Office Archeology: An Update

Each blogger, in the course of their writing and rambling, has one post that they might call their favorite. It may or may not be a fan favorite, but it’s one that sticks out the most in the blogger’s mind.

I have one of those.

Waaaay back, lo’ these many…uh..months ago, I prepared and posted what has become my favorite blog post ever.

Yes, my explorations of this Officine Era, this epoch in my history, the importance of documenting my findings!

And, it can become a living record, because there are some changes…some *updates* to the research and analysis!

My travels have taken me past those relics discussed time and again, and I feel, in the interest of scientific accuracy, it is vital to update the records.

So here we go, the latest understanding of the artifacts, as we know them.

First, recall the lonely and homeless set of keys? Those which secure a laptop from theft, but these, cast mercilessly aside?

Well. They are gone now. Extinct. Disappeared without a forwarding address.

What might have become of these sad, homeless keys? We may never know….

Folks, let’s have a moment in remembrance…

However, all is not bad news! Remember the lowly and lonely industrial strength stapler?

There he was, far from any stapling opportunities. Lost and alone. Unused. Unloved.

But look! He found friends!

Hi Mister Highlighter! Hey Miss Piece of Paper! Welcome to my expanse of file cabinets right outside the conference room. Wanna play flag football?

I’m so happy the stapler was able to make friends. His story doesn’t end tragically, like those keys…

And how about this? Remember that bit o’ Heath bar wrapper that was careless dropped and left abandoned on the stairs for some months?

It’s STILL there! And has adapted camouflage capabilities! It has moved over to the side and has flipped over….behold!

We are seeing evolution in progress, people! Amazing, fascinating stuff.

And, I saved the best for last! We have a new artifact to introduce to the world. It’s amazing. Phenomenal! Fantasmagorical!

Ladies and Gents, I introduce you to…Big Ass Box Of Binder Clips!

This box of clips, located near the broken copy machine that no one uses, and is *SO* important that someone named Jon has demanded we not remove it!

I don’t even know who Jon is or why I would obey him, and yet, I do!

The exclamation mark on his sign coerces me to abide! And so, I don’t remove. Not a one. And neither does anyone else! No one uses these binder clips. So there they sit! Useless and unused! Shiny, taunting, but out of reach.

Damn that Jon and his demanding posted sign!

Ok, well, this is all good stuff. Much to consider. I encourage all to go out and explore their own Officine Surroundings. What you find might surprise you!

Things that they don’t teach in manager training

I’ve been a manager at my job for quite some time now. I think seven years at last count. So I’ve been through a lot. And yet, sometimes, I’m still a bit thrown by the curveballs lobbed by the folks who have the grand misfortune to report to me.

On Friday, one of my employees, a very hardworking and rather quiet girl came tearing into my office. I swear, if she was a car, she would have left black marks on my industrial carpet.

The employee looked at me with wide eyes.

“Is it ok if I go home?” she said, and paused…then tacked on…”I don’t want to barf here at work.”

I happen to know she’s three months pregnant and having a rough time of it, so I said, quickly, “Go. Now.”

She turned and peeled out of the building.

This got me thinking about back when I was first made a manager, and the anemic training course they sent me to.

They discussed “things you shouldn’t say” and “things you should say” and “what to do if you have to fire someone.” But never, never did they discuss “when it’s ok to let someone go home early because they are gonna blow chunks.”

I guess that’s where you have to rely on that ol’ manager gut instinct, hey?

Other oddball things I have experienced and was never properly prepared for:

Male employee spent all of our one-on-one session telling me, in detail, that he and his wife were trying to get pregnant and, to their dismay, had ended up having to resort to IVF. TMI. But wait, there’s more. We haven’t begun to TMI yet.

About a week later, he comes running into my office…”My wife just called, she’s at the doctor, she’s fertile right now, so I have to go give a…um….sample. I’ll be back in about an hour.”

Ugh.

“Just go!” I said, and to his retreating back, tacked on, “If this happens again, please just tell me you have to go to the dentist!”

Or the really, really good employee, like top notch worker, who felt the need to tell me that the only way she could deal with the stress of her job was that she and her husband would smoke a bowl as they commuted home from work every day.

“I’m thinking about smoking one at lunch too, this job is crazy.”

Well. Ok. *Technically* she’s doing this on her own time and off company property. And my employer at the time was pretty lenient about such things.

But still. Things I don’t need to know. Especially as the manager!

Also important to mention that managing isn’t just about direct reports, it’s about managing your own manager too.

So, in that same vein, at that same employer, I had a boss who delighted in telling me how much cocaine she did at her wedding. “It was the only way to get through it, I never really loved my husband. Still don’t.”

Oooohkaaaay. She only lasted a year at the job. Freak.

And the best was, not long after starting this newest gig, one of the ladies on my team had been out sick for a few days. I assumed the flu, a migraine, tummy upset. Whatever. I didn’t need to know. Upon her return, I simply inquired, “hey, are you feeling better?”

What followed was a long, detailed and gory description. Let’s just say…you can have a colon polyp burst and leave it there, mmkay?

You can’t unhear something, no matter how hard you try.

But, when all is said and done, I haven’t had to have the granddaddy of all uncomfortable manager situations. My dear brother-in-law has been subjected to this more than once. Poor guy.

We call it…the Stinky Conversation.

The one where you have to ask your employee to please shower…and use soap…because their coworkers are complaining.

Double ugh!

I’m telling ya, those fancy politically correct manager’s training classes do nuthin’ to prepare you for the real world!

Genetics are an odd thing

A couple weeks ago, my best friend came out for a visit. As chronicled in these pages, we had a really nice time.

While out and about at the Japanese Tea Garden, I took quite a few photos. Beautiful trees, swimming Koi, flowing water.

Near the fabulous barrel bridge we stopped, and The Good Man took a photo of my friend and I.

I won’t publish it here since I haven’t asked permission, but seeing the photo doesn’t actually matter to the discussion.

Here’s the point: Later, when I downloaded the photo and took a look at it on my computer screen, I looked at my own visage and was a bit surprised.

You know who I look like?

My father.

Um. I’m not sure how I feel about this. I mean…as a woman, I think it might not be preferable to, you know, as you age…start to look like your *male* parent.

Growing up, I always favored my mom’s side of the family. I have the distinctive pointy chin. I have the body shape. Yeah, ok, so I’d given over to my genetics and was ok looking like my mom.

The first time I noticed I was starting to favor my dad was when viewing the proofs from my wedding photos. There is one photo where I have an expression on my face that is *exactly* my dad. In fact, The Good Man often teases me, “Don’t give me the dad look!”

It’s a sort of squinty eyed skeptical look, and I’d copied it to perfection. I remember the moment, the photographer was doing something weird, kind of annoying me, and I gave her that vintage dad look and click went the shutter.

Ok, so I own that. I was making the face.

In this recent photo, I wasn’t making a face! I was simply standing with my beautiful friend in a beautiful setting smiling at my husband taking a photo.

Something around the eyes, I think. And my nose. But damnit, I look like my dad! Ok, sure, I’m sure the faint whiskers now growing around my chin aren’t helping my “I don’t want to look like a man” cause, but sheesh!

I even sent it to my sister who confirmed that yes, around the eyes, I’m starting to resemble dear old pops. She said, “have you ever noticed you do that one eyed squinty thing?’

Gah!

It’s not that my dad wasn’t an attractive person, it’s just…..that he was a MAN.

Gah!

Genetics are weird.

Today: A Fable

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess…we’ll call her…Karenita. This lovely princess was married to the most handsomest prince in the whole land.

But unfortunately for our lovely princess, every weekday, she was required to go and toil away the hours at the Imperial Tower of Doom. Gray clouds swirled overhead while poor Karenita was tormented by her oppressors.

There was one oppressor who was particularly a thorn in the side of our beautiful princess.

See, our lovely girl arrives to work in the morning tired and in need of something for breakfast. The princess keeps some food in the Imperial Tower office ‘fridge, and also likes a spot of hot tea on the cold gray swirly cloud mornings.

Unfortunately for the princess, there lived in the break room a mean and nasty troll.

No really, this lady is like five foot nothing with a bad attitude and a chip the size of Texas on her shoulder.

For some reason, the Evil Break Room Lady can always sense when Karenita the Princess needs to have breakfast, and makes sure to hustle in there first, blocking the egress for our lovely girl to reach the ‘fridge.

While Karenita is there heating up her food, Evil Break Room Lady makes nasty comments about how people don’t clean up after themselves (despite the fact that Karenita scrupulously cleans up after herself) and self-importantly restocks the paper coffee cups (it’s not her job, by the way, she’s a very high paid executive admin) while dropping hairy eyeballs on the princess the whole time.

And then Evil Break Room Lady takes paper towels and cleans the countertops, sometimes pushing Karenita’s bowl out of the way while she does. Karenita finds this to be very rude.

It’s clear that Evil Break Room Lady doesn’t like Karenita, but Karenita doesn’t know why. The princess was raised to be kind and cordial and always says hello and thank you and excuse me.

Karenita believes that Evil Break Room Lady must be very unhappy with her menopausal lot in life, and all the hot flashes must make her cranky. Karenita thinks Evil Break Room Lady envies her still productive ovaries and plentiful estrogen.

The princess tries to be understanding, but it’s kind of hard when someone gives you the equivalent of the finger with her face every morning. Karenita is just trying to make it through the day.

The princess has tried to be nice, to make conversation, to say “yeah, it’s really bad when people leave water everywhere” but none of this works. Evil Break Room Lady has just determined that the princess is a lesser form of life.

And this doesn’t make Karenita feel very nice as she starts each day.

In other news, the nicest person to Karenita in all the Imperial Tower of Doom is the janitor. The janitor thinks Karenita rocks and will make it a point to wave vigorously from across the room and say hi.

Karenita likes Mr. Janitor. He’s a good man with a sucky job and he does it with life and verve and kindness.

So there’s hope. Maybe Karenita knows she’s not such a bad person after all.

And they all lived crankily every after.

One for the baseball fans

Look, I’m no athlete, but even *I* can figure out that pissing off Milwaukee Brewers third baseman Prince Fielder (who is listed at 5’11”, 270lbs on the official roster) is not a good idea.

He’s a rather…imposing…presence at the plate.

“So incensed was Fielder at being hit with a pitch by right-hander Guillermo Mota in the ninth inning, he tried to storm the home team’s (Dodgers) clubhouse after the game, reporters and other witnesses said.”

It was something of a plunk fest. Manny got plunked. Fielder got plunked in return. Anger ensued.

Geez.

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