TOC Presents: The Blog-o-novella

THE NEW GUY

2007-12-19T11:36:00.000-08:00

A bird shat upon my head as I was walking to my car this morning.

Not tiny Sparrow poop that you can easily flick off, but Seagull poop that came at me in waves. First there was the “messenger” wave that hit me, saying, “Hey buddy, this is only the beginning. You’re about to really get it.” Then the second and third waves came, hitting my hair, jacket, and tie. Not a good thing to happen when you’re running late for your first day at a new job as Sales Manager.

It’s funny how they say that when a bird doth shit upon thee, good luck is sure to follow for the next seven years. After the events of the past year, I no longer believe in luck, unless of course the letters B-A-D are sitting directly up front with their seatbelts securely fastened. Although someone did once say that a fine line separates bad luck and stupidity. Does this make me stupid? (no need to answer)

I should be preparing for my introductory meeting instead of talking about my misadventures this morning with the Seagull/upside down fire hydrant, but I think I’m going to play it cool. If I throw my six month plan at them my first day it will freak them out, and besides, I don’t really want to be “that” guy, do I? Instead I think I’ll use the age old, lead by example method, that’s produced the numbers for me in the past. It’s not exactly what I pitched to THE BOSS in the interview, but he’s from Planet 80’s. My money says that rule number five on the Secret Santa gift exchange is a direct result of his brilliance, or lack thereof.

I didn’t come here to take his job, but it may very well wind up falling into my lap. That would be nice after the events of this past year. Speaking of which… so far, so good. With these new glasses, no one seems to recognize me. Brilliant idea on my sister’s part, me thinks.

OUR HEROINE

2007-12-17T18:00:00.000-08:00

by Lucy

I know I should be happy with my fat holiday bonus check. (Only $6,000 left on the fucking Mastercard!!) I know I should be happy that my parents are awesome people, who let me live in their house for free. I should be happy I got a sterling 360 degree review, and that in two short years I'll have an MBA from UCLA ... PAID FOR by fucking X Corp. And I'll be able to go move anywhere I want and live a decent lifestyle that I can actually afford.

But I need arms.

This is my latest theory. The Arms Theory.

You can be totally fine on your own. And you are! You really are. You have your girlfriends for laughs. You pay for your own jeans and happy hours. You get plenty of exercise. You read books. Good books! You see movies by yourself, and people say it's 'bold,' not depressing. Your cute little bulldog, George Clooney, sleeps at the foot of your bed every night. You have plenty of presents under the Christmas tree. Who NEEDS a man? All they add is heartache and periodic groping. Seriously, you are doing FINE without one.

But some nights you just want arms. They makes you feel safe, you know? When they snuggle you. It feels like everything will be OK. And you don't have to be ON all the time. You can just relax.

Unfortunately, all the arms that have held me have belonged to communication-challenged, emotional nimwits with wandering eyes. But if I could just find a nice, sweet pair ... *sigh* Maybe I should ask Santa for a cozy duvet cover??

Holy fuck. Who am I going to bring to the fucking holiday party.

THE INTERN

2007-12-17T17:47:00.000-08:00

Help plan the holiday party? More like help plan the helliday party. If only THE LIFER's ass wasn't grafted to her office chair maybe she'd be able to handle this on her own. But then again my dad always says if you want something done you have to do it yourself. So I guess this tells us a little bit about THE LIFER's work ethic now, doesn't it? She obviously doesn't care about her job (otherwise I wouldn't have to take care of her crap work). Ya know, I bet she would benefit from watching a few episodes of G.I. Joe. The show really teaches so many quality take-home messages! She could really learn from at least watching the last 3 minutes of each episode… I thank my lucky stars that my parents made me watch every show about 26 times and have a fully developed sense of ethics and principles.

I wonder if we'll have an open bar at the party?

I ALSO wonder whose brilliant decision it was to make me THE LIFER's personal slave? Doesn't anyone remember that the whole slavery issue was resolved on December 10, 1997 when Amistad came out?? Besides, the only time I've ever had to help plan anything was when Jessie Jean broke her back (lame excuse) and made me take over organizing our dance team's Spirit Fingers workshop.

OH. EM. GEE. Shut the FRONT DOOR! Did she really just tell me that?? I'm in shock and am completely mortified.

While I was just slaving over the guest list and THE LIFER waddled past and SNORTED at me! She apparently found it very amusing that I was making myself an invitation to the party. She just leaned over, crossed my name off the list, and chuckled to herself as she popped in another cheese puff. Why the F'ing H don't interns get invited to holiday parties??? I. Am. Speechless.

After eating at this party these people better pray they have their doctors on speed-dial.

THE BOSS

2007-12-14T11:29:00.000-08:00

Hello, little fly. My, but aren’t you slow, lazy and glistening with fat? While I lay motionless on my Eames chaise returning from the fifth level of Transcendental consciousness, you buzz above my nose as if it’s a landing pad, unaware that I’m watching your every move.

Musca domestica, named for the pheromone muscalare that stimulates swarming and sexual attraction. Since the Cenozoic era you’ve survived by feeding parasitically from the shit of evolved species. Which brings me to the 360’s.

A recap in brief:

THE LIFER: Four-F...Fat, fumbling, frumpy, with Fun-bags. Wildly unproductive and yet, still oddly alluring.
JUST GRADUATED!: Cute as a button, clumsy as an ox, as full of rah-rah newbie nonsense as a greeting card.
AGING FRAT GUY: All the acumen of a tub of Bar Cheese left out in the midday sun.
KISSASS: The Baryshnikov of brown-nosing, Mickey Mantle of Machiavellianism, and Oliver Wendell Holmes of horseshit.
THE SECRETARY: Strong oral skills; lousy at communication.
Lucy: Surprisingly competent while grossly in need of a good deprogramming to get her on board with X Corp-think.

And now, little fly, the question is WWGPD? What Would George Patton Do?

Why, I believe the general would’ve used the opportunity of the upcoming holiday party to give these chuckleheads the gift of a bull-nosed, bullet-headed sergeant to kick their lily asses. In the corporate world, we call it a Manager. Yes, I’ve got one picked out and yes, he took the job.

And now the son-of-a-bitch had better get these malcontented misfits in line or -

BZZ-BZZ

- Gotcha!

I’ll get him, too.

Subject: Secret Santa Ground Rules

2007-12-12T18:41:00.000-08:00

December 12, 2007
2:23 PM
From: ANNOYING E-MAIL NAZI
To: X-Corp Staff
Subject: Secret Santa Ground Rules

Due to the disappointing results of last year's Secret Santa gift exchange, it has become necessary to lay down a few ground rules to govern this year's spontaneous expressions of holiday cheer. If you recall, last year's Secret Santa exchange resulted in no less than three lawsuits. Let's try to get that down to a more manageable number this year, shall we?

These rules are to be followed:

1. Participation in the Secret Santa gift exchange is mandatory. We don't care what religion you are. No one here believes in Santa, either.
2. No regifting from last year. That blown-glass Christmas ornament in the shape of a pickle does not need to be given to yet another employee. No one cares about the German tradition of finding the pickle in the Christmas tree. Leave it at home.
3. No firearms, fireworks, or other flammable/incendiary devices. This includes inert grenades, as well. We simply cannot take your word for it that the grenade you got from the bargain bin at Military Bob's Surplus is inert. The fire department did not enjoy their unscheduled trip to X Corp last year.
4. You may not place Secret Santa gifts on your expense accounts.
5. No matter how well you think you know your co-workers, lingerie is always an inappropriate Secret Santa gift.
6. NO strippers or lap dances, no matter how festive their Santa hats and boots may be.

Now that we're clear on the rules, let's look forward to a super Secret Santa gift exchange this year. Thanks in advance for your cooperation, and happy holidays.

:)

Subject: Email revocation

2007-12-12T18:38:00.000-08:00

From: THE BOSS
To: IT GUY
Cc: CRUSTY HR LADY
Sent: 12/20/2007 2:04:12 pm
Subject: Email revocation

IT GUY:
Moments ago I returned to my office after a grueling afternoon of 360 reviews to find a handwritten note taped to my door. Being both a pioneer and apostle of the wireless industry, I despise anything handwritten. And tape, too.

In that note, THE KISSASS explained in the most wheedling of tones how you revoked his email privileges based on section 8, paragraph 7 of the X Corp Company IT policy, i.e., use of profanity in company e-mail is forbidden. While this is true, there is also the unwritten rule of X Corp that trumps everything else: I am THE BOSS and what I say goes.

To that end, reinstate email privileges for THE KISSASS immediately. Yes, he’s a weird and wormy little sycophant, and that’s just why his clients love him. And why his numbers are almost twice as high as everyone else’s.

By the way, the next time you make a decision like that without consulting me first based on the use of profanity in an email, you’d better fucking think fucking long and fucking hard be-fucking-for you fucking do it. But then, we can discuss this fucking issue in your 360.

You’re fucking next.

THE BOSS

AGING FRAT DUDE

2007-12-12T12:54:00.000-08:00

So my 360 review didn't exactly go as I had planned. First off, I never got to roll out the finely crafted business plan for our department after I spent all of last night doing shots with the guy who lives in the apartment next to me. He runs a web business. I could so work at home like that.

Any way, my cheeks aren't in the chair in THE BOSS's office for 60 seconds before he reads a whole bunch of comments about me from co-workers. Supposedly.

"Your coworkers' comments in no particular order..." THE BOSS tells me:

--"'Mister Delta Kappa who gives a Crappa.'
--'I'm surprised the guy still has thumbs considering the time he spends playing computer games.'
--'He generally smells like ass gravy.'"

That's what my scum-sucking, puss-popping BOSS says to me. Not even behind my back but right to my face. How insensitive. Half the office lights up cigarettes outside on break but I can't bust a few grumpies at my desk? Since when is farting illegal? And I'm the only one who does it, right?

Stupid liberals.

If I had been thinking, I would have said right then and there that I have videotape of him and his secretary playing a "Hide the Salami" (just realized I haven't played that game since college), but I didn't say that because the camera battery was dead by the time I pulled it out that one time I saw them doing it. Or maybe they were just talking.

Damn it, I should have bluffed. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

And then on my way out the door THE BOSS says he knows I've been using office copiers to print out fliers for my bi-weekly "Margarita Madness" nights.

Um, yeah. That's why they're called "copiers." You want me to draw up signs by hands? That would take hours.

That's it. I am so out of this place. I'm going to Kinko's right after this and running off a few copies of my resume and this time I'm actually sending them out.

Oh, here's my 360 review for the IT GUY. Fix the color copier. It's out of magenta.

Subject: Violation of Company E-Mail Policy and Subsequent Revocation of Privileges

2007-12-11T09:48:00.000-08:00

From: IT GUY
To: KISSASS
Cc: CRUSTY HR LADY
Sent: 11/29/2007 11:30:07 am
Subject: Violation of Company E-Mail Policy and Subsequent Revocation of
Privileges

Dear Mr. KISSASS:

Per section 8, paragraph 7 of the X Corp Company IT policy, use of profanity in company e-mail is forbidden. As a reminder, your last e-mail to me, dated 11/29/2007, included a choice four-letter word that clearly violated the policy.

As a result, your e-mail privileges have been suspended until such time as HR has had an opportunity to retrain you on this portion of company policy. You will no longer be able to send or receive e-mail until such time as CRUSTY HR LADY certifies that you have completed the re-training and fully comprehend and demonstrate the proper use of company e-mail.

I believe that the next scheduled training session for new employees on the company e-mail policy is scheduled for January 15. CRUSTY HR LADY will be able to verify if there are open seats in that session. Until the re-training occurs, you will need to make other arrangements for communication with clients.

Sincerely,
IT GUY

Subject: Gargle

2007-12-11T09:45:00.000-08:00

From: KISSASS
To: IT GUY
Cc:
Sent: 11/29/2007 10:03:02 am
Subject: Gargle

IT Guy -

I know who it was who locked me out of the building. I know who it was who left me at the unholy snapping mercy of that goose.

I also know that scraping goose shit off of one's shoe and inserting it into a colleague's chocolate-filled doughnut takes a slow and meticulous hand.

Question: how was breakfast, poo-breath?

Kisses -

Kiss Ass

JUST GRADUATED!

2007-12-11T09:23:00.000-08:00

I got my 360-degree evaluation today. I think.

I've never had one before, so I don't know how it was supposed to go. The Boss lined Lucy, the Secretary, and me up in the conference room. He sat in the back with a pen and paper. He told us to pretend we were in the Miss America pageant. We were supposed to walk across the room, smile at an imaginary audience, and answer a "random" question.

The Secretary went first. I think that she broke a heel swinging her hips. Her question was about how she would use technology to increase communication in the office. She didn't answer the question, instead she started singing "Happy Birthday, Mr. President," just like Marilyn Monroe.

Lucy walked up to the Boss. She didn't smile or pose like the Secretary did. He asked her about how the wireless communication industry would change in the next five years. She rattled off some statistics about cell towers and satellite technology.

My turn. I walked across the carpet and my shoe caught on the edge of a chair. I tripped and fell like a sack of potatoes, landed right in the Boss's lap. I was utterly humiliated. I stood back up, smoothed down my jacket, muttered an apology, and waited for my question. The Secretary glowered at me.

My question was pretty easy. The Boss asked me where I see myself in five years. I remembered my interview response about providing top-quality business analysis and customer service to our client base. I tried to remember to smile. The Boss just nodded and scribbled on his paper.

I got an e-mail that said that I got a 9.25 out of ten for my question answer, a 7.4 for professional appearance, and a 5.00 for poise ("good triple axle, but poor recovery"). I got an overall 7.22, so I "passed to the next round."

I'm relieved. I think.

THE LIFER

2007-12-11T09:19:00.000-08:00

How do I know I've been here way too long? Aside from the fact that my tuckus has taken on the exact shape of my desk chair, it's because I basically could've predicted, word-for-word, step-by-step, how my 360 meeting would go...

Prediction #1: THE BOSS will start my review session using an action figure, although I can never be certain which one.
Actuality: Our meeting began at 11:00am. At 11:02am, I was promptly introduced to Eye-Patch GI Joe.

Prediction #2: THE BOSS will be unable to look me in the eye the entire time, because he will stare at either my double-chin, my flabby arms, or my voluptuous (that's an understatement) ta-tas.
Actuality: That militaristic son of a bitch looked right at my double-chin and sneered, "There were a few remarks from your co-workers that mention your weight…I don't know what you want to do about these comments, but allow me to share them with you…"

The comments from a few slimy co-workers were as follows:

"Forrest Gump's mother said 'Life is like a box of chocolates.' Pretty sure that to LIFER, boxes of chocolates are her life."

"One thing that annoys me about LIFER is her inability to walk 20 feet without being out of breath. By the time she gets to my desk at the back of the office, she is panting like a mofo and I can't make out what she is trying to tell me between huffs and puffs. To add insult to injury, her breath always smells like cat food."

Other negatives? Well, apparently my peers do not appreciate the pictures I keep on my desk (6 photos that are the result of a Glamour Shots session given to me by my mother…so what if I am in them alone?), nor do they have any respect for how long I have been here ("I think it's time for her to move on…"). And, of course, I knew I would take a social hit for not bringing donuts to the office anymore. :(

Comments were read to me and feedback was given without THE BOSS making direct eye contact even once. Yes - I'm a flipping psychic. And, as he palmed GI Joe, ready to put him back into his desk drawer, THE BOSS ends on this note: "It's not that X Corp doesn't appreciate your years of service. It's just that there've been so damn many of them."

As I was on my way out the door, I had to remind him that he didn't mind those *years of service* I provided to him in his office back in the day, long before THE SECRETARY was around. As the words left my mouth, I swore I saw a glimmer in his eyes as they shifted from my chin to my juicy melons…

THE KISSASS

2007-12-03T17:55:00.000-08:00

OK-OK-OK-breath-in-breath-out-breath-in-breath-out-find-the-happy-place-
find-the-happy-place-find-the-happy-fucking-place-before-your-happy-fucking-
head-explodes!!!

Exhaaaale...aaaaand...fuuuuuck.

Staring at the supply-room floor with my hands on my knees, filling my brain with oxygen, I suddenly understand why my father spent his life installing carpet. No need for executive level brown-nosing to progress from point A to point B. Just lay the shag and move on.

Maybe that's the problem. Unlike the Secretary, I am un-shaggable in the eyes (and loins) of the Boss. Therefore I have to resort to the basest of subterfuge to interrupt a colleague-slash-competitor's 360.

Call it Operation Appendage.

The Boss was in the conference room with Lucy and, ear-to-door, I heard something dangerously like banter. That broad is up for the same promotion as me and she's been at X Corp for no time at all! So I folded over my pinkie, kicked open the door, and told them not to mind me, I'd misplaced my prosthetic little finger. I was expecting sympathy or morbid curiosity but instead the Boss uttered
to Lucy the phrase I dreaded most.

You're competent.

And then, as I faked my way around the floor, he growled, Beat it,asshole.
I stood, vindicated, and looked at Lucy and said, Amen, Ho! And then I realized he was speaking to me. I flipped up my little pinkie. Oh! There it is! I said, and fled to the sanctuary of the supply room.

Is it possible?

With all of my skill and subtlety?

Is the Boss on to me?

Subject: re: 360 conference room

2007-11-29T17:48:00.000-08:00

From: THE SECRETARY
To: THE BOSS
Cc:
Sent: 11/30/2007 7:010:22 am
Subject: 360 conference room

Sir, yessir. Any way you want it is how I do it. :)

THE SECRETARY

Subject: 360 conference room

2007-11-29T17:43:00.000-08:00

From: THE BOSS
To: THE SECRETARY
Cc:
Sent: 11/30/2007 7:09:10 am
Subject: 360 conference room

Secretary -

Going forward, please supply the conference room I'm using for 360's with the following items:

* Kleenex (heavy ply)

* A large, lined garbage can (suitable for upchuck containment)

* A box of surgical gloves (don't ask)

* My Mister Nice and Mister Naughty instructional hand puppets (lower left drawer of my desk...you know where they are)

* An electric taser (see Ned at the security desk and tell him it's for Hawk)

That is all -

Boss

Sunday Night, Vol. 3

2007-11-29T02:11:00.001-08:00

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Subject: Updated Timekeeping Procedures

2007-11-28T11:27:00.000-08:00

November 28, 2007
9:16 AM
To: X Corp Staff
From: ANNOYING E-MAIL NAZI
Subject: Updated Timekeeping Procedures

Good Morning, Team!

As you are all aware, one of X Corp’s strategic plan goals is to enhance the accurate reporting of employee time. In furtherance of this goal, it has become necessary to clarify X Corp’s timekeeping policy with respect to clocking out at the end of the day.

Please see that you clock out BEFORE any restroom breaks are taken at the end of the workday. It has come to our attention that certain employees are taking prolonged breaks on company time between 4:00 and 5:00, in violation of the ten-minute rule.

Please note that NO activities occurring in the restroom can be counted as work-related activities. We understand that many employees enter the restrooms carrying folders of TPS reports (ostensibly, for reading purposes). While such employee enthusiasm is admirable, this CANNOT be counted as work time any longer. The maintenance man has specifically requested that the TPS reports remain at your desks for reading, as he has apparently extracted several problematic portions of the reports from X-Corp’s plumbing.

As you will recall from the last memo regarding the issue of restroom breaks, egg timers were placed in the restrooms for your convenience, to allow you to effectively self-monitor the amount of time spent on restroom breaks. This has been deemed to be ineffective (as one egg timer was later found melted in the break room microwave, and the other was discovered artfully installed in the tailpipe of CRUSTY HR LADY’s car).

Please refrain from any further destruction of company property or employee personal property. Do not install TPS reports or egg timers where they do not belong.

Thanks in advance for your assistance in this matter, and have a productive day! :)

THE INTERN

2007-11-26T12:24:00.000-08:00

Although I'd never admit this to anyone, and you can only get cell coverage in the hallway that smells like my dad's office after he's been eating nachos and beer, the food court downstairs kinda grows on you. Since my duties are so awful at work I need some major prep to face the bore-zone. My mom always says preparing for battle is like eating Crisco. Nobody wants to do it, but sometimes you just have to take one for the team. That and I can't think of a reason not to go eat my deluxe pancake breakfast with sausage soon after dropping off my stuff and gracing the few early birds with my stunning presence.

The only thing that sucks is that the food court is like, so far away. When I get hungry at home my mom always drives me across the street to McDonalds. But here, I have to walk out of the office, get in the elevator, walk some more to the escalator, take that alllllll the way downstairs and then walk even further to get my morning hash browns. I mean, really! The things you have to do at this place.

And I just don't get why people are so grumpy when I get back upstairs. It's not like I was gone that long. I mean, I only had time to eat my breakfast, call Jeannie, Jane, Julie and hottie-with-a-body Joe, try Starbuck's new Sour Apple Mocha Frappuccino and watch 1.5 episodes of Gossip Girl on my ipod. Besides, I have so much work to get done here that I just don't have time to do all the little crap people try and stick me with, so I should be the grumpy one! Get them coffee?? Right. I'm totally smarter than all these freaks – did anyone here else start college as a Sophomore?? I think not.

Now if only I could figure out how to open this weird loser program… I think they said it was called Out something… Outlooked…. Outlike? Whatever – it's looks like it's totally out of style. Friggin' dinosaurs.

THE SECRETARY

2007-11-16T15:45:00.001-08:00

Will the fucking INTERN ever come back with my coffee?

CRUSTY HR LADY

2007-11-16T15:34:00.000-08:00

I don’t understand what is so difficult about following my very easy, very clear instructions just one time each week:

C - Check your Outlook each Tuesday morning, first thing.

A - Attachment – notice the Participant Manual attached to the Meeting Request.

P - Print off said Attachment/Participant Manual.

A - Attend the scheduled Training Session, whose topic is outlined in the Meeting Request.

B - Be on time – the time that training will begin is stated in the Meeting Request.

L - Learn by watching the interesting video I show you in the Training Session.

E - Engage in meaningful dialogue with each other about the topic at hand.

I even made an acronym to be helpful. CAPABLE. I want everyone to be CAPABLE of handling various HR issues. It isn’t that hard to remember, people! It’s posted on the wall in the Conference Room, it’s framed and hung right by the entrance to the bathrooms, and I even made that 2’ X 3’ CAPABLE poster that is pinned to the cork board right next to the water cooler. I can do no more than I have done to bring your attention to it!

Why can’t the people who work here just comply? Don’t they understand the importance of what I do? And of what they do? And how what they do (or don’t do) could put the company and themselves at tremendous risk? I just don’t think they get it. I’m not pointing any fingers, but it seems like they’d rather be whoring around (SECRETARY) or playing with action figures (BOSS) than paying attention to the latest updates on Title VII of the Civil Rights Act. Don’t these people see the vital implications? DON’T THEY KNOW THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING CAPABLE?!?!

This – THIS, people – is why I conduct my Pop-Quizzes. THIS is why I hold trainings on vital topics. THIS is why I bust my ass to keep up to date on every policy, rule, and federal and state law. What would you all do without me? This place would go down in flames. Sometimes I feel like I should just let it.

*Ding* - there goes my Outlook Meeting Request Reminder, informing me that I need to begin training in 15 minutes in the Conference Room. Today’s topic: “OUCH! That Stereotype Hurts!” IMPORTANT stuff, people. IMPORTANT. And that’s no acronym.

THE BOSS

2007-11-15T22:06:00.000-08:00

The beauty of plastic is underrated.

Take this classic G.I. Joe, circa ‘64, the first Joe to hit the market. I was a godddam tadpole when my old man gave him to me, and look at him! Eleven-and-a-half-inches of pure polythene bad-ass and he doesn’t look a day older than Kung Fu grip Joe from ’72, COBRA-fighting Joe from ’83 or Drug Elimination Force Joe from ’92!

Plastic doesn’t just defy age. It kicks it in the nut-sack and sends it whimpering back to its ballet lessons.

The small-minded might look askance at an adult who collects action figures but my Israeli Zen-Master, Shlomo-San, reminds me that the pressures of leadership demand a soothing outlet. For me that’s a mixture of the military with non-organic molded materials.

Plastic and war inform my kensho, or as Shlomo-San calls it, my “original nature.” From G.I. Joe to my expertise in plastic explosives during Desert Storm to my first and second wives (largely rebuilt from plastic) to my mission of shoving down the throats of every American the X Corp squares of telephonic-technology encased in plastic...the long, hard slog plus plastic is who I am.

The security camera that films THE KISS-ASS watching me from his car every morning: plastic.

The audio surveillance bug I dropped into THE SECRETARY’S bag while she was buttering my muffin: plastic.

What I plan to do with all of this information and disinformation.

Secret.

AGING FRAT DUDE

2007-11-14T11:50:00.000-08:00

Here's what I don't like about watching porn at home: There is very
little chance I'll get caught, and come on, that's a big part of the
thrill. That's why I watch it right here at work (no, they can't track
it - IT guy told me that's a urban legend).

But it's in the workplace where I perfected the fine art of "looking
without getting caught looking." I practically majored in this in
college and now I'd consider myself a PhD.

A few tips:

1) You won't always get close. Grab the occasional look as she walks
down the cubicle aisle. Like finding a muddy puddle in the desert,
it's not much, but it's something and it's wet. (I just made that up
on the fly - oooh, fly! There's another one.)

2) In meetings, look out the window just enough to make people think
... you're always looking out the window. Scan, don't devour. You
don't eat a cheesecake in one big bite - you take smaller bites and
rest in between those bites.

3) Don't look at them all. For instance, I stare at JUST GRADUATED
because those have to be fake. I don't stare at CRUSTY HR LADY because
that would be a waste of time. Another analogy: Like fantasy football,
build your roster.

4) Establish a sideview shot and be on the lookout for that little
open space between the buttons. Call it my - wait for it - "360
review."

5) This worked in college. Comment on their clothing. That way they
think you're looking at the blouse and not the sweet peaches. I did
this on more than half the Tri-Delts junior year and still won "House
Sweetheart" at Spring Formal.

Trust me, I have yet to be caught. I have more but I'm saving them for
my book "You Can't Spell Fun Bags without F-U-N." That's a working
title.

Two hours left before I go home. I need an espresso.

IT GUY

2007-11-14T09:52:00.000-08:00

It’s a new week. IT GUY: 1, KISS ASS: 0

I saw THE KISS ASS skulking around the parking lot this morning on the security cam. He doesn’t know that I keep a feed of the security cams running in the server room. Often times, it provides some excellent entertainment. You’d be surprised, for instance, how many people’s bare butt cheeks have been parked on the copier (yeah, it was me who put the bottle of Lysol beside it). Mostly, I just remember to take backups of the juicy stuff and file it away…just in case I need something on somebody.

Today, I decided to have a little fun with THE KISS ASS. I disabled his keycard access to keep him from getting into the building. Normally, I just do that when he’s running late, but he was unusually flustered today, and I couldn’t resist.

THE KISS ASS winds up walking around the building, knocking on windows, trying to find someone to let him in. He failed to take into account the ill-tempered swans who live in the pond on the west side of the building. I call them the Security Swans. Y’see, the swans are gonna be parents really soon. And Mama swan does not like anybody wandering into her territory.

Mountain Dew nearly came spewing out of my nose when I saw the KISS ASS being chased my Mama and Daddy swan around the corner of the building. He lost one of his Hush Puppies in the mud and got bitten in the ass by Daddy swan.

CRUSTY HR LADY heard him squealing like a girl and let him in. But he can’t retrieve his loafer. The swans are guarding it like it was a shiny, expensive new egg. They hiss anytime anyone gets near it. And KISS ASS has been walking around all day in one shoe.

Ah, I don’t know that I can keep this all to myself. I might just have to share this footage at the holiday party.

Sunday Night, Vol. 2

2007-11-14T09:37:00.000-08:00

Make an on-line slide show at www.OneTrueMedia.com

SUBJECT: GUIDANCE FOR 360 REVIEWS

2007-11-13T14:49:00.000-08:00

November 9, 2007
9:20 AM
To: X Corp Staff
From: ANNOYING E-MAIL NAZI
Subject: 360 Degree Reviews

Good Morning, Team!

By now, you are all well-immersed in the 360 degree review process. Judging by the number of questions sent to HR regarding this process, there is a high degree of engagement and enthusiasm! CRUSTY HR LADY has asked that some additional guidance be provided to those filling out the questionnaires. Specifically:

-Question 5 asks the rater to assess whether the “employee consistently accomplishes objectives.” Please remember that this refers to WORK-RELATED objectives. Examples of work-related objectives include: quarterly sales figures; reports generated; strategic plan progress; and customer service requests fulfilled. Examples of objectives which are NOT work-related include: golf handicaps; poker tournament rankings; years remaining on parole supervision; current score on Guitar Hero; and progress on court-ordered child support repayment plans. At X Corp, we are delighted to have such a group of well-rounded individuals with diverse outside interests, but these cannot be fully captured on the 360 degree assessment. :)

-Question 10 asks the rater to assess whether the employee “maintains an appropriate professional appearance.” Please confine your remarks to whether or not the employee conforms to the X Corp dress code. While we are pleased that some employees take such an interest in the well-being of other employees, comments involving the following are inappropriate and are in violation of X Corp’s vigorously-enforced harassment rules:

-undergarments (visible, imagined, or extrapolated lack thereof)
-body art or piercings (visible, imagined, or extrapolated lack thereof)
-body size, shape, or dimensions (visible, imagined, or extrapolated lack thereof)
-provenance of garments worn within the parameters of the X Corp dress code (“looks like she shops at Goodwill” is not a constructive observation, even if it is true.)
-nominations for TLC’s “What Not to Wear”
-any mention of the word “codpiece”

Additionally, HR has deemed it necessary to ban the phrase “Armani-gnawing, sycophantic, thumb-sucking Jesus freak” entirely from the 360-degree review process, without further explanation.

That’s all for now! Have a great weekend.

THE SECRETARY

2007-11-08T11:47:00.001-08:00

CRUSTY HR LADY has been in THE BOSS’s office for 37 minutes.

If she weren’t 53 years old wearing a fuscia suit with PANTY HOSE (omg!!) I would be worried. Furthermore, I feel safe knowing that 1) He never lasts that long without the Viagra, which he won’t take at work, and 2) His good hip is bothering him after our romp in the Bentley this morning.

I’m wondering if I should be concerned that the little weasel saw us pull up together in the parking lot. Seriously, what does he do sitting in there for an hour before everyone else shows up? It’s creepy. That’s the last thing I need: Someone like him riding my ass to HR. He’d do it, too. He’s still bitter that I blew him in the supply closet at the Christmas Party my first year and he couldn’t ever get me to do it again. Um, hello, squatty! Ever heard of Egg-nog Goggles?

I can always say I had car trouble and the boss picked me up.