The Layoff (aka Divorcing the No Good, Lying, Cheating SOB That Was The Company)

In the end, my slow departure from The Company unfolded like a soured marriage.

First, there was the crying. Oh god, the nonstop crying and the self-doubt and the whole thinking that I was slowly going crazy, failing as a human being. (See blogs from Sep-Nov 08) It seemed that no matter what I did, it wasn't good enough. I was sinking under the weight of too much work. I pleaded for outside help, and The Company said we know you're under a lot of pressure, yes, we're trying our best. I asked for a break, and The Company said ok, a day, two days? Try a month...

Then, came the realization. There were new people coming in, but they weren't here to help me. WTF? A review came a week later - we don't think this is working out. You seem stressed and don't appear to enjoy your job, they told me. It was a slap to the face and a big fat It's not us, it's you. We still love you and want you around, but maybe at a different capacity - not necessarily LESSER, just different. In other words, you're still head wife and we appreciate your loyalty and experience, however there will be some mistresses coming in to relieve you of some "ahem" duties.

Like a couple with an imminent divorce, still sharing the same house... Trying to play nice until I could come up with a viable Plan B... With the added humiliation of everyone knowing he had cheated on you, giving you those helpless looks of pity. God forbid anyone would have spoken earlier to warn you. It's easier to be an innocent bystander. But is anyone really innocent when they knowingly watch injustice go down and twiddle their thumbs?

The stubbornness kicked in. The Libra in me struggled for fairness. I thought, I'm not leaving till I damn well want to leave, on my terms. Everyday is another day I get paid. Quitting is just what you wanted so I'm not giving it to you.

Stubbornness wears on you. Watching all the oblivious people fawn over your former love wears on you. Most of all, being in a place where you're not wanted or appreciated anymore REALLY wears on you.

Plan B be damned. When I finally had enough, I knew. I confronted The Company with their shenanigans and asked for what was fair - unemployment and severance. I picked the end date. I left on my own terms. The minute it was decided, the weight lifted and I felt better than I had felt for the last 5 months. Ex-Company friends even threw me a "hooray you're free party!"

It's been over two months now and I haven't stepped foot in that house again. I've already forgiven them because I know that I took much more away from the experience than I lost. I grew up at The Company. Had my heart broken. Fell in love. Made life long friends. Grew a spine. Found my voice. Learned to lead. And discovered what I could and could not bear. It was a shame that it ended the way it did but I realize now that only something so utterly unacceptable would have shaken my sense of practicality and loyalty enough to walk out the door. Not only has this chapter ended, the whole book is done. It's time to start a whole new novel.

2009 - Year of the Crazy, Er Year of Change

I'M STILL ALIVE!!! Blog I've missed you but been otherwise sidetracked with a couple of things.

1) Getting laid off from work. Yippee!
2) Dealing with unemployment, cobra healthcare, and other misc paperwork
3) Running amuck routine-free, sleep deprived, and pulled in a million directions
4) Fleeing and hitching a free ride up to San Francisco the first week out of work
5) Trying to get back into exercising at the Y
6) Catching a nasty cold the second week out of work after a particularly tough cardio class at the Y. Grrrrr. Exercise=evil
7) Exacerbating said cold by going up to Mammoth Mountain for a snowboarding/sledding on butt trip last weekend
8) Battling extra gnarly cold which came back with a vengeance as an upper respiratory infection
9) Becoming big fat lethargic Whatchamacalit all short of breath and chronically tired this past week
10) Making good on my promise to flee to Paris (and Belgium) this year. Leaving next week!

Gonna touch on each subject a little more in separate posts!

Crybaby and Doctors

Next year has got to be better. I know it. Or else I'm fleeing to Paris or some remote island.

In this year I've cried more than I ever had in my entire life. Maybe infant stages excluded because I don't remember that and I'm sure it was entirely warranted as a means of communication for basic survival needs. I never used to cry at anything. Steel Magnolias? Nada. Joy Luck Club. Meh. Unless I was in pain or being yelled at by my parents, I rarely cried.

Now, I'm a crybaby. Like those kids that cried at everything. You look at them cross-eyed and they cried. That's me. And it's exhausting and frustrating. I need to fix this.

In other news, part of the exhaustion, aside from the evilness of certain work bosses, has to do with this past week's parade of doctor's visits.

Tuesday - travel to the vortex of hell (Cedar Sinai in West Hollywood) to accompany the bf to the neurologist. Where the doctor keeps us waiting for an hour and tells us that as a precaution, I need to drive the bf around for the foreseeable future until they straighten out his meds. We also need to come back to vortex of hell for his EEG. Sigh.

Wednesday - took the day off to squeeze in 5 appointments. Of course it's pouring rain all day and I need to haul myself out to Pasadena and surrounding areas.
9am - Drop off bf at work
11am - dentist
Squeeze in some lunch and xmas shopping.
1:30 - podiatrist consult for my foot orthotics
2:15 - they can squeeze me in at the orthotics place. Dart over there to get casts of my feet.
3:15 - dermatologist. Where she keeps me waiting for 45 minutes.
4:00 - CRAP. I need to go back to vortex of hell (Cedar Sinai in West Hollywood) to pick up bf's glasses since he absent- mindedly left them there the day before. Need to get there by 4:30-5 before they close.
4:20 - Run out of dermatologist's office with her makeshift map drawn on a giant wadded up piece of tissue paper they use on the beds. Shortcut turns out to be awesome.
5pm - Run into the offices at the vortex of hell just as the assistants are walking out and manage to get bf's glasses. Minus a few years off my life from the drive. I'm gonna glue them to his head. Of course parking charges me four bucks anyway.
6pm - Get groceries, get home, sit down for a bit before I have to pick up the bf from work.

This must be how stay at home moms feel like - running around picking people up, dropping them off, running errands, prepping for dinner... I'm wiped.

Thursday - Work is nuts. All of a sudden, 6pm, my little bro at work, grabs me while clutching his heart and says call an ambulance. I think something's wrong. He's only 25!!! I think it's a panic attack but to be safe, once his heart rate slows back down, work excuses me to take him to the ER. I rush him to Urgent Care, then the ER in Santa Monica (though there is a hospital across the street, gotta schlep over to SM since THAT'S where our HMO allows us to go. Sheesh.) Stay with the poor guy till 9:30 as they run tests and give him an IV drip. All in all, a good bonding experience as we end the night with some dinner after he's discharged as ok. And the fools at work keep thanking me and saying it's so nice of me to do that. Whatever. I would have done it anyway. Like I would ever choose work over friends.

Whoops, the bf is stranded. I'm calling and calling each hour since there's no reception in the ER, and he never picks up or calls back. Great. Now I have to worry and be frantic that the fool decided to walk the 5 miles home along Venice Bl at night. It's one of those things where he better be ok, otherwise I'm gonna strangle him. Finally call his seatmate buddy and the guy chuckles and tells me he gave the bf a ride home - he didn't call you? ARGH!

Anyway, it's 5 more days till Christmas and I have yet to be infused with the holiday spirit. I think I've finished my shopping. Sent out my cards. Going to a party tonight. But man my head is numb. My face hurts from the crying and the dryness of my heater. And I miss my friends and most importantly, my sanity. THAT'S what I want for Christmas. Sanity. and maybe an Iphone.

Things I've Found to Be True

Some are cliches, some are bits of advice from friends, and others are just so.

- Things can only get better once you hit rock bottom
- There is no such thing as loyalty from companies to their employees
- A bad job situation can destroy your self worth if you let it
- Relationships are f***ing hard work
- Boyfriends may come and go, but your friends will always be there for you
- No one can fix you except yourself

What Happened to Normal and Happily Ever After?

Do people sneer at those two things like the Fox and the Sour Grapes - because they're unattainable? Lately, I've never felt further from either of them. Not that I was ever in the vicinity of normal in terms of conforming to a standard. But one definition of normal seems to be "free of mental disorder: sane." And I'm not even sure I conform to that definition anymore.

Is it normal to cry so uncontrollably that you can't quite make it to work in the morning or explain to your bf why you are so worked up? Is it normal to get so depressed and flattened by your boss and your job that you start tying in your self worth as a person to your performance at work? Or is it normal to sometimes have so little faith in people or yourself that you just constantly expect the worse?

I'm so tired. And recovering from yet another cold, which doesn't help the mental anguish. I'm hoping this is rock bottom for now and that all that therapy will help. I'm hoping I won't need drugs to stop the crying. And I'm hoping a car runs over my boss tomorrow. Kidding. Kind of.

Oh Boy Part 2

I meant to follow up this first post with another one immediately the day after. And then things kept going up and down like a roller coaster or the Hollywood Tower of Terror Ride at California Adventure. I never knew when to write - when things were going really well or when things sucked. Which changes week by week, day by day. Go figure.

It's been nearly six months and frequently, I'm still stunned. Milestones are knocking me on the head left and right.

1) Told the parents

A couple of weeks ago, he came with me for my dentist appointment. The dentist and the dental hygienist have known me since I was ten and I realized my mom would murder me if she heard from our dentist about the bf before she heard about it from me. So after delaying the inevitable, I casually mentioned him over dinner and the parents took it well without asking more then a dozen questions and a request for a picture.

Flobelly, a fellow Cantonese chick married to a sweet white boy from Ohio (or is it Iowa? I swear I always get those mixed up) put it into perspective for me before I spilled the beans. She merely said "it only gets harder. That will be the easiest part. Wait till the parents meet him and then both parents meet. Awkward...." Eek.

2) Met his family and friends

The trip up north to Seattle was an eye opening experience in many ways. But the most important thing is that I met nearly all of his friends, including his best friend and his mom. So daunting considering that between them both, they've met everyone he's ever brought around. Including the ex-wife and apparently some girl who announced she was Wiccan. Huh.

3) Slowly but surely, we're being outed to the work peeps

Work is hard enough as it is, but having a relationship with someone you work with adds a new dimension of complexity. At first I was really stressed about the fact that technically he reports to me in a way, and that legally that was a big no-no. However, then I realized our company is pretty informal, that's there's like five couples already and the only person who would try to use this against me is the Tool. And even then I pride myself on being completely professional throughout the years, no matter who my work friends were or what stupid guy was treating me poorly. The Tool has got nothing on me.

Plus when the bf let slip to his seatmate that we went up to Seattle together, then mistakenly IMed his seatmate instead of me to give me the heads up, he had to go, "well, now you know." And our coworker merely responded, "yeah, it was no secret." It's almost liberating.

So, the families know. The friends know. The work folks know. Hell, my dentist and the dental hygienist knows. They even gave him a toothbrush. And this sounds kinda bad, but all I can think of is man, if this doesn't work out it is gonna be hell to disentangle and shake off.

Tool

My boss is a tool. That's the best term I can come up with to describe him. Urban Dictionary has several definitions of tool but I think in order of accuracy, I would have to go with #4, #7, and then #2. On a side note, I also like the term "asstard" as used in #2.

The man is out "sick" one day every other week. At least once a week, he'll come over and ask about something I took care of ages ago and already emailed him about.
"Oh I don't read all my emails," he boldly declares.

"Let's have a QUICK meeting," he always suggests. And more than an hour later, after he continues to talk about the same thing long past my attention span has ceased to function because of the HUNGER PANGS that are attacking me, we are still trapped in the room.

I always start looking for an escape clause.. perhaps another meeting, or a supervisor that needs me to help out on a project, or a very important phone call I have to return. Akin to trying to gnaw off my own leg to escape the bear trap. I even employ other artist friends to peep in the window occasionally to gesture at me, as if something huge needed my attention outside of that now claustrophobic room, especially when it's lunch time.

"Don't ever leave me!" I tell them. "Make up an excuse, come drag me out of there so I can at least go have lunch."

And don't even get me started on how much he piles on extra work on everyone because he thinks everything takes half the time. Then comes in and gives motivational speeches to his burnt out team as we stare at him glassy-eyed and disbelieving.

"Is this guy for real?" we think. And unfortunately, yes he is.

On Hate and Other Horrid Things

I have seven projects to manage at work. Seven different clients, seven different schedules, seven different production trackers, and seven different deliveries.

I am angry. And I have told my tool of a boss just how angry I am at him and at the situation he's put me in. He apologized repeatedly and threw in a couple of "I understands" and some "I'm so swamped too." Which does nothing for me because it's not a solution.

What pisses me off even more is that it's the work of two people and my head is barely above water. He did this to me last year, I pulled it off, asked for a big raise, and they shafted me.

So I'm bellyaching to anyone who will listen to me until I get more help and the work load is more balanced. Supervisors, owners of the company, other artists... no one can dare complain to me if I fall behind. Or occasionally growl at people.

As a cherry on top, some of the clients on my biggest project, the one dealing with the yellow-colored cartoon family, are just A**HOLES. No way to mince words. One in particular, who I shall heretofore call the DICK is so abrasive, so aggressively rude, so much a waste of oxygen, that my blood boils after every interaction with him.

It's been a while since I've hated anyone so much, thought such horrible things during meetings (stabbing him repeatedly, baseball bat to the nuts...) cried at home partly from work dealings. Luckily, everyone else hates him too AND I have wonderful people around me who listen to my rants everyday. Until then, I'm counting down the days till this particular project ends, till every single one of these projects end and I can dream of my next vacation.

Oh Blog, How I've Missed You...

You know how something's got to give? So sleeping, reading, and writing seem to have given way to spending more time with this boy. And of course it doesn't help that work has once again become murderously insane at least for this month and next. And I sure as hell won't give up time with my friends.

So there we have it.

Not enough time in the day, nor energy to do everything I want to do. I'm already restless and itching to travel to my next destination...

Winter Whimsy

It's only been about two months since I flew off to New Mexico for the birthday celebration with Miss Flip Flops, and yet it feels like it was eons ago. Thus, restless me has booked a weekend trip up to Seattle to visit Princess, cold weather, rain/snow and all. Maybe I'll bump into Loofa, who's been AWOL from the blogosphere for awhile. Maybe I'll luck out and have beautiful sunny albeit freezing cold weather. And maybe, just maybe I'll get further insights into the latest boy, who has decided to tag along with me up north, under the guise of visiting his hometown friends and hopefully being Princess's and my personal tour guide.

The trip may have been last minute and somewhat whimsical (the airline ticket probably reflects the cost of whimsy) but I feel so sneaky. I have it all plotted out. Tomorrow night is our company holiday party. A good chunk of the company usually calls in sick the next day due to massive hangovers and illness. Perfect excuse to call in sick myself and fly up Friday morning. However, I do have this worst case scenario in my head: a snowstorm strands me and the boy in Seattle Sunday night. We have to let work know we'll miss Monday and somehow expose all the lies and fraud of the sick day, the weekend, and our relationship. Gulp.

But then again, if that's my worst case scenario, that's really not so bad. Whoo hoo!

Celebrating the End of the Fifteen Day Virus

Man, getting older sucks. Getting older means being sick longer. No more "bouncing back," no more playing through it... only rest and bland foods seemed to cure it. Which makes being better all the more glorious!

On Tuesday, Sly and I again hit the Troubadour to see Sondre Lerche, a boyish floppy haired Norwegian singer songwriter. He had quite the following, including a significant group of his fellow countrymen cheering him on. Though Sly had already heard of him, I mainly went because he composed the score and sang all the songs in the movie Dan In Real Life, and it was just the type of music I liked.

A more pleasant surprise was the old fogey who opened for Sondre. Dan Wilson. I never heard of him either. Until he started telling a story about his band and how he hid an ode to his newborn baby in this one song so as to not be so blatant and cheesy. Then he started singing this song and I realized I had seen this band Semisonic in concert years ago.



On Wednesday, my brother scored tickets to a Clippers game through his work and we enjoyed the luxury of sitting in the suites. Not only do they have comfortable leather seats, they had a catered spread, a dessert cart that visits each suite, and a plasma TV in each suite so that you could watch the Lakers game on TV in between watching the Clippers game live. I don't know if I can ever go back to regular seats again.

I was starting to feel better, so I had a hot dog and some of my brother's chocolate cake. Then crossed my fingers. It was a week of rice porridge so I decided to go big. Luckily my body had called a momentary truce to the war it's been waging on me.

Thursday night was a fun work outing to Universal Studios, where I had the privilege of organizing 20 hapless artists, no sheep, for a screening and dinner with our clients. I honestly do not understand how so many grown men cannot get to a location on time, not get lost, or wander off aimlessly. I imagine this might be how it is to chaperone a field trip for a class of five year olds without extra parents to help out. Luckily no one got hurt, a good time was had by all, and I didn't need to smack anybody upside the head. I know I'm getting better when I have the energy to smack people upside the head.

Emerging From the Quarantine

After not leaving the house for over forty-eight hours, it was time to go outside, have some brunch, shop for my brother's birthday gift, and hit a concert. On Saturday, I joined Sly for another concert at the Troubadour to see Matt Nathanson. He was hilarious, a great performer, and even threw in a couple of fantastic covers. Like this one originally sung by James.

A pleasant surprise was the opening act - Ingrid Michaelson, a cute Lisa Loeb like singer songwriter famous for her Old Navy sweater song, The Way I Am. When she finished a duet with Matt, he patted her on the head. That's how cute she is.

On Sunday, my brother requested ribs for his birthday dinner so we hit Lucille's BBQ. Boy does our family love meat. My mouth waters just thinking about it. We ate at a crazy early hour so that I could continue the birthday festivities by taking my brother to our client's premiere party for the Simpsons.

These clients have been driving me crazy, but the Treehouse of Horror themed party was a brief respite and reward for this project. It took place in a restored cathedral complete with intact confessional booths, featured gambling, a make your own donut station, and waitresses wandering around dressed as Marge.
I wanted one of those blue curly haired wigs, but even the waitresses said they didn't get to keep them at the end of the night. Alas, being sick and all, I was wiped out before the party ended at eleven. After not winning the raffle, my brother and I bolted before the crowds hit the valet parking. But not before my brother swiped me a much coveted devil pitchfork centerpiece.

The Drama of Work

Another one bites the dust. We can't seem to keep producers around very long. It took six months and threats of my leaving on vacation for three weeks in April to get my boss's act together to find this new guy. He lasted only six months. Only half as long as my last work neighbor. Last Friday, they threw in the towel on another person, leaving me with a sense of deju vu from last year.

When they first hired him, my only requirements were that 1) he wasn't a loud person and 2) he didn't smell. He met those requirements and then some. On the days that artists were especially rude or surly, he would turn to me after they walked away and say "your day will get better." He was genial, eager to learn and just an all around decent guy. I even hit it off with his wife right away.

Now, they've given him till Thanksgiving to find another job, citing yet another "not very good fit" meaning he wasn't getting the job done well enough. I can't objectively judge his job performance because the other producer (who is also pregnant again and taking half of next year off) and I started over four years ago, slowly working our way up to these positions, helping to create a lot of the pipeline and structure of this place. I don't know if I could have jumped in and just started managing projects at this place without the appropriate ramp up time for this crazy unorthodox place.

What I do know is that it could get ugly again. Unfairly burdening two people with the work of three again like last October through this March. And with my coworker going on her maternity leave and the need to find an additional person to replace her temporarily on top of replacing the one we're firing, it's gonna be ugly.

My stance? I'm thinking, sure I'll take on six projects! They might not be managed very well and people will likely be getting their schedules on post-it notes, but hey if you're gonna burden me with more work AND turn down my request for a bigger raise after last year's debacle, well it's all about appropriate expectations.

The 1-2-3 Punch

On Thursday, I finally got my work review. Confusing as hell, another hour plus long yakking session, but this time with a bit of psychoanalysis thrown in. "This is a really good review!" the boss and pseudo HR guy kept telling me. And I wondered, if it is, why do you have to keep telling me that?

When I finally left work, I was too impatient to wait and read the written reviews from all the supervisors. I dangerously read them at red lights as I sped toward the sneak preview for a movie. They were the kindest, most glowing words I've received yet - touched upon in ten seconds in the actual review when they said "everyone loves working with you. You can read that sheet later."

What we did talk about was how I needed to be a tougher leader and confront people right away (versus giving them time to cool off?), how I needed to project more confidence but not try to solve everything myself and not tell the boss everything, and how I needed to control my feelings and jump from being upset to calm within two seconds (I kid you not, pseudo HR guy snapped his fingers to illustrate how quickly he wanted me to turn my feelings around). It wasn't that I wasn't getting the job done - they couldn't find anything wrong with how I was managing the schedules, the budgets, the clients, the team. I had never lost my cool or let rude artists, bad clients, or cruel twists of fate get in the way of professionalism - it was that I wasn't a detached guy like the boss. I care too much. Give myself a hard time when projects aren't running smoothly. And though it was an anomaly, the last week that kicked my ass didn't help things. They kept asking me "how do you feel when..." and by the time the tortuous review was over, I wanted to yell at them. It was invasive. It was almost inappropriate and I wanted to tell them "you can't control how I FEEL. Feelings are irrational and they're MINE. That's one thing the company doesn't get from me!"

On Friday after my headache had subsided a little, I emailed them and thanked both guys for the review and the raise, but asked for more money. It was a first for me, asking for anything. But this year, I honestly felt like I deserved it and explained why. Instead of being honest with me, Pseudo HR guy wrote back and said "Well we were actually going to give you less, but your boss asked to give you more. This is honestly your 'you're kicking ass' raise. And it's not our policy to negotiate raises after we give them to you. Sorry it's not quite what you wanted." WTF? It was less than 24 hours since the review and I never had a chance to ask nor knew of such policies in all my years here. A bogus BS lazy answer which only angered me even more. I thanked the boss and asked them for more vacation time so I could keep up my travels but knew they'd turn it down anyway. I figured I had to ask, if only to get into the habit for the future. After all, I've learned the hard way, no one comes around and just offers you these things.

On Saturday, my trainer had convinced me to sign up for the physical fitness assessment tests at the Y. Imagine something like those fitness tests they made you take in high school. Except now you don't have youth on your side. I failed them all with ratings like "poor, below average, and overweight." I walked out of there stunned and wanted to go home and cry. How could this be? I've never been a skinny girl but I never honestly saw myself as an out of shape fat-ass either. I've been going to the gym and exercising for years - apparently all for naught.

The worse part was the flood of memories taking me back to high school through post college - always seeing myself as this gigantic clod because I was taller and bigger than most Asian girls. The struggle to maintain some kind of healthy image of myself took over a decade and now it's turned on its head once more as I wonder "was I right before in thinking I was a gigantic clod and only managed to delude myself in thinking I looked fine?"

So now I start my first ever diet. Which kinda sucks. And also tougher workouts with the trainer. Which is kinda painful (like tonight. Ouch.). But I have twenty pounds to lose in six months until the next physical assessment test. Which I plan to ace.

The highlight of all these appointments for the past few days? A Saturday visit to the dentist with hygienist staff that I've know since I was ten. It made me feel at home and a little bit better about myself. No cavities since I was 8 and the least painful teeth cleaning yet. If anything, at least I still have good teeth.

A Sad Whimper to the End of the Work Week

This week, work has soundly kicked me in the ass all up and down Monday through Friday. I still haven't had my review, but maybe it's for the best as god only knows what might come out of my mouth.

Highlights from the work week include:
- Artists on my projects blowing every possible deadline
- Mr. DD in full beeyotch mode, not only being extremely unappreciative but actually giving me attitude about work he's SUPPOSED to do. I'm nor sure if I've ever hated him more
- Making an artist cry (a girl, though it would have been interesting to have made a boy cry)
- Plenty of "what went wrong?" meetings - I'm starting to feel like a failure here...

Now, it's raining cats and dogs. Like thunderstorming. And as much as I love rain, I'm actually still quite frightened of lightning and thunder, a silly childhood fear I never kicked. And I realized I don't know who I could call or if I have anyone in particular to call who could comfort me at this hour. Silly I know, but still sad. I think I'll just try to go to bed early and end this week once and for all.

The annual fall breakdown

It must be cyclical. I have been feeling so worn down and unable to sleep well the past two weeks, plagued by work dreams and a brain that won't shut off long after my head has hit the pillow and the covers are pulled up to my neck.

Maybe it's the weather change. I woke up on Monday and felt the chill in the air and in my head I screamed out in exuberance. "Fall is here!" Unfortunately, it means being chilled to the bone, achiness, swollen glands, and sitting on the precipice of illness.

Maybe it's the stress of the annual work review. Which has been postponed to possibly tomorrow and about a month late. Which I don't even feel up to par for battle as all projects are in full swing and kicking my ass everyday. Not to mention certain artists driving me nuts and not being very nice or appreciative. It hasn't happened in awhile, but today I wanted to cry like a girl for no reason at all as I drove home.

Like Death and Taxes...

It's that time of year again. My annual work review. I enjoy these about as much as I do raisins, prunes, pickles and getting my semi-annual dental cleaning. Postponed twice and nearly a month late, I think it just might happen as scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. I'm not quite as anxious as years past nor justifiably angry. The boss amuses me in a "man, he's such a tool" kinda way. And the artists? Most of them are big babies.

Within 2 minutes of sitting down at my desk this morning, I was harassed by artist after artist in person, via IM, and over emails about what THEY needed. EVERYTHING is a priority. What about what I need? Like my morning cup of tea and some breakfast? Or MY priorities? Like making sure I'm awake and well fed else I bite someone's head off as a casualty of war?

Alright, I kid but only because I've been in a petulant kind of mood all day. I do like most of these people. Even Mr. DD, who is the biggest baby of them all and the one I have to work with the most. (Demented fairy godmother I tell you.) But if any of these people say one bad thing about me in my review, heads will roll...

How to Scare my Coworkers

After a particularly frustrating day of uncooperative hapless coworkers, I started fantasizing about ways to make people listen to me. And after my boss's pre-review critique about my not-loud-enough voice during meetings, the ideas really took off. I don't believe in having to yell to make my point or exude authority. And I cannot win in a whoever-has-the-loudest-voice-takes-over-the-conversation contest. I'm all about speaking softly and carrying a big stick. Thanks to a wicked imagination and some equally creative friends, here are a few ideas we came up with to have more of the artists fear me.

- Carry my brother's samurai sword on my back at all times while walking through the office and checking in with the artists, asking them "Did you fill out your timesheet today? Then you may keep all your fingers."
- Have my old boss from the mouse-eared company come in and pretend to yell at him until he cries and begs for mercy (he's the kooky one who suggested it)
- When everyone is quietly working in that serene moment of the work day, let out a bloodcurdling scream and hurl a notebook through the air clear across the room, then carry on my day as if everything is normal
- Smack one of the guys upside the head without warning when they don't listen
- Go in the back room and practice my boxing or swordfighting skills, complete with yells, which will eerily echo back to the main room

In the meantime, I've decided to just rebel against the etiquette and manners from my upbringing that have constrained me, and just plain be more rude. As in not waiting my turn to speak and interrupting others when they talk, just like all the boys do here at my work. Otherwise, I wait forever for an opening to speak up and constantly get talked over by a louder person.

It felt good to reprimand my boss during a meeting and tell him "hey bossman, I can't talk over your loud jokes. Work with me here!" And pleasantly enough, he stayed quiet for the rest of the meeting. I felt giddy with power when some of the guys started interrupting me and going off on tangents and I said "Hey people! I'm talking here!" and they all turned to look at me in shock, apologized and allowed me to continue running the meeting. The surprise tactics seem to be working. And I enjoy keeping them all on their toes.

Once, years ago during the mouse-eared company days, I started banging my forehead on the desk in frustration. Not hard enough to dent my head or leave a mark, but apparently loud enough to draw the attention of my department. It was probably the only time I remotely had an outburst at that stressful job. They still talk about it to this day.

Friends For Life, Fifty To Life

Work has swallowed me whole again. And when I'm not working, I've taken up residence at the gym thanks to a trainer I signed up with at the Y. It helps keep me accountable to working out no matter how tired I am. It also gives me an excuse to leave by a certain time after working all day with the bunch of monkeys I'm surrounded with.

Today in particular, I was thisclose to strangling one with my bare hands. And you have to know it does take a lot to rile me up at work. When I vented to Wavy over IM about it, she was ever the resourceful advisor.

"May I suggest rope?" she responded. "I watched CSI and they said using your bare hands would likely leave fingerprints."

I have awesome friends.

Some Things, You Just Can't Shake

Today, 8/8 is supposed to be a lucky day in Chinese culture. But it was a crappy day of work. Which started when I overslept and woke up at ten till 11 after ten hours of nonstop dreaming ABOUT work. I woke up more exhausted than ever.

And then in the midst of all the crappiness, I get this from The Boy who was the one, who moved away, who got married... Second IM this week. Guess he's back from his honeymoon.

Boy: W
Boy: are you going to talk to me any more since I moved?
Boy: :-I

I don't know what to do. It breaks my heart to keep ignoring him though I know I'm invisible to him on IM - yet he keeps trying. It's against my nature to just drop someone without explanation and to be a bad friend who doesn't stay in touch with the other person when they make the appropriate amount of effort. Yet, there's really only 3 choices here:

1) continue ignoring
2) respond back and keep up the charade
3) come clean and explain "Dude, you broke my heart. Do you not get it? Do you not understand that this is a broken, damaged version of me that you keep kicking in the shins every time you want to be my friend?"

Perhaps #3 is a bit too dramatic and unnecessary.

Wavy suggested responding back curtly, telling him that I'm busy with work. (Which is kinda the truth really.) And that after a few times of this, he'd get the message and it would be a natural devolution of the friendship. But that feels mean to me too and also along the lines of being a bad friend. "Arghhhhh!" I want to yell. "Look at what you're making me do!! You're making me into a 'bad friend!!!!!'"