Sitting here in the cubicle I share with an intern, I am sipping on, quite possibly, the crappiest cup of coffee I have ever had. It's 11:10 AM and its cup numero 3.
I'm on edge and I'm not sure if it's the coffee or the irritating caller who can't figure out the difference between clicking a URL or Google. What kills me is this person has credentials. And she doesn't understand, in her thick, southern accent. Sipping my coffee, I shudder.
I have nicknamed the office coffee "Espresso Mud." A coworker thinks I am funny.
I am typing diligently. Another coworker thinks I am a hard worker.
I complain about my job, and, a friend tells me I should quit.
I click my heals three times, close my eyes, and repeat "this cannot be my life, this cannot be my life, this cannot be my life."
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
On "Secretary Spread"
I totally get why people eat all day at office jobs. I understand how folks succumb to something my mother likes to refer to as "secretary spread."
In layman's terms, "secretary spread" is a common condition among office employees caused by an increase in consumption and a decrease in motion. The individual's ass grows, spreading across her desk chair (on wheels), which, as the condition progresses, she leaves less and less, with the exception of trips to the office kitchen or vending machine. The condition is more common among women and is both progressive and contagious and can be, in extreme cases, debilitating. Secretary spread is primarily attributed to boredom or stress, causing one to "eat until s/he feels better." Doesn't everyone in the office look the happiest when lunchtime rolls around? Known cures include ditching the comfort food for plain green salads, walking during lunch breaks, and switching to light beer at happy hour. Preventative methods include packing healthy lunches and snacks, walking to the file cabinet instead of rolling in your chair, and getting your ass the gym at the crack of dawn because by the end of the day, you are just too damned tired to go.
Having been awake since 5 AM to work out, it is 10:38 AM at the office and I believe I have held out long enough to enjoy my mid-morning snack. These are the things I think about.
In layman's terms, "secretary spread" is a common condition among office employees caused by an increase in consumption and a decrease in motion. The individual's ass grows, spreading across her desk chair (on wheels), which, as the condition progresses, she leaves less and less, with the exception of trips to the office kitchen or vending machine. The condition is more common among women and is both progressive and contagious and can be, in extreme cases, debilitating. Secretary spread is primarily attributed to boredom or stress, causing one to "eat until s/he feels better." Doesn't everyone in the office look the happiest when lunchtime rolls around? Known cures include ditching the comfort food for plain green salads, walking during lunch breaks, and switching to light beer at happy hour. Preventative methods include packing healthy lunches and snacks, walking to the file cabinet instead of rolling in your chair, and getting your ass the gym at the crack of dawn because by the end of the day, you are just too damned tired to go.
Having been awake since 5 AM to work out, it is 10:38 AM at the office and I believe I have held out long enough to enjoy my mid-morning snack. These are the things I think about.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
To Danny
It's been a while. And the circumstances which have inspired me to write are much less than desirable. A good man has died.
My great Uncle Danny barely knew me, yet, he spent a generous chunk of change to send me to college. His financial support depended upon attending a catholic university, and it just so happened that the Catholic University of America was my school of choice.
I am not a religious person.
He did not ask questions. Before college, I would not have been able to recognize Uncle Danny in a crowd of old people. In fact, I'm not sure I would be able to recognize him among the living, today.
Someone once asked me if I felt hypocritical attending Catholic University under false pretenses- the assumption of my generous uncle believing he was fostering my catholic spirit. A little guilty, I've felt, at times. I've never felt hypocritical. My uncle never asked if I went to church each weekend or took part in campus ministry activities. He never asked if I believed in god. He only asked that I retain an average gpa, which I did.
I wrote him a thank you letter at the conclusion of each year, notifying him of my accomplishments and the new goals I had set for myself. I always seemed to write with new found determination to make my way in some field of study that I had changed, a few too many times.
I sent him souvenirs I had purchased when the Pope visited campus.
I called him when his wife died.
I sent him my graduation photograph.
I learned he became ill with esophageal cancer. I heard he couldn't swallow solid food. I heard he couldn't speak much above a whisper. But I also heard he made a point of hitting Atlantic City to gamble and enjoyed his scotch at his favorite local bar when he could. God bless the old Irish spirit.
I visited him in assisted living. He was enjoying a baseball game on TV. On his table, he had displayed my letters, gifts, and, my picture. I was told he was proud but didn't know until I saw it for myself, laid out in front of me.
Uncle Danny was a selfless giver. He gave to me and never thought twice about it. And, my collegiate success was a gift to him.
He truly saw life as a gift. Even after the death of his wife and while enduring his failing health.
I look up to this. I'd like to see things his way, too.
Whether or not life is a gift from god is an uncertainty I have struggled with. I have profound doubts. And to write truthfully, I'm not usually a fan of the religious folk. Danny didn't have doubts. Danny was a good person, and I don't doubt that he is at peace.
My great Uncle Danny barely knew me, yet, he spent a generous chunk of change to send me to college. His financial support depended upon attending a catholic university, and it just so happened that the Catholic University of America was my school of choice.
I am not a religious person.
He did not ask questions. Before college, I would not have been able to recognize Uncle Danny in a crowd of old people. In fact, I'm not sure I would be able to recognize him among the living, today.
Someone once asked me if I felt hypocritical attending Catholic University under false pretenses- the assumption of my generous uncle believing he was fostering my catholic spirit. A little guilty, I've felt, at times. I've never felt hypocritical. My uncle never asked if I went to church each weekend or took part in campus ministry activities. He never asked if I believed in god. He only asked that I retain an average gpa, which I did.
I wrote him a thank you letter at the conclusion of each year, notifying him of my accomplishments and the new goals I had set for myself. I always seemed to write with new found determination to make my way in some field of study that I had changed, a few too many times.
I sent him souvenirs I had purchased when the Pope visited campus.
I called him when his wife died.
I sent him my graduation photograph.
I learned he became ill with esophageal cancer. I heard he couldn't swallow solid food. I heard he couldn't speak much above a whisper. But I also heard he made a point of hitting Atlantic City to gamble and enjoyed his scotch at his favorite local bar when he could. God bless the old Irish spirit.
I visited him in assisted living. He was enjoying a baseball game on TV. On his table, he had displayed my letters, gifts, and, my picture. I was told he was proud but didn't know until I saw it for myself, laid out in front of me.
Uncle Danny was a selfless giver. He gave to me and never thought twice about it. And, my collegiate success was a gift to him.
He truly saw life as a gift. Even after the death of his wife and while enduring his failing health.
I look up to this. I'd like to see things his way, too.
Whether or not life is a gift from god is an uncertainty I have struggled with. I have profound doubts. And to write truthfully, I'm not usually a fan of the religious folk. Danny didn't have doubts. Danny was a good person, and I don't doubt that he is at peace.
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