Archive for January, 2008

Busy and Knocked Up…No, Not Like That

Author: Erika

Jan 24

I am thrilled to be reaching the end of this week. Both Wes and I have been extremely busy at work and I’m looking forward to relaxing with him a bit this weekend. Something funny is happening with mortgage rates and from what I understand they dropped really low yesterday but will go up again today. This sudden drop inspired a throng of people to surround my husband yesterday and clamor to apply for a refinance. He worked from 7:30am until 11:00pm last night and he was so goofy from the backbreaking work pace that I was a little worried. Like I’ve said many times though, that’s nothing a little vodka won’t fix. After a martini he was ready slightly more relaxed and ready to continue working in our comfy leather chair.

For my part, the company I work for has a lot of positions open right now so I’ve been working non-stop at scheduling interviews all week. My boss has decided that he has to redo the way we work and that’s added an additional level of stress to the experience. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it before but my boss is from India. When I joined this company I was unaware of how this cultural difference might affect our working relationship. Over the months I’ve worked here, though, I’ve become acutely aware that cultural differences in the workplace add a lot of misunderstanding and skewed perspectives to almost every situation.

For instance, my co-worker and I have been working very hard all week and have a lot to show for our efforts. Our boss came in yesterday, however, and declared that it still wasn’t good enough. Understandably, I was rather steamed about his comment. My co-worker, whom I adore, is also from India and she explained to me the vast difference between American and Indian work ethic and expectations. In America, she said, parents praise children for simply trying. In India, if a child is excelling in one area the parent is apt to bring up the child’s deficiency in another area rather than praise the good work.

This is but one of many misunderstandings I’ve had with my boss, who by now knows me well enough to know that I don’t keep my opinions to myself very well and will ask questions until I fully understand what is expected of me. These misunderstandings, frustrating as they are at the time, have really given me pause to think about what cultural differences in the workplace mean outside this company. I wonder if the differences spur growth and understanding or if those differences cause as much frustration and miscommunication as I experience here on an almost weekly basis.

It’s not all bad, though. My co-worker and I have a lot of fun teaching one another about the vagaries of each other’s country. We share blogging as a common interest and she blames me for her improved English writing skills while I blame the year she’s spent living here. She shared some treats her in-laws sent over from India, I introduced her to Starbucks. I taught her how to make pancakes, she taught me how to make hummus. Obviously, blended cultures in the workplace can work out beautifully. I guess it’s just going to take more time before I figure out how to work peacefully with my manager.

In other news, Wes and I are scheduled to watch “Knocked Up” over the weekend. I am excited because we’ve both wanted to see it and it’s apparently a very good film. One thing that I’m interested to see, however, is whether it’s as misogynistic as so many articles have claimed it to be. I feel strongly that the word misogynistic is improperly used most of the time it is applied to something. Surely there can’t be that many things that display a “hatred, dislike, or mistrust of women”. I even overheard a woman at a Starbucks once proclaim that her boyfriend was a misogynist because he didn’t like Tori Amos. Let me just say that her exclamation didn’t have quite the effect I think she was going for because I laughed behind her in line and her friend proceeded to explain to her that “I don’t think that word means what you think it means”. She was accordingly chagrined.

In other news, I rode the elevator with a woman yesterday who smelled exactly like cherry Jell-O. It was very pleasant, actually, because if there’s one thing that smells distinctive and yummy it’s cherry Jell-O. I had to wonder after she left, however, whether the smell was left over from an earlier preparation of said gelatin or if she was purposely wearing a perfume that smelled like that. If so, where does one purchase Eau d’Jell-O? Sign me right up, is all I’m saying.

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Filed under: Just plain nonsense, Work

Doc Gets Even

Author: Erika

Jan 22

I don’t have much of value to say today. Work has been blindingly busy so far this week and I think the chronic stress has robbed me of my ability to be clever. I did discover, however, that fatigue is nothing a little vodka won’t fix. Cheers!

So, while I may not have my usual entertaining banter with which to amuse you, I do have a brief story and a picture. As I’m sure you know, Doc is sporting a fancy corona of milky white plastic around his head these days. Some of you might be wondering how well this satellite dish has been faring since being clamped to my dog’s neck.
Not so well, as you can almost tell from this picture. He cracked it on Sunday while chasing a ball so, rather than spend an additional $20 to buy a new one, Wes fixed it with duct tape. The tape bothered Doc, however, who began laboring under the impression that there was something constantly in his blind spot. Tonight, things came to a head when we let him out of his crate to discover that he had chewed the duct tape off and ripped his cone almost in two.

Seeing as neither one of us wanted to drive to Petco to buy a new cone, especially considering that Doc’s staples will be removed on Friday, we did what any sensible puppy-parents would do: we cut off the flapping nearly-severed part and now our puppy has a sun-roof. He’s the beater old convertible with duct tape patches on the soft-top of the canine world.

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Filed under: Doc Holliday

Read This Post With Some Fava Beans and a Nice Chianti

Author: Erika

Jan 21

Happy MLK Jr. Day, y’all. I hope you’re all off work, relaxing on the couch watching re-runs of your favorite shows while drinking something nice (vodka, coffee, juice, etc.). Me, I’m working. I guess my company isn’t all that appreciative of MLK and his deeds so here I am and there you are.

At least I had a solidly good weekend. No unexpected surgeries or tragedies, just a lot of fun, good food, and relaxing (a good weekend for me always involves good food, it’s mandatory). Wes and I watched a movie last night called “Manhunter”. It’s a movie from the 80’s (I was 1 year old when it was released!) that is based on the book Red Dragon by Thomas Harris and was directed by Michael Mann.

Wes and I were anticipating watching this movie because he has a thing for Michael Mann and I have a thing for the Hannibal series (I’ve read them all so many times I can almost quote them verbatim). There were a lot of things I liked about the movie. I think the main character was perfectly cast and I like that Mann (who wrote the screenplay) included parts of the dialog word-for-word from the book. I also like that because this movie was made during the 80’s there were a lot of really bright colored shirts and short-shorts for the guys and GIGANTIC hair for the ladies, but that’s another point entirely.

What bothered me about the movie, however, is that I feel as though Mann entirely missed the point. I know that screenwriters have to pick and choose which parts of the books they’re adapting in order to write a successful screenplay but I didn’t care for the parts that Mann picked. Additionally, he committed the cardinal sin of book-to-movie adaptation by neglecting to adjust the mode in which characters express their thoughts. For example, if a character has an internal monologue that illustrates how he was able to figure something out, you can’t just write that monologue out loud, it sounds ridiculous.

The one thing that killed the movie stone dead for me, however, was Brian Cox’s portrayal of Hannibal Lecter. His was a rude, insufferable Hannibal who you couldn’t help but want to smack across the face. The Hannibal of the books, however, is silky, couth, refined, dangerous, yet oddly compelling. There’s a reason he was such a successful killer and could mess with Clarice’s head so well and it wasn’t because he stared at her with his mouth open. Perhaps Cox’s version wouldn’t bother me so much had I not seen Sir Anthony Hopkins play Hannibal first. I think that character was created just for Hopkins, to be honest. I’ve never seen any actor become a character so completely. Word on the street is that he became so absorbed in the role that he acted like Lecter while off-set and freaked everyone right the heck out.

Anyway, I bet you weren’t expecting a movie review when you clicked over here today, were you? What can I say? Sometimes I have opinions and just can’t keep them to myself. In personal news, the puppy is doing really well. His scar is skin-colored now (instead of the deep red it was right after his surgery) and his appetite is normal, which for him means he’s constantly ravenous. We took a family walk in the sunshine yesterday and he was tickled pink to be somewhere other than our house or the backyard. His staples come out on Saturday and that should be the end to his rock-eating story (thank goodness!). I hope it’s the last life-saving-surgery story he’ll ever take part in.

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Filed under: Reviews

The Sandwich Whisperer

Author: Erika

Jan 18

I have had an amusing day. It started off with a job candidate calling the office to berate me for not responding to the emailed resume she sent in two months ago. Now, before you judge me inconsiderate for not responding, know that it’s the policy of the company I work for not to communicate with candidates we are not interested in pursuing. When you get 70 resumes emailed to you every day and 90% are from completely unqualified people it makes more sense to not respond to each and every person.

This candidate who called me, though, she was mad about it. Fighting mad. She started off sweet and obsequious but it soon became clear that she had been slighted and was in need of justice. I, not having been in a stellar mood at the time, did not give her justice. I explained that we didn’t think she fit the skill profile we were looking for but would notify her if a similar position became available.

She was not happy. She ranted for awhile, futilely attempting to send me on a guilt-trip, before I interrupted her by asking, “Why are you telling me this?”. She stuttered for a few moments before responding, “Because I want the job” to which I replied, “Then why are you yelling at the recruiter who is the only person who could schedule an interview for you?”. She was summarily speechless and apologized and I promised I would present her resume to the hiring manager and yadda yadda yadda but seriously, who does that? Why would anyone ever think it was a good idea to yell at a recruiter if they genuinely wanted the job? In what world does that equate to business success?

As peeved as I may seem, my general reaction is one of amused bewilderment. I just can’t wrap my mind around the dubious logic she must have employed before reaching the decision to call me.

Onto stage two of my day: lunch. I ate lunch at Subway today because I was craving some healthy food after my recent spate of candy-consumption due to a candy bowl located too frigging close to my desk. Ahem. Anyway, I ate at Subway. While I was ordering my sandwich I had the most peculiar sandwich artist helping me. I ordered a 6” turkey breast sub but before I could tell him which bread I wanted he just said, “Wheat”. I was going to order the wheat bread, but the Sandwich Whisperer circumvented my answer and ordered it for me.

I was reeling from being in the presence of this Great Sandwich Seer and when I started paying attention to my sandwich again I was appalled at the state of it. Meat crookedly covering the left half of the sandwich. More lettuce on the cutting board than the sub. Tomatoes stacked three high on only one spot. Cheese triangles so small only a mouse could be truly satisfied. This sandwich was a wreck. I thought maybe I’d charm my way into a nicer-looking meal by being nice so I asked the guy how his day was going. He replied, “It’s great! How are you?” and was very warm and friendly. This, in my mind, ruled out sandwich sabotage because the guy was nice (and telepathic about bread) and I hadn’t done anything to provoke a backlash against my lunch.

Then, and there’s always a then in stories like these, as I was paying for my food and looking around I noticed that Subway has a lot of weight-loss propaganda in it. Lots of posters of people with measuring tape and lots of talk of fat grams and whatnot. Next to the register, though, there’s a cookie closet containing delicious lumps of sweet satisfaction. The sign on the cookie closet says, “Just one won’t hurt”. That is some serious psychological warfare going on in that store.

It’s the ultimate embodiment of the nonsensical and contradictory thought process that helps so many people become overweight (myself included). Really, if they were going to be fair to their customers there would be a bear-trap in the cookie closet.

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Filed under: Just plain nonsense

Post It? Don’t Mind if I Do!

Author: Erika

Jan 17

I go through a lot of Post-Its at work due to their appeal as a disposable writing surface for emergency note taking (like when I finally remember the name of a book I was looking for while I’m on a phone call) and as a depository for all the little impressions I get from the job candidates I talk to. The resumes in our files are sprinkled with well-organized and colorful Post-Its dictating the time and date I last talked to a person and what their story was.

The moral here? I love Post-Its because they make it so easy to keep things organized. You can imagine how I feel about the storage section at Bed Bath & Beyond.

The point? Well, what is the point of writing a blog if I’m not going to share with the Internet every inane thought that pops into my head and that I would probably share with you if you were sitting right next to me? The point is that I ran out of Post-Its today and had to pick out a brand new set in a different color (this may be the post pitiful post I’ve ever written. Seriously, who writes about colored Post-Its?!).

I trundled over to the cabinet of office materials and opened a new package of Post-Its. I selected a lime green pack this time because it reminded me of Spring and Spring is happy. When I placed my new prized office supply on my desk I caught a whiff of something. The smell of new Post Its.

It’s a generic new office supplies smell and it immediately transported me to the days when I’d go with my parents to buy new school supplies and I was always so excited about the new notebooks and backpack I’d get. I’d make an extensive list of the things I needed and then laboriously go through that list, agonizing over the choices for pen colors (which ink expresses who I am this year?), planners (does anyone actually use the whole-month planners? How can you fit assignment details onto that?), and backpacks (am I going traditional or messenger bag this year?). The best part came at the end of the day when I unpackaged all my new supplies and packed them all neatly in my new backpack.

Man, just writing that put a smile on my face. Who knew that opening a package of Post-Its would be enough to inspire not just a smile but the nearly 500 words in this here post? This situation demonstrates to me that not only do I currently have a decidedly unhealthy adoration for office products I also may have started off that way.

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