The Year in Review

All in all, 2010 was a great year on the personal front. But a not so great of a year on the career front. Does one of those things trump the other? Yes, in fact, it does. The single most important thing I've learned this year is that personal happiness is key to life. I never realized how miserable my job made me until it was no longer part of my life. That's not to say that I don't want a job. I absolutely do. But, a job will never again rank higher than my family, my happiness and my sanity.

Here's what I loved most about 2010:

Movies: Toy Story 3; Winter's Bone

TV: Friday Night Lights (By far, the best show of the last decade.)

Music: Eminem's Recovery; Kid Rock's Born Free; OneRepublic's Waking Up (released in late 2009, but I didn't discover it until January, so it counts!) And yes, I have a soft spot for musicians from Michigan.

Books: The Hole We're In by Gabrielle Zevin; Room by Emma Donoghue

Destination: A day at the zoo with my two favorite kiddos. I have a weird obsession with the hippo:

Best local news photograph:

Caption: Employee Judy Fernandez is taken into custody by Sgt. Doug Ross (no relation to the Cook County ER doctor played by George Clooney) at the Taco Bell in Del Camino during Operation Private Dancer on Wednesday morning. The operation is a year-long local and federal drug investigation. (Addition by Kate: In case you weren't aware, the local Taco Bell is also participating in Tacos for Touchdowns...)

Significant days of 2010:

February 9: FedEx delivers my new MacBook.

March 25: The official launch of Kate Off the Clock.

July 4: Take first vacation in 10 years where I don't have to check emails and worry about work. Very relaxing and enjoyable. Go figure!

August 1: After multiple phone interviews, I finally land a job as a Production Coordinator at a book publisher. There's just one catch: They NEVER give me anything to do and after multiple inquiries, I finally get this email at the END of September:

I’m sorry to say we’ve had some recent restructuring in (name withheld). Unfortunately, this means we will not be outsourcing any of our file management or project management for the time being. If it is OK, I will keep your contact information on file, and if things change I will let you know.

August 16: The Girl starts kindergarten and I begin my new career as a Room Mom. I think that career will be short lived!

October 21: The Husband and I visit Vegas, and despite my fears, we do not return with bed bugs in our luggage. Let's call that vacation a success!

December 25: Our family celebrates our best Christmas yet. Santa brought me a fancy new toy: Digital video camera!

December 31: I recap my year and realize how truly fortunate I am. Now, if I could just find a little something to keep me busy and bring in some money, I might have the perfect life.

My next blog post will be all about New Year's resolutions. Yippy! Happy New Year! Here's to staying up until midnight and actually seeing 2011 roll in. And here's to also enjoying some cheap champagne and confetti, and reflecting on what a great year 2010 was. Rock on!

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

Christmas is a holiday that spawns many memories. Some are fantastic, some are hilarious and some are of the OMG, did that really happen variety. Here are a few of my favorites:

MEMORIES

On Christmas Eve in 2000, as a newlywed, I had an epic meltdown while making sugar cookies. I'm talking legendary, like The Husband and The Brother will still be laughing about it 25 years from now. It involved yelling, swearing, nearly breaking the countertops, and the movie "Gladiator." Oh, and the trash can was also a key player.

On Christmas night, right after The Girl had turned 3, she told us she was excited to go to bed and wake up in the morning again to what Santa had brought. We calmly explained that Santa wouldn't be back for a whole year, so there wouldn't be any presents in the morning. She kept looking at us, not quite comprehending how long a year is. Finally, I said "Santa won't come again until you're 4." She went upstairs, sad and pouting. A few minutes later, she yells down the stairs "Am I 4 yet?!"

As a kid, my brother and I were major snoops. We not only found the presents before Christmas, we opened them up, inserted batteries if necessary, and played with them. Well, one year, on Christmas morning, my brother noticed that one of his presents was missing. He slyly says "I sure was hoping to get a ___________ (one of the few things I can't remember!)" My mom suddenly has a look of panic on her face, runs up the stairs, and returns with said gift.

Another childhood memory of the classic sort involves the roller-skating rink, a go-cart and a phone call. In the early 80s, The Brother and I were big into roller skating. (Don't judge!) The local skating rink was giving away an impossibly cool go-cart for Christmas. We had entered the contest at least 4 dozen times, so we were sure of certain victory. Well, one night, right before Christmas, the phone rings and it's the skating rink asking for my brother. I remember this scene so perfectly, it's crystal clear:

My mom: "It's the skating rink!!"

My brother, running as fast as the 6 Million Dollar Man, and grabbing the phone: "Hello! Hello!"

I stood there, picturing myself zipping around the neighborhood in the go-cart, only to hear a sad, defeated voice say "Oh, OK, thanks" and hang-up the phone.

"What did they say?" asked my mom.

"I won a stuffed Santa," said my brother, looking like the saddest boy on earth. I think my parents still have the Santa. It was about 3-feet tall and very nice. But not a go-cart.

There was the Christmas Eve when the husband and I, alone for the holiday, indulged in way too much holiday cheer of the liquid variety, and opened every single present. Christmas Day was not too exciting that year.

THE BEST

My all-time favorite Christmas gift from childhood is the Barbie motorhome. Remember that one, those of you who grew up in the 70s/80s? If not, go here for a quick look: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I1xU20Yg_7Q. It was a GMC knock-off and it was SWEET. I hope my kids get a gift that they will remember forever. Maybe this year is the year, as The Boy is getting a stylin' Big Wheel and The Girl is getting a unicorn castle. Yeah, don't ask.

A close second is the Sesame Street Clubhouse. It was all sorts of awesome and if I had saved it, I could make a small fortune selling it on eBay today. See above for a pic.

THE WORST

There was the Ziploc of liquid, left on my desk at work, with a note attached to it, explaining that it was Friendship Bread batter. Lovely.

Why is it that the people who really shouldn't bake are the ones who give baked goods as Christmas gifts?

One year, my grandparents gave me a homemade something. There is still much debate as to whether it was a clock, a large watch, or something else entirely. For the record, I had the world's best Grandma and I still miss her.

THE MUSIC

Growing up, the only Christmas music my parents owned was "A Perry Como Christmas" or something like that. Whenever that cassette appeared each year, we knew it was officially Christmas. Thankfully, there are much better choices for Christmas music now. My favorite modern Christmas song is "Christmas in Hollis" by Run-D.M.C. This year, I discovered a couple of new favorites: "Peppermint Winter" by Owl City and "Silver Bells" exceptionally done by Relient K. Check 'em out!

To quote "Peppermint Winter" by Owl City "What's December without Christmas Eve?" Here's to magical Christmas memories, baked goods of the edible sort, and celebrating with the ones you love. "Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night."

Holiday Party Recap

Believe it or not, the Husband and I had a fabulous time at his company CHRISTMAS party. I mean, such a good time that I was still feeling a little like I'd had too much of a good time on Sunday. TWO days later. That could also be because I'm old, but we'll go with it.

So, you read it here first: Company Christmas parties can actually be fun! And the food was awesome, plentiful and fully cooked. And, to top it all off, they had a karaoke machine. Nothing screams "I'm an inebriated idiot" like a karaoke machine at a company party. And no, I did not partake. And neither did the Husband. But, if you know him, you already knew that. For the record, we did dance like fools to "Footloose," but really, how can you judge us for that?

Aside from spinning "Footloose" the DJ pretty much sucked. I felt like I was trapped in an early 90s, Top 40 hip-hop bar, as the worst music from that era ("Tootsie Roll," "Rumpshaker" and "Baby Got Back") seemed to dominate the evening. And no Michael Jackson! Really? Yes. Oh, but wait, we did hear a woman decimate "Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough" on the karaoke machine. Hilarious.

The desserts were perhaps the best part of the evening, and I'm really not a huge dessert eater. But, chocolate covered cheesecake on a stick must be sampled, yes? And fortune cookies dipped in fudge are a definite must, too. Even my fortune was awesome, too bad I can't remember it!

I'll end with two of my favorite words: Free beer. And not just crappy keg beer, but fancy, expensive bottled beer. God Bless the Husband's company!

Cheers!

I Love this Christmassy Time of Year!

Whoa, when did December get here?! It MUST be December, as the kids are full of extra energy, the newspaper is so full of ads that I actually have to hunt for the content, and there seems to be a Christmas show on TV every night, delaying bedtime for the under 4-foot crowd.

Oh, and another thing about December, hiring is out of the question, as everyone is on vacation. So, while I continue to look for a job, I'm OK with knowing that I won't be getting a job this month. And why is that? Because "I love this Chistmassy time of year!"

I love Christmas, especially the traditions and non-stop activities. What should we do today? Build a gingerbread house? Decorate the tree? Hang the lights? Wrap presents? Bake holiday cookies? Address Christmas cards? The possibilities are endless!

Oh, and let's not forget my favorite pastime: The holiday work party! We'll be attending the Husband's party this year and I'm actually looking forward to it. Why? Because his new company knows how to party in style. No menu restrictions and 3-hour food delays at this party! Open bar! Fancy venue! Discounted hotel room at a fabulous downtown hotel! What's not to love? We are going to have a rip-roaring good time. What defines a rip-roaring good time? Well, it's somewhere between a few drinks and peeing in the elevator. And yes, someone at my old, old job actually peed in the elevator at a holiday party, so I now use that as a parameter when deciding how much alcohol to consume.

The holidays are particularly enjoyable without having to schedule time off, argue about whose turn it is to take off the week of Christmas, and worry about signing all of those ridiculous cards for vendors. And yes, I hope certain people at the Prison get reindeer poop and stale popcorn balls for Christmas. I also hope they get fruit cakes soaked in curry from Bombay.

Don't be surprised if I suddenly announce "I'm going to be a dentist" after my 400th viewing of Rudolph. My favorite part of Rudolph is when Hermey and Rudolph sing "We're a Couple of Misfits." The line "You can't fire me, I quit!" is always sung extra loud, with feeling, by me. I suspect it will always hold a special place in my heart.

Here's to happy holidays, spiked egg nog, Christmas cheer and truly enjoying the season. XOXXO

It's About the Haves, Not the Have Nots

Gobble, gobble!

Thanksgiving is the official kick-off of the holiday madness. For us sane people, it's a little difficult to steer clear of the doorbusters and early bird specials. However, I like my sleep, so getting up at 3 a.m. to go shopping does not really sound that appealing. Plus, believe it or not, I'm done shopping! Woot-woot!

So, today is a day to be thankful and appreciate all of the good things in life. I am very thankful for all that I have and even though this year has been a career bust, I still have plenty to be thankful for.

I'm especially thankful for the following things:

• I've only had to utter the phrase "Don't lick your sister" once.
• I get to eat deep fried turkey with people I love and cherish.
• I have a #1 fan who keeps me blogging! (That's you, Murph!)
• I get to see the Detroit Lions on TV for the first time this season. (Will most likely turn out to be a bad thing, but for now, I'm excited.)
• My husband is awesome and started our day out right with Starbucks and donuts.
• My kids will celebrate Thanksgiving with their best friends, O and C. (Bring on the Jello Jigglers!)
• I know to cook the green beans prior to making the green bean casserole. (That's a shout out to you, Lyons!)
• I won't be tripping over the dog, enroute to the table, with the turkey in hand. Yes, that actually happened when I was a kid. It won't happen today because the only pet in this house is a fish named Mimi!
• Mike is an honored guest at today's feast. I believe there are already 12 of the pomegranate variety chilling in the cooler. Is it too early to have one? What the hell, it's a holiday!
• I'm especially thankful that my parents live down the street and get to join us on holidays. Plus, my mom makes a mean apple pie!
• Our Thanksgiving eve tradition is to watch Planes, Trains and Automobiles. "You're going the wrong way!" "How would they know where we're going?"
• And, I'm especially thankful that I met the Husband for the very first time on Thanksgiving in 1998. We've been on a non-stop, fun-filled adventure ever since!

Happy Thanksgiving to all and remember that turkey isn't good medium rare and holidays are best when celebrated with the people you love. Bon Appétit!

So, What's Your Plan?

These days, I sure get asked the dreaded "what's your plan" question a lot. I'm not exactly sure how to answer that. I've kind of explored every option in the last year. I've sent out hundreds of resumes and networked with a zillion people. And here I am. Still sitting here. Still not working. And let me be the first to say that I'm really tired of looking for a job. It's exhausting. It's demanding. It's disappointing. It's just like a real job, only there's no paycheck for my efforts.

But there is no giving up, it's just not me. Plus, there are some pretty lofty goals on the board for 2011. And I keep thinking of a quote from my all-time favorite movie, The Silence of the Lambs: "All good things to those who wait." Granted, I shouldn't be taking life advice from Hannibal Lector, but it kind of fits, right?

Eventually, something will pan out; it just has to. In the meantime, it seems like I've encountered every flake in the business world and have endured disappointment after disappointment. Luckily, I see the big picture and I know that life is good and I'm very lucky.

While I'm waiting for something to pan out, I've been doing all sorts of things I couldn't do when I had a full-time job, like Christmas shopping in the middle of the day on a Tuesday and volunteering as a kindergarten room mom. It was kind of heartbreaking for me when one of the kindergarten boys said "What's your real job?" You're looking at it, kid! My new job is helping 5-year-olds tie their shoes and lifting the short kids (mine included) up to the monkey bars at recess.

Later this week, it will be the 1-year anniversary of the "phone call" and the day I first learned about India. I'm not sure how I'll celebrate on Thursday, but I can guarantee I won't be going to the Star of India for lunch. Funny how a lot of the people I know hate India a little bit more now than they did before the India Project. Case in point, my dad telling the Indian customer service rep to "put someone on the phone who speaks English!" My dad rocks. Or the Husband telling the credit card customer service rep to cancel his card. When the guy in India asked why, the Husband said "Because you're in freaking India." Love the Husband.

Also coming up in the near future is the expiration of my confidentiality agreement with Prison Media. I had to give them one year of silence. Come December 11, I'm officially free. Forever.

One more thing that will be easier this year: Finding the perfect turkey! I won't be digging through the bin of frozen turkeys, after work, with the rest of the working stiffs, searching for the elusive 16-pound turkey. No, I can go to the store on a weekday morning and casually select my bird. In fact, I think I'll do that tomorrow. Gobble, gobble!

It All Starts Here.

In case anyone was wondering, I've always hated corporate America. By always, I mean the majority of my 37 years. What kind of kid hates corporate America? Simple. One whose father gets transferred all over the country and makes her childhood a blur of moving vans, for sale signs, new schools and new friends. I vowed pretty early on that I would never work in corporate America. Alas, my dream finally came true late last year!

I won't turn Kate Off the Clock into Kate's Memoirs, but I will give the nutshell version. By the time I was 13, I'd lived in 6 states. And my family didn't make simple moves, like L.A. to San Diego or Detroit to Chicago. No, we made cross country treks. Multiple times. As a kid, the most dreaded question anyone could ask me was "Where are you from?" What 9-year-old kid answers a question like that with "All over, really." That answer immediately implied my parents were carnival workers, right?

When I was 7, my family moved to Alabama a few days before the start of the school year. On the day before my first day of school, my brother accidentally stabbed me in the arm with a utility knife. Supposedly it was an accident. Thirty years later and I'm still not so sure. Neither is my scar. Anyway, I had to go to the hospital and I was given a tetanus shot. Well, surprise, a tetanus shot in the ass when you're 7 is really not so fun. It hurt like hell and it totally affected my ability to walk. On the first day of school. IN A NEW STATE!

I limped into the school, a rickety old Catholic school that must have been built pre-Civil War, and was promptly introduced to the worst second grade teacher in the history of school: Ms. Pitts. I swear on my kids lives, that was her name.

She was this skinny, oily, short woman with a haircut like Julie Andrews in Victor/Victoria. She was dressed in an ill-fitting pants suit with flats. And the southern drawl was straight out of Deliverance. And I'm pretty sure I was smarter than her. At age 7. I remember the day like it happened last week and it was 30 freaking years ago! That's how traumatic the experience was. And to top it all off, I was all alone at the new school, as my brother had been sent to a different school due to the 4th grade being full because of a post-Vietnam baby boom. I dunno, that's just what I heard with my 7-year-old ears. Plus, the Brother had just stabbed me, so I don't know if I would have been thrilled to see him anyway.

As luck would have it, the cafeteria was in the basement of this God-awful school. Basement=stairs. Stairs=pain and embarrassment for my sore, aching body. I think everyone thought I was handicapped after catching a glimpse of me negotiating the stairs. I can't remember who was nice enough to sit with me at lunch, but I'm sure someone must have been, because I don't remember sitting all alone. Growing up, my recurring dream the night before the first day at a new school was this: It's lunchtime, I'm all alone and every time I attempt to sit down at a table, I get pushed out or told to go away. This was a legitimate fear, but thank God, it never actually became reality.

I don't doubt that I came home in tears after a full day with Ms. Pitts. I swear she wasn't speaking English and the throbbing in my butt made it impossible for me to focus anyway. To top it all off, my family had moved to Alabama from San Francisco, so the immediate rumor on the street was that my parents were swingers. Really? Yes. Most people in Alabama only knew California from the movies, so imagine their concern when a family from over yonder moved in.

What's the point? I swear I had one. Oh yes, the point is that these experiences from my youth are what fueled my lifelong hatred of corporate America. If it wasn't for my dad's corporate job, I could go to the same school every year, grow up with the same friends, have a place to be "from." I know it sounds a little dramatic, but it all made sense when I was 7.

When I was 13, my dad told corporate America to shove it, moved our family to Michigan and embarked on a self-employed adventure. I always say I'm from Michigan, as I lived there all through junior high and high school, and until recently, it was the state I'd lived in the longest.

I'll end with this story: At the same school in Alabama, during a social studies lesson on seasonal farming and migrant workers, a classmate raised his hand and asked the teacher "Is Kate's dad a migrant worker?"

What Happens in Vegas?

The Husband and I just returned from a trip to Vegas to celebrate our 10-year anniversary. (Yes, he's been putting up with me for a very long time!) Everyone knows the old "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" slogan. After visiting Vegas, I feel a strong urge to share some of the things that did, indeed, happen in Vegas. Also, it's always good to shed some light on popular myths, like the myth that there are free things in Vegas. There are not. In fact, things that appear free actually have a hefty price tag.

For starters, the myth of free drinks while gambling. If I have to spend $20 playing roulette to get a free drink, is it really free? Not so much. Every single aspect of the Vegas experience has been carefully planned by a financial genius. When I say you pay for everything, I mean everything. Consider the average hotel stay at a Holiday Inn Express, which typically includes free wireless internet, free computer use in the lobby, free breakfast, free use of a gym, coffee pot in the room and maybe a microwave and mini 'fridge too. Now, let's take a look at the same items at Bally's:

• Internet: $13.99 per 24 hours
• Computer in the lobby: $.25 per minute
• Coffee: $10 for a pot with 6 cups with a 30-minute wait time or a $3 cup of coffee in the lobby. By the slot machines. Coincidence?
• Use of gym: $22 for 24 hours

Now granted, you don't get the Vegas experience at a Holiday Inn Express in Omaha. So, if you don't actually go to Vegas, you don't get to learn these very important life lessons:

• If you look friendly and smile at old people, you'll end up with a digital camera in your face, hearing their life story through pictures. We actually met a woman with a dog named Keno. And she showed us at least 2 dozen pictures of her pets, her house, and her husband, whom she affectionately referred to as "Daddy."
• Just because you can see a sign or a building in the distance, doesn't mean it's close. For example, that pyramid down the street is actually 3 miles, not 3 BLOCKS, away.
• If you ever have to walk under a freeway overpass, be prepared to be knocked over by the stench of urine. And don't make eye contact with the people living in cardboard boxes at the top of the overpass.
• And if you're wondering why I know these things, please see bullet item #2. The In-N-Burger sign looked close, but you know... And yes, I would trek across the desert (or under a urine-soaked overpass) for my first Double-Double in 6 years.
• When crossing back over aforementioned overpass, if it looks like a hooker, it most definitely is a hooker.
• If anyone approaches you in a hotel and offers an insane amount of free stuff, tell them NO, you don't want to own a timeshare.
• When your husband looks he's about to plop his face in a plate of nachos, it's time to go home.
• An all-day food pass actually exists! $39.99 for all you can eat in 24 hours! Can anyone think of a better way to spend $40?!
• Hand sanitizer is a must. Even the Husband was eagerly using it by the end of the first day. Of course, I kept giving him one word prompts after touching escalator hand rails and cab doors, like "Hepatitis! Crabs! Scabies! Herpes!"
• I actually saw someone wearing a T-Shirt that said "I swear to Drunk I'm not God!" And no, I'm not dyslexic.
• Cross walks were invented for a reason.
• It takes 1 ambulance, 3 fire engines, and 4 policemen on bikes to tend to a drunk homeless man on the street corner. Hate to see what they bring out for a drunk high-roller who falls down on the street.

So there you have it, Vegas in a nutshell. Did we have fun? Hell yes! And did we stick to our promise to not discuss work, lack of work, Prison Media, India and what I'm going to do with my life? Absolutely. But, now that I'm back, it's game on! (And I don't mean that in a sports book sort of way...)

Lose Yourself

Eminem was on 60 Minutes tonight. It's a well known secret that I love him. I love all things Michigan, actually. Here's a shout out to TC and all of my MI peeps! See you next summer!

While I do agree that Eminem is rude and crude and his language would make a truck driver blush, I find him inspiring. Do I let my kids listen to him? Of course not. Duh. But, when I'm in the car alone, I love to blast his music. And I do have a few favorites.

My favorite Eminem song is the obvious "Lose Yourself." The opening words are a constant reminder to keep reaching for the impossible and following my biggest dream.

Look, if you had one shot, one opportunity

To seize everything you ever wanted in one moment

Would you capture it or just let it slip?

It's also a great reminder to see my current situation for what it is: An opportunity. And am I going to capture it? You better believe it.

My other favorite songs aren't really blog friendly, but I definitely love "Business" and "Sing For the Moment" from the Eminem Show and "I'm Not Afraid" is a new fave.

Another Michigan person I love is Mitch Albom. Mitch wrote an awesome column about Eminem a few years ago. The column was so awesome that I sent Mitch an email and told him I loved it. And this is why I love Mitch: HE WROTE ME BACK! I still have the email. It used to hang on my office wall. Now it hangs on my home office wall. Unfortunately, I can't find the column online, so I can't post a link.

In other Michigan news, the Lions won today, their first win of the season. And yesterday, Michigan State gave Michigan an old-fashioned butt-kicking. Overall, a great weekend for the great state of Michigan!

The Ultimate Corporate Trap

I have 10 corporate theories. I've covered a few of them so far, but the majority of them are still to come, as I'm developing the theories into actual blog posts. Of course, my favorite theory is The Promotion of Stupidity (http://kate-offtheclock.blogspot.com/2010/06/promotion-of-stupidity.html). A close second is The Ultimate Corporate Trap.

This theory could also be called the Paycheck Theory. Generally, in corporate America, one can count on a small raise each year, sometimes referred to as a cost of living raise. There are a couple of exceptions to this, of course. For example, Prison Media hasn't given raises to the little people in half a decade. Yes, it's true, even pre-Great Recession, the purse strings were bolted shut at the Prison. They called it a "temporary salary freeze" but I think it's about time to define the word "temporary" in this context. 'Cause temporary suddenly looks like forever.

But anyway, the theory is pretty basic. The corporation starts paying you enough to keep you there, but not enough to keep you happy. While it's true that money doesn't buy happiness, a big paycheck sure makes it a heck of a lot easier to "don't worry, be happy."

You start making enough money that if you left to pursue another job opportunity or a different career path, you'd most likely be facing a pay cut since you have a couple of years of seniority at your current job. This could also be a less is more theory. Example: Two years of less becomes more.

Then, there is also the fear of job loss, which is even more relevant in this crappy economy. What if you leave a job for a new job only to be laid off from the new job? If you had stayed at the old job, would you still be employed? These are real scenarios that I often ran through my head and I'm sure others do too.

It's no secret that the corporate landscape has changed forever during this economic downturn. And as a result of that, the employers have the upper hand and probably will for a very long time. Case in point: The number of jobs I see that want a college degree, experience and pay an astronomical $10/hour. It's absurd. But, it's also the new reality.

My new reality is pretty clear: I'm extremely blessed and lucky. I'm no longer trapped in a corporate job and my life is my own. And I have to keep reminding myself that I hated my job. It ruled my life and made me miserable. Someday, I might be able to thank Prison Media for doing me a favor. Just not quite yet!

Vomit Monster

Now that my kindergartener arrives home daily with stories of vomit, I've started to think about my favorite barf stories. Some of them aren't quite fit to be printed here (Mardi Gras, anyone?), but one of them most definitely is.

Back at the book publisher in the late 90s...

There was a temp named Paul who worked in the production department. Nice enough guy. Somewhat non-descript is how I would best describe him. He was maybe in his mid-30s, quiet, buttoned up. He sat in a cube around the corner from my cube. My cube was always very noisy: lots of people stopping by, music playing, the phone ringing, etc. Typically, if there was a ruckus, it was coming from my cube. Except for this one day.

All of the sudden, loud, like sonic-boom loud, dry heaving noises filled the air. It was so loud, that Jane, who was around the other corner from me, called me and said "What the hell are you doing over there?" Funny how she immediately thought it was me!

Turns out it was Paul and he was vomiting loud enough for the entire company to hear. In the trash can. In his cube. And he had apparently never thrown up before, as in between bucketfuls of vomit, he was yelling for someone to call 911 because he was convinced he was dying. And we all just stood there, kind of frozen, like kids playing the statue game. I mean really, who was going to go help a grown-up man blow chunks into the trash can? What could we do, put a cold washcloth on his head and give him sips of water? Our fearless leader finally stepped in and led him out the door, to her car, where she promptly drove him to the hospital. (He was fine, of course. Mild case of stomach flu.)

The rest of the time that poor, pukey Paul temped at the office, we all very politely referred to him as the Vomit Monster. It didn't take him long to request a new assignment from the temp agency. And it didn't take long for his story to become legend. I haven't seen most of my former coworkers in almost 12 years. But, I guarantee that all of them would be able to finish the story if I started with "Remember that time when Paul threw up at work?"

"Fear can hold you prisoner. Hope can set you free."

Sooooo, after that last post about finally feeling better, would anyone believe that I actually got sicker? Yep, it's true. A chest X-Ray revealed pneumonia, so I went back on an antibiotic and spent many days on the couch. While on the couch, I decided to put my down time to good use and I read a couple of really great books.

The first one is "Rebound: A Proven Plan for Starting Over After Job Loss."

Let me just say that the opening chapter of this book spoke to me. It's almost like the author peeked into my brain and stole my thoughts. And it made me realize something important: Job loss is very difficult on your psyche. I don't care who you are or what you do for a living, having it all disappear at the snap of a finger is a difficult roadblock to get past. It's been 10 months and I'm still struggling with my failure to bring home a steady paycheck. Granted, I'm harder on myself that the average person, but it's still feels like I'm not contributing to our household and that is tough to deal with. As Chapter 1 so effectively points out, a crisis in self-worth comes along with a layoff. This is something that can't be fully understood until it happens to you. Trust me. (The rest of the book is good too, I highly recommend it.)

The second book, "Accidental Genius: Using Writing to Generate Your Best Ideas, Insight, and Content" spoke to me in an entirely different way. It gave me hope that I can write my way to a better future. I need hope right now because I'm feeling especially discouraged. I continue to struggle with knowing that I did everything right in my career, and yet I still ended up here: Unemployed. Eventually, I'm going to refer to myself as self-employed, as I it has a much better ring to it, yes?

The Husband's favorite movie is "The Shawshank Redemption." We have a giant, official movie poster of it hanging in our upstairs hallway. The slogan on it says "Fear can hold you prisoner. Hope can set you free." I need to start living by those words. Maybe it's true that the only thing holding me back is me. I've been given this incredible opportunity, really. What I do with it is solely up to me. So, I guess that's where I am right now. I'm trying to figure out my next great move; my next step up on the career ladder. Because I'm only going up from here. I'm completely open to ideas, so if you have any, please send 'em my way.

As always, thanks for reading. It really does mean a lot to me and keeps me inspired to keep writing.

Sick Times

Well, it's been a long couple of weeks over here, which has resulted in me neglecting my blog. But, the storm has passed, so I'm back. Ironically, Kate has been ON the clock a lot lately, which is a good thing, as the clock is now set to my own time. And I alone reap the rewards of being on the clock.

I think I've established through older posts that there are certain things that I miss about my old, crappy job: paycheck, coworkers, lunch plans and having adults to talk to on a regular basis.

Well, after the last two weeks, I'm now adding a new item to that list: SICK DAYS.

While freelancing is fabulous and a great fit for me, I definitely miss being able to call in sick when I am, in fact, sick. Just like there's no crying in baseball, there are no sick days when freelancing. As luck would have it, I caught a cold from the germy kindergarten class that quickly morphed into near pneumonia. Normally, this wouldn't be that big of a deal. But it just so happens that the timing was about as horrendous as getting the stomach flu on the subway.

Why was the timing so awful? After months and months of looking for freelance work, I managed to pull in 3 months worth of work in 2 weeks. So, it's been chaos for the last 2 weeks, as I haven't had time to do anything but sleep and work and cough and sneeze. Now, I love to work and I find deadlines to be a complete rush. When I'm healthy. Totally different story when I feel like a semi-truck is parked on my chest. For the first time since last year, I actually missed something that my old job offered. And looking back, I didn't fully utilize my sick days. If you have sick days, stop and think about whether or not you're getting the most out of that benefit. And if you aren't, change that, pronto!

In 15 years in the work force, I can only think of a few times that I called in sick when I wasn't actually sick. One time, I called in sick from another state, as I was just having too much fun to drive the 6 hours back home. Another time, I called in sick to watch a 90210 Marathon. And the morning after the 1998 Seinfeld finale party, I definitely called in hungover, which is a form of sick, I suppose. And I think that's it as far as abusing the sick days. Looking back, what the hell was I thinking? Sick days are use 'em or lose 'em and I so should have been using 'em!

The Husband has several very funny stories about calling in sick. He worked as a recruiter for a staffing agency for many years, so one can imagine what he encountered. He still laughs about the woman who came in to apply for a job wearing a shirt that said "I used up all my sick days so I called in dead to work." True story. Another true story is the guy who called in sick from a local strip club. Gotta love caller ID!

What's that saying, "All is well that ends well"? I guess it's true. I'm finally feeling better and 90% of my work is done and billed. Next month will be awesome when all of the checks start showing up in my mailbox. And for the record, one of the jobs I landed was the direct result of having my resume on a jobs web site. Seriously, that really works? Apparently, yes.

God bless antibiotics. Good night.

Groceries Galore

Disclaimer: This post doesn't really relate to corporate America, but it's too funny to not share.

So, this weekend has been jammed packed full of parties, sporting events, out of town company and freelance work and by 3 p.m. today, I was pretty spent. I was trying to catch a few winks on the couch and asked The Husband to wake me in 15 minutes so I could go to the grocery store. That's when he made this blog-worthy statement: "If you have a list, I'll go to the store."

Now, it must first be stated that I am a grocery shopping fanatic. I organize my list in the same way the store is organized, so there isn't any backtracking, which makes for a very efficient shopping trip. I'm a coupon lunatic and all of the cashiers at the store know me and my coupons. I also look at every item on my receipt and go back for a refund if I find discrepancies. And truth be told, the first morning the kids were both at school at the same time, I went...grocery shopping! Alone! I guess I know how starved for adult conversation I am when talking to the King Soopers employees is the highlight of my day. Seriously.

One can imagine my dilemma. On the one hand, I was exhausted and I was dreading going to the store. On the other hand, I could just picture The Husband, wandering around, lost, confused, and just out of his element. I mean really, the husbands are so easy to pick out at the store!

I finally agreed, but only after he announced "I'll take The Girl with me, she knows where everything is!"

I reworked the list and added *VERY* specific notes to each item, like "check the date" next to pitas and "in the produce section" next to lemon juice. I even agreed to forgo the coupons on this trip. And off they went.

As soon as they were out the door, I noticed The Husband's cell phone on the counter and knew that was going to be a problem. Sure enough, after laying down for all of 10 minutes, the phone rings and the very ominous "King Soopers" shows up on the caller ID. Hmmm...

Me: "What's wrong?"

Him: "I'm at the courtesy counter and I have questions!"

Me: "OK, what's up?"

Him: "What does 2 cans of Campbell's nacho cheese soup mean?"

Me: "Really, you're asking me that? It means BUY 2 cans of Campbell's nacho cheese soup."

Him: "They don't sell that."

Me: "Yes, they do. Soup aisle, right side, top of the shelf."

Him: "Well, I couldn't find it. But I'll look again. Now, what kind of pull-ups should I buy? I have two different packages up here. One has a boy on it and one has a girl on it and how much does The Boy weigh?"

Me: "Huggies Over-Night Pull-Ups. Size 3T-4T, with a boy on the package, since they're for our SON to wear at NIGHT." (This was all on the note, of course.)

Him: "They don't have those."

Me: "Yes, they do. Go back and look." (I'm starting to wonder why the grocery store has suddenly stopped carrying the items I've been buying weekly for years!)

Him: "OK, bye!"

About 15 minutes later, my two shoppers arrive back at home. I start unpacking the bags and notice the following:

1. The pull-ups aren't the over night ones.
2. The pitas have an expiration date of tomorrow.
3. There is a stuffed giraffe in one of the bags. (! I KNOW that wasn't on the list!)
4. The Girl is now hiding a stuffed lion in her arms. (Again, !)
5. Donuts! (I'm OK with that one.)

Then, before I can say anything about what I've discovered, The Girl announces "Daddy dropped a jar of salsa at the check out and it broke!"

And then The Husband says "Well, they gave me another one for free!"

Suddenly I'm picturing "Mr. Mom" and I can hear that annoying grocery store woman yelling "Irv, clean-up at the check-out!"

I started inquiring about the above items and The Husband says "If you're going to scrutinize every single thing, I'm never going to the store again."

I don't really think that questioning the need for stuffed zoo animals qualifies as scrutinizing, but whatever.

In the end, The Husband left to get me a Starbucks so all is well in the universe again. But, I'm pretty sure that he'll never be allowed to grocery shop again. Unless I'm out of town. Or sick.

I have to make a couple of returns tomorrow, so I'll be sure to tell Cheryl at the service desk all about our shopping adventure. And I know she'll laugh!

Dress Code

Now that the Girl is in kindergarten, we're learning to abide by the school dress code. For me, it's fabulous, no arguing in the morning, not too many choices, plain and simple. For my precocious 5-year-old, not so much. The dress code officially ushered out the pink era and she's not so pleased about that.

The dress code concept got me thinking about the deterioration of the work place dress code. Now, I'm no fashion plate, which is an obvious statement for me to make. But, while I might not abide by the latest fashion trends, my clothes are always neat, clean and ironed. Exception to that statement is when my kids were babies and I occasionally showed up at work with spit up on me, which, SURPRISE, I didn't know was there.

When I worked at the Midwestern book publisher, there was no dress code at all. There wasn't even a common sense dress code, which resulted in people showing up to work in sweatpants, flannel pajama pants, old T-shirts and my personal favorite: cut-off sweatpants. Back at Prison Media, we had the tramp offenders who showed up to the office looking like they were ready for their pole dancing shift. Numerous emails went out about appropriate work attire, yet the ho-bags at fault never seemed to catch on. (Another corporate America pet peeve is the mass email about a few people causing a problem. Why not just go directly to the people at fault and leave the rest of us out of it? Too logical, I suppose.)

I recently received an email from a former coworker, let's call him Mr. Michigan, complaining about men in sandals. Here's an excerpt:

I'm all for comfortable, casual dress at work, especially during the summer, but I think men wearing open-toed shoes at work (sandals, flip-flops, and variations thereof) is just gross. Not that I care, but women pay attention to their feet and generally make sure that they're at least presentable to look at. Men do not. I really don't want to see hairy toe knuckles and overgrown, yellowing toe nails.

He does make some good points, yes? Even though I'm very casual and doing my best to keep Levi & Strauss in business, I'm all for a business casual work environment. How you look is a direct reflection of how you are perceived. How is the guy in cut-off sweatpants and an old T-shirt perceived? Picture it and decide on your own.

Now, in my new career as a freelancer, I'm constantly rocking the shorts and T-shirt. But today, I have an actual interview and client meeting, so I'm dressed in my business casual duds, ready to impress. And I have to admit, it felt really good to iron my pants this morning and get dressed for success. Am I ready to do it every day? Heck no! But once in awhile, it's definitely nice to get dressed up, leave the house and feel like part of the work force again.

I'm sure when I get home tonight, I'll follow the Girl's rules and immediately change my clothes. I think my Colts T-shirt is calling for me right now...

Teachers vs. Corporate America

Well, now that I'm a MOAK™ (Mom of a Kindergartner), I think I've found a worse place to work than Corporate America.

First of all, this is a shout out to all of my teacher friends. Teachers are a special breed and I applaud them. Loudly.

I've decided that being a teacher is worse than Corporate America for several reasons:

1. Not only do you have to teach, guide and mentor students, you have to do the same to their parents.
2. There are more politics in schools than the average workplace.
3. Germs. Vomit. And that sawdust-like stuff the janitor puts on the vomit.
4. Unlike a regular job, you can't leave the premises for lunch. (Remember, lunch is a big deal in corporate America! See http://kate-offtheclock.blogspot.com/2010/06/great-lunch-dilemma.html for a refresher.)
5. Balancing students, parents, fellow teachers and administrators is quite a juggling act. Plus, a teacher must be very tactful and patient, so that automatically rules out that profession for me.

Plus, it seems like teachers are always involved in very public salary disputes. Unlike Corporate America, where you don't get much of a say when it comes to salary. You get a pay cut. And that's the end of it. It doesn't become front page news like teachers' salaries seem to.

And then there is the issue of discipling kids and parents who don't like their kids being disciplined. (Isn't that an oxymoron?) I spent 3 hours in the Pre-K classroom last year and I was ready to smack some of those bratty kids into the next millennium.

I'm not saying I'd take a job in Corporate America over a job at a school. Those who really know me know that a P.E. teacher is pretty much my dream job! Yes, I'm serious. But, what I am starting to realize during this job searching journey is that there really isn't a perfect job. Although, blogging about it comes pretty close. Now, if I could just find a way to make this job pay...

It's Movie Night!

Well, 8 months later and I'm still looking for a job. I'm really starting to detest the dreaded "What do you want to do?" question. Eventually, I'm going to have to answer it like this:

I don't want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that.

Big bonus points to anyone (other than Lance) who can name that movie.

I recently watched two of my all-time favorite movies from different eras. The first is St. Elmo's Fire (judge not!) and the second is Reality Bites. Both movies deal with groups of friends right after college graduation, the first in the '80s and the second in the '90s. The differences are astounding, yet the underlying theme, I think, is the same. Obviously, I identify more with Reality Bites, as it came out a year before I graduated from BSU, but St. Elmo's Fire is definitely a classic. And it's celebrating its 25th anniversary this year. EW covered it here: http://www.ew.com/ew/article/0,,20406218,00.html

Anyway, the point is that when you graduate from college, you have gigantic dreams for your career, your future, your life. And then one day, you stop and observe and nothing is turning out like you thought it would. And realizing that's OK is probably the precise moment you actually grow up. Well, I'm finding the same logic to be true with the India Project. Sure, this isn't where I saw the career path going. But I'm venturing down a new path now and trying to figure out where I'll end up. Of course, until I reach my new destination, I seem to be taking every detour to nowhereville. (Yes, I made up a word.)

While I'm fairly certain that I'll never work in corporate America again, I'm not ruling anything out anymore. I see a correlation between never saying never and this quote from St. Elmo's Fire:

"I always thought we'd be friends forever."

"Well, forever suddenly got a lot shorter."

And remember what Winona Ryder's Lelaina said right before landing a job in Reality Bites:

"I was this close to selling fruit at intersections!"

Well, I'm not close to opening a lemonade stand on the cul-de-sac yet, so I think I'm in good shape over here!

Bringing Back the Fun!

I'm bringing back the fun. Case closed, time to move on.

I often think about how unprepared I was for a corporate job as a 22-year-old recent college grad. I'd had jobs since I was 14, but working part time as a teenager doesn't really translate to the corporate world. I took a 400-level Interviewing class my senior year, which I found to be valuable and applicable to the corporate world. That got me thinking: Wouldn't it be great if colleges offered an introduction to corporate America? The course might look something like this:

Corporate America 101: Introduction to a Corporate Environment and Dysfunctional Workplace

Required Reading:

"White Collar Sweatshop"

"A Working Girl Can't Win"

"Then We Came to the End"

Required Viewing:

"Office Space"

"Clockwatchers"

Weekly Discussions:

Week 1: Playing nicely with idiot coworkers

Week 2: Why being stupid will help you get ahead

Week 3: Email 101

Week 4: Don't dip your pen in the company ink (or never, EVER date your coworkers)

Week 5: Getting the most from your benefits

Week 6: Writing the ultimate resignation letter

Week 7: What to do when your boss is a jackass

Week 8: Dealing with drama in the workplace

Week 9: Thinking like an HR person

Week 10: How to attend long meetings about nothing and come out smiling

Week 11: Knowing when it's time to move on

Week 12: Deciphering the difference between office gossip and the truth

I so would have signed up for a class like this and I would have been all the wiser upon entering corporate America in 1995.

On a separate note: Does anyone have any good movie suggestions when it comes to corporate America? I still need to see "Up In the Air," I hear it's awesome.

Cheers. Seriously.

Isn't it Ironic?

When I sit down and really think about what irks me the most about losing my job, I always come back to the same thing: I got played. Plain and simple. No other way to state the facts. No alternate route from A to B. And that simple fact grinds on my nerves more than anything else in my life. I keep looking back, wondering what clues I missed, what hints I didn't pick up on and what I could have done differently. Did I miss something completely obvious, like a "Road Closed" sign right before I drive off of a cliff? Or a "No Swimming" sign on a beach right before I'm devoured by a shark? These are the things I ponder late at night, when it's just me and my MacBook.

I suppose I'm the ultimate irony. I detest corporate America. And that's never been a secret. I like to have the last word. Again, not a secret. And if anyone was ever going to stick it Prison Media, it was going to be me. Once again, not exactly a news flash.

Until they beat me to it. To quote the song "It's the good advice that you just didn't take." I mean, right? I gave so many others advice on how to escape from corporate America, yet there I still was, working like one of Santa's elves right before Christmas. And it just kills me that I couldn't see how ironic I was being. I took pride in being the poster child for productivity, and yet, behind my back, out of ear shot, the plot was being hatched. It wouldn't have mattered what kind of insanity I pulled off, what impossible deadlines I met, how well I performed my ridiculous job duties. My job was going to India. Period.

One of my greatest faults is not being able to move on from injustices. I suppose that's why my best friend calls me "Kate I Can Hold a Grudge Forever." She is so right. I readily admit it. Ten years from now I'll probably still be wishing that a dump truck of karma shows up in Boss's driveway. Hell, that's too nice. My wish for Boss is so vile and inhumane, that I can't post it here because my Mom reads my blog. Just think of that urban legend about the zoo keeper who gives a constipated elephant an enema and ends up being in the wrong place at the wrong time and suffocates in a mountain of elephant feces. It's like that. But much worse.

In other news, I'm pretty sure I found a new job. I'll know more next week, but it's looking fairly promising. [Applause.]

Sweetness

I'm 7 months removed from the India Project. And while I obviously don't miss working at Prison Media, I definitely miss working. I believe we've covered this topic before, but I was riding in the elevator up to the pediatric dentist office today and I started to think about what I miss about working, besides my paycheck.

(For the record, the boy fell off a step stool while peeing and smashed his face on the toilet, knocking a tooth loose. And he peed all over his shoes in the process. And this was before I had to dig a Lego out of his nose with tweezers. And people wonder why I miss working!)

The elevator made me laugh because once my coworker Sweetness got in the elevator and the doors closed. She forgot to push the button and she was just standing there, wondering if the elevator was broken and if she was going to need to call 911. Then, someone else walked up to the elevator and pushed the up button and the doors opened and there was Sweetness, just standing there. I laugh about it every time I ride in an elevator, as it's just plain funny.

Sweetness is the same coworker who was walking in front of me, down a flight of stairs, carrying a bowl of homemade salsa to a company potluck. Well, she somehow lost her balance and fell down the stairs and managed to not spill the salsa. It was a true miracle, I tell you. And while it's really not all that polite to laugh at someone who falls down the stairs, the sight of her, on her back, holding that bowl of salsa above her head, still makes me laugh out loud. And yes, she was fine.

And perhaps the best Sweetness story is the time the CEO and COO were in town and our department was asked to help them with a PowerPoint presentation. Sweetness was a PP expert, so she was doing most of the work. When it was time to bring them a proof, she walked up to the CEO and called him the wrong name. He corrected her and she said, "Oh, sorry! I'm Kate, it's nice to meet you."

There's just something about the bond between coworkers that doesn't transfer to the real world. Those work friendships are a lot harder to maintain when someone leaves and others stay. There's always this unspoken distance. I have one former coworker who wants to keep in touch, yet she won't mention anything work related to me. It's like she has national security clearance and I'm not allowed to know what's going on. I mean really, this is Prison Media, not the Secret Service. On the bright side, I've joined a club of Prison Media cast-offs and that's way more fun than socializing with the inmates. (And to the editors that I love and always will, you so know I'm not talking about you. Bring on the margaritas at our favorite dive!)

The best part of this story is that I taught Sweetness everything she knows when she was my intern 9 years ago. And now, she's trying to hook me up with a job at her new company. If it works out, a celebration will be in order. And this time, I'll bring the salsa.

Human Stampede

One thing that always made me laugh in corporate America was the email announcing free food. It usually went something like this:

There are lunch leftovers in the break room. Help yourselves!

I'd receive an email like this, and then I'd stick my head out my door and watch the hungry people stampede by like a herd of wildebeests during the great migration. And I had to wonder: What the heck is so enticing about eating someone else's leftovers? Isn't that on the same level as dumpster diving?

Why would anyone run down the hall to devour cold pizza and warm sandwiches? I always thought of where that food had most likely been and the picture wasn't so appetizing. Odds are the leftovers had been sitting on a table in a conference room, uncovered, while dozens of people talked excitedly around it, spit and germs flying out of their mouths, landing on the food that others would later graciously, and unknowingly, consume. Yum-yum.

So, the next time the leftovers email circulates after a management meeting, picture your manager and then imagine eating his/her saliva. Then see how tempted you are to gallop down the hall for a slice of cardboard pizza.

The other food thing that always fascinated me was the "free" table in the break room. This was a table filled with stale candy, old canned goods and basically any worthless piece of junk one might find when cleaning out a long-ago vacated office. These items were all gathered together and placed on table with a handwritten note that said "Free."

The "free" table was especially interesting several months after a holiday. The leftover, stale Halloween candy usually showed up around January. And the old Christmas eats and treats usually appeared in late February. I suppose the really crazy thing is that these "free" things would eventually disappear and I'm sure it wasn't the trash can where they were ending up.

What's that saying, "One man's trash..."

Corporate Motivational Posters!

I wish I could take credit for writing this list. Instead, I'll take credit for compiling it!

Things We'd Like to See on Company Motivational Posters

The light at the end of the tunnel has been turned off due to budget cuts. (My personal favorite.)

Rome did not create a vast empire by having meetings. They did it by killing all those who opposed them.

Artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity.

If at first you don't succeed — try management!

If you do a good job and work hard, you may get a job with a better company someday.

It's only unethical if you get caught.

A person who smiles in the face of adversity probably has a scapegoat.

Doing a job RIGHT the first time gets the job done. Doing the job WRONG fourteen times gives you job security. (Addition by Kate: And pretty much guarantees you a promotion.)

Sure, you may not like working here, but we pay your rent.

If you think we're a bad firm, you should see our rivals! (We suck less!)

If you stay calm, while everyone around you is panicking, then you probably haven't completely understood the situation.

We make great money! We have great benefits! We do no work! We are union members!

Plagiarism saves time.

At least you're not being rectally probed by aliens.

Never put off until tomorrow what you can avoid altogether.

This can't go on forever, even the Third Reich only lasted 12 years.

TEAMWORK… means never having to take all the blame yourself.

And This Week's Theme Is...

Why do all company parties have to revolve around a theme? If we're having a summer party, why do we need a beach theme? Why do hula skirts and Gilligan look-a-like contests have to be part of the festivities? I remember entire theme *weeks* at one job, just like Homecoming week in high school. You know, hippie day, crazy hair day, pajama day, etc., etc. Am I supposed to like my coworkers more when we're dressed in slippers and bathrobes? Does the jerk down the hall become less of a jerk with purple hair?

Another favorite was the work bowling outing. Bowling is pretty fun, don't get me wrong. Especially when there's beer and pizza and missing work involved. What is not so fun, however, is being broken into teams and having to come up with a team name. And then having to coordinate outfits to match the team name. I call that Bowling on My Parade.

Once, when I was 24, I beat the CEO in a putting contest at a game-themed party. Something tells me they never held that contest again.

Games were a big deal at the book publisher. I remember an entire day being devoted to board games. Each office had a different game set up and we had to go around the building, playing games and yelling "Uno" and "You sunk my battleship" as a team building exercise. I'm all for playing games, as long as quarters and thumping a table are involved...

Although, now that my days in corporate America have come to an end, how often do I find myself playing Candyland in the middle of the day or yelling "Duck, duck, goose!" to a group of youngsters? The answer is quite unfortunate, to quote my cousin!

My Biggest Email Blunder...EVER!

When I started working at my first corporate job back in 1995, I was given my very own email account. This was a big deal for me, as I started that job as a temp (more on that to come in a later post) and I'd never had an email account before. Since I've been poking fun at others for their email mishaps, I thought I better share my own. 'Cause if you can't laugh at yourself...

One of the first books I was assigned to work on at my new job was Investing For People Who Aren't Too Smart. (That's not the actual title, but anyone who thinks about it for a second can figure out where I once worked. Hint: Think black and yellow.) The title was shortened to Invest FP for all email correspondence. Well, I was about two weeks into my new position and I had to email the team assigned to this title. I typed up my email, with Invest FP as the subject line. I hit send and then, a few minutes later, I was absolutely mortified to see the responses coming in. When the first reply came in, I immediately noticed the subject line of "Incest FP." OMG, who would do that, that's so not funny, was my first thought. Then, my brain actually kicked into action and I realized what I had done! How could I have done that?! I looked down at the keyboard and the "C" and "V" keys are right next to each other, so it was an honest mistake, but still...

It was a running joke for a couple of weeks and then it faded away, thank God! I did notice that I was not assigned to work on the Sex For People Who Aren't Too Smart book. Coincidence? To this day I still wonder.

The Promotion of Stupidity

One of the things that has always perplexed me in corporate America is the rewarding of stupidity. I like to call it the Promotion of Stupidity and it's running rampant in corporate America.

This is how it works: If you do something completely stupid and ridiculous, it is almost guaranteed that an email announcing your promotion will be circulating the company before too long. It's almost like being rewarded for sucking at your job.

Another thing I still haven't figured out is why corporations promote people when they don't know what else to do with them. Doesn't it seem obvious what you should do with someone that isn't needed?

I especially love the "What Do I Do?" promotion. This is when you have a coworker and nobody has a clue what that person does. Every company, heck more like every department of every company, has a person like this. And the crazy thing? The what-do-I-do people seem to be on the constant up-and-up. It's almost like companies make up job titles to accommodate this category of employees. And what's really interesting to me is that when these phony promotions are announced, a job opening for the previous position is never announced along with it. What does that tell you? How about this: That person doesn't need to be replaced because they don't do anything. See? It all makes perfect sense.

I worked under this one manager who had the opposite of the Midas Touch: Everything this person touched turned into budget deficit garbage. But yet, this person kept moving up. And up. And this really made me wonder if the company was trying to fail. I mean, if we're a lead by example kind of society, and the appointed leader is a few seconds short of a minute, don't you have to wonder what the bigger picture is?

Of course there is a lot more to discuss on this subject, but I'm aware of the consequences. The question now is whether I want to continue digging myself into a hole with a shovel. Or, if I'm ready to switch to a backhoe...

Outsourced!

Recently, several people have brought to my attention that a new show will debut on NBC this fall. The show is called "Outsourced" and the title says it all. Of course I'm very interested in this show and I hope they have a team of informed writers. If not, I know where they can find one...

Reply All? PLEASE Don't!

As an avid emailer, I completely understand why the Reply All option was invented. What I will never understand, however, is why people use the Reply All option on company-wide emails. Do they just not realize the difference between Reply and Reply All? Or, do these individuals think the entire distribution list wants to hear their reasons for not being able to attend a company-wide meeting or event?

I have to think that more often than not, it's a mistake of epic, embarrassing proportions. The best is when multiple people hit Reply All, which usually prompts someone of authority to send out the scolding "Please don't use the reply all button" email to... yep, everyone. This has always been one of my biggest pet peeves in the corporate world. Case in point, my friend Steve Rock Star, who I haven't worked with since 1999, recently told me "For the record, every time we get a 'reply to all' on a company wide e-mail, I still mutter jackass."

Another email pet peeve is the failure to proofread before hitting the dreaded send button. Now, I'm not some weird, OCD lunatic who saves emails by the hundreds. But, I will admit that I have an archive, so to speak, of my all-time favorite emails. Some of them are not suitable to be reprinted, but the majority of them most definitely are, as was apparent with the infamous "Bathroom" email.

Here is another one of my all-time favorites, word for word, from the book publishing days:

Since Beth had suggested team members to come in earlier than normal time they come in so that we can bet any deadlines for packages to go out that day while UPS is on strike. I prefer meeting at 9:30 a.m. daily until communication gap is filled in, to discuss workload. See ya tomorrow morning!

When this appeared in my Inbox, I seriously read it about two dozen times. Finally, I asked for another interpretation from my former coworker, The Goof. I forwarded it to him with the very difficult question of "What the hell is she trying to say?"

And he responded with:

I honestly have no idea. I read it three times, and I think it has something to do with you guys driving for UPS while Beth suggests deadlines for team members' packages?

I think the sender of that email brings a whole new meaning to the UPS slogan "What can Brown do for you?"

Horrendous Holiday Parties

So, I've been to more awful work Christmas parties (aka "Holiday" parties if you want to be PC about it) than I can remember. And once I got married, I then had to attend the Husband's parties, too. And his parties were almost as bad as mine. Almost.

My favorite holiday party was held at a country western bar. With a line-dancing coach. And the rarest prime rib ever served to humans. As the Husband said "Coyotes wouldn't have touched that meat. Even vultures would have kept on going." And he's so not exaggerating. The prime rib literally floated in a pool of blood on the dinner plates. I'm surprised everyone in attendance didn't come down with a killer case of e coli.

A close runner-up would be the Husband's party in 2004. I was 9-months pregnant and gave birth a mere 6 days after the party. His boss, Fur Coat Fashionista, had picked the biggest dive imaginable to host the party. It was a restaurant in the 'hood with a small banquet room, meant for 30 people. Well, 50+ people ended up smashed into that room. And the staff seemed so overwhelmed that one had to wonder whether or not they had been informed about the party. It took 3 hours to get our food. And by then, every single person, with the exception of my pregnant self, was drunk. Wasted. And starving. And wouldn't you know it, the very last person served their dinner was me. I mean really, how does the hugely pregnant woman not get served first? And by the end of the party, my feet were so hideously swollen that I had to drive home in my socks. Awesome. Oh, and the bathroom was so small, that I could barely fit in and close the door. And I was seated in the middle of a very long table and on each of my 17 trips to the bathroom during the night, I managed to knock over drinks, silverware, napkins and anything else that was in my path.

The year after that disaster of a party, the Husband talked me into attending his party again. And just like the year before, location, location, location was an issue. The venue this time was this dark, out-of-the-way, "Good Fellas" type of hole-in-the-wall. It was so far out of the way, that everyone had to stay at a hotel and take a shuttle bus. It was almost like we weren't allowed to know where the hell we were going. When we arrived and asked for menus, we were told by one of the servers "We don't have menus here. We'll verbally tell you the choices." Um, OK. So, once given the choices, everyone ordered and then the manager came out and dropped this bombshell: "Too many people ordered the surf and turf and we don't have enough lobsters. So, each couple can only have one order of surf and turf. The other person needs to order something else. And we're also out of the filet. Thanks." Thank God they didn't run out of beer. Or wine. Or Jack Daniels. Whew.

Another fabulous party involved an "Around the World" food theme. I think it would be safe to say that you don't have to travel the world to taste really crappy food. And it is entirely possible to ruin tiramisu. And tortellini. One coworker ordered a pizza when he got home because he was starving. This was also the party where I swear a coworker wore her prom dress. From 1982.

The last holiday party I attended was in 2008. It was a family party, so the whole family went. As luck would have it, Boss was dressed up like Santa and I had to watch in horror as my daughter sat on his lap and told him what she wanted for Christmas. Granted, he wasn't my boss at the time, but he was definitely an ass at the time, so the whole experience nearly ruined my Christmas.

This year, I'm going to host my own Christmas party. High school formal wear will not be required and I guarantee the food will be awesome, or at least fully cooked and plentiful. And keg stands are welcome. See you in December!

The Great Lunch Dilemma

Lunch is a big deal in corporate America. Now that I'm not working, I can honestly say that one of the things I miss the most is lunch. Of course I still eat lunch, but lunch with a 3-year-old and 5-year-old, while highly entertaining, just isn't the same as lunch with coworkers.

I've always found it hilarious that the lunch discussion begins in the morning. Usually by 9 a.m., the plans are in the works, such as who is going and where are we going and who do we not want to join us. It always seemed so illegal to sneak down the hallway, without a word to anyone, to go to lunch without anyone noticing.

I'm sure all offices have the following people:

• The always inviting themselves along coworker. (Hence the need to sneak down the hallway.)
• The coworker who always wants you to "pick something up" for him or her. These are the people who manage to go entire months without leaving the building for lunch. It's almost like they eavesdrop all morning and then decide what they want picked up based on the options they indirectly hear. Even more annoying is when they give you a high-maintenance list of what they want, similar to Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally. So, not only do you have to pick up lunch for someone, you now have to be completely embarrassed in the process.
• The mooch. You know, the person who is always a $1 short or "borrowing" change. This is usually the person who orders water and then sneaks a soda from the soda machine.
• The spy. This is the person who somehow ends up coming along and nobody feels good about it. So at lunch, there is no work discussion, as the spy's intentions are unclear.
• The clockwatcher. This is the person who constantly looks at their watch as a reminder to the rest of us to hurry up.
• The lunch packer. This is the person who brings their lunch, but is then persuaded to go out to lunch. I was usually that person, as leaving the building always trumped leftovers.

Once upon a time, I went to lunch with a coworker from the bookstore where I worked in college. We were standing in line at Taco Bell and I kept going on and on about what an idiot our boss was. I started to notice that my coworker wasn't saying anything. In fact, he was looking at me with a "Shut the hell up!" expression. I couldn't figure out what was going on. I was like "What, we're in Taco Bell, not Ruth's Chris!" I finally caught on and turned around to find the boss's husband in line behind us. "Hi, Kate" he quietly said. I wanted to disappear in the packets of hot sauce. Lesson learned. When out to lunch, always check the establishment for familiar faces before you start running your mouth.

At any rate, I sure would jump at the chance to ditch the kids and Kraft Mac-n-Cheese for lunch with some grown-ups. Any takers? Oh and Mentor, if you're reading this, in memory of our favorite lunch destination: UNCLE BOB!!!

Potty Talk

Once upon a time at Prison Media, a now notorious email was sent to the entire company. The email was all about the bathroom and I still laugh out loud whenever I read it. (Snippets published at the end of this post.)

We all have corporate America bathroom stories. It's unavoidable. For the sake of taste, I won't go into much detail regarding what goes on in the bathroom. But I will say that one of my ultimate pet peeves is people who don't wash their hands after using the restroom. For example, if I'm in a stall and someone in the stall next to me flushes and promptly exits the bathroom without stopping at the sink, I spend the rest of the day wondering who the hell that was. And is that person going to hand me a piece of paper later with their unwashed hands? And, for the record, I'm not a germaphobe. I stood in ankle deep sewage and vomit on Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras and lived to tell about it.

I remember the day when the plungers appeared in every bathroom stall. They almost screamed "We can no longer afford to pay a plumber, so if you plug up the toilet, fix it." Sorry, but I draw the line at fixing the work toilet.

I also started to notice the quality of toilet paper decreasing on a daily basis. It was almost like the company bought in bulk at a Home Depot sandpaper sale. Ouch.

(On a side note, I recently spotted a roll of Charmin in the Husband's work bag. When I inquired as to why he's hoarding toilet paper, he explained to me how awful the toilet paper is at his company, which resulted in this conversation:)

Me (giant smirk on my face): "You don't walk down the hall, toting the roll of Charmin, right?"

Husband (clearly annoyed): "NO! I tear some off and put it in my pocket."

Me: "Good to know." (And thinking to myself how much that conversation resembled the "Spare a Square" Seinfeld episode.)

Then there was the time the entire building smelled like raw sewage and a company-wide email went out warning employees not to light matches in the bathroom. Talk about explosive consequences! Imagine that news story...

So, here are the best lines from a REAL email dated Tuesday, August 27, 2002

Subject line: Building Maintenance Issues

OK folks, I've had it — with all of you!!!!

It's only Tuesday and I've already had to call the plumbers twice. Yes, that's right, twice. Once for the garbage disposal in the cafe and once for a clogged toilet in the ladies bathroom on the first floor.

And while I'm on the subject of bathrooms…how hard is it for you all to wipe up the water that you spill on the counter???? Or pick up that piece of toilet paper that you ripped off the roll and it fell to the floor? Ladies, it looks like a public restroom you might find at a truck stop!

And while I'm on the subject of pigs…let's talk about keeping the cafe clean, shall we??? Please DO NOT leave your dirty dishes in the sink, even for five minutes while you run to the bathroom (because then you'll forget about your dirty dishes while you're happily slopping water on the counter and sneaking out before anyone can see you).

Here's the rules:

1. Don't use so darned much toilet paper…if you must, then do it two or three loads.
2. Don't flush paper towels or your "feminine hygiene products" down the toilet. If you need a further explanation, please call me.
3. Don't slop water on the counters. If you do, then wipe it up.
4. If you don't do the three above, the next stop is port-a-potties in the parking lot.

Those are the best parts. After this email blasted into my Inbox, I really wanted to get a further explanation on items 1 and 2. That conversation could have been a YouTube instant classic! I also remember how juvenile and fun it became to splash water all over the counters and then sneak out of the bathroom. (Yes, I admit to being juvenile.) I still think it's the funniest email I received in 15 years in corporate America. I wonder if the author remembers writing it?

Every Office Has One...

Obviously, I find many things about corporate America to be completely absurd. Ridiculous. Just plain stupid. But, if I had to make a list of my biggest annoyances, there would be a hand's down winner for number one:

The office suck-up. Butt kisser. Brown noser.

You know the type:

• Play every angle to get ahead.
• Have zero loyalty to anyone.
• Go over the top to make themselves look good.
• Constantly seek affirmation and pay undo compliments to get it.
• Take credit for everything, regardless of level of involvement.
• Just generally being someone you constantly want to run over in the parking lot or shove down the elevator shaft.

There is at least one in every department. My personal favorite story about the resident brown noser involves this coworker who literally invented the "Look How Busy I Am" game. I think I'll call her Sludge. I've never met anyone who whined and cried and sobbed about how busy she constantly was, when in reality, she maybe had 90 minutes of work to keep her busy each day. She played the game so well that even her boss bought it.

She was a brown noser because she took credit for *everything.* I'm surprised she didn't expect thanks for making the sun rise each morning. Part of what made Sludge the ultimate brown noser was her ability to take on the extra projects and make it seem like a total sacrifice on her end. In reality, she could have taken on every extra project in the building, including cleaning the bathrooms, because she didn't have any work to do.

During one meeting with the publisher, Sludge dominated the conversation for 15 minutes, talking about how her "team" did pretty much everything except run the printing press. The rest of us at the table just stared in disbelief, wondering what kind of alternate universe Sludge actually lived in. I was really wondering which "team" she was referring to. She didn't manage anyone, and we didn't work in "teams," so unless she had a family of mice under her desk, the team reference was quite idiotic.

As luck would have it, Sludge was constantly so busy and overwhelmed with work, that she couldn't find the time to learn the new software that had just been implemented. And during all of her extreme busyness, she never stopped to think that she might just "work" herself right out of a job. Which is exactly what happened. She's probably still convinced that she was wrongfully terminated.

I mean really, how often does the office suck-up get what's coming to them? Unfortunately, not often enough.

Food Horror Stories from the Office

So, a long time ago, right out of college, I was a coffee drinker. I would drink my morning coffee at work, poured from the community coffee pot, into my favorite coffee mug, and happily start my day. When I was done with my coffee, I would wash my mug at the community sink and set it on my desk to dry. The community sink was shared by the entire first floor. The sink had one of those sponges that was attached to a handle filled with soap. I used that sponge every day for almost two years.

One morning, I arrived at work a little earlier that usual. I walked down the hall, past the sink, and happened to glance over and see one of the proofreaders at the sink. She was washing her fish bowl. She was washing her fish bowl WITH THE SPONGE THAT WAS ATTACHED TO A HANDLE FILLED WITH SOAP!

I stopped and stared and pictured what that fish bowl had looked like the day before when I had been in her cube. Let's just say that it was nearly impossible to see from one side of the bowl to the other because it was so cloudy with fish poop and slime. And then I started to dry heave and nearly tossed up my Cheerios.

And that is why I stopped drinking coffee for several years. I kept seeing fish bowl floaties in my coffee and I just couldn't drink it. Is there a moral to the story? I think it would have to be to use extreme caution when utilizing any kind of "community" anything at the office.

I've always been very bewildered by the lunch stealers at the office. You know, the people who help themselves to whatever they want in the 'fridge. I mean really, how the heck do you know what you're getting?! And then you have the annoying people who reheat fish in the microwave and make the entire building smell like Shedds Aquarium. And how can anyone forget the smell of burned microwave popcorn? How hard is it to cook microwave popcorn appropriately? Very, apparently. That's a smell that tends to linger. For days.

Speaking of the microwave, what about the people who put their lunch in the microwave and then disappear? I remember when I lived in the dorm at college and the unwritten rule was if you left your laundry in the washer or dryer, it was fair game. Does the same rule apply to Lean Cuisines in the office microwave?

One of my favorite work food stories involves the case of the disappearing fruit. Whenever I would leave a piece of fruit in my cube, it would always be gone the next morning. And it wasn't just me, it was happening to all of my coworkers. We finally figured out that it had to be the cleaning crew. And that's when a brilliant idea popped into my head. A few years back, I had my wisdom teeth removed and for some reason, I had saved the giant plastic syringe that was included with my surgery. I filled the syringe with Tabasco sauce and injected an apple. I left it on my desk, feeling like the mean witch about to poison Snow White. Well, let's just say that the disappearing fruit stopped disappearing. Mystery solved.

Now that I have my own fish bowl, I have regular flashbacks to the sponge incident. I think The Husband is lucky enough to hear the story every single time he cleans the fish bowl. It kind of gives a whole new meaning to sponge worthy...

This One Time, Boss Gave me a Performance Review...

About a year ago, Boss (who had been my boss for all of four months at the time) had to give all of his direct reports a mid-year performance review. The whole concept of a review was completely absurd, considering Prison Media had been on a salary freeze for nearly half a decade. So, what's the point of a review if a salary increase isn't attached to work performance? But anyway, Boss scheduled a meeting to discuss my review and I went in thinking it would have to be good, as I'd been performing miracles for the last quarter. Well, wouldn't you know, Boss surprised me once again. While overall, my review was above average, he totally docked me in one area: Attitude.

Now, am I saying that I deserved an Attitude Gold Medal? Absolutely not. But, here's what's interesting: In the four months that Boss had been my boss, we had very little contact. There were emails, sure, but in-person conversations and phone conversations could be counted on one hand. Combined. And one of those was the pneumonia disaster, so that doesn't really count. And yet, based on those limited encounters, he managed to come up with this:

"While Kate does excellent work and is very efficient, I think she would be even more effective if she could be more positive in her attitude and comments in general."

I'm quite certain that I had never given Boss any indication of what I really thought about anything. So I was perplexed. When I asked him exactly what he was talking about, he couldn't come up with any specific examples, conversations, etc. I kept pressing him, and he came up with this gem:

Boss: "Well, someone told me they overheard you saying something negative about corporate."

Me: "What?! That's ridiculous. That would be hearsay and you can't put hearsay in my review. You heard something third-hand and you're calling it fact? You don't know what the context of the conversation was and if you didn't hear it directly, you can't dock me for it. You need to revise that section."

Boss: "I'm leaving it in there."

Me: "Well, then I'm not signing it because I don't agree with it. You can't use office gossip in my review."

Boss: "Well, that's your choice. It's really not that big of a deal. I'm sure we'll look back on this during your 2010 review and laugh!"

*****************************************************

Well, it's almost time for my 2010 review and I'm not laughing. That's not entirely true. I'm laughing for completely different reasons. I'm wondering if Boss will give performance reviews to the job stealers in India. Mainly, I find it utterly unbelievable that Boss knew at that time that there wouldn't be a 2010 review, and yet, he still wanted to stick it to me. In looking at my review, the goals and objectives are especially laughable. They're completely fictitious. Boss should have earned an A+ in creative writing for putting together this phony list of objectives. A couple of examples:

Future Objectives

Add to Skills: "I'd like to see Kate add to her production skills by working on and learning about other areas of the business such as video/audio editing."

Oops, he forgot to include blogging. Objective met.

Production Training for Team: "I'd like to see Kate take on the responsibility of training other members of the team who have taken on production responsibilities so their skills grow faster than they otherwise would."

Funny how this suddenly takes on a whole new meaning in light of everything that happened late last year. I'll have to say, with just a touch of sarcasm, it's a damn shame that objective wasn't met. But it kind of makes me wonder if he was laying the groundwork for the India Project.

On a positive note, under Quality of Work, Boss says: "Kate is extremely conscious of the quality of her work and turns in very high-quality finished products."

I'm gonna go way out on a limb and guess that the same can't be said about Prison Media's new buddies in Calcutta!

Party On!

Anyone who has worked in corporate America should have a favorite work party story. You know, the token drunk at the company Christmas party (sorry, I refuse to refer to them as "holiday" parties) who peed in the elevator. Or, the coworker who brought pickled beets and Captain Crunch to the office potluck. And then there's my personal favorite: the dreaded going away party. I was lucky enough to attend one of the most horrifically awful going away parties ever. Ever. (And no, it wasn't my own.)

Back at the famous book publisher in the late 90s:

The Director of Production, Roberta, resigned and some of my coworkers spent a good portion of their time planning the ultimate send off. Now, we all have different ideas when it comes to parties. What one person thinks is a fabulous party, someone else might find to be as enjoyable as a root canal. However, the overall party objective should be to make sure the party guests enjoy themselves and have fun. Well, this party was so ridiculously absurd and packed full of over-the-top schmaltz, that I've never forgotten it and most likely never will.

I should have known what was in store, as leading up to the party, the entire department put together a scrapbook for Roberta. Everyone was given their own page to design. Most people's pages were full of wonderful work memories and sappy poems about friendship and good byes and all of those other emotions invented by Hallmark to sell more cards. Mine was classic. I peeled a Bud Light label from a bottle of beer (empty, of course) and pasted it in the middle of my page. Then, from the bottom of my heart, I came up with these meaningful words: "It won't be the same without you here. Who's going to tease me about drinking beer? I wish you the best in all that you do. And remember, this Bud's for you." I signed my name at the bottom and placed it in the scrapbook with pride.

On party day, it all began in the top floor conference room with a "visiting hour." I walked in and immediately felt a funeral vibe. People were all dressed up and lumped together in groups of 4 or 5. Classical music played in the background, while the guests sampled mixed nuts and finger foods. Everyone was remembering their favorite work memories of Roberta and nobody's voice rose above a whisper. It was very odd and creepy. And it only got worse from there.

After the visiting hour, we had a catered lunch. Catered lunches were a big deal back then. When I say catered, I don't mean boxed lunches from the neighborhood deli complete with fruit and a cookie. I'm talking wedding reception food, if you were to hold your reception at the Elk's Club. The room was even set up like a wedding reception, and seated at the center of the head table was Roberta, all decked out in her party outfit, including a new, shiny tiara and sash(!).

Seated all around Roberta were her well-trained office lackeys who shed tears on command. You would have thought the CEO had just announced the company was bankrupt and we were all officially unemployed the way some of these pathetic individuals carried on. I kept looking around to see if anyone else found this whole scene disturbing, and it appeared like most people were paying close attention, their serious faces firmly on. And it definitely didn't seem like anyone was having fun.

And where was I during the lunch festivities? At a table near the back, provoking laughter at the most touching moments and cracking jokes at inappropriate times. If you ask me, a going away party should always include a keg and a juggler.

Just for the record, my best Roberta memory involves her telling the department "Our new policy is conform or die!" I zoned out for a moment and actually pictured myself being killed by a firing squad in the break room for refusing to conform.

She is also the same person who once made working every Saturday mandatory and said the only acceptable excuses for not being able to work were "You better be dead or getting married. Otherwise, you will be here working."

So why, exactly, was everyone in tears over her departure? I'm still wondering, 10+ years later...