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#ThursdayThoughts

cropped-snarkyvg1.jpeg“So, like: I pass by my co-worker’s desk and share a 5-sentence discourse or so, and my boss chastises me, telling me that “his new policy” is “no cheh-tting.”

I have to repeat this word, chatting, in plain English to my grandmother, who giggles at my impersonation of my boss’s thick accent, as I continue: “And I’m like, ‘You’re really gonna micromanage me like that?’ So, I said, “Fine. I don’t wanna catch you asleep at your desk anymore.”

On the other end of the phone, my grandmother erupts into laughter and I can’t help but laugh, too — except I’m still giggling at the fact that a man who snoozes where employees can see him would have any place to tell me I couldn’t share a few words with a coworker on my way to the bathroom.

When we calm down, she asks me, referring to my snarky reply to my boss’s chastisement, “What did he say?”

I tell her that my boss’s reply was like an encounter with my pre-adolescent son: “Whaddya mean?” (Translation: Busted), to which I couldn’t stop myself from replying, “I don’t know how to say it any plainer than that,” I said, as I dramatically slowed down my speech: I…don’t…want…to …see…you…asleep…at…your…desk.”

This sent my grandmother into another fit of laughter, which egged me on to tell her more: “I mean, he was upset with me for telling a customer that I agreed with the customer that the way the company was handling the customer was wrong.”

I paused for a minute to prepare for the truth and spoke again in a Valley Girl lilt, “Well, I may have actually said something like ‘Oh, you already talked to so-and-so and they won’t help you? Well, his orders come from The Boss, and I literally have no pull here, so I can already tell you that I’m 99% sure I won’t be able to help you,’ or  ‘We don’t really believe in ‘customer service’ here.'”

Grandma laughed harder than I’ve heard her laugh in awhile, and we joked about the this experience being one more to add to a growing list of Things Jill Shouldn’t Have Said To People She Shouldn’t Have Said Them To.

Dear Reader: Before you go feeling sorry for this guy: Don’t. He was a shady businessman who gave people raises and arbitrarily took them away, fired a man the day after his mom died, took away stipends he paid to independent sales reps, kept the office at a toasty 84-degrees, and half the time rolled into the office without brushing his teeth or changing his outfit from the day before.

So, yeah: He was a disgusting beast and a useless boss.

The End.

 

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On Conditions

Upon taking my window seat near two friendly Montana-native grandparents who moved to California in their 50s and are sitting in the middle and aisle seats, I ask the lady sitting next to me, “You watch Curb Your Enthusiasm?”

She answers that she does, and I recapitulate a scene from a recent episode in which Larry David gives up his aisle seat for a young woman who claims to have “a condition,” (an overactive bladder which requires her spontaneous ability to leave her seat to use the airplane lavatory. During the entire flight, this young lady doesn’t get up once, and it is very much a thorn in LD’s side, since he gave up his precious aisle seat on account of her seemingly hogwash story.

Simultaneously, Larry runs into an old golfing partner, a doctor, who takes a liking to the young lady with the “bladder issues” and begins dating her. Later in the episode, Larry and the newly-dating pair attend the same banquet where Larry notices that, although this woman “has a condition,” she has been drinking glass after glass of water and hasn’t gotten up once to use the restroom.” Larry doubts she has a condition and makes an issue of it.

My seatmates smiled, graciously listening to me retell the scenes from the show. As I finished, I introduced myself: “I don’t have a condition; my name is Jill.” They laughed and introduced themselves and Judy and Denny.

Suddenly, our auditory nerves were assaulted by an ill-modulated PA system, and nearly everyone in the airplane cabin was either sticking their fingers in their ears or pushing down on that cartilaginous node on their ears to drown out the sound.

Now, I thought, I have a condition: a terrible mood.

When my seat mate asked a stewardess to turn it down, the young lady spoke in a decidedly Californian Valley-Girl lilt, “If we turn down the volume, it might interrupt the digital instructions and then we’d have to start all over. Sorry about that.”

Translation: Doing things the right way is inconvenient for us, even though we have inconvenienced you by making you wait for an HOUR past your scheduled flight time. And we’re not sorry about anything.

Even though my experience with United Airlines was off to a bumpy start, I was grateful to at least be seated next to friendly people without “conditions.”

 

 

 

 

“Don’t be a baby.”

No Whiners Annoying Complainers Irritating Problem CustomerI hear this phrase come out of my daughter’s mouth when she feels her younger brother is playing the victim.

We all play the victim sometimes. In a pathetic and sick way, it feels good to identify with our pain or our traumas. It feels good to get attention, even if it’s negative. But it’s not really to our benefit.

Paying attention to the ways we feel other people hurt us will only keep us focused on the ways we feel other people or life in general aren’t living up to our expectations.

How happy do you think that mindset makes you? Not very.

The good news is that we get to choose how we feel. If we feel let down, we don’t have to wallow in that feeling and feel sorry for ourselves. We can choose a new way of believing and doing. We can choose to create a new life.

We need to be gentle with ourselves, too; there are plenty of times we are too mean to ourselves or critical of our own efforts, despite how hard we really are working or how much progress we’ve really made. Don’t be like that; celebrate the daily effort you make. Celebrate the daily effort others make.

And accept the fact that some people are just whiny babies.

 

Social Media Dating

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If your social media dating strategy has anything to do with calling me from Facebook, or messaging me with lame little notes like, “Hi” late at night: You should know I’ve already judged you and labeled you a desperate idiot.

This is an actual representation of the type of experience you will have if you keep trying to flirt with me via social media message.

Just don’t.

Lobster Envy

Colorful red lobster border on blue wood

We’ve all met small people who trash-talk your life and/or choices to make themselves feel better.

Sometimes those small people are family or friends.

One evening many moons ago, my parents, then-husband and I went to dinner with my  then-parents-in-law. My own dad was paying and my dad always let me order whatever I wanted, and as I wanted lobster, I ordered it. (Thank you, Daddy.) My dad didn’t so much as bat a single eyelash over my order, but my then-mother-in-law looked like she had a hair in her mouth, and she made a comment about my perceived entitlement, adding that she hoped I didn’t expect her son to finance my “expectations,” as she helped herself to the meal my parents were paying for.

It’s interesting that she would have taken that perspective of me and my motives because I’m not a materialistic person at all. I grew up modestly and never asked for much. I loved what I had, and I couldn’t have cared less if my husband and I couldn’t afford to eat lobster on the regular. (Proof that I was never a fashionista: In my early 20s, I was rocking Juicy track suits from eBay. It doesn’t count when you wear “designer” brands from Minneapolis.)

The bottom line, as far as this dinner was concerned, was that we were young twenty-somethings, my husband was a Marine and we were perpetually fuckin’ broke. (Which, by the way, had nothing to do with me or my affinity for butter-soaked lobster.) So, when my parents invited us to dinner, I definitely said yes. Most anyone who was married in his or her early twenties gets the poverty of those early years.

Growing up, if my family didn’t have the money to go out to eat and really enjoy it, we didn’t go out to eat. So, I grew up believing that if we were treated to a meal out to a restaurant, it was a special occasion and meant we could get what we wanted. (Still, we often asked to be sure what we were ordering was “okay.”)

My parents are very generous, and have never denied me anything I’ve asked for, especially when it came to going out to eat. Savoring the moment and enjoying the richness of the experience in the moment is what life is all about. If the moment presents itself and the Universe blesses you, enjoy it. Relish it.

Life is a precious experience. Don’t waste your energy on lobster-envy.

 

 

 

 

Secrets of Wanna-Be Frosting

 

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Or just make wanna-be frosting and call it a night.

Health & nutrition is one of my passions, but more times than I’d care to admit, I’ve found myself bent in half in front of the refrigerator late at night, in my pajamas, moving one plastic tub of organic kale aside and putting another plastic container of organic raspberries on top of that to reach far, far in the back for something really…unhealthy.

Oh, yes.

In a tupperware container with a screw on top, I’ve stored some sort of “wanna-be frosting” made up of butter and sugar that I’ve usually melted together in a hormonal frenzy. Sometimes, I’ve thrown in some peanut butter or a few chocolate chips, if I have any. I usually don’t have any chocolate chips, about which I feel equal parts grateful that 1.) I’ve safeguarded myself from eating even more shitty food than I need by not buying it in the first place, and 2.) Annoyed that I don’t have the same shitty foods to hedonistically indulge in when I want them.

It’s so not healthy and nutritious.

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Horrible Bosses

Bad ManagementHave you ever had a boss that made you wonder: Why the hell am I on this side of the table, and you’re on that side?” I’ve experienced this feeling with relative frequency and it’s why I’m self-employed. If there’s ever been a poster child for having shitty bosses, it’s me. Or maybe I’m the problem.

Maybe it is me.

Nah.

I’ve long-wondered how I fuckin’ find these people, but I’ve concluded: I’m just magical.

As with all magical creatures, I have a special power: I talk loudly for all to hear. Probably airing (loudly enough for my boss to hear) that I could shred his I9 documents and put him out of business if I wanted to be a real cunt was the reason he didn’t care for me too much. *Shrugs* Not sure.

Anyway, who comes back from a charity event with fucking vomit on his logo-ed polo shirt and heads to the back office for a fucking nap? So, you got sloshed when you were supposed to be professional?  Then, you came back to work like that and took a nap?

*Commences hair-pulling*

Like, if you nap at work, your leadership style is garbage. If you don’t have it within you to set an example by staying awake at work, don’t bother destroying office morale and productivity with your presence.

When I confronted one of my previous bosses for napping at his desk, his response was: “Do you know what I do when I leave here? I go home and work on this business until 3 AM!”

Incredulous, I responded, “How is that MY problem? If I came into work with some bullshit excuse for why I was sleepy, would you care? NO. You’d be like, “Not my problem. Get to work.” EXACTLY MY POINT. Leaders should never give bullshit excuses like “I was up all night.” Then, stay home if you’re tired because I don’t get to use that excuse. Have some integrity and work harder than your employees.

Don’t treat people like their IQ is the dollar amount you pay them. If you think your employees are idiots, take a long, hard look in the mirror because you’re probably the idiot.

Idk. Maybe it IS me?