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I've been feeling so overwhelmed lately. Work is exhausting yet often tedious, and I am not hitting the gym as much as I should be. To help make up for my backsliding, I end up walking home from work most days and running errands on foot. Or, like one of my friends says, "putting the ol' 'get off the subway a few stops early' weight-control plan into place."
If I were living this way (long stretches of being seated, not going to the gym enough, and eating junk food for dinner), in any other city in the United States, with the possibly hilly exception of San Francisco, I'd be a cow. Luckily, one can stay in reasonably good shape in New York just by walking a lot, carrying groceries home, taking the stairs, etc.
So the occassional slice of chocolate cake for dinner won't ruin things, at least not just yet. Good thing, because I just had a very fugdey brownie from Blockhead's for dinner.
POLITICALLY CORRECT DISCLAIMER:
The following is in no way intended to make light of the very real plight of those who have ancestors who toiled on plantations, or heaven forbid, those who still toil in extreme conditions to this day. My intent here is to show how the Plantation Mentality finds more seemingly benign ways to manifest itself in our modern society, and to show that the mentality is alive and well today, even if not carried out as often in its most extreme and dehumanizing forms.
/END POLITICALLY CORRECT DISCLAIMER.
It's come to my thoughts lately that my actual job isn't so horrid. Sure, like any job, there are duties I find tedious, clients who annoy, and days from hell. But the actual work itself has taught me plenty, and most of my co-workers, with a few exceptions (all in upper, upper management), are hard working and personable.
However, I think the real kicker for me is the "service with a smile" nonsense. Don't get me wrong--I think one should strive to be pleasant enough on the job and not throw a lot of attitude around. Attitude on the job remimds me of anchovies on the plate--both should be used sparingly and infrequently lest others get offended and/or stop taking you seriously. And yes, I do admit that I have tried very hard to keep my attitude in check and to only use it when absolutely necessary. Even so, it does slip out every now and then, in much the same way a wayward anchovy might make its way onto some poor sap's unsuspecting Caesar salad. A girl like me can't help it (the attitude, not the anchovies. I assure you I am adept at anchovy avoidance and sick of the metaphor already), especially in a disorganized and chaotic business like the one we work in.
All of that aside, Management seems to feel that we employees should be throwing ourselves at their feet and writhing in ecstasy every time they make a stupid request. Yes, I said stupid. Asking the same thing twenty times, all the while knowing not a damn thing has changed, certainly does qualify as stupid in my book. Failure to answer with anything other that saccharine cheer-itude is met with passive aggressive behind the scenes maneuvering and whines that "So and So doesn't liiiikkkkeeee meeeee. Whyyyyyy??? I must punish her, then!"
Management is sneaky, too. They know just what lines not to cross with their employees, but they come dangerously close. One example: one manager is always hitching a ride with one or another of the contractors. So the poor contractors will have their vans parked outside like limos, sometimes for half an hour or more while the Plantation Owner talks on the phone, yells at the workers, and then finally gathers their shit and leaves. All the while, the Plantation Owners act as if the contractor doesn't have anything better to do other than to serve as a cab because the Plantation Owner is too damn cheap to just hail an actual cab in the first place. (One can take for granted that the Plantation Owners could well afford the cabs. Hell, they could buy a fleet of cabs and still come out ahead).
I'm sure the Plantation Owners think themselves quite the forces of nature. "Wow, just one second in my presence and the entire room goes silent," they think. "It must mean I'm powerful and charismatic. Geez, I'm really good at this stuff! People are awed into silence."
Not really, Bub. You're just despised and not trusted as far as any of us could toss you-- if any of us were so lucky to get the chance to do so. As for awed, believe me, we areconsistently awed at how you handle things. Your erratic, greedy, and inefficient decision making process is truly one of the only things that can silence a room full of people who know better. In that sense, you and your ilk are truly breathtaking.
I'm so not a technical person. People like me keep entire companies like Geek Squad in business. So when a friend mentioned that I should hook up this blog to an RSS feed I was like , "KRS One hasn't made a record since last year, right?"
Here's an RSS explanation--it's not too geeky. Even I (mostly) understood it.
href="http://www.mezzoblue.com/archives/2004/05/19/what_is_rssx/">
Trying to fight that Sunday afternoon dread--the "Awww crap! It's Sunday afternoon and I have to get up early and go to work tomorrow. I'd rather drink blood" feeling. I'm normally quite good at avoiding it (that feeling, and uh, also, drinking blood), but things have been so weird lately that work has sort of permeated my thoughts in off hours as well as on.
Part of me still does not know what I want to be when I grow up. Ridiculous, I know...I thought I'd have it all figured out by now. Ironically, I seemed to have had a much better grasp on my career path when I was younger. College, internships, full-time work in my field of choice. I did it all, and was on a solid path with minimal detours and distractions. Sure, I made a few mistakes, a couple of enemies, and ruffled a few feathers along the way, but somehow always managed to land on my feet.
Then somehow or another grad school, of all things, derailed my burgeoning journalism career. By the time I got out of grad school, 9-11 had happened, the economy had tanked, and my friends and I were reduced to taking whatever slim pickings were thrown our way. We were overqualified for truly entry level positions, and unable to land more mid-level jobs either. No longer students, we couldn't accept internships at most media outlets because they could not get by with "paying" us with college credit. I could no longer depend on the unpredictability of the journalism world to provide novelty and challenges during my working hours. My entire life had become a vortex of instability, unpredictability, and mere survival, with the occasional bit of novelty thrown in.
It's quite significant, then, that only in 2007 did myself and a few other close friends finally land decent enough jobs with salaries and in some cases, the increasingly novel menu of benefits. We agreed that 2007 was our Year of Transition. (FWIW, 2006 was roundly dismissed as the worst year of many of our lives. Funny how themes like this often cluster together. For awhile, I thought I was the only one who wanted to take a long walk off a short cliff in 2006. Turns out several people I'd lost close touch with while working insane hours for two-plus years had gone through similar trials during the exact same time).
All of that's behind us now. Or is it? Now that I'm at a "good enough" job, albeit one with a nutty, capricious boss, I find myself restless. The stability that I once craved is mine now, at least as long as I manage to hold onto it. But yet again, I'm not entirely sure which way to turn or where I want to go from here.
My resume's imperfect. I know this.
I also know that a bit of time off between jobs isn't unheard of, especially for people of my generation. Remember, when we graduated from college, the economy was dicey. People I know practically sold naming rights to their firstborns in exchange for shitty entry level jobs with zero benefits.
Plus, back then, the whole concept of "gap years" was coming into fruition. Suddenly that year off after high school or college to help child prostitutes in Southeast Asia (while perhaps scoring fine Asian hash during one's downtime) didn't seem so hippy dippy and odd anymore. It became normal, and in some quarters, expected.
Given that all of this is pretty much a given these days, I felt a bit squirmy today when asked about a couple of minor gaps on my res. In fact, I felt more exposed than at my last GYN appointment.
One resume gap was after my graduation..."What were you doing for those months?" the person asks.
Well, I was fucking enjoying not punching a clock and putting up with office bullshit. I traveled abroad (but not for long enough!). I relaxed. I miraculously found an apartment and a crazy roommate. But most importantly...I looked for a job, dammit.
Gone are the days where everyone you know goes straight from cap 'n gown to corporate clock punching. That I even had to explain myself kinda irked me. I mean, the questions are expected, but the whole tone of the questioning was sort of...I dunno...borderline accusatory.
If I sound a bit defensive, it's because I am. I never took a proper semester abroad or "gap year." Of course, on an academic calendar, then on the calendar of a recent grad, I enjoyed more work-free days than most working Americans. Duh. But believe it or not, I worked during most of my school vacations. And when I wasn't working, I wasn't exactly enjoying a carefree life. Even on my most exhilarating of travels, I always knew that the time to find a real job was just around the corner. And yes, finding that real job was every bit as hard as I'd suspected it would be. Perhaps even harder.
So just the idea of anyone looking at that time of my life in an even vaguely accusatory manner really gets my back up. I know how my friends and I busted ass to land jobs, and I remember all too well how we all suffered: the anxiety, the dashed hopes, the fears of bill collectors, and, perhaps worst of all, even the faintest idea of our parents saying that they'd "told ya so."
It's harder in today's world to realize one's dreams. This overpopulated is growing increasingly competitive and elitist. The jaded person in me thinks the "you can be anything you want to be" line is a load of crap.
But I guess for the young and naive, such platitudes are good motivators. What's saying? "Shoot for the stars. At the very least, you'll land on the moon."
Without going into detail, I can honestly say I've been officially penalized at work for not kissing sufficient ass. It's an unofficial job requirement...one I clearly can't satisfy.
A co-worker of mine who seems to have a smoother time dealing with the horrid excuse for a exec who runs our firm recently told me, in all sincerity, that a "a little ass kissing goes a long way with 'So in So.'" My co-worker was trying to help me by basically encouraging me to pucker up, and pronto.
Uh. No. And no. While I appreciate the attempt on my co-worker's part to make my tenure at the office smoother and less frustrating, I will not be taking the aforementioned advice. EVER.
I'd rather get fired than kiss some idiot's ass.
(That being said, I feel grudging admiration my co-worker's ability to do what I can't, yet I don't think less of the co-worker. To each his own, right? Obviously the co-worker is a bigger person than I in this regard, and would clearly have a better shot at public office than I ever would. Not that I'd ever want to whore myself out as a candidate, but that's another topic for another day.)
Back to my Ass Kissing Aversion: I'm sure I'm not the only one on the planet who feels this way. My stubborn streak makes it ridiculously easy for me to not give in, though. Perhaps that's the difference between me and a lot of people.
As fortune would have it, I've run into a few job leads this week. Friends have tipped me off to some openings in what could possible turn out to be much greener pastures. (For the record, I adore my friends!) Even if nothing pans out immediately, it feels great to know that I don't have to take the current nonsense from the current boss forever.
I firmly believe that all jobs come with a certain level of BS and annoying tasks. That's why it's called work, not "paid recreation." However, the current situation is over-the-top in the BS Department. I'm old enough to have been around and to have worked in many types of workplaces. The last time I was treated with this little respect was when I was cruising down the hall without a Hall Pass in high school. Even as a lowly intern during my college years, I was treated with more dignity and kindness.
In other news, I showed a space today in Upper Manhattan that had mad peeps milling around in front--talking loudly, laughing, smoking. Free country and all that, but they were kinda creepy, to the point that one of the clients seemed truly turned off. Fun.
I've been making an effort towards forcing myself to be more detail-oriented and thorough at work. It seems that what Chickenshit Micromanaging Boss (CMM from here on) wants, after all. And, believe it or not, I've been doing it all with a convincing fake smile. I was almost proud of myself. Until. . .
Today CMM gives me a bunch of stuff that CMM wants updated. Ok, fine. I go through everything, looking into each property in detail, and provide the update towards day's end. With a frickin' SMILE, too!
CMM Boss then complains to another one of the higher ups that "I already knew XYZ. Why did she include that information on here?"
(Then why the hell did CMM Boss ask me in the first place? More interestingly, why didn't the boss have the balls to approach me directly if there was some sort of a problem with the update I provided?)
The other higher up said, "Well, if Anon NY Realtor hadn't provided the info you already knew, then you'd be complaining about that instead."
Which is 100% right. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING is ever good enough for CMM.
While it's better to err on the side of caution with regards to Chickenshit Micromanaging Boss, it's an incredible waste of energy all around, especially considering that no matter what, there will be complaints and dissatisfaction.
Have you ever worked for someone you could barely stand to look at, much less take orders from? I have, and I do.
This particular person takes everything the worker bees say or do in the wrong way. I've been mis-interpreted so many times on this job, I'd started to doubt my sanity. Seems that lately every innocuous remark, or "just FYI" email has been taken as either aggressive, passive aggressive, or somehow offensive in amazingly creative ways I'd never have been able to think up on my own. It must take a lot of talent and hella shitty self-esteem to:
A) Think everything your workers say or do is a personal affront to one's competence as a boss.
and
B) To be so much on the defensive that you manage to mis-interpret even the most mundane of utterances.
Seriously, the world doesn't revolve around you. Or me. Did ya miss that memo? Oh yeah, you did. Because you never read the memos your workers send you and you come storming into our offices bitching and whining about issues that have already been dealt with ten times over. Read the memo. It'll save you a world of stress. (I know you don't give a rat's ass about any stress it'll save us. We're here on this earth for no other reason than to serve you, after all. It's why we were born. It's our reason to live.)
Thank goodness my co-workers are a talented, hard-working, and equally picked on/mis-interpreted bunch. Though I will admit some of them have adapted in Stockholm Syndrome-esque ways that don't seem too functional. I'm like the new prisoner who's all "Hey guys, this isn't fair! We don't have to take this crap."
And they're all, "Yeah, but they give us stale bread and lukewarm water a couple of times a day. Just you wait. You'll be grateful for that someday, missy. Maybe you'll even get watered down pea soup if you're really good."
I hate to be this way, but I think the ol' resume's about to get dusted off for another round of fun. Though there are some major changes coming up at the office, so depending on how those things play out. . .
We'll see. For now it seems the smartest thing to do is to try act like the personal attacks aren't really personal (whatever) and to sip (not gulp!) a glass of fine red when I get home at night.
What a shit way to start the new year.
Happy 2008, folks.
