Sharing is Preparing… or, Disrepairing?

I was supposed to go into a meeting twenty minutes ago that may or may not decide my fate.  Things are kinda tense here, in that whole “IDGAF so therefore I’m here but really not here“+”Meh”+”Lemme light this match & walk out” way.  I plan on giving you all a thorough elaboration in the near future.

And My Criminal Record Remains SPOTLESS!

The proof that I’ve kinda, sorta had it with this place is that I’m now entering subversive text into my Administrative Assistant Procedure Manual.  

The Half-Week From HELL!

It is only the THIRD day of this week.  So far there have been a rainbow assortment of annoyances leading to an increasing level of infuriation.

– I’ve assisted degreed adults in the capacity of a Special Education teacher.  For stuff EVERYONE in the office workforce should already know like email and printing a flipping document.

Friday KILL or “Why Edita REALLY Should Buy a Ticket to BOTTOM-LINE TOWN”

A little song to illustrate my mood but what I also wish certain people (ahem, you KNOW who you are!) would do when they see me.  Moving on…

Nothing makes me madder than someone whose powers of communication, or lack thereof, keeps me from making some kind of forward progression.

Progress matters to me, especially in my place of employment – progress in diminishing the piles of paper on my desk; progress in my exodus downstairs for my morning coffee; progress in the general direction of the cafeteria and DO NOT come between me and that hand-scanner at 5:00 (unless you just happen to be my boss)!

Imbecillusism of the Week: RUFKM!? Excuse-of-the-Week

“Because I didn’t have my computer to give me the CALENDAR POP-UP to remind me that it was time to come over and cover for you”

I bet you’re laughing already. I will admit to laughing, but not in the way that conveys the pleasant surprise of finding something hilarious

Salad With a Side of STANK??

You have been warned, salad-serving Crankypants!

Here’s a little bit of advice – if you have a problem with my face, or just with people in general, then maybe you shouldn’t be working in food-service.

TBT: The “Pity” Christmas…

Scarier than coal in your stocking

In my early days of employment at Current Job, I was taken protectively under the wing of Jar Jar Bitch.  Back then, I could still look her in the eye and NOT be the least bit tempted to put her in a choke-hold.  We all know by now how I was duped into falling for that “Mother Hen” bullshit and that if anyone ever repeatedly professes to be a mother-hen then they are most likely psychotic or full of shit, at the very least.

This particular year, my husband decided to go south for the Christmas holiday to be with his family. This is not something I normally enjoy so, although less than thrilled with his nonchalant decision to leave me behind, I chose to stay home with my son.

What Happens if I Click “Send”?

Dear Mr. Omar,

We have had it up to here with your waterlogging shenanigans. It’s not just the fact that you douse the toilet seat; it isn’t solely the way you splash the mirror like an exorcist with holy water or that you flood the countertop and make puddles on the floor for some unknown, idiotic reason. It’s worse than that and you are now under fair warning…

A Little Less Conversation…

So in this professional journey of never-ending frustration, I’ve realized that it’s not entirely my fault that I cannot get shit done around here.  It seems like every time someone else’s input is required to complete something, like keeping current on my share of the water bill or getting an answer about a notice from OMH, I seem to always arrive in the middle of some tedious, long-winded personal conversation.  Because we have nothing better to do at work, apparently.

Promotionally Retarded

I am a promotional idiot – sticking it out on the simpleton shift chewing up ticky-tack specks of bone bowing loyal to the sweet, senile, blind… and monthly State Reports.  Which were temporary…

I am a promotional idiot – tongue-bitten bruised keeping silent all these years not for fear; NOT for fear of Beelzebitch’s plowing through our hut like an angry convoy – I compile and file; I crack jokes as my gift to her victims…

Showers, Spies and Crusty Microwaves

So there’s this situation at work which I, as (my) luck and position would have it, have the good fortune of handling.

It seems for some time now that someone has been splashing around in the downstairs ladies bathroom. There have been several complaints from the ladies about getting butt-soaked and general watery mayhem.  Several disturbing times a day, water will be found all over the counter, the floor, the toilet seat, the mirror, the doorknob.

Um, WTF! Was our potty being used by a certain someone to enact a secret water-ritual every flipping day??

Crazy Bird Lady (part 2)

(See Part 1 here)

She will talk your darn ear off

Give a second or two

It will turn to 10 minutes at least

And her manner, it seems

Is unfriendly at best

Crazy Bird-Lady (part 1)

Do not come seeking payment –

She’s out feeding the birds

Never mind she comes hourly; same as we

Do not call her for “friendly”

She’s too busy for that

Throwback Thursday – Dispatch Comix

This is probably where my office angst took off running.  Back in 1997 I was dispatching at a corporate black-car service based in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. Back in those days, blogging & internet bullying were just twinkles in a Canadian programmer’s eye…

“I have heard my animals’ voices again…”: DEADWEIGHT

This is a great example of the workplace entitlement-syndrome and super-annoying, quasi-martyrdom that is experienced when working with pseudo grandmas who think they have better things to do at work than actual work.