The Producers

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2008-07-08T23:02:00.001-04:00

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2008-01-28T09:23:00.000-05:00

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Sweet Zoe Jane

2006-10-17T23:31:00.000-04:00

Well I want you to notice
To notice when I'm not around
I know your eyes see straight through me
And speak to me without a sound

And I want to hold you
Protect you from all the things I've already endured
And I want to show you
To show you all of the things that this life has in store for you
I'll always love you
The way a father sould love his daughter

When I walked out this morning
I cried as I walked to the door
I cried about how long I'd be away
I cried about leaving you alone

And I want to hold you
Protect you from all the things I've already endured
And I want to show you
To show you all of the things that this life has in store for you
I'll always love you
The way a father sould love his daughter

Sweet Zoe Jane
Sweet Zoe Jane

So I wanted to say this
'cause I wouldn't know where to begin
To explain to you what I have been through
To explain where your daddy has been

And I want to hold you
Protect you from all the things I've already endured
And I want to show you
To show you all of the things that this life has in store for you
I'll always love you
The way a father sould love his daughter

Sweet Zoe Jane

The Return of Mr Happy Go To

2006-01-17T22:57:00.000-05:00

Well . . . it's been a right long time since I've bothered to write a new OPM update.

Amazingly enough, I'm still there!

Although I'm beginning to get the feeling that my cheerful "accordian monkey antics" no longer have their same potency. Oh well. Just *try* and find someone as hard working, non-arrogant, and generally cheerful as I am for the same price! Go on! TRY!!

At the moment I'm finishing up school, working fulltime, doing night classes (one of which is on one of the Satellite campuses quite a distance away from office & home) . . . and polishing up the resume' to look for future job prospects.

Sadly, it doesn't get much less boring than that . . .

Now that I actually remembered my password however, perhaps I'll post more . . . eventually . . . when I get around to it.

Peace and Chicken Grease,

-MHGT

Julie's Deaf Call

2005-10-03T05:41:00.000-04:00

Friday night I went with my friend Julie, and her friend Aya to talk to a deaf man Aya had met. Thai sign language is 50% ASL so many Thai can more-or-less understand someone signing ASL

I sat there, with Aya --Japanese-- on my left. She was signing things in Japanese and Thai sign the best she could, while occationally having me translate Thai words into English for Julie (who speaks English and ASL --not Thai.) It was quite an hour.

Across the table, Julie is signing to him, while asking me to ask Aya something in Thai about what he's saying. No wonder we were such a spectacle in the restaurant! ;) A Thai man, a Japanese girl, and two Americans, signing (all except for me.)

I watched as Julie, Aya and this man drew pictures with their hands and silently created scenes. I actually understood many parts of the explanations and found it fascinating.

I never really cared for sign-language before. I think I almost found it irritating. For me, it was frustrating because me ears craved sound, and the ease of an explanation with words. I always felt so useless around deaf people.

However, after sitting there for a long time in the quiet, intensely watching, seeing this man's eyes pour out expression, I forgot to think about sound, and foucused on the hand guestures. Aya is such an actress as well. Watching her is like watching a play. Her face changes so quickly. It was all remarkably expressive.

I started to think about this man's world. How, of all the people around, he'd only ever really communicate with so few of them. How small his world really is. He was so interesting, able to read and write Chinese, Japanese, and Thai. He's also able to sign in Thai sign and Japanese sign. No one would really know that though. He was so thrilled to be able to communicate with people, and talking about his beliefs in the religion and the universe, he had so many thoughts. He kept asking my why I didn't know how to sign, and I really wished I did.

2005-09-25T08:21:00.000-04:00

At long last the spinning has stopped and cellular homeostasis has (nearly) been restored. Having purged itself of a Friday night spent drinking and debauching, Hänni’s body is, once again, happy.

So, I attended a swank cocktail party this weekend where the night’s main activities included dancing ‘til my tootsies bled and tossing many, many adult beverages down ye olde hatch.

My dress of choice: Little, black.
My drink of choice: Appletini, green and mean.

And now, for your reading pleasure, I would like to present Friday Night, A Poem:

1 martini, 2 martini, 3 martini, 4
Hänni did a bad thing,
And dropped one on the floor

The crowd did gasp
Whence broke the glass
And Hänni had no more…

Glass that is, not alcamahol silly

Because, sans glass stems
Hänni made some friends
Who served with plastic cups!

Rock lobsters, lemon drops and buttery nipples, oh my.

2005-09-25T08:01:00.002-04:00

Little Black Dress 2
Originally uploaded by hannibehr.

2005-09-25T08:01:00.001-04:00

Little Black Dress 2
Originally uploaded by hannibehr.

2005-09-25T08:01:00.000-04:00

Little Black Dress 2
Originally uploaded by hannibehr.

Little Black Dress 2

2005-09-25T07:57:00.000-04:00

Little Black Dress 2
Originally uploaded by hannibehr.

At long last the spinning has stopped and cellular homeostasis has (nearly) been restored. Having purged itself of a Friday night spent drinking and debauching, Hänni’s body is, once again, happy.
So, I attended a swank cocktail party this weekend where the night’s main activities included dancing ‘til my tootsies bled and tossing many, many adult beverages down ye olde hatch.
My dress of choice: Little, black.
My drink of choice: Appletini, green and mean.
And now, for your reading pleasure, I would like to present Friday Night, A Poem:

Little Black Dress 2
Originally uploaded by hannibehr.

At long last the spinning has stopped and cellular homeostasis has (nearly) been restored. Having purged itself of a Friday night spent drinking and debauching, Hänni’s body is, once again, happy.
So, I attended a swank cocktail party this weekend where the night’s main activities included dancing ‘til my tootsies bled and tossing many, many adult beverages down ye olde hatch.
My dress of choice: Little, black.
My drink of choice: Appletini, green and mean.
And now, for your reading pleasure, I would like to present Friday Night, A Poem:

Little Black Dress 2
Originally uploaded by hannibehr.

At long last the spinning has stopped and cellular homeostasis has (nearly) been restored. Having purged itself of a Friday night spent drinking and debauching, Hänni’s body is, once again, happy.
So, I attended a swank cocktail party this weekend where the night’s main activities included dancing ‘til my tootsies bled and tossing many, many adult beverages down ye olde hatch.
My dress of choice: Little, black.
My drink of choice: Appletini, green and mean.
And now, for your reading pleasure, I would like to present Friday Night, A Poem:

2005-09-25T07:56:00.000-04:00

Little Black Dress 1
Originally uploaded by hannibehr.

2005-09-25T07:52:00.000-04:00

Little Black Dress 2
Originally uploaded by hannibehr.

tgusrtyutty

Little Black Dress 2

2005-09-25T07:51:00.000-04:00

Little Black Dress 2
Originally uploaded by hannibehr.

Flickr

2005-09-25T07:42:00.000-04:00

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

We apologize for the delay . . .

2005-05-25T21:32:00.000-04:00

I'm so sorry I wasn't able to get back to you all in a timely manner. I've received all of your messages, but I was out of town on business in Somalia and caught a nasty case of crabs. I've been working part time since and I can only apply rid-ex so many times per day, and was even over-applying and now am recovering from the sucking chest wound it caused. Did I mention my entire extended family died horribly and have had funerals? I am very sad. However, you are all at the top of my priority list and I will try my best to get back to you by August 16th, 2184 at the absolute latest.

Your check was mailed out decades ago, but I've only just learned that it got caught in a timewarp and was intercepted by the Mongrol hordes invading eastern europe centuries ago.

BUT GOOD NEWS!!

A recent archeological dig has uncovered your late checks along with the meaning of life, and I'm sure you'll receive everything as soon as the carbon dating is finished, so long as quantum fluctuations and instabilities in the space-time continuum get ironed out.

Unless there are gnomes.

Damn the gnomes.

Regards,

-MHGT

De Ja Vu

2005-04-22T19:21:00.000-04:00

Part of the perks at my new job is that we get to use IM. Not only do we get to use it, we are encouraged to use it, so much so that, as soon as a newbie is hired, they are instructed to create an account for use at work, and e-mail said account information to all employees in the company.

This level of trust is vastly different from that which I have experienced at my previous work/hell. In my other life, when employed as lowly slave at Other People’s Money, all employees were threatened via neatly typed memo that anyone caught instant messaging would be summarily dismissed from their position in the company. Likewise, sending a personal e-mail to your granny was also a good way to get the axe.

And at Other People’s Money, the axe fell A LOT.

Needless to say, as one of their longest running employees, having worked in their dank, decrepit hovel of an office for a whopping 14 months, I never broke the rules.

Err well, they never knew I broke the rules.

It’s true that I never once IM’d. Too risky, as downloading of software is involved. Now as far as those e-mails to granny, I never did that either. Well, not really too much. Maybe once or twice to gma, but she is old and needs the reading materials. You gotta have something to fill the days right?

Yes, I e-mailed gma only a negligible 10 times, but the e-mails to maaa, pop, sis, Rock Star Brother, an elderly French woman, my best friend, the neighbor with the ugly tattoo, that skeezy interpretive dancer I met at starbucks, my tenth grade Japanese teacher, and SORM – well I probably wrote them more than the 20 times I ever did to gma, God bless her.

And maybe I wasn’t always the exemplary OPM employee. Maybe I’m the one who used up all the plastic forks in the kitchen and secretly snacked on other people’s potato chips, homemade cookies, and dressings. Maybe I made up all those “appointments” so I could go shopping at the Gap on Friday afternoons. And maybe that one time I pretended to take my car to the shop, quite possibly, I really left work so I could stuff my face with movie house popcorn at the theater where Bridget Jones was showing.

The Eagle Has Been Sighted

2005-04-18T01:26:00.000-04:00

Lo, readers, I have spotted the Great Eagle and it is the Olive Garden that he haunt (also several vaguely violent dreams but that's a whole other ball of wax). And while he successfully managed to pretend he didn't see me (I assume because he will loathe to admit the wonder of my XML translating code), it was him.

Damn you, Eagle. Can't a man eat his soup and read his paper in peace?

Another one bites the dust . . .

2005-03-08T20:03:00.000-05:00

Yet another unexpected departure from The Producer's staff . . . Alexis, the woman who was hired to do . . . well, something . . . she was The Grape's little protege' . . . and did many jobs around the office (albeit none of them terribly well, often times leaving Mr.Happy Go-to to clean up her mess. Thank God I fixed the network backups, or else rebuilding some of the documents she fucked up would've really ruined my day.

Sadly, she's no longer with the company. I guess she quit suddenly citing "family issues" of some sort. Meh.

We've pretty much completed pillaging Mr. Tap Dancing's company for anything of value and have been pouring over all the junk, trying to make sense of how he managed to stay in business and what exactly it is that he's in business FOR. The really interesting part is--it might actually be possible to make his business profitable. Whodathunkit?

And I'm *still* waiting for more fun stories from the likes of Sophie, Lilly, QB & possibly even O-Space (but we're not holding our breath for him).

Have a good one
-MHGT

That obvious, huh?

2005-02-15T17:25:00.000-05:00

Since I don't go in to the producers tomorrow (school all day) & don't go back till Thursday, Mama Bear gave me my birthday card today (The birthday's Wednesday, as one might guess).

The over-whelming theme of said card was how hung over I'd be on the 17th . . . *whistles innocently*.

Yup, I think it's pretty safe to say that they're all well-aware that Mr. Happy Go-To is really Mr. Go-to Happy Hour. Heh.

Yet from all outward appearances, they still consider me a valuable addition to the staff . . . go figure!

Cheers!! ;)
-MHGT

So long, Lilly!

2005-02-09T20:34:00.000-05:00

As our readers are no doubt aware, the lovely Lilly has left the producers in search of better employment. But she promises me that she'll keep writing amusing anecdotes (*coughs and sputters in Sophie's direction*) about her time at the producers.

Yesterday was her last day in the office, and apparently the only day Grape thought would be needed to train others in what she does. I wasn't asked to learn her job (and was pretty glad too. The investors creep me out a little.)

I started my day setting up the network backups, talking to the phone company, then having to spend an hour or so very very patiently explaining to Glenda how the internet works and how we can offer tenants internet access and why we've just started doing it. (The building was mostly wired for it 10 years ago, but as with many projects around here, tons of money are thrown at it, but then Those In Charge get bored, fire whoever was spearheading it, or run out of money and abandon it.)

Another funny thing is Glenda has an MIS degree. Perhaps the hair dye seeped into her brain and erased whatever was in there, because she can barely turn the things on.

Anyhoo, I ran around doing odds and ends as usual, dreading the test I had to take in my night class and 4:00pm rolls around. I'm hoping I can slip out a few minutes early and beat the traffic rush . . . but nooooooooo. There's some huge problem at a satellite office of Mr. Tap Dancing's company . . . who we sortof work for/with or something. And Mr. Tap Dancing's sole remaining employee, Marge, is training with Lilly and also needs the phone (and all 6 phone lines) in our office . . . as well as her old computer.

Well, there's no way I can fix the satellite office problem before 5, but I manage to tackle the phone and computer issue, scrambling around, looking nervously at my watch as the minutes tick by . . . get it all up and running, test it out, then BOLT out the door.

It's a shame I had that test too--Lilly wanted some of the staff to meet up w/ her for a sendoff dinner . . . Such is life . . .

Inquring Minds Want to Know...Where Are You, O-Space-Man?

2005-02-04T15:14:00.000-05:00

O-Space-Man likes many things. Besides speaking in third person, he likes The West Wing, rolled up Quads over Boats, and he likes a healthy dose of well-written commentary. Thus between working diligently at his new job, working diligently on freelance work, and balancing his impeccable social resume, O-Space-Man is relentlessly editing his thoughts to bring you the most wonderfully witty and scathing comment possible.

Thanks for your patience.

Lilly got a job offer!

2005-02-02T19:49:00.000-05:00

I received a job offer today! Yeah! No more negative work environments. No more shitty pay. Bring on the ethics, bring on the training and bring on hot studly bosses! Well I didn't actually get the last one :(.

I'll let you know how my resignation goes tomorrow. I haven't decided whether to give a full two weeks notice or not yet. I may tell them I'll stay the full two weeks if they agree to write me a letter of recommendation (which Mama Bear said they don't do). They may just tell me to fuck off. I really don't know.

I think we need to pass on editorial rights to employees still stuck with the Producers. I think that is the best way to keep this blog going. New faces, new points of view. Of course always dealing with the same old shit because nothing will ever change! Mr. Happy Go-To and the intern for starters.

Lilly soon to go?

2005-01-26T18:57:00.000-05:00

I thought I would let the readers know that I’ve been scheduled for two interviews today. One problem though. What to tell the Grape and Charlie for my coming in late tomorrow and Friday? Since The Producers happen to be very nosey and could very well terminate an employee if they did not give a good excuse for absence. (The Producers rarely have good reasons for termination if you haven’t noticed yet)

Well after 20 minutes of deliberating a good excuse, one came to me. Luckily I have a brother that’s currently living with me while he waits Navy boot camp. He has to visit the Recruiting office often and he has no vehicle, so the recruiter usually picks him up and brings him back.

So I called the Grape - “Hi Grape, this is Lilly” The Grape with a concerned tone replies “Oh..Lilly?” “I just spoke with my brother and he needs me to take him to the NAVY Recruiters office tomorrow so I will be in about an hour late” (Silence) “Hmmm” replies the Grape. “He also needs me to take him Friday morning but on Friday I will need to stay with him because the recruiter will be unable to bring him home afterwards so I won’t be in until around lunch time on Friday” (Silence) “Okay well be sure to tell Charlie tomorrow when you come in” “Thanks for letting us know”.

Success!

But will my excuse really work? Will I get an offer for employment? Or will my excuse be too suspicious and I get no offer for employment and get canned instead? I know it will be sad to longer have an insider covering The Producers but like Sophie said there is still a lot of information in our brains that has yet to be written. We’ll see how long the blog lasts. But be assured that Sophie, QueenBean and Lilly are life long bloggers now.

Two Down, Lilly to go!

2005-01-25T20:11:00.000-05:00

Everyone knows that the lovely Sophie flew to Thailand last Saturday to pursue teaching English. What you may not know is that our darling O-Space-Man was fired yesterday. Why? Well I think he will be commenting on the exact reasons but I do know he was caught using personal email that very morning by Momma Bear. I know, how dare he do anything personal on the job, I mean who does that. Anyway, as O-Space-Man put it himself. “If you want your employees to be happy and work hard, let them watch porn on their PC every once in a while” “Who cares as long as they do a good job” I don’t think the Producers will ever learn. This is another good example of why we are always under-staffed. QueenBean can comment on the exact number but I believe it was 32 employees that were fired in 2004. That’s out of a 20 employee office! That’s just unheard of!

Well one thing that I’m happy about is that O-Space-Man did help me on my poker skills his last day during lunch. Which made today’s lunch all that more shitty since I had to eat alone. I did however befriend the new intern working for the Eagle strategically while the Eagle was meeting with Charlie. I simply walked over to the marketing area and asked how she was doing. You can not imagine how happy she was to see me. “What kind of place is this?” she asked. She was rightfully shocked that O-Space-Man had been fired, you know because in a normal work environment someone doesn’t get terminated all to often. She commented that the Producers should put a blocker on the sites they don’t want us to visit. She said she just didn’t understand this place. At her last internship in England, she said they were able to drink beer on the job. Well Ms. Intern seemed cool enough so I offered to tell her more via email and gave her my email address. I feel a little evil corrupting the new employee and all. But she deserves to know the truth.

So may the Producers live on! Please introduce “The Intern”!

Classic Faux Pas

2005-01-21T10:30:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I outdid myself.

Saying good-bye to my boss, Mama Bear, I gave her the web link to my blog about Thailand.

"Yeah, I'll be posting some photos on there. You must check it out now and then!" I said.

Because I apparently don't have any brain cells, I forgot that my profile name as a writer is linked to my other blogs. I thought since there was no link to it she wouldn't find it. Eeeek.

I was in her office watching her as she went to the web site, and it dawned on me that she could easily with just a few clicks discover The Producers blog.

"Ok, Sophie, I'll check this out for a few minutes and let you finish packing up your office," she said. "Nice layout."

Eeeek. As my heart was beating a million miles a minute I rushed back to my desk, signed on to blogger, and tried to delete myself as a writer and hide my profile as FAST as I could.

Lilly heard me giving her the address and rushed in to my vubicle and asked "what's WRONG with you? I'm not ready to get fired yet!"

Thank goodness we got rid of the links and deleted me as a writer just in time.

Phew. One last final fiasco. The was to go out.

The Last Week

2005-01-19T16:38:00.000-05:00

This is my last week here. I don't know what happened Monday afternoon, but I think it was kind of like the floodgates opened and all of a sudden I'm drowning in work.

Apparently people just got the picture that I am actually leaving. No slipping through the back door here.

All projects that I've had my hands in during the past nearly two years are now on my plate to document, pass on or finish.

Monday someone hacked into our servers and the 102 template e-mails that I wrote were gone. One on every subject having to do with advertising that could possibly relate to us. There is some data in a file, but none of it is templated or formatted right. That's all in my head, so I spent Monday and Tuesday trying to sort through that mess and create a new database, listenting to Bright Eyes and John Mayer mixed. Quite a combo. Editing and writing all these letters, trying to see them as important in the stream of time and give my attention. I do feel bad leaving with many documents only saved in my head, but ce la vie.

Most of my mind really thinking about the Hutu and Tootsie genocide and wondering how we can live in a world where 1 million people are killed with machetes because of their race. It must be the last days. See "Hotel Rwanda" if you think you're up to it. It's amazing that happened in 1994.

Apparently when I came to work sick last week and did research and recommendations for a link project, my research was no good (probably because I was sick). I had the wrong mindset, thinking about advertisers instead of selling to consumers.

So, The Eagle and I hovered over his desk all day yesterday and redid all those recommendations, not agreeing on anything, until finally I gave up and stopped voicing my opinions. I know that makes him mad because he wants me to be thinking and he needs someone to feed ideas off of.

When I zone out for a second his eyes dart over at me "where are you?" he asks. "You know enough about SEO to do this. Don't ask questions like that! What are you thinking? I trained you in this!"

Nice cut. I know I know this, but I just can't focus on it. He knows I'm not focusing and it's pissing him off. Yet, we both hate having our work ethics insulted.

I finally told him what I really think about him and his life and his choices. Speaking very quietly (I know this place is bugged.) I told him he's being brainwashed into thinking his ego and self-esteem are all tied up here, taking orders from a computer-illiterate idiot, when he is brilliant guy who should be calling some shots, especially since he IS all they have left. He has a wife and child to support and he's barely older than I am. I told him I hate to think of him alone trying to pull this barge and having a family, and a pregnant wife in college. I tried to tell him that if it sinks it not his failure, he could walk. He seemed to hear me, but who knows.

I just feel buried here. He saw me at lunch today, came by and talked to me about some of his ideas. He feels like he missed the exit window, but he's got to have a little more faith in himself. I do genuinely worry about him, and am grateful. To him and Alli, for teaching me so much about writing and about how the Internet works. It's been a great experience learning here.

Maybe it's the stress of leaving the first feeling of job and financial security I ever felt in my life, who knows. But leaving is hard and I catch myself crying for no reason.

Not to mention...my school just called to let me know documents I sent never made it. I have two days to find the work, which seems to have disappeared from my laptop, conveniently. College essays are just not what I had in mind for this week, but it's what I'll be doing I guess.

Then there are certain egocentrical people who start in with awful guilt-trips because I'm not available. True friends don't demand your every last breath when you're trying to get through a hard week.

Oh, and selling your car on eBay to someone in Africa...is generally a bad idea...right? At least I'm assuming so.

It'll all be fine, I know, just take a deep breath. Things always look really big and important when you are in the middle of them, but when I step back, they're not. It's nice to be able to do that, something I appreciate because I couldn't alway do it.

Stuff passes, rather quickly actually. It's such a beautiful day out. There are really good things now and in my future I'm thinking about. Things, people, I never thought I'd have. Really, really good things and people. Happy thoughts.

Soon I'll be riding an elephant.

"Things are going to change!"

2005-01-18T10:33:00.000-05:00

It’s so hilarious to observe Charlie in the “I’ve had it stage.” This stage normally lasts a few days to two weeks. It’s when Charlie demands that things are going to change. No more him and mama bear doing all the work! But then after a few interviews (it’s just a few because our recruiting is so slow in responding back to applicants that most of them have found jobs by the time we call) and Charlie not liking any of them (because he is the most pickiest guy I’ve met) he goes into the “I’m just going to have to take over the recruiting myself” stage. I just laugh to myself every time he complains because this has been going on for a year now (that I’ve witnessed, probably longer) and nothing ever changes. He never does anything with recruiting except bitch about it. Again, it’s hilarious. This company is in such a vicious cycle, that I’ve come to the conclusion, Charlie creates and will never do anything different to change it. So we are constantly under-staffed, and therefore as Charlie puts it the work is shuffled up the ladder instead of down. He has created, in my mind, his own hell. Yes, you have to develop good copping skills to be such close witness to this chaos. In case it’s not clear, Charlie consistently complains about things and never actually does anything about it. Well today he says “in a few days this all stops!” Ha ha, we’ll see, or maybe he’ll surprise us. Maybe the change is me. I’ve been dying to get fired from this hell hole for awhile now but in a way that I can still claim unemployment. I’ve never done that and never really thought about it before. But it will hurt them financially in doing so and I need a good break after doing this for almost two years to bring myself to normalcy. Is that so wrong?

Mr. Masala Paneer

2005-01-17T21:00:00.000-05:00

Time for you all to meet Mr. Masala Paneer Asholta.

He is the 24-year-old Indian midget in charge of our finance
department. Our immense finance department consisting of him and his
sidekick Macky (who is white as a sheet, twice his height and weight.)

Mr. Masala Paneer Asholta, born and raised in Bombay, came to the US to
study accounting. In Bombay he was a midget street-fighter, (or so he
claims.) I'll tell you this much, I'd sure avoid him if I saw him in a
dark alley. About a year ago he heard me talking at lunch about an
annoying person who had been following me around and offered to give me
"a number" to have that taken care of. Things like that make me wonder.

He rolls in to work around 9:20 everyday and appears to live on Pepsi
and pop-tarts. He's been staring at Excel spreadsheets for years, which
is probably why his eyes never look at you directly. I don't want to be
rude, but I'm never sure which one to focus on when talking to him.
Working here, it's no surprise he's addicted to gambling on falling
stock options. One day he explained to me how to bet on how badly a
stock will fall within a specific time. When he has a good hunch, he
takes out a cash advance on his Visa card and goes for it. Sometimes he
rides high, sometimes not so high. But beware of the quiet midget in
the back of the building.

On the subject of girls, he explained that his parents are
biting-at-the-bit to have him come home for a "party" (another term for
meet the local single chicks and pick one.) Modern day arranged
marriage in India is a two week session of "parties" where you hang out
with everyone and end up proposing to your favorite. So Mr. Masala
explains. Not that different from how many people end up together in
the states, honestly.

Once I asked what he spends money on, (besides gambling.) He said
basically Indian food, DVD's and dry cleaning. He always dresses nice.
Like a rich Indian. Generally an easygoing guy, don't go against him at
fooseball. He always triumphs. It's like his outlet. Perhaps now that
he's given up midget street-fighting?

Evil Thought Confession

2005-01-17T20:41:00.000-05:00

As juvenile as it sounds, I'm terribly tempted.

I got a call this morning from a friend in Germany (good thing I made it
to work on time!) Recently engaged, I wanted to hear about her finacee,
so I had a bit of a chat. The evil thought crossed my mind, just
briefly, to have her call back - collect. Heeeheeeheee.

Lilly suggested the other day that as a good-bye present we go to the
grocery store, get some fish, put it in envelopes, and tape it under the
desks or select coworkers. It would probably take weeks before it would
be found. Imagine the smell! Maybe some shell-fish, or a fish head.
Heeheeeheee. I laugh thinking about it.

It reminds me of a prank my friend pulled once. Some girls had dumped
sardines on his car on day, and he waited patiently for the perfect
payback opportunity. Oh, did it come. On vacation with the same girls,
he consorted with two other pals to "borrow" their room key mid-day,
break into their room, and create havoc.

They started with taking out the light bulbs in the room, then sprinkled
1 pound of sugar in the beds, put fish in the bathtub, took turns doing
a number 2 in the toilet, sprinkled Mars bars in the there afterwards,
and taped weird posters in the window behind the blinds. Last but not
least, they tipped over the huge entertainment center (it took three of
them to begin to move it) and taped an alarm clock underneath it, set at
4am on the violent/screaming rock station, full volume.

I loved hearing the girls' account of the story. You can imagine the
scene when they got back to their room . The lights wouldn't turn on.
They walked in and immediately noticed the smell. An odeur, something a
bit like fish...or crap? They got a flashlight and saw the bathtub full
of dead marine life, the pot full of a Mars bars/excrement mix, crazy
posters in the windows, and snuggled up in their beds to discover sugar
in the sheets. The limit is when they jerked up in bed at 4am to the
sound of screaming rock filling the room, thinking Armageddon had
arrived. Pinpointing the blaring noise to the entertainment center,
they realized they couldn't move it and were forced to call the management.

Thank goodness I'm such a good little employee. Heeheeheee.

The Grape gets in THE ZONE

2005-01-17T14:28:00.000-05:00

We all knew the Grape was probably on a diet but we weren’t sure what kind until today. What does she eat while sitting in her van during her 15-20 minute lunch? Side note- The Grape’s on salary, yet she comes in early, only takes a 20 minute lunch and leaves late and we never see her eat anything while on the clock. She has to be eating something to keep that lovely 250lb+ body bouncing. Does she sit out in her van eating twinkies and ho ho’s each day? Well….today while Sophie and I were returning from our hour long lunch, we saw the Grape leaving to go sit in her van. This time however, we spotted a book called “The Zone” in her arm. Hmm…we thought, could that be a diet book? After a quick check on Amazon we found some verbiage from the book:

“Bye-bye, pasta….So long, rice… Oh, and about that baked potato and bread for lunch? Get out the tuna! It’s time to achieve lasting fat loss, great health and peak athletic, mental and emotional performance. It’s time to enter The Zone.”

Now we are completely confused! Does she keep tuna in that van!? Aghh can you imagine the smell that must emit from her van after a hot day? Hmm… well, if anyone else has an idea as to what she eats during what she calls a lunch that prevents her from losing weight (because obviously it’s not working) please, inquiring minds want to know.

Dish Mountain

2005-01-17T12:25:00.000-05:00

I walked in the office kitchen to make my morning tea and saw the huge
mountain of dishes. It's about time I make a commentary on this.

Who's job is it to wash them? Maintenance? The secretary's? Mine?
Who's dishes ARE they? We all wash are own, and yet this mountain
mysteriously grows out of no where.

My inclination is just to walk over there and start doing them (I hear
my mother's voice in my head "it's EVERYONE'S responsibility to keep the
place clean!") But, that won't fix the issue. What will happen when I
leave? (4 days and counting...hehehe)

Upon inspection this morning, I saw moldy fungus stuff growing on plates
near the bottom of the stack. Does NO ONE notice them besides me?

Mr. Tap Dancing...Quite the Perv

2005-01-14T07:19:00.000-05:00

I hate to write this entry really, because I previously had quite an
affinity for this particular member of our staff. But, alas, no more.

I went into the kitchen this afternoon to get some grape juice and Mr.
Tap Dancing was in the kitchen fishing around in the freezer. I call
him Mr. Tap Dancing because he runs a children's dance studio on the
weekends and used to dance in NY a long time ago. He's always talking
about the latest musical coming to town, showing us his favorite Fred
Astaire moves and recounting his glorious glamor days of dancing in 42nd
St. on Broadway. He's quite fun to have around, normally.

I'll admit, I do usually wear a higher-cut undershirt with the specific
top I have on today. (In a half-sleeping daze I apparently grabbed the
wrong one this morning.) That is NOT an excuse, however.

I walked into the kitchen, and Mr. Tap Dancing (who is about 2 inches
shorter than I) stared straight at my chest with a gross oggly gaze and
asked, "how are we this afternoon sweetie-pye."

Disgustedly glaring at him, I replied, "WE are falling asleep, and need
a drink."

Before I could pass him he lunged toward me. "Awweee, let's wake you
up!" he replied grabbing me into a bear hug, while I tried to pull
myself away.

Uck! May I just say, for the female species, there is nothing grosser
than having a guy stare at your chest and then try to bear hug you. I
don't care if he IS my boss. Next time I knee him. Mr. Tap Dancing
Perv from now on.

Note to self -- avoid kitchen in the PM.

I'm the Culprit

2005-01-12T19:10:00.000-05:00

Ok, I admit it. This time (and only this once, I may ad) it was me who stole food out of the fridge. An ongoing problem here.

It was four o'clock and I was famished. I've had my eye on those Friday's chicken quesadillas in the freezer for about 2 weeks, at LEAST two weeks now. I'm sure no one wanted them. After all, frozen food ONLY lasts so long, right?

They were so yummy too. Generally devoted to health food...I have a strange weakness for pre-packaged or frozen Mexican foods. Taquitos at 7-11 or those seven-layer nachos at Taco Bell. Yum yum.

Well, the Friday's quesadilla were great, I warmed them up, stuck them in a coffee mug, and snuck back to my desk. All the time hoping the delicious aroma would not reach the nose of the owner of the stolen goods.

The Grape Gets Me To Come In Sick

2005-01-12T13:11:00.000-05:00

RRRRR.

I woke up this morning, totally exhausted (my mom and I have the West Wing 1st Season on DVD we've been watching it from 11-1 every night.) Between that, packing, and my cold it was about time for a sick day.

I woke up at 8:15 and called into let everyone know I'd be out for at least the morning. The Grape answers the phone, I tell her,

"Good morning "Grape" this is Sophie. I just wanted to let you all know that I feel awful this morning, sore throat, and I slept in a bit but will be in by 1pm hopefully. I think it's the flu that's going around."

"So you slept in?" the Grape replies.

"Yes, well, I'm just feeling awful, but I don't want to call in sick for the whole day," I say

"Fine. I'll tell your manager (the Eagle) that you slept in," she said.

"Could you please tell him that I'm not feeling well. I didn't just sleep in for no reason."

"Look Sophie, I'm in no position to LIE to your supervisor. If you slept in, I'm telling him you slept in. I wouldn't LIE for any employee here. If you sleep in and tell me, I am under obligation to make that known to your bosses and supervisors. "

"Can you please just tell him it's personal then. The reason I'm not coming in is I'm having a PERSONAL problem. That's all there is to it."

"Sophie, you already said you slept in. I believe you slept in. Because you already said that, I must report that. That doesn't appear to be too personal to me," she staunchly repeats.

(I happen to know it's a law that if you say it's personal, your company is not allowed to ask or report why you are not at work.)

"Can you please tell him that I'm not feeling well," I implored one last time.

"I'll let him know, you may be in this afternoon, if you get up," she concluded, hanging up.

This was such a frustrating conversation. Arrrrr. No longer feeling like staying in bed, I immediately got in the shower, got dressed, purposefully did NOT brush my hair or put on make-up, drove to Starbucks, got a pepermint mocha, and stumbled in around 9:20. (Only 1 1/2 hours late, rather impressive if you ask me.)

I enter with a fit of coughing and tell the Eagle that I managed to make it in. He looks surprised and asks me what's wrong. I mutter something about the flu.

"Oh, I heard you just slept in," he said. Naturally.

I go by the Grape's office and let her know I decided to come in.

"Oh, hello dear, are you feeling better?" she asks in her sweetest I-care-about-the-staff-only-when-the boss-is-looking voice. "You look bad, you should get some rest. Call in sick!"

My jaw just dropped. That thought hadn't occured to me, now had it. Does she realize how annoying she is?

"Well, I feel awful, but I want to finish my project," I replied and stumbled off to find my desk.

I wouldn't encourage ANYONE to work here.

Eight Days 'Till Freedom

2005-01-11T20:04:00.000-05:00

Yes, my dear and faithful readers, it's official. I'm leaving "The
Producers" in eight days. No worries about lack of blog content. I
plan to exercise my storytelling abilities and post every so often
from memory. I've got a book of material in my head. Eventually it
will perhaps end up in a book (to be edited by MD, as promised.)

I am in that insufferable state of torturous boredom that comes eight
days before quitting your job. I look at the Eagle as we sit in
meetings, watching him intently explaining to me how this next hurdle
in the path will be our big break...I think I will write him a
good-bye card with some kindly life-advice when I leave. GET OUT.
Those INTJ personalities never see the obvious.

Alli has quit and gone on to her new job, a 7 hour workday (that
begins at 10am), free massages on Fridays, company trips to Busch
Gardens, camraderie, no commute. I mentioned Alli's new job and how
happy she is to the Eagle and I must admit I saw traces of wistful
longing in his eyes. With all his brilliance, what is he doing here?

Yesterday I dilligently spent the morning researching those "sign up
for 7 trial offers and get an iPod or a laptop" web sites. Alli
assured me they were legit, and coworkers at her new company (an
Antispy-ware internet company) have won them. Not only that, there
are these forums where you just have to sign up for one item now, and
seven other people to the others for you.

I did my research, signed up for 8 trials to totally useless things
like "Video Professor - Learn to Type" and "Suptra - Herbal
Antidepressents." I made a list of my 2 week trials, and marked the
day by which they must be cancelled. We'll see if they send me my
free $800 laptop. Wouldn't that be a lark. I'll keep you posted.

So, that was yesterday morning. Yesterday afternoon is a blurr...oh
yes, that brainstorming meeting. Just me, the Eagle and O-Space-Man.
We were all fading in and out, well mostly out I'd say. O-Space-Man
was tired from hosting Monday night poker (if only the bosses knew he
did THAT, ah I love it) and I had been out with some friends dressing
up in Sari's (putting them on is such an art!) and watching a
depressing (but well directed) war movie. Nothing like a good cry
over WW2 with the girls.

Tomorrow, I'm supposed to have this mail merge done. Only, you see, I
forgot how to DO mail merges, so I've been in MS Help for 2 hours.
Apparently my spreadsheet is a total mess. Yawn.

No Sign of O-Space-Man

2005-01-07T11:29:00.000-05:00

Hmmm. It's 11a.m. and O-Space-Man has neither shown up nor called in
sick. It's extremely quiet in the marketing department. Just me
here, alone. Has he quit already? After just two weeks? I know
Mama Bear (CEO's wife) took him out to lunch yesterday and gave him a
bit of a talking to about clocking in on time...is he making a point?
Or, has be been killed in some freak fire or abducted by aliens from
Roswell?

Too bad, because Lilly and I really had hopes of improving our poker
game. He's seems to be quite the poker stud, and we had hopes of
fitting in some lunch-time games. A sad loss for the Producers, a sad
loss indeed.

BTW -- if you're reading this O-Space-Man...there are several people
(dignified blog readers) who are very interested in your opinions of
this blog and of the Producers. Please feel free to leave comments,
which would be enjoyed by all.

Lilly...Lighting Up the Room

2005-01-07T11:20:00.000-05:00

Please meet, the gorgeous blond-bombshell who works with Charlie (AKA
Papa Bear, CEO.) She is his 24-year-old assistant who deals with the
daily investor catastrophes. How she manages to work in such close
contact with Papa Bear and still retain her lovely radiant personality
is a mystery to me. I've concluded that some people develop
incredible coping skills.

Besides her looks, she's got a sharp mind and could make vast
improvements in the investor mess, if Papa Bear would ever admit that
he doesn't hold the monopoly on brain cells. (Won't ever happen.) He
prefers to applaud his own intelligence, criticize his staff, and
winces each time the phone rings. (Investors calling to demand their
embezzled funds.) It's amusing to watch actually, like a disturbing
comedy show...

The daily circus goes like this: Phone rings. Papa Bear turns
around. Eyes squint. Back hunches. He gives the "someone put lemon
juice in me papercut" look, stutters out a lame excuse why he's not in
the office, Lilly answers the phone and repeats the lame excuse to the
furious investor. And it repeats, over and over again all day long.
Then 5 o'clock rolls around and Lilly puts on the answer machine on
and the investors vent and moan into that instead.

Lilly is a very amusing character. Her intelligence is (naturally)
completely non-appreciated around here, but she uses that to her
advantage. By no means does she waste time at work. Each day she
works on perfecting her resume, applying for jobs online, researching
important matters (web surfing and online sales), and has recently
begun studying (at her desk) a fascinating book called "Hardly Working
- A Guide to Doing Nothing at Work."

Lilly doesn't just read this book. She studies it like she's trying
to pass a class. She takes notes, highlights, and promptly applies
every suggestion. After reading a chapter on how post-it notes make
you look like a hard worker, I saw her computer was covered with about
40 notes on every subject. (Totally meaningless, of course.) One
chapter said, "People who don't work must come in early and leave
late, as this gives the impression that you don't have enough time in
the day to finish all your important tasks." Lilly does this now.

I love walking by her desk and seeing her nose deep into it. I have
to control my hysterical laughter. Doesn't Papa Bear even NOTICE?
I'm baffled!

Lilly is presently in school getting her Masters Degree in HR. I have
to say, studying a book like that will make her a master in knowing
all the tricks of the useless employee who does nothing...she will
have perfected them! Like I said, this girl is brilliant.

She loves to try new things and has a very generous nature. Her humor
is a bit crude at times, but for the most part she is a ray of
sunshine in the office that infuses this place with life. I'm glad
she's here.

Monique Walks Out

2005-01-07T10:30:00.000-05:00

Monique was planning on quitting anyway. Her grand exit was more than
we had expected.

The Eagle was in a mood yesterday. Monique was on the phone making
lunch plans with her boyfriend when he went over to her desk and gave
her a disapproving reprimanding lecture about making personal calls.
He said it was giving a "bad impression and setting a low standard"
for the new employee (Referring to O-space-man I assume, who was
sitting all of two-feet away.)

A bad impression? What is a "good impression" of our office? A stoic
grave where we all work in a trance like machines? People work best
when they're happy, comforatble and feel like part of a team with
camaraderie. A concept apparently lost on some.

A couple months ago the Eagle was on a previous campaign to turn his
staff of young women into silent workers (virtually impossible.) We
rebelled by putting name-tags up calling us "La Machine" and sent
anonymous memo's "Where are the TPC Reports" to the whole office
(remember those from Office Space the movie? he he hee :) Things
seemed to go back to normal.

We thought the Eagle had eased off his crusade to hush us, but
apparently not. As soon as he walked away from Monique's desk I
glanced over and saw her eyes had a stony-cold look in them. She
immediately sent me an e-mail. "I've had it! Today I'm outta here.
I'm not coming back after lunch."

I looked down at the clock. 11:37 a.m.. Well, guess she won't be
around much longer. I've got to hand it to her, I didn't think she'd
do it. Quiet, sweet Monique, walking out -- what we fantasize about
all the time.

Monique collected her lamp, photos and books, put a two sentence
letter of resignation into the Grape's inbox, and left for lunch.
Never to return.

Three cheers!!!

Urgent Dose Of Comedy Needed

2005-01-04T13:51:00.000-05:00

I laugh when I remember it. It's one of those delightful little
memories that make me smile at in-opportune moments.

Two weeks and ago, coworker (partner in crime) Alli and I were working
writing and optimizing a section of pages for dog kennels. It's a
hard topic (in the SEO world) to work with. Pet topics are extremely
competitive. We'd been pulling our hair out over it for four
consecutive days and it was finally the Thursday before Christmas
break. Several links were broken, our affiliates would answer their
phones, and we were trying to discipher HTML code we didn't really
understand. On top of that, I'd gotten a rather depressing letter
from an exboyfriend the night before.

"You look comatose Sophie!" Alli said. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, just sleepy," I said.

"Sure, you are. Men are like bracelets Sophie," replied Alli.. "Take
them off like an accessory when they're not good for you. Do we need
to go over this again?"

Yawn. I love Alli's self-esteem support. So good for me. But it was
only 11 a.m.. If I curled up under my desk would anyone really
notice? Just for a few minutes...

I listened to O-Space-Man and the Eagle throwing accolades at each
other. "Isn't it great? Yes, it's great! The site has potential!
We'll do it! What did you say? You love everything about it? Well,
it's all about to leap of the ground and make millions...." Yadda,
yadda yadda....I fazed out.

"You need some coffee, right now," Alli said, bringing me back into the room.

"Ok," I agreed. Dunkin Doughnuts is always a good idea. Not much a
vanilla latte can't fix.

Around 2 p.m. two more things broke in our affiliate section and I
started to watch the clock and think about my weekend. I dropped Alli
a rolled up post it "Want to fly the coop and go see a movie?"

A minute later she threw a rolled up status report on my desk,
"Sophie, I think you need to recheck those numbers," she said.

I looked down at the paper and saw the purple post-it stuck on it which said,
"Absolutely. What's the plan? We need an exit strategy."

For a half and hour we slipped each other post-it notes stuck into
books, cough drop boxes, empty mugs and the like. It is so much fun
to pass around secret notes...even when we could have just stepped
into the bathroom. Covert operations always heighten the excitement.

After consulting, researching movie times, and crafting an exit plan,
I went into Alli's office and loudly made a call to my "mechanic"
about needing to drop my car off "BEFORE FIVE O'CLOCK," as luck would
have it. "You mean you're not open ALL weekend, or Friday?!? You
mean I MUST drop it off TODAY."

Click, hang up the phone. The only way to make it to the mechanic's
before five, was to leave at four o'clock. (The movie started at
4:35.) Everyone around the office hears about my car's incessantly
trips to the mechanic on a regular basis, so it was no surprise.
Everyone jokes about it having a chronic bodyshop addiction. I'm
always dragging it back to the bodyshop for some reason or other.
Accident magnet I call it.

"Alli, bad news, can I ask you a huge favor? I need to get to my
mechanic's RIGHT NOW."

"Let's see if the Eagle will let you."

"Dear boss, bad news, I've got to drop off my car...can we make up the
time on Monday? It'll be no problem for us to stay an extra hour
Monday afternoon," I implored.

"As long as the Dog Kennel page is done Monday A.M."

"Oh, no problem AT ALL!" I assured.

And off we went at ten minutes to 4 p.m. on a Thursday afternoon. It
felt like getting out of jail. We bought a big popcorn and sat in one
of our favorite comedies, laughing our hearts out. There was
something so gleeful and joyous about it. :) Leaving work to go to a
movie...(a film which I had actually already seen twice.)

I did drop off my car at the mechanic's, a little later on. We made
up the time at work on Monday, most of it. And yes, the Dog Kennel
page went up on time.

Fascinating Development (News on Mini-Me)

2005-01-03T11:07:00.000-05:00

This past Wednesday was Alli’s last day. To celebrate we all went out for coffee
after work. We laughed and reminisced over spiced cider and chai lattes as we snuggled into the cozy leather couches. Stories flowed out.

Of course Alli, Monique and I had done a few "last day at work” photos in the office. As we thumbed through the digital camera we compared pictures of Alli sleeping on
her desk with ones of her shredding large signs marked "deadline", as well as ones of her web surfing, engrossed in rating photos on www.hot-or-not.com. (A favorite :)

We invited Mini-me to drop by Starbucks across the street if he cared to join us. When he didn’t show up for an hour we didn't think he was coming, but he eventually breezed in and pulled up a chair.

I have to say, that evening after Mini-me told us a tale about his former place of employment, I began to rethink his title “Mini-me”. I now think it no longer fits him. O-Space-Man (Office Space) may be more appropriate. Let me explain why.

Naturally curious about his previous employment, and comfortably sipping lattes around a coffee table, we started probing him with gentle invites to share his employment history.

Talk about a CLASSIC Office Space story! Listen to this one!

One morning in early December last year Mini-me woke up and just didn't feel like going to work (which was a programming job 4 blocks from his house.) So, he didn't go.

The next day he woke up and still didn't feel like going to work, and didn't. He woke up and didn't feel like going to work for 4 weeks. So he didn't go. Neither did he feel like calling in sick. He didn't call; he didn't e-mail; he didn't do a darn thing for a month.

His boss never called to ask where he was, amazingly enough. Christmas came and went; New Year’s came and went. Finally, early January rolled around, and Mini-me woke up one morning and (you guessed it) decided he FELT like going to work.

So, he did.

He got up around 10 am, got dressed, got in his car, drove 4 blocks, and rolled into the parking lot (around noon.) Coincidentally, as he pulled into his office parking lot, he got a call from his boss!

Sitting outside in his parking lot, he answered the call.

"Hello there, just wondering where you've been this past month," asked his boss curiously anxious.

"Oh, I've been sick...and stuff," O-Space-Man replied.

"Sick? Well, are you better?" demanded his boss.

"Yes, much better," replied O-Space-Man.

"Well then, are you coming into work?" asked his boss.

As mentioned, it was 12:00. O-Space-Man was sitting in his car, starting to feel a bit hungry for lunch.

"Sure thing," O-Space-Man replied. "I'll can be there in two hours."

Two and a half hours later (after a nice leisurely lunch) O-Space-Man met with the boss. He explained to him that he hadn't felt like coming to work because he wasn't on salary, not to mention he hadn’t felt particularly challenged by his job, and (of course) was in need of a raise. (A month of no working does drain your resources.)

Twenty mintues later he walked out of his bosses' office, on salary, with a 15% raise.

O-Space-Man stayed at that company for another year before honestly admitting
his state of absolute boredom and quitting for good. They didn't have enough challenging work for him. He needed to climb bigger mountains, contribute in larger ways, sail broader oceans. His brilliance wasn't being truly utilized!

After all, he felt guilty draining company resources when someone of lesser caliber could suffice for his position...or so he explained to The Eagle when he interviewed with our company two weeks ago.

What do you know, we hired him!

So you see, Mini-me is no longer the name of choice for this character. He is not the mini-eagle we expected him to be.

I hereby dub him O-Space-Man.

Brilliant Brainstorming Meeting

2004-12-29T01:42:00.000-05:00

Today we had one of the longest, most boring brainstorming meetings
ever. It dragged from 1:35- 3:57.

I kept dozing in and out, trying to perfect the
burrowing-my-eyebrows-in-my-hand-so-you-can-not-see-my-eyes-are-closed
look. Yes, you know the one.

Alli, one of my dearest coworkers, is leaving tomorrow. I'm glad
she's moving on to better things, broader horizons, but how I will
miss her!

"The Eagle" slowly (and with as much techie speak as possible) went
through our Task Board while we tried to strategize how to maximize Ad
revenue (and meet the challenge of staying awake.) As Alli was
dozing out at one point she actually propped her feet up on the table.
Her little feet, in her purple tights, looked like table little
ornaments.

Monique and I glanced over and had to stifle a giant burst of laughter
deep into our stomachs. I saw "The Eagle's" eyes get large and dart
away. Alli heard our stifled laughter, perked up, and let her feet
drop back to the floor.

I wondered - is she trying to be as rude as possible (as a last
good-bye)...but no...that's not like Alli. She must be in a real
stupor of a mental doze.

I heard some suggestion about including an Evites links on our site.
Evites. Invitations-via-e-mail. The proposed affiliate is charging
$12.95 to invite 5-100 people out to dinner. That's insane!

Feeling compelled to voice my opinion, I woke up and vocalized the
absurdity of the proposed price. It's understandable if you're
inviting 50 people out, but for 5? Unreasonable! Why don't they
charge per invite? I suggested our programmer take a look at that to
see if it could be changed. Before long, Alli was suggesting me for
market research on the project. Fine. I'll practice e-inviting
people to lunch for the next hour, and compare pricing in the process.

As tasks were being assigned I heard myself saying, "yes, but I don't
think I have enough to do." My voice echoed in my ear. What was I
saying? Why am I such a natural workaholic? I spend my share of time
web browsing, but I get sick on it, and I beg for work because I WANT
to be working. Because I enjoy working, and honestly, I like the
challenge.

Alli's eyebrows raised and the Eagle assigned me some some of the
programmer's project briefs to take over. She doesn't alway
understand, I'd rather be busy, it makes the day go by.

The Eagle was bewailing our inability to communicate directly with
Google about our programing dilemmas. "They call me at home when I
send them as e-mail," I blurted out without thinking. "I e-mail them
about the Ads on my personal blog and when I get home there is usually
a message on my machine."

The Eagle's eyes looked scrupulous. "Well, they do," I repeated.

The obvious question came next. "What's your blog about?"

"Oh, just life, you know, my life," I muttered. I watched Monique put
her head in her hand.

"And do you have 25,000 people a month reading it?" the Eagle inquired.

"No! I doubt I have 25 people a month," I replied.

"I'd love to read it!" Mini-me chimmed in eagerly. (No way on earth,
I thought.)

"Maybe we could link to it from our homepage," Diego roared as he
burst out laughing.

Monique, Alli and I again tried (unsuccessfully) to keep straight
faces. If only Diego knew the hilarity of his suggestion. Why not
spotlight The Producers? Fresh content in the "About Us" section!

Pleased to Introduce...Mini-me

2004-12-28T17:56:00.000-05:00

We hired a programmer. Joy of joys! The Eagle found the perfect
applicant...a work-a-holic 25-year-old obsessed with cold fusion and
java script, who is not only shorter than him...but just as bald!

Of course he was hired, he met "the criteria!"

Mini-me has proved to be an interesting addition to our office. At
first he seemed like a total techie. He came in, iPod in hand,
immediately nestled into his desk and began hard hitting the
programming code straight off the bat.

The Eagle seemws to be bonding well with him, their pals relationship looked like it was off to a flying start. I can almost see the white light shining on Mini-me
in the office. A little glow around his doorway. We would hear constant accolades being handed back and forth between the Eagle and him, like a tennis match between the two of them all day. Praising each other to high heaven seems to be their specialty. Uck. I can hardly bear to ease drop on any more of this.

It was a couple days later when hints started to appear that Mini-me might not be the ideal, conservative, techie geek the Eagle had hoped for. Brilliant yes, raditional, perhaps not. Heading out to lunch one day he mentioned that most of his friends work at Whole Foods, he listens to Bright Eyes, and has a vegetarian roommate. The curtain starts to raise.

Hmmm.

It was in a meeting last Thursday (Alli and I were chatting about the insanity of our hippe parents) when Mini-me mentioned that his mother is a hard core nudist.

We laughed, naturally (what is the appropriate reaction to that comment?) Then, Mini-me started telling us stories about how awkward it on his previous job, installing computer equipment in nudist restaurants where all the servers and patrons are walking around completely in commando. Especially his mother, who is getting up there. Our jaws dropped.

The Eagle, smiled nervously, and hurried back to his laptop.

More to follow on Mini-mi, developments await...

Diego Helping Along My Editorial Review

2004-12-21T02:54:00.000-05:00

Today Diego (our graphic artist)kindly brought it to my attention that a pervy site slipped through my editorial review a few months ago.

We've been inadvertently hosing ads for "Next Door Nikki" for five months. Diego got tired of her photo collection and decided to let me know. To quote him: "She's just not inventive enough for me".

(Have I mentioned that I HATE this guy and he is a PERV! Nice to be reminded he doesn't care a scrap about the integrity of our company. )

I went to the page where Diego said he usually sees her, but I had trouble getting her specific ad to come up. "Just keep clicking," Diego repeated. "Sometimes it takes 10-11 clicks to get her up there."

I finally found her, (apparently her modeling career wasn't going so well,) pulled her off our ad network, and e-mailed her "manager" Bob to let him know her link is no longer welcome on our site. I thought it smart not to mention it to my boss.

I got an e-mail back from Bob (Nikki's manger) about how well porn business is just burgeoning and how he don't care if our site dumps them because our traffic was crappy to begin with. (No surprise. Did he think we would FEATURE him on our national homepage?) As far as Bob is concerned, we should "just get over it, get over ourselves, and get over being offended over beautiful Nikki."

Thank you Bob...I reply...We appreciate your feedback - as always, customer imput is highly regarded.

Back to Diego.

It's not just Diego's greasy hair and unshaven face-- it's the way he leans back in his chair, puts his feet on his desk with that air of annoyance, and either smirks with a look saying "I'm thinking disgustingly dirty thoughts right now," or sneers, disturbed that I knocked on his door to see if he's made progress on anything besides nose picking.) He antagonistically draws his projects out for an eternity.

A tazer guy would be fun in this circumstance. :) Zaaahhp.

One of those tazers that sends out the needle with the line of nitrogen and makes you unable to move or control your bladder for 20 minutes. Preferably.

Presenting...The Eagle

2004-12-17T14:20:00.000-05:00

Aiden Anderson is the genius that keeps this place together.

Our Director of Internet Operations, he is an eternal optimist who has
lost most of his hair in the past five years working here. Referred
to as "The Eagle" henceforth.

The staff comes and goes; the Eagle brainstorms furiously in his
little office, the mind behind the show.

He has a clean, slender physique, definitely a techie type. Well
dressed. Nice sweaters. No hair, but a very nice aura. It's always
fun watching him get excited over the latest (unrealistically insane)
projections for our future success. His face glows and his eyes get
bright. It's obvious he's living for this.

He was attracted to a rebellious goth type girl (who he did eventually
marry) in high school. To impress her he tried to dress up as a
rebellious bad boy. We bring up this mental picture whenever we need a
good laugh.

Our personality types are exact opposites. He is on of those
introverted rationalists, at times oblivious to the obvious. I am
outgoing, emotional and creative. To describe our work, I use his
technical ideas and formulas as I write for the Web, incorporating
them into my writing, creating pages that are consumer friendly and
fun, while having all the right mechanical structure in the
background. I love working with my toes in both worlds.

The Eagle, like most geniuses, is a horrible manager. His staff must
be completely self-motivated and independent to produce in this
environment. He got lucky, however, and has a staff of 25-year-old
obsessively-productive girls working with him. He doesn't work well
with, or like, many other guys.

We've been trying to hire a programmer for, oh, about a year now. The
Eagle claims no applicants have meet the criteria. What those criteria
actually are, no one's really sure of.

Last week there was a brilliant looking young man (with great hair)
who interviewed, but all Aiden had to say about him was "He had a HUGE
pimple on his forehead - it was so distracting!"

I wonder. Does Aiden require clear skin for all computer/techie
positions? After all, sitting in that little dark programming room,
skin condition sure relates to productivity! Give me a break. Poor
applicant, he should have layed off the fast food before interviewing
here I suppose.

My female coworkers and I often wonder what the Eagle, usually silent,
thinks about our daily conversations about our latest vege fast diet,
complaints about bad weekends, boyfriend experiences and John Mayer
fantasies. After listening to us for years, he undoubtedly knows much
about us.

In his typical (non)management style, we do whatever we want, as long
as we produce a substantial amount of work every week. Being
micromanaged would definitely kill me after years of this
independence.

Baaahhh!

2004-12-16T10:57:00.000-05:00

Today, was a great day. During editorial review I found one of the best web sites ever...

SheepShagger

I laugh thinking about it!

Working in technology definitly has it's perks.

Glenda (the Not-So-Good-Witch)

2004-12-15T11:11:00.000-05:00

Glenda is the office complex tenent manager. (More like tenant terrorizer.) She's 5'11, always sporting a new red hair color, and awful 80's outfits that pain the eye.

See a flash of fire in your periphial vision? Don't be alarmed -- it's not flames, just Glenda's hair. (Burning it is just my personal fantasy.)

She goes from burgundy, to blazing auburn, to fire hot, to toxic red, to mocha sun, to can't remember her latest shade but I'm sure she'll swing by and fill me in this week. One day it will all fall out, I'm just waiting.

I have fantasies about submitting a video of her to one of those make-over TV series. She'd be a challenge for them. She has a great figure really. Lovely legs. It's just the persona, the agressive snoopy attitude. Eeesh.

She has been here, oh, since the beginning of time I guess. She knows every tenant's personal business and, as mentioned, has the worst wardrobe you've imagined. It's not just that it's bad, but it's so loud. I think the prize goes to the teal colored lace dress with the flowy crinkle train. I don't know though, it's a close one. That plaid mini jumpsuit is preeetttty bad.

She has absolutly no reason to be in our editorial department. None. Yet she manages to show up to fiddle with the thermostat or investigate some (imaginary) duct problem at least twice a week. She cleverly figured out how to lock the thermostat since, apparently, the five of us who work here aren't capable of controlling the temperature.

Thanks to her it's always freezing or baking us, and we now have to call her for a code to adjust it.

You can hear her coming from 30 feet away. Aggressively stomp, stomp, stomping in her pleather-lizard-skin high heels.
I immediately pick up the phone and pretend to be in the midst of an editorial crisis with Google until she finishes her pointless fiddling around and leaves to harrass someone else.

To facilitate communication with the front desk receptionist, she insists on using a walkie-talkie. He voice is such a screeching blare it really isn't necessary, as we can hear her through the walls. She is constantly threatening to fire receptionists when they won't keep the volume up on the walkie. (And we wonder why that position has such a high turnover rate, hmmm.)

I once walked past her office as she was launching into one of her receptionsist on the virtues of modesty. Apparently the 20-year-old girl has shown a little cleavage. I listened (controling my laughter) as Glenda went on and on about how unprofessional it was. I think her own skirt was about 10 inches long that day.

The (single) maintenance man Bob is always hiding from her. She's been putting the moves on him for months now. I'm actually quite impressed with Bob's ability to elude advances.

My favorite is when he leaves his walkie-talkie in the bathroom with the door shut and takes off for lunch. Glenda tracks him down to the restrooms, and then hears her own voice coming from the bathroom.

"Bob, I need you to lift something in suite 204!!! Baaaaaabbbbbbbbb are you in there?!?!"

Uhhh, her grating voice, can't someone silence her?

The Grape

2004-12-15T09:53:00.000-05:00

We hired an HR manager. Joy of joys. Finally we'll be getting some quality
staff! Think again. Her real purpose is to police existing employees and enforce pointless rules we've thus far managed to avoid.

She promply brought it to my attention that I daily clock in 20 minute late, never inital the "sign out" sheet for lunch, and (the worst) I NEVER type up my time-off requests. (The nerve of me!)

Not fiting our office stereotye for females (110 pound 25-years-olds), our CEO Charlie is already itching to ditch her, naturally. Despite being the ideal employee, we know looks matter around here. I hate so say it, but if she wants to keep her job, she needs to seriously think about getting her hair colored.

She favors purple flowy clothing, and as she speaks I usally envision a grape or plumb sitting in her chair. Something in the James and the Giant Peach family. She works an extra hour every day. Doesn't she have a LIFE to live?

Once my clock was an hour off (daylight savings mishap) and I showed up an hour early, at the ungodly early hour of 7:30.

The grape was actually sitting in her car, waiting for the doors to unlock. I was baffled! Has work become an obsessive disorder for her? Is she perhaps homeless, wearing purple all the time to coordinate her outfits for lack of a closet? What else could explain showing up at work at 7:30 for no reason?

My investigation continues...

And Then There's Diego...

2004-12-15T09:03:00.000-05:00

Yes, Diego.

What does Diego do? Good question. Usually he's in his office with
the lights off and his computer on the floor. He first stepped into
our office a year ago doing some remodeling and painting work. The girls in
marketing all remarked on what a perv he was.

"How are you today hot stuff," he would greet us with his sleezy grin.

Long hair and wife beater, he hung out for 4 days painting one office.
It was incredible. The pool on how long it would take him to finish
the whole building was a month. I think he was done in 5 weeks.

His deceased girl-friend apparently was the nanny for our boss's
children, before dying in a tragic car accident. And so that's how
Diego go in the door, a sympathy vote. He has apparently won awards
for his creative inventions with light bulbs. Though his light bulb
inventions are supposedly brilliant, his web site is absolutly
atrocious. I mean 80's neon coloring and gross flashy boxes. I can't
believe he's going to be working on our site redesign.

The lowly intern slash talented college student Monique has taught him
enough Photoshop basics to be functional. (While being paid half his
wage.)

He has a wife, Cherie, (her real name has never been mentioned.) She
apparently wanted a visa to come to the US from France and Diego can't
keep his hands off her. Good pair.

Welcome to Our Office

2004-11-17T20:22:00.000-05:00

Ahh hemm. I can't believe I'm finally starting this. How fun.

I am going to write about the craziest office in the world. I was destined to work there - one of my favorite movies is the Producers. I will refer to my company as "The Producers" for the sake on annonymity.

Meet Charlie, our boss.

Or is he part duck? Waddle, waddle, waddle he goes around the office. He is the CEO of our internet company, and he is computer illiterate. Irony enough to begin with.

He doesn't actually talk to his staff, but prefers to sneak around the office, tiptoeing, and staring at us between the cracks in the book cases. Hilarious...(but then, why would he ever fire me? I'm a workaholic obsessed with my own productivity.)

He recently had a "groin" injury (eeew, yuk, 60 year old man's groin is NOT something I want to think about.) He can no longer open doors, "wouldn't want to reinjure that groin!" and he wears his shirt hanging out of his pants, and hobbles around muching on Puffins from the box. (His attempt at health food?)

Our company has been going under for over 6 years. Thanks to Charlie's ingenuity and ability to con old friends out of capital, he keeps banking the staff paychecks.

Getting into our building - it's an exercise that involves a long hall way, exiting the building, and two unmarked doors. Wouldn't want anyone dropping in!

And who might drop in? There is an entire section of our office devoted to "damage control" (calming furious investors threatening to bomb us.) To think! These people actually WANT thier money after waiting how many years for it. Occationally we lock the doors and pretend Charlie is out of the country...especially when our friends the IRS drop by.

The other day an investor found me in the parking log (eeeek!) She was a scarry woman in a BMW. She followed me in her car, reminded me of Cruela Devoille.

"Where is Charlie?! Which door does he come out of? Do you know he owes me money? I'll find him! I swear it!"

Ahh, I am soooo tempted to tell her that Charlie parks his car across the street at the Stop and Shop. So tempted...but what would be the point. It will take more than one mad little-old-lady, it will take a class action suit to bring him down...so I go off to get my take-out Chinese for lunch.

Some people have quite working for The Producers for moral reasons. Hmmm. Am I not moral? Aren't all companies corrupt? I don't work with the investors directly. I'm in the "creative marketing" division.

That's me, "creative marketing," i.e. selling crap, with inventive words. Marketing just comes so naturally to me, it's ridiculously easy for me. The words just flow out of my mouth.

I love to write, and I am grateful for a job that lets me write.

I write. I invent. I get to think. It's great and nurtures my creativity, so I'm happy.