…of a really good glass of wine. (or for that matter, a really bad glass of wine….)
It all begins here:
(click for bigger view)
This weekend The Good Man took me up to wine country for birfday celebratory fun. And some tasty wine!
Photo by Karen Fayeth
So things have been a bit maudlin at the ol’ work place these days. Our fabulous little company is being bought and merged into a much larger company.
Change. Whatta kick.
For me, being the new kid, this is all very much “ok…what next?” I took these changes into account when I took the job, expected it, haven’t gotten too settled into the “old ways” and can only just ride along the tide.
For people who have worked here for a while, it’s a different sentiment. They’ve seen this company grow and change and expand and there is much worry about what the new owners mean.
So it’s been tough. I’m a naturally exuberant sort, so all this new change is very exciting to me.
Today, they wanted to have a day whereby everyone wears something with the company logo on it, thus to drum up morale, I think. They give away enough schwag here, this shouldn’t be a tough request.
So I complied. Put on my company logo shirt and came to work to find most of my poopy coworkers didn’t comply. They’d rather be weiners than step up and have some fun. (and I told them all as much!)
Sometimes it’s hard to be me….
This me = exuberant and they = notsomuch is one of the pitfalls of my new job. My “energy” is often commented upon, both plus and minus.
But today I found “my people”…I had a meeting in another building, so climbed onboard the shuttlebus and wound up meeting three folks from field sales. These people are out in the trenches selling our product and making this company some money.
And they have SPIRIT! Man, just a twenty minute bus ride with them and I am ALL fired up about how cool my company is and what we’re about. They complimented me on my logo shirt, asked where they could get one, said they were so happy to talk with someone at the home office and just generally made me feel like I belong, despite having only been at the company a few months.
That was pretty cool. I don’t think I have the natural exuberance of a sales person, but I feel a lot better about who I am in the context of my job today.
Unfortunately, I had to come back to poop-head central. Maybe if I keep workin’ on them, they’ll get spirit too?
Nah. I’m a one-gal spirit team and that’s ok! :)
Upon starting my new job, it was perplexing to me how often they feed us at this place. I mean, I’m not complaining. But seriously, I get at least two meals a week provided, sometimes more.
Good food too, full meals, like chicken and potatoes, cheese tortellini with salad, lavish Mexican buffet, a full course Vietnamese meal, and more.
This was especially peculiar to me, since, at my former employer, I usually ate my lunch by myself at my desk. A friend and I would walk over to the cafeteria, get food, walk back and go our separate ways. Clean. Sterile. Boring.
Now that I’ve been at the new gig 90 days, and having just stuffed myself silly at the potluck to end all potlucks (yum), I realized that this habit of sharing meals together is a bit of brilliance.
Really, how more primal can you get than breaking bread with other people? It creates connections.
Earlier today, I looked around the room at all these people I’ve come to know. Over a plate of homemade food (that’s our pot luck rule, it must be actually homemade), I found an easy camaraderie.
I know that one lady’s young daughter loves red velvet cake, and when she heard another lady at work was making it for our potluck, begged her mom to bring some home.
I know that the lady who sits right next to me was raised in the Philippines, and her homemade lumpia is worth weeping over. (I had three)
I discovered that the guy on the next row who identifies himself as Asian actually has a Mexican mother, who was kind enough to make flan for our potluck. Really, really good flan, too.
The reason for our potluck was to “Share the Love” for Valentine’s Day. As we all ate and complimented each other and asked for recipes, yes, there was love, and connection and a diligence to work together and believe in each other and do our best to get through the obstacles.
All because we got out some paper plates and plastic forks and brought out food that represents a little of ourselves. We’re all taking in a bit of each other and blending into something that much better.
I think that kind of connection is rarely found at work, and has to be part of the reason why this group I work with and for manages to get along so damn well. That’s the kind of “corporate goodwill” you just can’t force.
By the way, the contribution that represented me was a kickin’ bowl of guacamole. I make *really* good guac and today I earned some new fans.
Bet you never knew that guacamole tastes really good on lumpia!
Bringing cultures and oddball coworkers together, one delicious meal at a time…
On this same topic, I am fortunate enough to be able to make a trip to Southern New Mexico this weekend. I’ll be with my best friend of twenty years, and when we settled the date for a visit, one of the first things she said was, “we have to plan the menu”.
Food, for us, is family, is bonding, is life, is earth, is the heart of who we are. Nourishing both body and soul.
I can hardly wait for her homemade rellenos. Right then, I just did a little jump and clicked my heels.
New Mexico, here I come!
I believe I’ve arrived at the time of my life where I need to be honest with myself, my fans, and my fellow mankind.
Yes, it’s true, I have used. Used a questionable substance. Used it real good.
In my twenties, I was strong. I eschewed this terrible enhancement. I was totally clean, and felt righteous and strong, though brittle. I was able to use the sheer force of my will to avoid using. A moral victory.
In my thirties, it was harder to get there, harder to be as successful, so with the guidance of a certain suspect doctor, I reintroduced this substance into my world, using as often as possible. In public. I didn’t even try to hide it.
I sometimes even used with my best friend. And my own family.
My sister is a known user. We use together. She has even drawn her children into the circle of usage. Those young’uns love the stuff.
My husband uses too.
I know there is a growing sentiment against this substance, but it helped me. Truly. Got me past the difficult times. Gave me a sense of peace when it seemed the whole world was upside down. Helped me be grounded. Right next to a stack of pancakes.
Maybe I was just young. Naive. Didn’t know better. Listening to bad guidance. Following the crowd. Trying to be one of the team. Just working to be popular.
I did it for the fans.
Yes, I’m a user. I own it. It makes me a better person.
I still use. You people can’t stop me.
That’s how you own it, ARod, you lying sack of ____.
That last post was, get this, number 500!
Five freaking hundred!
In just less than two years.
Wow.
Considering that when I started this thing back in March of 2007, I was unsure what the heck to write about.
Thanks to those who have come along for this crazy ride.
w00t!
