Went out for tea with Mark. He had finished a class in the early afternoon, and I figured that he would have another one in the late afternoon or early evening, but he didn't, so we talked about about four and a half hours. There are so few people in my life I can talk to for such long periods of time, and Mark is definitely one of them.
As usual, Mark and I spent a ton of time talking about poetry. He and some other mutual friends are all right now into Ann Carson, and Mark showed me one of her books. I had heard of her before, but I had never actually seen any of her poetry. And I could see why he was showing it to me. There was something very prosy about it, but also something inherently intellectual and academic. They were tight little pieces. He had borrowed the book from a friend, and we both admired her handwriting, which decorated the margins.
We also talked about book design. There's this one cover for a poetry book that we both thing is miserably bad. I told him my idea for an alternative cover, one that did a better job of displaying the title poem and looked prettier.
"Well, do you ever think about what you'd want your poetry books to look like?" he asked.
Oh, of course. I fantasize about it all the time. I don't think I'm silly enough to believe I'll ever publish a book of poetry, but I think about it.
"I usually think of the art for the book as being highly related to the content. So, I'm working on some science-related poems, and I'd like the book to be decorated with old school science drawings, the kind you see in old textbooks."
Thinking of it, I'd really like to see some of Mark's poetry. It's been a while since I looked at anything of his, though, the more I think about what I saw, the more impressed I am by it.
We also reminisced about classes we took. I confessed that Emily was sort of turned off by the way he use to talk, which maybe I shouldn't have told him. I followed it up with "But I defended you because you had just changed your major and we're probably still finding your feet," which was how I felt at the time. Plus, I honestly felt like Emily was being a tad persnickety. I love Emily, but this was one of the few times I disagreed with her. Mark wasn't that hard to understand.
I might have also admitted my momentary annoyance with Mark. When we first met, I didn't really have any thoughts on him either way, because I didn't know him. Then he started always sitting with me in class, and because I had lots of friends in this class I found myself wishing he didn't. But after a week or two I realized I really liked him and that he was my friend.
This this weird tendency around here for things to be super intense super quickly. Natalie once described this happening to her and Mike. They met and BAM! They were best friends. This was what happened to Mark. We spent very little time between acquaintance and mutual adoration.
It was mostly quiet in the tea house, but this punk guy sat down near us for a while, while I probably talked poor Mark's ear off.
Mark told me a little about his upcoming trip to Germany. He told me that he had wanted to go to London, but because of the price of hotels, he decided not to. Instead, he's going to live in a tiny town near the French border. What exactly he's doing academically, I'm not sure. He apparently speaks very good German, so I'm hoping that in addition to the usual fun travel stuff (getting to know a new place, meeting new people, speaking the local language) maybe he'll be studying German literature. There's a lot of important work that was done in both German romanticism and expressionism.
While we were sitting there, Justin's roommate, came in and said hi. He recognized me because I had met him recently.
"Are you two dating?" he asked.
It seems like Mark and I have been getting that one a lot lately. Mark said no.
"We're more like work partners," I said, thinking about how frequently we worked on various projects together. An idea occurred to me. "We're more like partners in crime," I said. Justin's roommate sort of chuckled at us for saying that.
Eventually, I had to cut our chat to an end because I was meeting Gary for sushi down the street. When Mark had originally asked me for tea, I thought that I would have plenty of time in between tea and sushi. I was going to go lock myself in a study room and try to write. But clearly, Mark and I were having so much fun, I almost lost track of time.
Gary wasn't going to let me though. About ten minutes before my sushi date, he texted me that he was going to be two minutes late. That's right: two minutes. I found this weirdly funny, because I can't think of anyone who texts to say two minutes. I don't even know if it's necessary to text if it's five, because it seems like everyone I know runs on a minimum five minute late schedule of some kind or another.
Mark thought this was funny too.
Three minutes later, Gary texted again to tell me he was going to be on time, and Mark and I both found this funny.
"He's like that. One day you'll have to meet him," I said. I had already told him tons about Jimmy.
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
I Am a Failure at Surprises
One of my old professors was giving a poetry reading, and obviously I wanted to go. She hadn't seen me in a while, so I decided I should try to surprise her.
The problem with me trying to surprise someone is that it often gets ruined.
I decided to go that afternoon to a study room to do some reading and writing. I frequent this particular study room, and it's usually pretty quiet on weekday afternoons. At most, I've seen one person in there at this time of day, and even then, it's usually someone who just looks in and then walks away.
I went in and, for about an hour, worked. And then Chelsea walked in.
I hadn't seen Chelsea in a long time either. I was trying to remember the last conversation I had with her. I vaguely remembered talking to her about four years ago about a book series we both liked. I remembered this conversation because I didn't really know a lot of people who read this series; my best friend had introduced me to them years previous to that, and I had only spoken about the series with a man in a library once who read The Dresden Files, which I was also familiar with and was similar. I think during that conversation Chelsea also mentioned that she was really good at interviewing for jobs and that's why she was always employed. At the time this had impressed me because I had always felt like my interviewing skills were terrible. (I am happy to report now that I've learned better interviewing techniques and that I think I've even impressed some people.)
But Chelsea didn't really acknowledge me. She just sat down and read something. Oh, I thought. She must not remember me.
Not that she really should remember me. We were really friends of friends and I mean, I'm sure there have been more important people out there.
We sat in silence for another half hour, I continuing with my work. Then she looked up at me.
"Have you ever read Foucault?" she asked.
I had, but it had been a long time ago. And because I had found him frustratingly difficult in English, I had looked up a passage in the original French. It had been easier to understand, but that was all I remembered.
Chelsea talked to me about some of Foucault's ideas. She mentioned being in a particular class, which Kristina was also in. (And had mentioned I should come to just to see what it was like.)
Chelsea, as a fellow feminist, was not so sure she liked the ideas of Foucault. He said some problematic things about women.
"I always interpreted Foucault to be saying simply what is and not how things should be. I don't think his statements are meant to be interpreted as him endorsing that view, just observing it."
She nodded her head, looking far away. "That sounds like something Foucault would say."
I smiled. Now that was a compliment. Alex had liked Foucault. It was one of the things we had talked about in the interview. Alex had said how beautiful she found his writing.
I suddenly realized that I had a question for Chelsea. "Are you one of the people from that feminist organization that recently formed?"
"I'm not really part of it. That's Bianca."
That surprised me. Bianca and I had been in a class together last year. She had been relatively quiet. Despite this, it had been obvious to me she was thoughtful and way cooler than I am (though, I would argue pretty much everyone is cooler than me.)
I made a mental note, if I ran into Bianca anytime soon, that I should tell her how much I had admired her work. Erin had told me all about it.
"Are you going to the poetry reading tonight?" So Chelsea must have known more about me than I anticipated, because she remembered that I worked with that professor.
"I am, but she doesn't know I'm coming, so don't tell anyone I'm here. It's a surprise."
Seeing Chelsea was really nice, but I had to go over to Nate's to get some stuff and to have dinner, so I said goodbye and left. I was turning the corner on the stairway, thinking merrily of how much I liked Chelsea and how I was going to get to see people tonight at this reading, when I was startled to see Stephanie, three steps down from me, staring up at me. Her eyes went wide.
And this wasn't just Stephanie my friend. She was also Stephanie, the assistant to this professor.
She hadn't seen me in a long time either.
Oh shit, I thought.
"Don't tell her I'm here!" I said, slightly loud. "I don't want her to know I'm coming tonight! I'm trying to surprise her!"
See what I mean about surprises? Hours before the surprise, I manage to run into two people who actually could blow it. This was especially annoying considering how long I'd been planning this.
Stephanie sort of laughed at me and was happy to see me. She gave me this great big hug that made me feel great. (Oh, to have a thousand friend hugs that I could store in a chest somewhere.) She wanted to hear what I was up to, and we talked briefly before both of us had to be elsewhere.
I went over to Nate's. It had been his birthday recently, and he had all sorts of coupons for free food. That night, he was taking me out for pizza.
The problem with me trying to surprise someone is that it often gets ruined.
I decided to go that afternoon to a study room to do some reading and writing. I frequent this particular study room, and it's usually pretty quiet on weekday afternoons. At most, I've seen one person in there at this time of day, and even then, it's usually someone who just looks in and then walks away.
I went in and, for about an hour, worked. And then Chelsea walked in.
But Chelsea didn't really acknowledge me. She just sat down and read something. Oh, I thought. She must not remember me.
Not that she really should remember me. We were really friends of friends and I mean, I'm sure there have been more important people out there.
We sat in silence for another half hour, I continuing with my work. Then she looked up at me.
I had, but it had been a long time ago. And because I had found him frustratingly difficult in English, I had looked up a passage in the original French. It had been easier to understand, but that was all I remembered.
Chelsea talked to me about some of Foucault's ideas. She mentioned being in a particular class, which Kristina was also in. (And had mentioned I should come to just to see what it was like.)
Chelsea, as a fellow feminist, was not so sure she liked the ideas of Foucault. He said some problematic things about women.
"I always interpreted Foucault to be saying simply what is and not how things should be. I don't think his statements are meant to be interpreted as him endorsing that view, just observing it."
She nodded her head, looking far away. "That sounds like something Foucault would say."
I smiled. Now that was a compliment. Alex had liked Foucault. It was one of the things we had talked about in the interview. Alex had said how beautiful she found his writing.
I suddenly realized that I had a question for Chelsea. "Are you one of the people from that feminist organization that recently formed?"
"I'm not really part of it. That's Bianca."
That surprised me. Bianca and I had been in a class together last year. She had been relatively quiet. Despite this, it had been obvious to me she was thoughtful and way cooler than I am (though, I would argue pretty much everyone is cooler than me.)
I made a mental note, if I ran into Bianca anytime soon, that I should tell her how much I had admired her work. Erin had told me all about it.
"Are you going to the poetry reading tonight?" So Chelsea must have known more about me than I anticipated, because she remembered that I worked with that professor.
"I am, but she doesn't know I'm coming, so don't tell anyone I'm here. It's a surprise."
Seeing Chelsea was really nice, but I had to go over to Nate's to get some stuff and to have dinner, so I said goodbye and left. I was turning the corner on the stairway, thinking merrily of how much I liked Chelsea and how I was going to get to see people tonight at this reading, when I was startled to see Stephanie, three steps down from me, staring up at me. Her eyes went wide.
And this wasn't just Stephanie my friend. She was also Stephanie, the assistant to this professor.
She hadn't seen me in a long time either.
Oh shit, I thought.
"Don't tell her I'm here!" I said, slightly loud. "I don't want her to know I'm coming tonight! I'm trying to surprise her!"
See what I mean about surprises? Hours before the surprise, I manage to run into two people who actually could blow it. This was especially annoying considering how long I'd been planning this.
Stephanie sort of laughed at me and was happy to see me. She gave me this great big hug that made me feel great. (Oh, to have a thousand friend hugs that I could store in a chest somewhere.) She wanted to hear what I was up to, and we talked briefly before both of us had to be elsewhere.
I went over to Nate's. It had been his birthday recently, and he had all sorts of coupons for free food. That night, he was taking me out for pizza.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Eat This, Computer
The first part of work was okay. It wasn't until I realized that some files had disappeared off my computer that I got upset.
I had spent hours working on them earlier this week, and they are just gone. How exactly I'm not sure, but basically, this bad computer has a reputation for "eating" files. (Alex's words, not mine.) Sometimes I have the forethought to send the files to myself via email so I at least have those, but I didn't do that.
So I had to start all over.
I was hoping I was going to get the work done before the end of the day so I could present them to Alexander, but that didn't happen. Even though my second pass was faster (I could still remember some of the choices I made, though I had to look up other information), I didn't get it all done. Also, I forgotten that Alexander leaves early on Thursdays for an art class. (I am always curious about this art class he's taking, since he strikes me as artistic, but the kind that wouldn't need a class.)
The good news is that I left early from work today, even though, like most Thursdays I work, I was the last one there. The bad news was that I didn't have the work on Alexander's desk.
He had also asked me to do a task yesterday and I said I would, but with everything else that's been slammed on me, I didn't get to it. I told him I would try to get it done Tuesday. It was sort of an awkward, awful moment.
I didn't tell anyone about the eating files thing because I'm a little embarrassed about it.
I had spent hours working on them earlier this week, and they are just gone. How exactly I'm not sure, but basically, this bad computer has a reputation for "eating" files. (Alex's words, not mine.) Sometimes I have the forethought to send the files to myself via email so I at least have those, but I didn't do that.
So I had to start all over.
I was hoping I was going to get the work done before the end of the day so I could present them to Alexander, but that didn't happen. Even though my second pass was faster (I could still remember some of the choices I made, though I had to look up other information), I didn't get it all done. Also, I forgotten that Alexander leaves early on Thursdays for an art class. (I am always curious about this art class he's taking, since he strikes me as artistic, but the kind that wouldn't need a class.)
The good news is that I left early from work today, even though, like most Thursdays I work, I was the last one there. The bad news was that I didn't have the work on Alexander's desk.
He had also asked me to do a task yesterday and I said I would, but with everything else that's been slammed on me, I didn't get to it. I told him I would try to get it done Tuesday. It was sort of an awkward, awful moment.
I didn't tell anyone about the eating files thing because I'm a little embarrassed about it.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Dean's Mom's Younger Self
At work today I was reading when I had an idea for a poem, and then off I was, writing one instead of working on what I was meant to be doing. This is becoming rather typical of me.
It was mostly a work of nostalgia. During the Superbowl a few days ago, I was thinking about when Dean and I went to a party together for it (this was back before I was a regular attendee at things at Casa Paul). We had to walk on this giant sheet of ice to get there. I remember slipping and sliding. "Here Dear," Dean said, and he let me take his arm. Dean says dear to me a lot, and it's one of those little things I like about him. We had only recently become friends, but it was one of those friendships that immediately took off and it was like we knew each other.
As we walked, I realized how much he sounded like another old friend, and it was strange, realizing that I was gravitating to the same types of people over and over again.
And then I thought about when we were sitting in the cafeteria, talking about Doctor Who, when Dean turned suddenly and said "You look exactly like my Mom did when you were her age." We were sitting with a bunch of other friends then, and Matt was all "Way to be creepy." We decided as a group that Dean's current Mom had gone back in time to get her younger self, bring her younger self back to the present to watch Dean. And, obviously, I was Dean's Mom's Younger Self.
And then I thought about a dance I went to with that group of friends, and how much great music they played, especially techno.
So, basically, I was working off of nostalgia. And not doing my real work.
It was mostly a work of nostalgia. During the Superbowl a few days ago, I was thinking about when Dean and I went to a party together for it (this was back before I was a regular attendee at things at Casa Paul). We had to walk on this giant sheet of ice to get there. I remember slipping and sliding. "Here Dear," Dean said, and he let me take his arm. Dean says dear to me a lot, and it's one of those little things I like about him. We had only recently become friends, but it was one of those friendships that immediately took off and it was like we knew each other.
As we walked, I realized how much he sounded like another old friend, and it was strange, realizing that I was gravitating to the same types of people over and over again.
And then I thought about when we were sitting in the cafeteria, talking about Doctor Who, when Dean turned suddenly and said "You look exactly like my Mom did when you were her age." We were sitting with a bunch of other friends then, and Matt was all "Way to be creepy." We decided as a group that Dean's current Mom had gone back in time to get her younger self, bring her younger self back to the present to watch Dean. And, obviously, I was Dean's Mom's Younger Self.
And then I thought about a dance I went to with that group of friends, and how much great music they played, especially techno.
So, basically, I was working off of nostalgia. And not doing my real work.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Thank God It's Over
Today at work was just terrible. There wasn't anything really bad about it, but I got strangely sad and started thinking about all the things I need to fix now. I teared up a couple of times as I was working on a computer. I'm really grateful that my back was to the door, so I didn't have to look at anyone when they looked in at me.
Near the end of the day, I got moved to another computer. I finished up the project I was working on and then started looking at another one for next week. I hate to bring work home with me, but honestly, I probably will end up doing a little of it over the weekend, just to get it over with.
We have a couple of new people around. One is named Kenya, who I met today. He seemed fine, but when we were introduced, it was awkward, because even though I heard we were getting new people, I knew nothing about them. Usually when I meet people I try to make polite chitchat, but my mind went blank. Not even stressful blank, like apathetic blank. Awkward.
The other new guy, Hunter, hugged one of the other coworkers before he left. Okay, I guess they know each other.
Right when I was leaving, I got some bad news. My ex-boss isn't coming back. I kind of guessed, because it's been so long since I've seen her. No one will tell me exactly what's wrong. I don't think anyone realized she informed me that she had cists on her ovaries that burst. I want to know what happened once she went on medical leave. Obviously, since she's not returning, the answer is not good enough to make working again possible.
I'm really sad about this because I liked her, and I didn't know her well, but I thought she would make a cool sister type. (I am always looking for sisters and brothers.) I liked that she was so talkative, and after she left, and it got really quiet, I missed it even more. I somedays go so long without talking that I stumble over my words when I finally do. (Today I struggled with the word "package.")
Near the end of the day, I got moved to another computer. I finished up the project I was working on and then started looking at another one for next week. I hate to bring work home with me, but honestly, I probably will end up doing a little of it over the weekend, just to get it over with.
We have a couple of new people around. One is named Kenya, who I met today. He seemed fine, but when we were introduced, it was awkward, because even though I heard we were getting new people, I knew nothing about them. Usually when I meet people I try to make polite chitchat, but my mind went blank. Not even stressful blank, like apathetic blank. Awkward.
The other new guy, Hunter, hugged one of the other coworkers before he left. Okay, I guess they know each other.
Right when I was leaving, I got some bad news. My ex-boss isn't coming back. I kind of guessed, because it's been so long since I've seen her. No one will tell me exactly what's wrong. I don't think anyone realized she informed me that she had cists on her ovaries that burst. I want to know what happened once she went on medical leave. Obviously, since she's not returning, the answer is not good enough to make working again possible.
I'm really sad about this because I liked her, and I didn't know her well, but I thought she would make a cool sister type. (I am always looking for sisters and brothers.) I liked that she was so talkative, and after she left, and it got really quiet, I missed it even more. I somedays go so long without talking that I stumble over my words when I finally do. (Today I struggled with the word "package.")
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Lunch with Emily
Had lunch today with Emily. We talked about some mutual friends who she had spoken to more recently than I had. It's hard to believe that we have so many people in common.
She told me that Charlotte was in St. Louis, having recently had a baby girl. She had also gotten married.
I told her that Erin was trying to get into graduate schools, including Sarah Lawrence. Emily told me that she thought Erin was a great writer.
We also had a long chat about relationships. Neither of us is in a relationship right now, and happy to be. (Sort of. I would be glad to be with certain boys, but most of these boys aren't interested in me, and there's nothing that can be done about that.) Emily told me that she is having so much trouble getting her own life together she doesn't have time to consider the extra problems of someone else. This is sort of how I feel too.
We had some mutual friends who got married, and then the young woman just gave up all career hopes. Period. It was really something, because she was always carrying on about what a brilliant student she was (as someone also with a large ego, I didn't think she could even compare to me...) I almost told her to drop out of school midway through, since she was not apparently planning on using her degree and why bother paying for it otherwise? Emily agreed with me on my thoughts on that.
I had just been thinking about Ashley this morning. Ashley has never had a boyfriend, and I feel sorry for her, but I found myself thinking about her desire for a boyfriend isn't about her loving anyone in particular, it's about having someone make her feel whole. Ashley, in all the years of gripping about her single status, has never mentioned liking any one guy. This to me indicates that it is not that she is in love with someone but in love with the idea of "love." It's not even real love, it's an idealized version where love isn't hard work. Anyone who's ever been in a relationship knows it is hard work.
Times like these I wish I had a boyfriend who was flexible enough that he could just go anywhere. But I realize that's a pipe dream.
Maybe Emily and I will hang out some more soon. I'd really like that.
She told me that Charlotte was in St. Louis, having recently had a baby girl. She had also gotten married.
I told her that Erin was trying to get into graduate schools, including Sarah Lawrence. Emily told me that she thought Erin was a great writer.
We also had a long chat about relationships. Neither of us is in a relationship right now, and happy to be. (Sort of. I would be glad to be with certain boys, but most of these boys aren't interested in me, and there's nothing that can be done about that.) Emily told me that she is having so much trouble getting her own life together she doesn't have time to consider the extra problems of someone else. This is sort of how I feel too.
We had some mutual friends who got married, and then the young woman just gave up all career hopes. Period. It was really something, because she was always carrying on about what a brilliant student she was (as someone also with a large ego, I didn't think she could even compare to me...) I almost told her to drop out of school midway through, since she was not apparently planning on using her degree and why bother paying for it otherwise? Emily agreed with me on my thoughts on that.
I had just been thinking about Ashley this morning. Ashley has never had a boyfriend, and I feel sorry for her, but I found myself thinking about her desire for a boyfriend isn't about her loving anyone in particular, it's about having someone make her feel whole. Ashley, in all the years of gripping about her single status, has never mentioned liking any one guy. This to me indicates that it is not that she is in love with someone but in love with the idea of "love." It's not even real love, it's an idealized version where love isn't hard work. Anyone who's ever been in a relationship knows it is hard work.
Times like these I wish I had a boyfriend who was flexible enough that he could just go anywhere. But I realize that's a pipe dream.
Maybe Emily and I will hang out some more soon. I'd really like that.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Working on the Resolution
Back at work for the first time since the holidays. It was an okay day. It was quiet in the office, but I got swamped with work, most of it that I'm going to have to do tomorrow. Mostly it was the same paperwork I've gotten used to, though there was some talk about training me in new stuff I've never done before and then maybe I helped out with a small project.
After work I had dinner with Elizabeth, Jenny and Rebecca. When I sat down with Elizabeth, I immediately noticed Mimi wasn't sitting with her usual group of friends.
"Has something happened?" I asked. I already knew the answer.
"Mimi had a fight with Isabel."
Mimi having a fight is nothing new; she fights all the time, but usually with Maria. Isabel can be a really difficult person to get along with too, but I've never seen the two of them go at it.
"What was the fight over?"
"I don't know."
"Probably the tv."
Elizabeth let out an exasperated sigh. "We're suppose to be adults, for god's sake."
"I mean, maybe not, it's just that every fight I've witnessed has been over the tv." And even though I've never see Isabel fight with someone over the tv, I've watched her be heavy handed with others. Mimi is not the kind to take well to that kind of thing.
Isabel has this annoying tendency to come in and change the channel to the news, even if you're clearly sitting there. Her rational is that she has to watch the news, which would be fine, but she always falls asleep anyway. I wish she'd just get a tv in her own room so she could sleep there and not annoy me.
We chatted a little about the fighting. Elizabeth had some theories on it. She thought that maybe the younger girls were just better behaved because they had a common enemy. Honestly, I think it's just a better attitude. Mary Kay gets on with people, but that's because she's nice. Mimi and Isabel are notoriously mean or at the least difficult, and mean people don't usually nice-up when someone's mean to them. They just get worse.
Faith and Jessica came around, and we all sat with each other. We chatted about learning how to drive. Elizabeth told us about being out in the snow. We had our usual good dinner. Mimi kind of wanted to sit with us, but I'm not sure about letting her round. I've already watched her be so mean to people, and she sort of has this weird need to get Jenny's attention all the time.
After dinner, I sat down to too some reading, and I ended up having a heart to heart with Jon. Jon and I have been friends for years, but we're not really close. But tonight we sort of bonded over some stuff. I was really surprised at his candor.
I really appreciate it when people tell me something true, something they are struggling to say. As much as I hate to admit it, I always thought Jon was telling me the truth, it just was an ugly one that made me dislike a lot about him. But tonight he showed me there was a sad, disappointed person inside, and it made me care for him a great deal more.
I didn't formally set a New Year's resolution, but I was thinking the other day about how I need to be more forgiving and less judgemental. Maybe this was a good way to start.
After work I had dinner with Elizabeth, Jenny and Rebecca. When I sat down with Elizabeth, I immediately noticed Mimi wasn't sitting with her usual group of friends.
"Has something happened?" I asked. I already knew the answer.
"Mimi had a fight with Isabel."
Mimi having a fight is nothing new; she fights all the time, but usually with Maria. Isabel can be a really difficult person to get along with too, but I've never seen the two of them go at it.
"What was the fight over?"
"I don't know."
"Probably the tv."
Elizabeth let out an exasperated sigh. "We're suppose to be adults, for god's sake."
"I mean, maybe not, it's just that every fight I've witnessed has been over the tv." And even though I've never see Isabel fight with someone over the tv, I've watched her be heavy handed with others. Mimi is not the kind to take well to that kind of thing.
Isabel has this annoying tendency to come in and change the channel to the news, even if you're clearly sitting there. Her rational is that she has to watch the news, which would be fine, but she always falls asleep anyway. I wish she'd just get a tv in her own room so she could sleep there and not annoy me.
We chatted a little about the fighting. Elizabeth had some theories on it. She thought that maybe the younger girls were just better behaved because they had a common enemy. Honestly, I think it's just a better attitude. Mary Kay gets on with people, but that's because she's nice. Mimi and Isabel are notoriously mean or at the least difficult, and mean people don't usually nice-up when someone's mean to them. They just get worse.
Faith and Jessica came around, and we all sat with each other. We chatted about learning how to drive. Elizabeth told us about being out in the snow. We had our usual good dinner. Mimi kind of wanted to sit with us, but I'm not sure about letting her round. I've already watched her be so mean to people, and she sort of has this weird need to get Jenny's attention all the time.
After dinner, I sat down to too some reading, and I ended up having a heart to heart with Jon. Jon and I have been friends for years, but we're not really close. But tonight we sort of bonded over some stuff. I was really surprised at his candor.
I really appreciate it when people tell me something true, something they are struggling to say. As much as I hate to admit it, I always thought Jon was telling me the truth, it just was an ugly one that made me dislike a lot about him. But tonight he showed me there was a sad, disappointed person inside, and it made me care for him a great deal more.
I didn't formally set a New Year's resolution, but I was thinking the other day about how I need to be more forgiving and less judgemental. Maybe this was a good way to start.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
The Ongoing Saga of it Being Too Cold
At work today, there was more drama over how cold it's been. I have been shivering for at least a month. And apparently I'm not the only one. At one point, one of the girls across the hall got so mad about how cold it was she just decided to leave and go sit somewhere else. I don't blame her, but I work on a desktop at work so I don't have the luxury of just getting up and leaving whenever.
Then I was talking with someone via email, and there was the implication of needing to do more research. Doing the whole taking the initiative thing, I started working on that.
As I was doing that, there was another conversation (involving the same girl) about how it was warmer but that it should get fixed. And the girl said she was going to call.
I was also thinking about my Mom and how she is clearly suffering from burnout when it comes to taking care of my Grandma. I wish she would ask her brother to take care of my Grandma. It would be difficult, but shipping my Grandma down south might be a good thing for us, especially for my Mom. My Mom has been taking care of my Grandma for over ten years, and, sadly, it could easily be another ten. It isn't fair to my Mom, and quite frankly, I don't think it's okay for her emotional and mental health. I suspect my Uncle wouldn't want to take Grandma, but I have half the mind to write him a letter, emphasizing how much he apparently loves his sister and what a Christian man he considers himself. I actually very much doubt his love for his sister and for Jesus, but there's a part of me that wants to try on my Mom's behalf. My Mom deserves a break, a big one, and she deserves better than such a terrible family (her awful mother, her awful brother, her awful sister-in-law. This whole family is rotten to the core. Everyone talks a big game about responsibility but it's nowhere to be found. I'm disgusted at being related to these people.)
I just realized today as I was sitting here how feminine Mark's voice is. I don't know how I could have missed it. This isn't a criticism, just a weird thing I noticed.
I accidentally got an update on the Mark-the-Landlord drama. Today he was on the phone with someone talking about replacing a stairs and a deck.
I even heard Mark give a giant sigh today. Oh, I understand, I wanted to say. I really have been dragging today. I think I need a nap, though I honestly do not have time for one.
So, basically, out of everyone, I spend the most time with Mark. I'm not complaining, but I guess this wasn't what I expected to end up thinking about all the time.
Then, in the ongoing saga of "It's too cold in this building" today some people came into the office and opened up the ceiling tiles and were inspecting. One of them was saying a bunch of stuff wasn't working. They were right around my cubicle, making me terribly nervous. (Would I have to leave? I was really tired today and was praying that yes, they would let me go home. I needed a nap and had things to do.) They started taking bits of the ceiling near my head out, looking inside and conferring with each other. Then they went into Bella's cubicle and did the same thing. (I don't know where Bella is today, but clearly not here.) "It's definitely zeroed out," Tommy (as he was called) said to his friend.
Just as things were getting really interesting there, Mark came in with a task. It was either an accounting task or a proofreading task. Basically, I needed to make sure that two lists of books sales were together and that their weren't any mistakes. The way he laughed about the construction fun was exactly how Daniel laughs. Exactly. Terrifyingly so. They're so different in age and potentially political beliefs. (I say potentially because I know exactly what Mark thinks about politics, Daniel will be cold in the grave before he expresses his thoughts on this and a wide variety of other subjects.) And yet their mannerisms are so similar, and I find myself being struck by them all the time.
Work went by really fast actually, for all my complaining. I kept doing that thing were I would look up and discover that about another hour had passed.
Then I was talking with someone via email, and there was the implication of needing to do more research. Doing the whole taking the initiative thing, I started working on that.
As I was doing that, there was another conversation (involving the same girl) about how it was warmer but that it should get fixed. And the girl said she was going to call.
I was also thinking about my Mom and how she is clearly suffering from burnout when it comes to taking care of my Grandma. I wish she would ask her brother to take care of my Grandma. It would be difficult, but shipping my Grandma down south might be a good thing for us, especially for my Mom. My Mom has been taking care of my Grandma for over ten years, and, sadly, it could easily be another ten. It isn't fair to my Mom, and quite frankly, I don't think it's okay for her emotional and mental health. I suspect my Uncle wouldn't want to take Grandma, but I have half the mind to write him a letter, emphasizing how much he apparently loves his sister and what a Christian man he considers himself. I actually very much doubt his love for his sister and for Jesus, but there's a part of me that wants to try on my Mom's behalf. My Mom deserves a break, a big one, and she deserves better than such a terrible family (her awful mother, her awful brother, her awful sister-in-law. This whole family is rotten to the core. Everyone talks a big game about responsibility but it's nowhere to be found. I'm disgusted at being related to these people.)
I just realized today as I was sitting here how feminine Mark's voice is. I don't know how I could have missed it. This isn't a criticism, just a weird thing I noticed.
I accidentally got an update on the Mark-the-Landlord drama. Today he was on the phone with someone talking about replacing a stairs and a deck.
I even heard Mark give a giant sigh today. Oh, I understand, I wanted to say. I really have been dragging today. I think I need a nap, though I honestly do not have time for one.
So, basically, out of everyone, I spend the most time with Mark. I'm not complaining, but I guess this wasn't what I expected to end up thinking about all the time.
Then, in the ongoing saga of "It's too cold in this building" today some people came into the office and opened up the ceiling tiles and were inspecting. One of them was saying a bunch of stuff wasn't working. They were right around my cubicle, making me terribly nervous. (Would I have to leave? I was really tired today and was praying that yes, they would let me go home. I needed a nap and had things to do.) They started taking bits of the ceiling near my head out, looking inside and conferring with each other. Then they went into Bella's cubicle and did the same thing. (I don't know where Bella is today, but clearly not here.) "It's definitely zeroed out," Tommy (as he was called) said to his friend.
Just as things were getting really interesting there, Mark came in with a task. It was either an accounting task or a proofreading task. Basically, I needed to make sure that two lists of books sales were together and that their weren't any mistakes. The way he laughed about the construction fun was exactly how Daniel laughs. Exactly. Terrifyingly so. They're so different in age and potentially political beliefs. (I say potentially because I know exactly what Mark thinks about politics, Daniel will be cold in the grave before he expresses his thoughts on this and a wide variety of other subjects.) And yet their mannerisms are so similar, and I find myself being struck by them all the time.
Work went by really fast actually, for all my complaining. I kept doing that thing were I would look up and discover that about another hour had passed.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Earlier Part of Work Today
Work today was fine. It dragged a little at the beginning, but at one point I looked at the time and was like "It's 4:30? When did that happen?"
When I got there, I discovered that someone had decorated the lobby for Christmas. It seems too early still for Christmas, though once I'm on break I'll probably get more into the spirit. It always seems as if the spirit hits me just as Christmas is over, which means maybe I need to start right after Halloween if I want to care on time. But after coming home today, I feel like I'm getting into the spirit of things a little bit more.
When I got to my cubicle, my chair was missing. I usually hang my coats on the back of the chair, and I was totally baffled. I went over to see Mark's office since I'm suppose to check in with him anyway. He wasn't there, but the chair in front of his computer looked suspicious. I went into the boss's office and found my three coworkers, probably having a meeting. I asked if I could borrow the extra chair in his office, and realizing that the chair he was sitting on was usually mine, said okay.
When I got there, I discovered that someone had decorated the lobby for Christmas. It seems too early still for Christmas, though once I'm on break I'll probably get more into the spirit. It always seems as if the spirit hits me just as Christmas is over, which means maybe I need to start right after Halloween if I want to care on time. But after coming home today, I feel like I'm getting into the spirit of things a little bit more.
When I got to my cubicle, my chair was missing. I usually hang my coats on the back of the chair, and I was totally baffled. I went over to see Mark's office since I'm suppose to check in with him anyway. He wasn't there, but the chair in front of his computer looked suspicious. I went into the boss's office and found my three coworkers, probably having a meeting. I asked if I could borrow the extra chair in his office, and realizing that the chair he was sitting on was usually mine, said okay.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Work Report
Work yesterday was fine. (Yes, I managed to remember my makeup this time.) I had the worst craving for chips. I've been a very good girl about eating healthy as of the past few months, at least in terms of what I eat. I only have desert at dinner, and that's usually a cake or pie, though sometimes if I am lucky a lemon tart. But I've also been eating a lot, just because it seems like I get large helpings at the caf. So I was so disappointed in myself for wanting chips because I've haven't eaten that kind of crap for weeks. Ugh.
Around ten days ago I had to send something to a prisoner in the mail. Which was fine, but I was warned by the boss not to include staples or paper clips in the package because then they would reject the package. So I got the package back today with a note saying it didn't like that I had put a sticker on it. It was one of those stickers that contain our address, so someone can send it back. When I showed it to the boss, she said that prisons will do anything to send mail back. No kidding, I thought. So when I go into work next week, that's the first thing that's going to be on my list of things to do. I can hand write an address, I just wish someone would have said something to me first.
The rest of the day was spent doing some research. I consider myself pretty good at research, but the person I was trying to find information on seems to be as close to a nonentity as one can be these days. One of the other employees mentioned she's been in the news a lot lately, but if Google News hasn't been able to find her, I don't think that it's true.
The problem I have when I'm doing research is that I tend to get sidetracked by interesting information that isn't pertinent to what I'm doing. I ended up reading this philosophical discussion of a moral dilemma. I don't really know much about philosophy; it's one of those areas I'd like to read up on or take a class on, though I never have. Anyway, the author basically said that there are three options to a moral dilemma: do something bad but effective to achieving your goal, do something bad and ineffective or walk away. I recently had a moral dilemma and took the second option, then after that didn't work, picked the third. But according to this author, the best move was the third, at least in the context they were speaking about.
Walking away is such a hard thing for me. So hard. I always want to fight for whatever. And maybe this author was wrong about the moral dilemma thing, but the idea of always choosing to walk away (and then, assumably, taking a deep breath and getting over it), seems so unsatisfying. And I suspect that approach will drive me half-crazy because then I'll always wonder "what if" about those circumstances.
See what I mean about getting completely sidetracked at work? I do it all the time.
I got sidetracked in other ways yesterday. I came up with an idea for a memoir a few days back, and I found myself considering titles and structure for this yet-unstarted project.
And then I found myself contemplating why serial killers exist and why are they always white and almost always male. I have a theory involving a lot of complicated globalization and dominance and the word hegemony, but I wasn't meant to be thinking about serial killers at all.
And then later I was thinking about the novel Desert Blood, which I read a few years ago. The book is about the Mexican/U.S. border and a series of murders taking place there. Apparently there was a real case of a U.S. Border Agent who raped women when he caught these women crossing the border, and because they were illegal it took ages before one of them called him on it. I was wondering if certain details of the novel were based on those horrific incidents. (Certain things in the book are based on a series of real crimes that are related, though not quite the same.)
I then came across a reference to how people get notices to stick to brick buildings: something called wheat paste. I'm assuming it's some kind of paste involving wheat as a major ingredient but I found myself thinking how I had never considered how people did that or that it was something relatively simple and easy. So, if nothing else, all this research seems to be good for me in terms of learning trivia.
I even wrote a poem at work a few days ago. I know, I know: I'm not supposed to do that. But I've got one of those fickle Muses that comes and goes without a lot of warning. And if I don't write an idea down right as I'm having it, I always kick myself later when it doesn't work as well.
I've actually been looking at that poem today, and I think it needs work, but I feel better about it than I was expecting to. I have been writing longer poetry as of late, and this one is rather short.
Sadly, sometimes I think I get more done than they expect me to. Which makes me wonder what in God's name everyone else is doing. I dawdle enough as it is; how to people dawdle anymore than I do? I get my work done out of sheer boredom since there's nothing else to do.
There's also been an ongoing drama over a crashed hard drive. Not, thankfully, with anyone I work with, but across the hallway I can hear a fair amount of yelling and whatnot over it. Mostly I've ignored it, but sometimes it's hard to. The woman at the center of this ongoing saga is very loud and, I suspect, the head of that group of workers. She has ordered various people around about it. And she has complained loudly on the phone. And then went into a rant about how computer people are stupid and lazy. Maybe I've just had better interactions or maybe she has a particularly useless IT person, but I've always had good to great interactions with computer people. They've always solved my problems and even have been good at calming me down. (Computer problems stress me out disproportionately.) Jimmy, Dean, even Daniel are all computer people and I know if I went to them with a problem, they would never dare tell me they wouldn't help me or give me a hard time. They all love me, they would all do their best to save me from my own mistakes. Especially Dean. Dean has been particularly good to me about these kinds of issues.
Not that I would want to inflict that women on those three. All three are relatively calm people, and out of the three of them, only Dean would complain about her. (Though only in private.)
Also, I don't know if something happened while I wasn't here or maybe in another part of the office, but I noticed sexual harassment posters suddenly went up all over the office. Was there an incident? I'm really curious, even though I know it's not really my business. Part of me wants to know so that I can avoid the harasser like the plague.
I did a little report writing and sent it to the boss before the end of my shift.
Around ten days ago I had to send something to a prisoner in the mail. Which was fine, but I was warned by the boss not to include staples or paper clips in the package because then they would reject the package. So I got the package back today with a note saying it didn't like that I had put a sticker on it. It was one of those stickers that contain our address, so someone can send it back. When I showed it to the boss, she said that prisons will do anything to send mail back. No kidding, I thought. So when I go into work next week, that's the first thing that's going to be on my list of things to do. I can hand write an address, I just wish someone would have said something to me first.
The rest of the day was spent doing some research. I consider myself pretty good at research, but the person I was trying to find information on seems to be as close to a nonentity as one can be these days. One of the other employees mentioned she's been in the news a lot lately, but if Google News hasn't been able to find her, I don't think that it's true.
The problem I have when I'm doing research is that I tend to get sidetracked by interesting information that isn't pertinent to what I'm doing. I ended up reading this philosophical discussion of a moral dilemma. I don't really know much about philosophy; it's one of those areas I'd like to read up on or take a class on, though I never have. Anyway, the author basically said that there are three options to a moral dilemma: do something bad but effective to achieving your goal, do something bad and ineffective or walk away. I recently had a moral dilemma and took the second option, then after that didn't work, picked the third. But according to this author, the best move was the third, at least in the context they were speaking about.
Walking away is such a hard thing for me. So hard. I always want to fight for whatever. And maybe this author was wrong about the moral dilemma thing, but the idea of always choosing to walk away (and then, assumably, taking a deep breath and getting over it), seems so unsatisfying. And I suspect that approach will drive me half-crazy because then I'll always wonder "what if" about those circumstances.
See what I mean about getting completely sidetracked at work? I do it all the time.
I got sidetracked in other ways yesterday. I came up with an idea for a memoir a few days back, and I found myself considering titles and structure for this yet-unstarted project.
And then I found myself contemplating why serial killers exist and why are they always white and almost always male. I have a theory involving a lot of complicated globalization and dominance and the word hegemony, but I wasn't meant to be thinking about serial killers at all.
And then later I was thinking about the novel Desert Blood, which I read a few years ago. The book is about the Mexican/U.S. border and a series of murders taking place there. Apparently there was a real case of a U.S. Border Agent who raped women when he caught these women crossing the border, and because they were illegal it took ages before one of them called him on it. I was wondering if certain details of the novel were based on those horrific incidents. (Certain things in the book are based on a series of real crimes that are related, though not quite the same.)
I then came across a reference to how people get notices to stick to brick buildings: something called wheat paste. I'm assuming it's some kind of paste involving wheat as a major ingredient but I found myself thinking how I had never considered how people did that or that it was something relatively simple and easy. So, if nothing else, all this research seems to be good for me in terms of learning trivia.
I even wrote a poem at work a few days ago. I know, I know: I'm not supposed to do that. But I've got one of those fickle Muses that comes and goes without a lot of warning. And if I don't write an idea down right as I'm having it, I always kick myself later when it doesn't work as well.
I've actually been looking at that poem today, and I think it needs work, but I feel better about it than I was expecting to. I have been writing longer poetry as of late, and this one is rather short.
Sadly, sometimes I think I get more done than they expect me to. Which makes me wonder what in God's name everyone else is doing. I dawdle enough as it is; how to people dawdle anymore than I do? I get my work done out of sheer boredom since there's nothing else to do.
There's also been an ongoing drama over a crashed hard drive. Not, thankfully, with anyone I work with, but across the hallway I can hear a fair amount of yelling and whatnot over it. Mostly I've ignored it, but sometimes it's hard to. The woman at the center of this ongoing saga is very loud and, I suspect, the head of that group of workers. She has ordered various people around about it. And she has complained loudly on the phone. And then went into a rant about how computer people are stupid and lazy. Maybe I've just had better interactions or maybe she has a particularly useless IT person, but I've always had good to great interactions with computer people. They've always solved my problems and even have been good at calming me down. (Computer problems stress me out disproportionately.) Jimmy, Dean, even Daniel are all computer people and I know if I went to them with a problem, they would never dare tell me they wouldn't help me or give me a hard time. They all love me, they would all do their best to save me from my own mistakes. Especially Dean. Dean has been particularly good to me about these kinds of issues.
Not that I would want to inflict that women on those three. All three are relatively calm people, and out of the three of them, only Dean would complain about her. (Though only in private.)
Also, I don't know if something happened while I wasn't here or maybe in another part of the office, but I noticed sexual harassment posters suddenly went up all over the office. Was there an incident? I'm really curious, even though I know it's not really my business. Part of me wants to know so that I can avoid the harasser like the plague.
I did a little report writing and sent it to the boss before the end of my shift.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Today Was a Complete Save of Makeup
About forty-five minutes after I got to work, I realize I wasn't wearing any makeup. I hate wearing makeup, but my Mom insists that I shouldn't be showing my uncovered face around work without it. So maybe this was a Freudian slip of sorts?
I really still can't believe I walked out without even thinking about it. And that it took me so long to realize it.
I really still can't believe I walked out without even thinking about it. And that it took me so long to realize it.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Ruth's Stories
Sometimes I accidentally have long conversations with people. Usually they're with people I love who make me laugh. Last night it was Ruth.
Ruth and I have only recently become friends, but we're apparently those friends who meet and then a few weeks later are best friends. (Last year, I did the same thing with Mark. He asks me about something in a class and three weeks later we're having two and a half hour conversations with lots of giggles. By this past April, we would run into each other in the street and ten friends would pass by, each wondering why we were having such enthusiastic conversations that last three hours when they're supposed to be ten.)
Ruth has got all sorts of fun stories. She used to work in a MP's office. She said that it was an awful job, just because the MP was a complete disappointment and because she had to deal with strange situations.
"We had to scan everything that came in and out of the office for records, which was fine, except the scanner was in one room and the computer that would actually make the scanner scan was in another room. You'd have to walk back and forth scanning in four hundred pages. At one point I suggested two people do it, one to flip the paper and the other to press the button, and they thought it was brilliant, but no one ever helped me."
Apparently a lot of people would call asking for asylum, which was fine, except no one could write anything down about anyone, so usually Ruth would have no contact information for them.
"The phone number they had wouldn't work and the ten different emails they had would just come back as one of those failed to send notices, so I started guessing what the email address probably was. Changing certain numbers, adding an s here, that sort of thing. Finally I got one of those emails to work."
Ugh. Incompetent people are able to have jobs all the time and they make so much extra unnecessary work.
The final straw was the schizophrenic who would call in. She apparently believed that the government, elements of the police and a few lawyers were conspiring against her, and she would call the MP's office over it. Ruth would apparently listen to her on the phone, with her head down, because she would call several times a day. Which was apparently better than her emailing six times a day.
"Usually, if it was mildly diverting, I would listen to her for twenty minutes, or if she was really upset, I'd give her forty."
I don't even give some of my friends forty minutes on the phone. And I'd love to talk to Dan like that, but he's always rushing to get off.
I suggested maybe this woman get some help, since it sounds like the government was far too incompetent to possibly be conspiring against her. On the other hand, Ruth's making my job, with minimal human contact, lots of books and research, and fellow employees I actually like, sound awesome. I already was pleased as punch with this work, but you know, it's good to be reminded of how bad it could be.
Ruth and I have only recently become friends, but we're apparently those friends who meet and then a few weeks later are best friends. (Last year, I did the same thing with Mark. He asks me about something in a class and three weeks later we're having two and a half hour conversations with lots of giggles. By this past April, we would run into each other in the street and ten friends would pass by, each wondering why we were having such enthusiastic conversations that last three hours when they're supposed to be ten.)
Ruth has got all sorts of fun stories. She used to work in a MP's office. She said that it was an awful job, just because the MP was a complete disappointment and because she had to deal with strange situations.
"We had to scan everything that came in and out of the office for records, which was fine, except the scanner was in one room and the computer that would actually make the scanner scan was in another room. You'd have to walk back and forth scanning in four hundred pages. At one point I suggested two people do it, one to flip the paper and the other to press the button, and they thought it was brilliant, but no one ever helped me."
Apparently a lot of people would call asking for asylum, which was fine, except no one could write anything down about anyone, so usually Ruth would have no contact information for them.
"The phone number they had wouldn't work and the ten different emails they had would just come back as one of those failed to send notices, so I started guessing what the email address probably was. Changing certain numbers, adding an s here, that sort of thing. Finally I got one of those emails to work."
Ugh. Incompetent people are able to have jobs all the time and they make so much extra unnecessary work.
The final straw was the schizophrenic who would call in. She apparently believed that the government, elements of the police and a few lawyers were conspiring against her, and she would call the MP's office over it. Ruth would apparently listen to her on the phone, with her head down, because she would call several times a day. Which was apparently better than her emailing six times a day.
"Usually, if it was mildly diverting, I would listen to her for twenty minutes, or if she was really upset, I'd give her forty."
I don't even give some of my friends forty minutes on the phone. And I'd love to talk to Dan like that, but he's always rushing to get off.
I suggested maybe this woman get some help, since it sounds like the government was far too incompetent to possibly be conspiring against her. On the other hand, Ruth's making my job, with minimal human contact, lots of books and research, and fellow employees I actually like, sound awesome. I already was pleased as punch with this work, but you know, it's good to be reminded of how bad it could be.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Research Work
Work today was mostly uneventful. Jocelyn had left me an email with the directions to print out two copies of a file for her, which I did. I noticed after I did it that it had been sent to print four pages onto one page, which made everything small, but since that was the way the file was set, I didn't mess with it. And then I left it on her desk.
Then I continued on my research of a particular project. After a while, Jocelyn came in and said she wanted them to be one page on one page, so I changed the files settings and printed out another two copies. The file was at least 200 pages, so this was a massive print job. I was half expecting the printer to run out of paper, or if I was really unlucky, ink. I feel a little bad about it because I hate wasting paper on anything, and I managed to do that unintentionally.
Then I sat down and worked through more research. And that was my entire day.
This job is nice, but sometimes really isolating. Also, I need to get busy because people are going to ask what the heck I'm doing all the time. (At this point it looks like not much, but this is one of those things where it looks like nothing right near the end.)
The boss wasn't in today at all, which is too bad, because I like talking to her.
Also, everyone else left early today, so I just let myself out fifteen minutes early. People here are pretty loose on schedules and you know when people are leaving because it's customary to say goodbye.
Then I continued on my research of a particular project. After a while, Jocelyn came in and said she wanted them to be one page on one page, so I changed the files settings and printed out another two copies. The file was at least 200 pages, so this was a massive print job. I was half expecting the printer to run out of paper, or if I was really unlucky, ink. I feel a little bad about it because I hate wasting paper on anything, and I managed to do that unintentionally.
Then I sat down and worked through more research. And that was my entire day.
This job is nice, but sometimes really isolating. Also, I need to get busy because people are going to ask what the heck I'm doing all the time. (At this point it looks like not much, but this is one of those things where it looks like nothing right near the end.)
The boss wasn't in today at all, which is too bad, because I like talking to her.
Also, everyone else left early today, so I just let myself out fifteen minutes early. People here are pretty loose on schedules and you know when people are leaving because it's customary to say goodbye.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Meltdowns and Mistakes
Ashley and I have been working a lot together the last week (which is part of why I haven't been posting as much lately. Sorry, guys. Will try to do better in the future.) Mostly, work's been fine.
We do have the occasional child meltdown, which I always feel bad about. A woman with three kids, two older boys and the youngest, a girl, came in. The girl was told she could choose only one thing, and she immediately began to cry. (It was later in the day, so that might have been part of it.) Watching her face crumble made me so bad for anyone.
Another woman asked me for help finding something, so I walked with her to another part of the store to find her something. She had thankfully asked for something I knew exactly where it was.
"Do you get criers a lot?" she asked.
"Just today."
"Oh, you're a saint!"
Just hearing that (especially from a woman who looked like a Mom) made me feel a lot better.
The next day, an older woman was looking for a certain thing, and I led her to that area of the store. I noticed that some, though not every one of them, were marked 75% off. When ever anything is marked like that, it goes on certain shelves, and this was not one of them. I couldn't tell the woman that she wouldn't get her discount, but I took the others off the shelf and asked her to excuse me.
I went into the back and gave them to one of the other people working there, explaining things. Then I called the boss and took directions from her about it. ("Leave them in back, I'll fix it.") And then I went back out on the floor and rung her stuff up for her.
She told me as I was doing that she had worked as a head hunter for a large corporation for twenty some years, and that I had handled myself like a professional. She said she was really impressed and she would totally hire me, if she could.
And then this nice old lady just walked out.
This is one of the things that I've been (happily) surprised with: people can be so nice! (People have also been rude and difficult at this job, but I expected that.) The nice people make me feel so good.
So, nice people: keep shopping. It makes our days better.
We do have the occasional child meltdown, which I always feel bad about. A woman with three kids, two older boys and the youngest, a girl, came in. The girl was told she could choose only one thing, and she immediately began to cry. (It was later in the day, so that might have been part of it.) Watching her face crumble made me so bad for anyone.
Another woman asked me for help finding something, so I walked with her to another part of the store to find her something. She had thankfully asked for something I knew exactly where it was.
"Do you get criers a lot?" she asked.
"Just today."
"Oh, you're a saint!"
Just hearing that (especially from a woman who looked like a Mom) made me feel a lot better.
The next day, an older woman was looking for a certain thing, and I led her to that area of the store. I noticed that some, though not every one of them, were marked 75% off. When ever anything is marked like that, it goes on certain shelves, and this was not one of them. I couldn't tell the woman that she wouldn't get her discount, but I took the others off the shelf and asked her to excuse me.
I went into the back and gave them to one of the other people working there, explaining things. Then I called the boss and took directions from her about it. ("Leave them in back, I'll fix it.") And then I went back out on the floor and rung her stuff up for her.
She told me as I was doing that she had worked as a head hunter for a large corporation for twenty some years, and that I had handled myself like a professional. She said she was really impressed and she would totally hire me, if she could.
And then this nice old lady just walked out.
This is one of the things that I've been (happily) surprised with: people can be so nice! (People have also been rude and difficult at this job, but I expected that.) The nice people make me feel so good.
So, nice people: keep shopping. It makes our days better.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Nervous Nellie
So, I got the job that I was interviewing for a while back. It's been an alright gig at this point.
I'm working with Ashley right now, which I was a little wary about, but again, it's been okay. We did stock the other day, and the two of us got super fast at getting stuff done. She would open the box, and I would pull out all the packing stuff (in this case, mostly that brown paper they wad up). Then she would go through the inventory checklist and I would move the stuff onto the storage shelves. If there was extra still, she'd move those products too. And then whoever had their hands free next went to get the next box, and we moved all over again. We were very efficient, and I was happy as a clam.
Out on the floor, things were not so simple. I'm struggling to learn the cash register. Certain things were never taught to me and other things are just confusing. My superior told me not to be nervous, and that made me feel bad, because I honestly don't feel particularly nervous.
Interacting with the customers went very well. A young woman who worked at the caf at school came in, and I jokingly said that I visited her at her workplace, so she could visit me at mine. And then my Mom and sister came in.
Later on, a woman with four young girls came in looking for a game. I sold them a game by American Girl called I Wish. One of them cried a little at not getting something else, but there are occasionally tears around here. Parents usually handle it, and it's okay.
I'm working with Ashley right now, which I was a little wary about, but again, it's been okay. We did stock the other day, and the two of us got super fast at getting stuff done. She would open the box, and I would pull out all the packing stuff (in this case, mostly that brown paper they wad up). Then she would go through the inventory checklist and I would move the stuff onto the storage shelves. If there was extra still, she'd move those products too. And then whoever had their hands free next went to get the next box, and we moved all over again. We were very efficient, and I was happy as a clam.
Out on the floor, things were not so simple. I'm struggling to learn the cash register. Certain things were never taught to me and other things are just confusing. My superior told me not to be nervous, and that made me feel bad, because I honestly don't feel particularly nervous.
Interacting with the customers went very well. A young woman who worked at the caf at school came in, and I jokingly said that I visited her at her workplace, so she could visit me at mine. And then my Mom and sister came in.
Later on, a woman with four young girls came in looking for a game. I sold them a game by American Girl called I Wish. One of them cried a little at not getting something else, but there are occasionally tears around here. Parents usually handle it, and it's okay.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Mother's Day at Rehab
They said I had to go to rehab, and I said no, no no...
These were probably not the lyrics I should have been thinking about as I walked in to the rehab facility, but then again, my Grandma does love to tell people no.
My Grandma got sick sometime in late March. I say sometime because my family lied to me about what was going on with her. I only found out because they couldn't come up with a better excuse not to come see me give several readings and lectures that were suppose to be the culmination of years of work as an undergraduate.
Every semester I was at MSU, she managed to get sick. You would think, eighth time over, that I would stop getting upset about it, but I always manage to. Even when I think "oh, I seem fine," something happens that proves to me I'm clearly not okay. Last semester, I was at an open mic night and a young woman played a song she wrote for her Grandmother, and I ended up sobbing. Luckily, no one took notice.
My Grandma was really happy to see us. She was smiling and making silly faces as I tried to take pictures of her. I really want a picture of her hands. I think her hands, with their large veins, are fascinating. I realize other people hate the veiny look, but I think it's beautiful, like an abstract painting.
A man with a ukele was in the cafeteria, playing Hank Williams and Neil Diamond songs. He was an excellent musician, though the kind of singer that so many people hate. As he was working though the Carter Family's "Let the Circle Be Unbroken," I thought about how much I wish I would magically summon a singer-songwriter I like in (Double Saginaw Familiarity, Spitzerspace Telescope, Priscilla Ahn, Robert Francis, Liz Phair...) rather than listen to him. I'm bored to tears with "good chorale" singing I hear so frequently, but I don't like the dying cat aesthetic either. My Grandma screwed up her face and said "at least he's trying." Later, she complained about him to a nurse.
We cleaned her up, because the nurses never take as good of care of her as they should. Her skin is really dry now and peeling off. I'm wondering if we should get some scrub that they sell at Bath and Body Works.
While I was waiting, I read a science book and texted Paul. My Grandma has a roommate at rehab, and she had on the Tigers game and then a reality show on remodeling on, both really loudly. My Grandma showed me her rosary and told me that my Grandfather gave it to her. She's seems to have forgotten that he died almost seven years ago.
The worst part was saying goodbye. She started crying and asked why she couldn't come home with us. I tried to explain that she had to be there to get better, but logical answers don't really work well with her.
She moves back to her place on Wednesday. In the meantime, I'm going to be going to see her everyday. Then on Wednesday, I'll be helping move her back to her apartment. I might be staying with her Friday since my Mom has to work. So, basically, expect a lot of updates about her over the next few days and in general. When I'm back at home, my family spends a lot of time taking care of her.
These were probably not the lyrics I should have been thinking about as I walked in to the rehab facility, but then again, my Grandma does love to tell people no.
My Grandma got sick sometime in late March. I say sometime because my family lied to me about what was going on with her. I only found out because they couldn't come up with a better excuse not to come see me give several readings and lectures that were suppose to be the culmination of years of work as an undergraduate.
Every semester I was at MSU, she managed to get sick. You would think, eighth time over, that I would stop getting upset about it, but I always manage to. Even when I think "oh, I seem fine," something happens that proves to me I'm clearly not okay. Last semester, I was at an open mic night and a young woman played a song she wrote for her Grandmother, and I ended up sobbing. Luckily, no one took notice.
My Grandma was really happy to see us. She was smiling and making silly faces as I tried to take pictures of her. I really want a picture of her hands. I think her hands, with their large veins, are fascinating. I realize other people hate the veiny look, but I think it's beautiful, like an abstract painting.
A man with a ukele was in the cafeteria, playing Hank Williams and Neil Diamond songs. He was an excellent musician, though the kind of singer that so many people hate. As he was working though the Carter Family's "Let the Circle Be Unbroken," I thought about how much I wish I would magically summon a singer-songwriter I like in (Double Saginaw Familiarity, Spitzerspace Telescope, Priscilla Ahn, Robert Francis, Liz Phair...) rather than listen to him. I'm bored to tears with "good chorale" singing I hear so frequently, but I don't like the dying cat aesthetic either. My Grandma screwed up her face and said "at least he's trying." Later, she complained about him to a nurse.
We cleaned her up, because the nurses never take as good of care of her as they should. Her skin is really dry now and peeling off. I'm wondering if we should get some scrub that they sell at Bath and Body Works.
While I was waiting, I read a science book and texted Paul. My Grandma has a roommate at rehab, and she had on the Tigers game and then a reality show on remodeling on, both really loudly. My Grandma showed me her rosary and told me that my Grandfather gave it to her. She's seems to have forgotten that he died almost seven years ago.
The worst part was saying goodbye. She started crying and asked why she couldn't come home with us. I tried to explain that she had to be there to get better, but logical answers don't really work well with her.
She moves back to her place on Wednesday. In the meantime, I'm going to be going to see her everyday. Then on Wednesday, I'll be helping move her back to her apartment. I might be staying with her Friday since my Mom has to work. So, basically, expect a lot of updates about her over the next few days and in general. When I'm back at home, my family spends a lot of time taking care of her.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Early Feminsim
Today, I got an email from my employer. She wanted to know if I could stay an extra hour at work. Could I ever!
I realize that this is not the usual response. Most people would drag their heels. I was happy, since I want more hours (and more moolah.) Also, I recently put my employer on my resume, so this is a great way to remind her that I'm reliable. Really.
I work in an art gallery, which is possibly one of the coolest gigs ever. Right now, there's an exhibit showing comics (to which you should all go.) Mostly, because it's so quiet on Fridays, I do homework. Today, I finished that book on William Marshal and started on an essay about the Nationalist movement in Tanzania and feminism. Last week, the curator of the show came by, which does on occasion happen, but usually, they just look around and make sure nothing's burning or turned to a crisp. This guy actually sat there, and I couldn't help but wonder if I was being judged.
This week he wasn't around, and it was a big relief. Because he wasn't around, I felt safe sitting at the table that was covered in comics for us to read so that I could read the first book of the English Sailor Moon.
Sailor Moon was my first anime as a kid. I was about seven when the show aired on television in the mornings before I went to school, and I loved it. Looking back on it, a lot of it is silly and overdone and campy, but it still makes me smile. I have always thought of myself as a feminist, and a show written about girls for girls wasn't something I appreciated in a larger cultural sense (since I hadn't yet noticed how the majority of media is created for white Christian men). Even as a young girl, I liked the idea of young women who were strong and powerful and capable of working together, despite differences.
I realize that this is not the usual response. Most people would drag their heels. I was happy, since I want more hours (and more moolah.) Also, I recently put my employer on my resume, so this is a great way to remind her that I'm reliable. Really.
I work in an art gallery, which is possibly one of the coolest gigs ever. Right now, there's an exhibit showing comics (to which you should all go.) Mostly, because it's so quiet on Fridays, I do homework. Today, I finished that book on William Marshal and started on an essay about the Nationalist movement in Tanzania and feminism. Last week, the curator of the show came by, which does on occasion happen, but usually, they just look around and make sure nothing's burning or turned to a crisp. This guy actually sat there, and I couldn't help but wonder if I was being judged.
This week he wasn't around, and it was a big relief. Because he wasn't around, I felt safe sitting at the table that was covered in comics for us to read so that I could read the first book of the English Sailor Moon.
Sailor Moon was my first anime as a kid. I was about seven when the show aired on television in the mornings before I went to school, and I loved it. Looking back on it, a lot of it is silly and overdone and campy, but it still makes me smile. I have always thought of myself as a feminist, and a show written about girls for girls wasn't something I appreciated in a larger cultural sense (since I hadn't yet noticed how the majority of media is created for white Christian men). Even as a young girl, I liked the idea of young women who were strong and powerful and capable of working together, despite differences.
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