Caterwauling

Just spent $30 on an adapter for my DVD player so that it can work with my 1993 TV. Only problem is, there’s another cord I will have to buy that doesn’t come with the fucking adapter. At this point, I might as well return the whole mess and buy a new TV. Or prostitute myself. Whichever comes first. 😉

I am so fucking bored with my stories. I am actually going to go into work now for a change of scenery. It’s a good hair day, though. I am wearing jeans and sandals — although more appropriate Club Medicated gear would be fuzzy robes and bunny slippers, not to mention paper pill cups in our hands. 🙂

Although I was disgusted by my ear-bashing by Demure, I did go into work on Saturday night, and I worked from home Sunday night. I am going to go in late today, as I will stay until just before dance class starts. If I can get my stories together by mid-afternoon, my guy is promising me a draft of the paper first thing tomorrow to circulate. Woo hoo! Right on schedule!

Demure is on vacation all week. Did I mention all week? Hell yeah! She’s not altogether that helpful to me — it’s more like she’s underfoot. I find it hysterical that she used to work for one of our biggest divisions, until they canned her ass, so the national organization hired her and kept her for 20 years. Isn’t that insane? My respect for that division went up a ton — not to mention, they’re so frustrated with the national organization that they are trying to get their charter revoked so they can be done with us. Some days, I just can’t blame them, although they really are a bunch of stuck-up snots sometimes.

I’ve had hives for a week. I have them both at work and at home. In fact, the only time I feel good anymore is when I’m out and about. Had a good weekend shopping with Shawn early Saturday and by myself Sunday, and I really enjoyed hanging out at home this weekend. Unfortunately, I had a box avalanche — one of the bottom boxes in a ceiling-high stack collapsed, leaving a mess in the corner, so I re-packed a couple of the boxes before I got fed up. I am so tired of having 50 percent of my belongings in a place where I can’t even see or use them.

At work, I’m producing my fifth issue alone. I hope by my seventh, I have help. I am beyond burnout — I’m in full-fledged meltdown mode. I understand the candidate pool isn’t all that wonderful, but I won’t settle for just anyone to work in my department.

Finished a really hard story last night (hard=boring). Now to wrap up four more boring ones. I can’t wait till this paper goes to press — it’s my birthday weekend, and I am not setting foot in or near the Veggie Patch if I can help it. My true gift to myself.

Bought some clothes this weekend. Spent way too much money, although everything was on sale. I think I got screwed out of a discount on this springlike work outfit I found at Hecht’s, but by that point, I was so accustomed to salesclerk incompetence that I just wanted to get the fuck out of the store. Bought a bunch of long shirts to wear with jeans. Instead of buying more clothes in more sizes, perhaps I should drag said fat ass to the gym to whittle it down to fit into the existing wardrobe. Hmm. We’ll see.

Haven’t had a cigarette since Saturday. Perhaps the goal right now is not to quit outright, but rather to save smoking just for special occasions. It’s just so hard, when the special event is over, to train myself to not want a cancer stick in my mouth at all times. I guess being denied a pacifier as a child has made me need to have something in my mouth for comfort. 🙂

Demure yanked my ass into her office at 4 p.m. for an hour today. She was highly “disappointed” in me for blowing off her request that I throw myself at her mercy today. I never did respond to her e-mail, and if I heard a variation of “dissapointment” for a fifth time (she only used it four) about me, I would have reached across her desk and killed her.

She said she was disappointed in me for not responding to her e-mail. She’s disappointed that I do not realize how lucky I am to be able to be enrolled in their stupid training next week. She’s disappointed that I disrespected her for not acknowledging that she wanted to talk to me. She’s disappointed in me, period.

It took all my strength to not say, “You’re a disappointment to me, too. So what’s your point?”

After she laid into me for 20 minutes, I had to laugh out loud. Seriously, it probably took her all day to screw up her courage to confront me. What a joke.

At any rate, long story short, they are not doing a training in the next few weeks, which she didn’t even know about (I could go into how I know, but I digress). She thought I was being an ungrateful brat, and while she knows I’ve had plenty of supervisory experience and training, she said I need to be trained as a Veggie Patch supervisor. Jesus Christ, if there’s a type of manager I don’t want to be, it’s a manager just like her and the rest of the pansies in charge of that joint (minus Finance Guy, who rocks and god I wish I could work for him).

We went round and round forever about all of this. Essentially, she’s angry with me because A.) I blew off her request to meet. B.) She’s under the impression that I don’t take the *importance* of that training seriously. C.) That she didn’t like the tone of my e-mail. And D.) That I essentially was begging her to let me do my job.

She did try to divert me by asking about how my dance class is going. Oldest trick in the book, babydoll. I let her go and chatted about dumb stuff for a few minutes, but then I let it rip. I said I’ve been pretty damn angry for the past two weeks, because I’ve made no secret of the fact that training falls on two of my busiest days during the month. I asked if I had to make a choice between doing the stupid training to appease her or get the paper to press. She looked like she was about to go all Linda Blair/”Exorcist” on me — she can’t handle confrontation. I said I’m pissed because it’s like I have to beg everyone to let me do my job as editor, that they just don’t get that no matter how hard I’ve planned to get the issue on track, shit happens and I’m but one person. I said it’s not like anything can happen without me sitting there, doing it. It’s not like I have a staff that can take over while I go play in a training.

Oh, but the shit about the e-mail infurated me. It’s not like the ripping e-mails that my predecessor used to send to the CEO. I simply said that I was interested in switching places with someone in another session (although nobody told me that the other session was canceled and that those participants were to join my class, but I didn’t know that at the time). I also said that it’s difficult for me and that it would be helpful to me if events held between the 10th and 28th of any month didn’t require my attendance. I said that once I get a warm body in the department with me, I will find it much easier to participate in trainings and meetings without newspaper-related functions coming to a complete standstill until I return.

Demure told me that I was just plain rude, and she tried to tell me how I *should* have written the note. She looked at me, almost visually demanding an apology. Fuck her, she wasn’t getting one, nor did she get one. I handled the request with tact and respect — as much as I could muster, anyway. Maybe I did avoid her, but I wanted to avoid an hour-long dissertation like the one I got at the end of my Friday.

And I know this shit will appear on my review. And watch me laugh in her face and not sign my review. Watch me walk out and keep on walking. Just fucking watch, because it will happen and I will be the latest editor in a string who runs, not walks, to the nearest exit when I’ve had enough.

I think she should just attend my trainings and take good notes. God knows she has a thing or 50 to learn about supervision. I do not fit into her mold as a perfect employee. God forbid, I produce a 40- to 64-page newspaper every month with minimal assistance from volunteers and freelancers. Nobody knows about the P.R. involved, the services I provide to members, the time and care I pour into every last task that pertains to the paper and to the people who receive it.

How DARE she even use the word “disappointment” in my presence. Fuck you, Demure, and the horse you rode in on. I hope you cry in your oatmeal when I ride out on my horse, hopefully sooner than we all think.

Tonight, after a shit-filled day for Shan as well as me, we went to our office in Old Town. Yes, our office. We sat there and enjoyed it. We ripped everyone at the Veggie Patch a verbal asshole, we laughed till we cried and we talked about a tiny bit of business. But it’s fucking pathetic how a week at that mortuary drains the life out of us.

Shan’s favorite comment from me today was when I said it was so cold it was like we are preserving bodies. My favorite comment from her today was when the receptionist, who processes address changes, asked Shan if she receives infomation about the deceased. Shan simply said, “No, I work with them.” ROFL. We had a great time with the Hayley Joel Osment line from “The Sixth Sense” — “I see dead people!” Only our movie will be called “Nonsense,” in honor of Club Medicated.

We went to the mall, had dinner and ice cream, and made many jokes about words that rhyme with her boss’s name, as well as ordering birthday cakes with ass prints on them. We already know those jokers are taping our conversations, but if they’re reading the blog too, I’ll save explaining my references to Barbie cakes and pinatas. But what I will say is that we will dance gleefully out the door when we leave those corpses, assholes and dipshits (oh my!) behind for good.

One last word on our thoughts about Town Crier, not only was she beaten with the ugly stick, but after they bludgeoned her with it, they shoved it up her ass for good measure.

Oh, and I still haven’t been excused from the fucking training. Assholes!

Okay, so I only wore a tank top with a built-in shelf bra (with a shirt over it, BTW — I already got enough nasty looks for my bare tanned feet in sandals today), but it’s fucking COLD in here today! What the fuck are we doing, trying to preserve the bodies? I swear, this place is full of dead people who forgot to fall over.

(Or maybe it’s just hysteria setting in.)

Remember the old commercials for Halls cough drops, where their tagline was something to the effect of “The Halls of Medicine”?

Just thinking — working here at Club Medicated, where all the Prozac, Zoloft, Paxil and Xanax pill-poppers float like ghosts through the hallways — reminded me of that commerical. Every time I step out of my office, it is into the Halls of Medicine, here at Club Med.

Ice Cream Social in one hour. Guess I’ll have to prepare to run into Demure. Oh golly gee, what a fucking picnic it will be.

(As if it were possible to have a good note during a workday!)

I heard from Deirdre from dance class. I’d dropped her a note the other day (48 hours after we’d met, just like all good little networkers know to do) to say hello and to make some idle chit-chat. She responded right away with enthusiasm, and she mentioned that if I’m truly interested in party planning, she has some really good connections at a D.C. charity that just wrapped up its annual gala and is ready to start planning the next one. She also gave me her home phone number. I blasted a note back, with my personal number, the next afternoon (didn’t want to seem too eager) to say that if it’s for freelance or a part-time gig, to count me in, because I want to ensure that someone is hired, trained and comfortable here before I make any sudden moves.

Haven’t heard back from her, but she’s going to New Orleans this weekend and will miss dance class on Monday. Bummer! But at least we’ll see each other again in our final class, as well as hopefully more times to come. Nothing big is going to happen to me unless I make it happen, and damn it, I’m trying! 😉

I told you in a previous entry that I e-mailed Frosty and Demure and outlined my need to wiggle out of supervisory training that’s being held over two days next week. I told you that I even proposed to them that I switch with someone from a training class being held at a later date. I also mentioned how Frosty told me to let Demure decide my fate, as this is a mandatory training and I must attend it on the dates that I am mandated to be there.

The e-mail awaiting my eyes this morning from Demure: “Please stop by my office to discuss the EAP training.”

She’s already furious with me for missing our supervisory session. Now she wants me to sit in her office and re-justify my job? Jesus Christ, do they want a newspaper or not?!?! I have no help; I have no one to take my place when I’m not at my desk. I have no one who can understand why it takes me working on the paper to actually get the thing out the door.

I am going to hide in my office as long as possible today. I do not want to be seen or heard from. I will be working like a madman, don’t you worry. But so help me if I cross Demure’s path and have to beg her to let me do my job. Because there may just not be a paper next month!

Heather said it was random, and she ain’t kidding.

1. What drinking water do you prefer — tap, bottle, purifier, etc.?

I fucking hate drinking water. And I can’t find a replacement for my purifying pitcher, so when/if I bother, I buy a bottle of Aquafina and refill it with tap water. I’d sooner buy bottles of cum and drink those instead.

2. What are your favourite flavor of chips?

Cheddar and sour cream. Might as well go for as much fat and grease as possible, all at once!

3. Of all the things you can cook, what dish do you like the most?

I make a mean cajun chicken and shrimp alfredo sauce (and it’s mean … on your ass). But when I’m not in the mood to set my ass on fire, I love throwing together taco dips and stuffing mushrooms.

4. How do you have your eggs?

Scrambled, like my brain. Filled with sausage and cheese. Sometimes I throw the whole mess on toast, for variation.

5. Who was the last person who cooked you a meal? How did it turn out?

In Pittsburgh, in early April, both my Mom and Brat cooked for me. Brat made breakfast (it was fine) and Mom made a fabulous pan of lasagna, stuffed with tiny little meatballs that she made herself. Brava!

Too tired to complain about much today. Long workday. “Friends” and “Will and Grace” were good. I’m still puzzling over why the season finale of “ER” had to be about some African missionary trip for Luka and John — last week’s episode was so damn good, it should have been the finale.

I have eight hours of supervisory training next week, and I’ve raised concerns for weeks with my superiors that it’s smack-dab in production week (this, after weeks of mindless meetings that are resulting in me being way behind on all of my stories, which were due at 5 today but will be done after I work all this weekend). Finally, I sent a memo to Frosty and Demure, noting that now that I know there will be a second training with a different group of people, I think it would be in everyone’s best interests if I switched spots with someone from a different training group so that I can work on the paper.

I didn’t think this was such a difficult request, but I was notified by Frosty that only Demure can make that decision. And Demure was gone for the day at the time of my request, which was made at nearly 7 p.m. tonight.

Tomorrow, I have to attend this ridiculous Ice Cream Social at 2 p.m. to hang out with my colleagues and the past, present and future presidents. Jesus H. It’s a lovely idea in theory, but no one really has a clue that while I do have some precious downtime during the month, it’s just not now. I have brought this up time and again, that anything happening between the 10th and 28th of any given month should not require my attendance. And god help me if they want me to take photos, because I’ve seen photos of these events, and seeing my piggish colleagues gobbling down ice cream is enough to make me want to throw up.

Today, we had an awards ceremony that I had to attend, as resident shutterbug. And I interviewed the person later, so all in all, that was an hour and a half out of my life. And then film developing was another hour, but I ended up getting a great deal on two outfits at Hecht’s, which I needed ’cause nothing fits and I found two skirts I can sit down in without asphyxiating. I’m also applying tan-in-a-can right now, even though I will still have to wear pantyhose tomorrow. Damn it. I now keep three changes of clothes at work, because like today, at 5 p.m. I ripped off the hose, put on some shorts and sneakers and felt much better. Tomorrow at 5 will be no different, I assure you!

But back to my piggy colleagues. We had muffins and danishes and bagels and coffee today, but of course, they only ordered enough for one item per person. I opted not to eat during the presentation, and when I went back to the table after the event, everything was gone … because the pigs were carrying off pastries in their purses for later. Gee, maybe some of us (the special guests included) didn’t want to be chomping down while our influentials were speaking? Sheesh. Not a big deal, by any means, but then again, these are the same assholes who stick their fingers into all of the buffet trays when we have special luncheons. Gaah. I shudder to see ice cream all over their little piggy faces tomorrow, because I know I’m gonna be appalled.

Will my stories get done? Sure they will. They always do. But their quality is affected when I don’t have time to concentrate on them. My interviews are done and it’s a matter of making my stories make sense, at this point, even though I am not overly capable of making much sense. And it sucks that, as soon as one paper is done, I have exactly two days to myself before the whole stupid process recurs again for next month.

Today is OK. Nothing exotic, just a lot of meetings with Veggie Patch leadership. I realize more than ever that I am ready for a world that doesn’t involve trying on 14 outfits, aiming for whatever fits this fat ass as well as what will raise the fewest number of eyebrows. And no casual day tomorrow, either. Gah!

But tomorrow’s horoscope (wardrobe issues aside) sounds promising:

Gemini Horoscope

for Fri May 16, 2003 by Astrocenter

A new phase in your life is beginning, dear Gemini. The previous phase can be interpreted as having taught you to be serious and devoted to professional responsibilities. And you did accomplish some good deeds. Now you can relax and look forward. Let yourself feel the welcome tug of the future.