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.