Tag Archives: job stress

Mission…. Approaching Near-Impossible

Good morning, Candidate 50764 – Continue reading


Ask Freeta: Dementia Equals Demerits??

Dear Freeta,

This week I got my first ever negative performance review.  It’s basically a wet sack of inarticulate, poorly recollected meanderings dribbling from the mind of a senile, inattentive old coot.  Even though I’ve carefully drafted a perfect rebuttal, it hurts nonetheless. Continue reading

Hell for Lazy Secretaries: Sealing My Coffin

January 2015 was the month from hell.  My funny Director went out on maternity leave.  Right before she left, the A.E.D. called me in for a discussion about the mess on my desk (that cursed paper quicksand!), that I seem unhappy and, ironically, the fact that he was told I applied to other departments even though he assured me in the same breath to feel free to apply to other departments since maybe I’m unhappy.  He repeated the “So-and-so told me you applied to other departments” statement 3 times during our conversation.  It would appear this was an issue for him. Continue reading

I Love to Hate…

…working here. I love to HATE working here. Apparently.

That job, for which my hopes were smiling and raised like a 16 y-o geek girl in headgear with a crush on the elusive hot, nice-guy jock, went to the lovely lady who inspired this post. Continue reading

The Moment I Realized That Moving “UP” REALLY MEANS Stepping Down…Into a Pail of Llama Poo

I recently sent in a Posting Response form for an open position.  Realistically, I never expected it to come with more money BUT disturbingly, this “Coordinator” position comes complete with a “salary-adjustment”.  Also quite trauma inducing is the depressingly low current salary – I have the enviable ability to check budget lists up in here and it is slightly less per year than my own.  Continue reading

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)! Continue reading

The “Accidental” Banana

Things have been unusually quiet on the Edita front.  Like all such things, this was too good to be true and not meant to last… Kind of like money in my bank account. Or reality-show marriages… Continue reading

Because Monday (wicked steam-venting…)


Bring me cookies & hold all my calls...

Bring me cookies & hold all my calls…

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. Continue reading

5 Ways the Swedish Chef Keeps Me Sane

the chefThese days at work, I find myself thinking of that new Highlander Muppet-commercial to keep myself from putting a pen through Jar Jar Bitch‘s eye.  It is entirely impossible for me NOT to laugh myself to pieces, which will quell any homicidal desires I might be harboring. Continue reading

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…

Continue reading

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??

Continue reading

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

Continue reading

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

Continue reading

A child shattered, Life beyond..

Just because you don't see the struggle, doesn't mean someone isn't drowning.. Pain of the mind is worse than pain of the body.

The Greenwich Village Literary Review

A magazine by writers who love to write for readers who love to read.

The Winter Bites My Bones

The Collected Poems of Dennis McHale: 1981-2016