Archive for the ‘work’ Category


An Open Letter, to the Internet.

March 16, 2010

Dear Internet,

let me start off by saying I miss you. I feel like a part of me is missing, like its been cut off and stuffed in a drawer. Or buried in a pet cemetery. Or eaten by a rather odd little man with no hair who likes to “read alone” a lot.

See, I have this thing that a lot of people have called a job. I also have an addictive personality, which is part of why it was so simple, so easy for me to become as addicted to you as I did. When you add the two things together, it makes for a not so happy boss.

I’ve been given the order to cut you down to zero at work. An Order. Its you or my job, baby, and you know how I feel about showers, and eating food, and a roof over my head and the ManBears’, and laundry detergent, and tapatio, and keeping my cat up to his eyeballs in tartar-reducing treats.

It doesn’t help that I try to catch up on all that I’ve missed during the day when I get home, sucked into your vacuum, your delicious delicious vacuum. And I want to catch up. I want to read the 132 (no seriously. that’s what I came home to today, after clearing it last night) unread posts in my Reader. I want to tumbl, refreshing every. single. minute. just in case I missed something amazing. I want to catch up on episodes of shows I dont even watch because I can. I want to spend hours reading the 9 hours of tweets I missed, responding late because I don’t want to be forgotten.

And that’s dangerous.

Never mind the fact that I would read twitter feeds all day long. Never mind the fact that tumblr is full of basically useless (if amusing) things (that totally made my relationship what it is today, which is a story for another time). Never mind the fact that I havent made art in months, that I havent unpacked from my move (4 months ago), that I havent called my grandparents since before new years (I did see them at christmas though!), that I haven’t exercised in long enough that half of my pants don’t fit over my big butt and love handles (no really mom. you don’t have to be nice. i know they’re there. i saw them in the HUGE MIRROR while i was getting into the shower the other day to shave my legs for the first time since new years, another thing I haven’t done in far too long).

Internet, I have to stop using you so often. I am turning round and slow. I have carpel tunnel and screen-vision. I have a click in my neck (an actual click that sounds when I move my neck out of that position) from hours of leaning slightly forward and down.

I need to start living the life I keep telling myself I want.

So Internet. Baby. Sugar-lips. Sweetums. I am not quitting you. I never could, but this (work mandated, boss demanded) cutback of hours for you can do me a world of good if I let it.

And I think I might let it.

With all my love and tired fingers,


ps. see you tomorrow.


I’m underpaid.

March 9, 2010

My job is interesting.

I just ran around campus (literally. On my feet. In Dansko CLOGS. And a button down shirt.) with the iPhone of my boss’ boss trying to direct a man with a fridge to our office.

It would have helped if he I was told where he was before he was handed off.

Then I held a door with no handle open for 2 men who were putting together said fridge.

Then I signed three times on three pieces of paper (I think I own a fridge now?).

Then I made ice.

Later I will be framing 7 campus maps.

And playing with walkie-talkies.

And looking through office supply catalogues.

And helping people try on shirts.

This is NOT in the job description.


#MyCharmingCoworkers and Self Worth

January 7, 2010

I have never felt so badly about myself as I do in this job.

It’s not the job, though. I’m good at what I do, despite my mild slacking off. I get what I need to get completed done in a timely and effective manner. I get told how good I am at things and I enjoy most of what I do.

What makes me feel so god damn shitty about myself is the people. My Charming Coworkers, two of them specifically.

It’s like being in high school all over again. I was never the most popular kid, and I was weird so I understood that,  but I had friends I cared about who in turn cared about me. Then there were the aloof “better than you” kids who hung out at the fringe. They were friends with my friends but I was never good enough so they tolerated me, and it showed.

I was never invited to hang out, never invited to join then. I was ignored and talked about. I was belittled and teased. And my friends allowed it because they were also friends with these “cool” kids.

The same thing happens daily here.

My Charming Coworker and her friend The Preggo will go into the office that WorkNate and MarioLuigi (we’ll call him, thank you twitter) share, which is directly across from mine, and stay there for 20 minutes, talking loudly with M.L. about everything and nothing, planning trips and outings together. (In his defense, while WorkNate is included in these conversations, I have never considered him to be one of #MyCharmingCoworkers, because he really is a charming and lovable stoner goof.)

Anyway, they sit in there for long periods of time, speaking loudly in a manner that (though it may just be my assumption) indicates they are glad I can hear it, and show off how “cool” they are.

And I get flashbacks to not being good enough. The exclusion and the obvious denial of acceptance.

I keep telling myself that its ok, because I don’t even like these women. It’s ok because you are better than this, and you’re better than them. You have dealt with small, petty people before – people who revel in making you feel little and insignificant; people who make you feel like you’re worthless; people who make you question your value. You can  do this.

I know I can, logically, but living it is something else.

I’ve created this mild bubble around myself – something to help me block out the Charming Coworkers of the world, not just these two but all of them, and that bubble is usually pretty strong.

But here, at this desk, in this office, it’s pretty useless.

I don’t really do resolutions for the new year. Last year and the year before I told myself I would be braver, and I was. If it’s a resolution, I neglect it then feel badly and the last thing I need is more guilt.

But this year, I’m telling myself – promising myself – that I won’t let them get to me as much this year. I won’t let their bad behavior make me feel poorly about myself. I won’t let their shitty demeanor and high school bullshit destroy my self-worth and self-esteem any more.

I’m too good for that, and honestly?

They aren’t worth it.


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