera putting a cartoon image of Stewie in the frame that had recently housed a photo of the Chief Operations Officer.

It might have been a loving, joking tribute to the employee who had moved on to other employment, likening him humorously to the baby bent on world domination. It might also have been an after-the-fact tacky comment on the nature of the hospital executive.

Either way, I don’t know and really, I don’t care. But I do think that the fact this made the newspaper and there is huffing and puffing from the powers that be at the hospital is sort of silly.

Office pranks are everywhere. I’ve done them. I’ve been a victim of them. Hell, I once aided and abetted my coworkers kidnapping a diminutive office mate and wrapping him tightly, still seated in his ergonomic office chair, in shrink-wrap plastic (except for his, you know, breathing areas). Round and round and round on the shrink wrap platform and we then rolled him over, green in the gills, to the pile of racks and equipment that were being moved to a new location.

Had the guy had no sense of humor, I suppose that HR wouldn’t have looked kindly on the prank. Huffing and puffing would have ensued. Turns out the guy has a great sense of humor, and our boss almost peed his pants laughing so hard.

What the hospital employees missed was a few vital keys to a good office prank: Timing. And know your audience.

Ooh, all this talk has me itching for a good interoffice prank. Sadly, my current crop of coworkers have NO sense of humor. The timing is good (the office is in shambles, we’re moving buildings) but the audience…not so much.

Seasons Change

Today I have to say goodbye to the employee who has been with me the longest. She’s been with the company four years, three and a half under my team. She is a veteran by Silicon Valley standards.

Ok, to be fair, it was time for her to go. The job grew and she didn’t. She was struggling. The team was struggling. She found another job that is tailor made to fit, and we get to keep her as an employee at this company. It works out well for everyone. But at the end of the day, I’m still a little sad.

When someone has been through the trenches with you, fought the good fight, and in this lady’s case, even sacrificed her physical health (briefly) for the sake of making our team a success, you don’t forget that.

She is best known for sensing that I was mad at a supplier in a meeting and was about to unleash my fury. She quietly slid a box of mints across the table, whispered under her breath “take one…when it’s gone, then talk”.

Oddly enough, I complied.

She was right. Waiting for that mint to dissolve, I formed my argument more logically. And with fresh breath, I was in a better frame of mind to properly negotiate.

There are many times I can’t “take the mint first” and instead jump in there with both feet. The lesson I learned from the quiet, tiny, beautiful and talented friend stays with me.

I wish her luck today, tomorrow, always.

And so for me, the quest to be fully staffed begins again. It only lasted a month and a half this time.

*sigh*

In other news, my sweet kitty had to have minor surgery today and I am beside myself. All is fine. She did well, came out of anesthesia ok. I want to race home and clutch her to me. I love that damn cat. Way too much, probably.

Happy Friday to All. I need a bebida after this long week.

A survivor’s tale

They got me. It was an all out attack. Nasty little buggars. Small. Vicious. Pack mentality. They work best in groups, plan their strategy and take down their prey.

They tend to migrate. They know the best hunting grounds fresh with prey and return to them year after year. They spread. You never see just one or two. They multiply. Fast.

As old ones go out, new ones rush in to take their place. Unstoppable.

I ran into a nest of ’em right outside my grocery store. I never stood a chance.

Thankfully the losses were minimal. I got out with only a box of Thin Mints and a box of Samoas.

I’ll know to keep my guard up next time……

*coff coff*

You know just the other day while riding the CalTrain, I saw a nice, handsome man giving me “the look”. You know the look. The “I’m checking you out” look. I sat up a little straighter. Blushed appreciatively. Until I realized he was checking out the twenty-something year old blond sitting next to me.

And I thought, “What’s she got that I ain’t got?” Well. Perkier boobs for one, because mine were already in high school before blondie was born.

Oy. And so I gave myself the usual litany of “you are only as old as you feel” and “youth is wasted on the young” and “age is a state of mind”.

It’s true, I don’t actually *feel* any older than the child with the supple, elastic skin seated next to me. In fact, at this age, I feel SO much better about myself. Stronger. More self-aware. About eight million times more confident.

So feeling better about myself I bounced from the train and into my day, deciding that pimply boy wasn’t all that interesting anyway. I’m young. I’m hip. I have an iPhone.

I just got my hair colored again, covering the grays and putting an even deeper tone of red in there. I have a job and an engagement ring. I’m happenin’, man.

Then I read the entertainment section of my local paper and stumbled across this article and felt all the gray hairs sproing up on my head.

Prince is having hip replacement surgery.

That little red Corvette will need to be an automatic cuz my boy can’t work the clutch anymore. Darling Nikki uses Oil of Olay. Purple rain the color of a Prilosec tab.

It happens to the best of us, I suppose.

This on the heels of hearing that the timeless and ageless Omar Vizquel needs knee surgery.

*wheeze*

Time, that unforgiving b*tch, marches on.

The Fools!

About a year ago I put in for a new job at work. It would be a promotion. I’d be the boss of myself, which would be fun, but difficult at staff meetings…what with me ordering myself around like a minion and everything.

Yesterday after a long year of *waiting*, I heard from my boss that they “decided to go another way”. Which means, they hired an external candidate.

I was assured “it’s not you, it’s me” and “we can still be friends” and “I just need to see other employees” and other tried and true breakup lines.

I like my current boss, so it’s a bit sad, but really, I’m ok about it.

I think, maybe, Boss Lady might have done me a favor. The expectations around that job role are a little weird. It’s been vacant for like a year and a half. No one really knows what that job is supposed to do anymore. I even asked my Vice-President when he interviewed me what were his expectations. He had no answer. That concerns me. It’s nigh impossible to do a job when you have NO idea what is expected of you.

In addition, one of my employees worked with this incoming person at another company and didn’t have high marks.

Oh well, I’ve suffered fools in this department before.

Like I said…maybe in the end, this is actually for the best.

Next!