You can call me anything you like, but my name is Veronica

I'm in sales. That requires a lot of face to face time. But it also requires a lot of phone time.

And I'm terrible about using my phone.

It's an inanimate object! But for whatever reason, I hated sitting down and making phone calls.

Until someone suggested that I give it a name and make friends with my phone.

It's so much fun to do things with a friend, right?

Ladies, we go to the bathroom together. We compare our kids' poop together. We shop together. We even get in trouble together.

Friends will come and go.

And so will phones.

I had a pink phone. She was great. She was shiny. She had a little butterfly that floated across the display when I closed her up, a slot for cell phone charms, the right ring tones for all my friends, and she was pink.

I named her Lucille.

Hey, Luuuuuucy! Let's go have some fun.

And I'd make my phone calls. I smiled when it was time to hang with Lucille. It meant I hardly had to think about where to put my fingers to dial each number. It meant I would be making a connection with my customers. It meant I would make a sale.

But one day, Lucille broke.

Her data port died. Trapped inside were all my phone numbers, all the ring tones, all the fun.

Lucille's warranty had run out, but my contract hadn't. I couldn't get a new phone until January!

Well, I could, but I'd have to pay full price. I could get an el-cheapo, but that also meant something boring.

No shine.

No butterflies.

No pink.

I was deeply saddened.

But wait! Hubby to the rescue!

He had a phone that didn't hold enough battery power for him so his office had replaced said phone with a fancy-schmancy touch screen, not-an-I-Phone-but-what-ever-got-as-close-as-possible-on-the-Sprint-network phone.

This phone had a touch screen with a keyboard on it. This was Lucille's one downfall. She only had a number pad so she was no good at texting and didn't have internet.

The phone that wasn't good enough for Hubby, but would rescue me from shelling out money on a phone, would text and have the internet. This was exciting!

Hubby charged up the phone and reset everything so it was a clean slate.

Yay! I had a phone!

The phone was black with silver accents. It had a screen and all these buttons right out there in the open. It didn't flip open, it was just there all the time. If you forgot to turn off the screen when you were on a call, you could do all kinds of things by accident.

Set yourself in airplane mode.

Connect to the internet.

Play Bubble Breaker.

It was kind of sleek.

It needed a name.

It's kind of a guy-ish looking phone.

Ramone.

That rolls off the tongue, "R-r-r-r-ramoooone." Kind of breathy and sexy like.

"R-r-r-r-ramoooone."

Purr for me . . .

Ramone and I could lock ourselves in a room for an hour and have a secret rendezvous. Not really since I'd be calling customers, but anywho. . .

I immediately changed my phone plan so I could text and use the internet. Oooo, we were going to jump into the 21st century!

Life with Ramone sounded exciting!

Unfortunately, that never really happened. Ramone has a disappointing interface, you have to use a stylus with the onscreen keyboard and dialing by only touch is impossible.

Ramone has internet, but I can't connect him to my computer for use as an internet connection.

Ramone and I never developed that lovey-dovey relationship.

But, what's this?

Hubby got a new job?

And a new phone?

And the old fancy-schmancy touch screen, not-an-I-Phone-but-what-ever-got-as-close-as-possible-on-the-Sprint-network, has an actual slide-out keyboard, a user friendly icon interface, and hacked built in computer wi-fi connectivity phone could be mine?

And I can get a pretty, shiny case so it doesn't look like a plain, black guy-ish phone?

Well, folks, meet Veronica!




Silver Lining:

1. She's pretty. She's got some pink. She's got shine. She's all mine!


2. Hubby taught me how to make my own ring tones so I know who's calling me before I look at the phone.


3. I'll still get a pretty hefty loyalty credit in January that I can use toward another phone. But I'm so excited about Veronica, I think I'll just hold on to it in case of an emergency.

The New Fig Latin

First off - I'm baaaaaaack!

Sorry I've been away so long. Lots going on and not all that funny, but I need to get back to seeing the lighter side of life and this is my way of doing it.

On with the story.

Recently, when asked whether or not she was going to do something, a co-worker answered, "Yah, I'm funna."

Perhaps I miss understood, and she actually said, "Yah, I'm gonna." But if not, it begs the question, what does that mean????

Funna or fonna. I don't know how to spell it, only how to pronounce it. Let's just stick with the phonetic way for simplicity's sake.

Funna.

I have a theory on this.

I think she meant, "F*** yah, I'm f***in' gonna do it!"

Since it was an office setting, I can see not wanting to use the f-word, but a simple, "Duh" would have worked. Ok, if you're talking to your foss, I suppose you don't want tell him or her, "Duh". I do, but I'm not your typical office worker.

So, to be sly, you may want to use "funna". To the untrained ear, it just kind of slides on by.

Wow, there are so many fapplications for this new kind of Pig Latin!

You're in the middle of a crowded family restaurant and you take your first bite of super hot wings, "Holy crap! These wings are fot!"

Your buddy dares you lick your finger and stick it in an outlet, "No fay!" You may add "fasshole" at the end, but that really isn't all that sly.

There is a slight problem with words that already start with the letter F. In this case you just have to stutter a little, "That was f-funny." Again, very sly.

There are really only three rules to Fig Latin:

1. For words that do not begin with "F", replace the first letter of the word with an "F".


2. For words that do begin with "F", add an extra "F" to the beginning of the word.


3. Be sly about it.

If you get to cocky with it and don't follow rule number three, you can get yourself into a wee bit of trouble. If you do get yourself into trouble, don't come crying to me. You're the fidiot who didn't follow the rules and got caught.

Silver Lining:

1. I now have a way to let my inner potty mouth sing. Well, other than getting a kick out of using "Chuck" in the Name Game song.


2. I'm in the process of testing Shig Latin. Stay tuned.

Fourth Dear So and So Letters

Dear Auditors:

Do know how stupid you sound when you ask a question about standard accounting practices? For my readers I won't go into details, but would you ask a store cashier why she is scanning all your items? The answer is obvious, isn't it? Really, with some of your questions, I can't believe you are the one auditing ME. How did you pass the CPA exam?

Baffled,
Pollyanna

Dear Hair:

You better behave today. We have family pictures. Outside. Don't you dare frizz up on me!

Hoping for a good hair day,
Me

Dear Cupie,

How hard is it to take your shoes off and put them where they belong? Or at least put somewhere out in the open so they are easy to find. Taking them off in Mommy & Daddy's bedroom is not acceptable.

Also, that fit you threw this morning claiming that you didn't leave your shoes in Mommy & Daddy's bedroom is not acceptable either. Do you seriously think Daddy or I picked up your shoes and purposely placed them next to one of the nightstands?

I don't think so,
Mommy

Dear Managers of the Target near my workplace,

Please inform your employees that they have the ability to do a price match at the register.

On two different days I asked in the check out line if they could do a price match at the register. Both times I was told I had to do it at Customer Service.

Both times, the customer service representative had to void out my entire receipt to match the prices in a competitors ad. Both times, I was told the cashier should have done the price match at the register.

Annoyed,
Pollyanna

Dear Managers of the Target near my home,

How is it that a store that carries the exact same merchandise as you do in your grocery section is not considered a competitor?

I was at another Target on two different days and spoke to different employees on both days and they priced matched a grocery ad with no hassle.

You really made me mad and I hope you all forgot that I had cheese in the cart after I made you refund me for all the grocery items on my receipt. I hope the cheese went bad and started to smell.

Pissed,
Pollyanna

That’s all I’ve got to say. To see what others are saying, visit Kat at 3 Bedroom Bungalow.

Silver Lining:

1. At the Target by my workplace I used enough manufacturer coupons & store coupons that I got $60 worth of groceries for around $20 (with the price matching).


2. Today is the last day the auditors are going to be in the office.

The Ham-ectomy

Wow, I’ve been MIA for a week! Nothing like work getting in the way of some good bloggin’ – darn it all to heck!

I’m reaching into the time machine today. I know, I know. I should have lots of goofy, recent stuff to spew about, but this one needs to be told – TODAY.

Twelv-ish years ago I bought a condo, worked full time, and was going to college. Turns out my job didn’t pay enough to afford both a mortgage and tuition. So what did I give up?

Nothing.

I got a part time job at Domino’s. Just pile one more thing on the heap; that would be the logic of a twenty something who apparently had a lot more energy than I do today.

The manager, Steve, hired me on the spot because I wore dressy clothes. Well, I suppose we got along ok too because the “interview” was more a “shoot-the-sh*t” session. He also understood I had a full-time job and college so I could only work a few hours a night, a few nights a week.

This was working really well until he found out my full time employer had a “use it or lose it” policy on vacation. I was basically forced to take a week of vacation. Which Steve interpreted as, “She doesn’t have to go into work the next day, and I need a closer this week so I can schedule Pollyanna to work until 11.”

My hourly rate was going to plummet from a nice $10 - $12 an hour to, like, $6 – Fan-fricking-tastic! For those that don’t know, delivering pizzas is a pretty good gig if you only work the dinner rush. I usually earned around $40 in tips/commissions for only four-ish hours of work PLUS minimum wage (which was only $4-something an hour at the time).

Don’t get me wrong, it is not “easy” money - pizza delivery drivers deserve those tips. As a driver you get your share of stiffs and creeps, and you (and your car) reek of pizza afterward. Not to mention the fact that you were too lazy to get up off your butt and drive somewhere to get your own pizza - give the driver a good tip!

Bottom line: having to work beyond the dinner rush meant there was a lot more standing around the store; thus, a lot less tips per hour to be earned.

Another benefit to working for a pizza delivery place is any mistakes become free dinner to the employees. One of my favorite foods is pizza. For me, this “benefit” was AWESOME!

So while I spent my “vacation” working late for Domino’s one night, a thin crust went thru the oven with peppers, ham & black olives on it. Who in their right mind orders that combo?

NO ONE!

That’s how this abomination of a pizza came to sit on the counter.

It was 10pm.

I was hungry.

Normally, at this time, I’d be at home.

On my couch.

Reading some boring economics text book.

Watching the news.

Eating ice cream right from the tub.

But not this night.

Nope, I was standing in a Domino’s looking at this nasty pizza with a grumble in my belly.

Slowly, I picked up a pizza cutter. An with all my pizza cutting deftness, I guided that pizza cutter around the ham and peppers so I ended up with just a jagged hunk slice of cheese and olives.
Popped that in my mouth and chewed and savored the yummy goodness.

The door flew open and Steve’s wife and brother came sauntering in. Thank goodness, they weren’t real customers.

1. I had a mouthful of pizza. I think employers frown on talking to customers with a mouth full of anything. Even if it does prove that the food is good enough for the employees to eat so it must be good enough for the general public. Never ever, ever, ever eat someplace where the employees won’t even eat the food. This should be common sense, but hey, it doesn’t hurt to say it.


2. I didn’t have to stop what I was doing. One tiny piece of pizza was not silencing that rumble.

Steve’s wife went back to the office to talk to him.

Steve’s brother stayed up front with me.

I’d never met him before.

He had kind, brown eyes.

He was dressed in dress pants, button-down shirt and a tie – not a suit, but nice.

He was a little shy, but a warm smile crept out.

He asked what I was doing with the pizza. By this point it looked like something out of a Salvador Dali painting.

I explained my aversion to ham and peppers.

He gently took the pizza cutter from my hand, carefully removed some of the ham, and cut me a generous slice of pizza - this came to be known as the "Ham-ectomy".

Ten years ago today we were married. Remembering this moment never fails to make me smile.

Silver lining:

1. He is still knows just what to do to make me laugh or, at the very least, smile.


2. His eyes glitter when he’s excited, darken when he’s concerned, and soften with love.


3. Some say if they could change some of their past decisions, they would. I would not. If I had done anything differently, I may not have needed that job at Domino’s. If I hadn’t needed that job, I may not have met the love of my life.

How Do You Solve A Problem Like Demi-a?

You ever have one of those days? You know the kind. Nothing seems to go right.

I’m not having one of those days. I’m having a great day. I’ve laughed quite a bit in fact.

It’s my friend Demi who’s having one of those days. And gosh darn it, if it ain’t funny when it’s not you.

Let’s start with this morning.

I was running late so I don’t know if she had had any coffee. We get coffee together every morning and get our gab on before starting the day. But today was not one of those days.

Maybe that's what started the whole thing. She didn’t have any coffee, nor did she get the benefit of getting a preview of future blog posts. She doesn’t actually read my blog because I’ve already told her all the stories over coffee. Although, she could read it once and awhile and voice her opinion.

Let’s get back to her day.

So she comes down to my desk and rests her elbows on the ginormous stack of papers at the end of my desk.

“I have a problem. This spreadsheet worked last week, but now it doesn’t. I swear I’m doing the exact same thing.”

As per our routine, we hippity-hop down to her desk.

“See this number here [points a report on her desk], doesn’t match this number on the spreadsheet.”

I started looking at the reports.

“You ran the wrong report.”

She tried to log in to re-run the report, but clicked on the wrong website in her favorites.

Once we got to the right website, she clicked on the wrong button to run the report.



“What’s with you and the clicking? Or should I say mis-clicking?” I’m snickering at her expense, but at least she was snickering at herself.

Isn’t snicker a funny word? Seriously, where did this come from?

Were the people who invented the Snickers bar laughing when they came up with nougat, caramel, peanuts & chocolate? Nougat is a funny word too; maybe that’s what started the whole thing.

Fast forward to lunch time.

We head over to the Jack In The Box for our two free tacos (free taco Tuesday). That’s another post, for another time.

After a somewhat uneventful lunch, we’re heading over to the grocery store for a few things. I’m reading her my notes for yet another post (like I said we didn’t have the morning coffee – I gotta get her up to speed sometime), yet I’m the one who noticed she was about to pull out in front of another car.

Technically, she was making an illegal turn, but she blamed the other guy anyway. There was a median in front of us so she was going to make a quick left (against traffic) to jaunt around it so we could get to the grocery store. The guy hesitated for like an eighth of a second so she took that as the signal for her to go ahead with her illegal jaunt.

Fast forward to after the grocery store.

This time she almost backed into another car that was also backing up. That chick had the gall (another great word) to honk at us! She’s the one who floored it when backing out of her parking space.


Then, a guy almost t-boned us. Totally would have been his fault – he was the one entering our lane of traffic.

I’m now sitting white knuckled in the passenger seat.

“Demi! You can’t click on the right things this morning. Now, you almost got into three accidents. What is the deal?”

“Oh, I wasn’t worried about that last guy. He was on your side.”

OK – I totally deserved that. I’d been giving her all kinds crap all day. And I hadn’t brought up the issue she had with her cell phone not working yet – turns out it had been turned off. Seems that in turning your phone off, it doesn’t ring nor can you make any calls with it – weird, huh?

We rode along for a little bit, chit chatting. Despite the driving issues, I stayed in the car with her because hitch-hiking would have been more dangerous. At least if we got in an accident, my body would be found right away instead of rotting in a ditch for weeks after the hitch-hiker killed me. My family would have closure sooner. I’m a thinker, aren’t I?

Suddenly, Demi turned toward me. I thought, “Dude, keep your eyes on the road!”

“I know what my problem is! I can’t hear anything!”

WHAT?

What does hearing have to do with clicking the right button on the computer or not running into any cars?

“No, Demi. I think the issue today is just the your aura. But just to be safe, should we get you one of those ear horns?”

Silver Lining:

1. She has a good sense of humor and was laughing with me the entire time I was teasing her.


2. I found an ear horn/trumpet on Ebay for only $545.00 (or you could buy it now for $580.00).

Anyone for Pizza?

I didn’t bring my lunch today, nor did I feel like going out. The food drawer at my cube is also empty seeing as how I ate my last pop tart for lunch yesterday. A friend of mine regularly plays trivia in the lunch room so I decided to take my chances with the wheel of death and play a little trivia.

The wheel of death is a vending machine that contains “fresh-ish” lunch type food – salads, sandwiches, square pizza, etc. It’s a frustrating machine.

Sometimes it takes your money, but doesn’t let you open the compartment door.

Sometimes I rotate the food I want to the door, but the machine decides otherwise and will spontaneously turn to some other random compartment (which is usually empty).

Other times, the dang door doesn’t open far enough. I got a salad last week and the door opened about four inches when there was a seven or eight inch salad container to get out.

That sucker was $2.75, there was no way I was letting that door close. The compartment was giving birth to the salad whether it wanted to or not. I yanked it out, slapped it’s bottom, and heard that newborn salad cry as I pulled off the crinkled-up lid.

Today, I decided to go for the square, elementary school pizza. When you put it in the microwave it gets all chewy. I decided I should give the toaster oven a whirl.

I’ve never used a toaster oven in my life.

And there were no instructions near by.

There was a button for pizza. Duh, let’s push that one.

Gee whiz! It started blinking at me. I stared back at it with a blank look on my face. Now what?

Another friend happened to be in the kitchen and came over to help. He had never used it before either, but he was kind enough to point out the “start” button.

I pushed the start button. A blue light came on, but the display continued to blink at me. So I pushed the start button again.

Everything turned off.

Like an idiot I went through this routine three more times. I finally let it blink just to see what happened.

Lo and behold, it started to warm up!

It continued to blink until it hit a desired temperature of 400 degrees, then switched over to timer mode. 20 minutes!!! I don’t cook a frozen pizza at home for that amount of time! It was at this point I realized we had frozen pizza for dinner last night. And my mother-in-law was bringing pizza over for dinner tonight. *sigh*

I pulled open the door after five minutes (the cheese was bubbling) and discovered there weren’t any pot holders or oven mitts around. It was 400 degrees, how the heck was I going to get it out of there?

I got a fork to slide it out onto a plate, but it was stuck to the little pan.

After I singed my knuckle, trying to work a plastic knife between the pizza and the pan, I got a wad of napkins to use as a pot holder.

By the time I extracted my pizza from the pan, the whole dealio had cooled off enough to use my hands. I made my way over to the trivia group, picked up my pizza, and discovered it was chewy.

Next time, I’ll just microwave it.

Silver Lining:

1. The pizza must have been somewhat fresh or I cooked it long enough because I haven’t shown any signs of food poisoning yet.

2. I won’t be craving pizza anytime soon. That’s better for the diet that I re-start every day because I failed the day before.

Good Grief!

What a morning!

What’s the first thing you do when you get to work?

Beside quickly flipping on the lights, radio & signing in to my computer, I need COFFEE!!!

So, I pick up my cup (the kind with a lid) and head over to the mini kitchen to make my poor man’s Starbuck’s cup of coffee. But first I need to clean out my cup. This is a morning ritual because I just don’t get to it the day before.

I pull off the lid and scrub everything up real well. Then, I grab some paper towels to dry it all off. Even the inside, which I know doesn’t make sense because I’m just going to pour coffee in it.

I proceed to add six sugar substitutes (Splenda is preferred, but work is too cheap), an entire packet of sugar free hot cocoa, powdered creamer (not measured by any means, just pour for a second or two), and finally the coffee goes in. If I’m lucky, my friend Demi will have saved a bit of her cereal milk to top it off. I don’t know what this combo would be called or what it would cost at Starbuck’s, but I get it free at work. HA, HA all you Starbuck’s suckers!

I went to put the lid on the cup and it set in the top way to easily. The little rubber ring was missing!!! You know, that ring that prevents the beverage from dribbling down your shirt.

Crap, what happened to it?

I looked at the floor – nothing but a bunch of paper towel scraps. How hard is it to pick those up people? Never mind the fact that I didn’t pick them up either – I was too busy stressing over the missing rubber ring.

I looked in the sink – not there. Sweat was starting to form on my brow.

Was it in the disposal [Cue the Psycho stabbing scene music]?

I used a plastic knife to push back the black thingy that prevents the food from flying out when you start it up.

Ewwww! There were pieces of chicken in there!

If I was sticking my hand in there, I had to know exactly where the rubber ring was. I needed a flashlight. Fortunately, being the stuff queen, there was one in my purse.

Rush to the desk.

Rush to the mini kitchen.

Rushing was good for the moment because the wind dried up that sweaty brow.

Me and my handy-dandy knife inspected the disposal using the flashlight. Geez, those things are wide. I couldn’t see all the way to the edges. I needed a wider view.

I started to pull the black thingy up, but the underside was covered in slime! ABORT! ABORT!

After washing my hands I looked despairingly around the kitchen. It’s got to be some place else and thought to myself, “Please oh please Magic Rubber Ring Fairy, make it appear. Make it rise up like the Great Pumpkin. To be sure I’ll see it, have the Hallelujah Choir sing loud and proud so I can turn in the right direction.”

Guess what? There is no Magic Rubber Ring Fairy. Dammit!

Dejected, I made my way back to my desk. I figured I’d drink the coffee without a lid and pray to God I didn’t tip the cup over. With the state of my desk, finding a secure place to set it down was a challenge. Not only did it have to be a place where it was unlikely to be tipped over, but it also had to be convenient. I can’t be turning around (I have a U-shaped cube) and reaching way over to the back of my desk for my coffee.

The optimist in me started laughing at the whole situation and I decided to write this blog entry. I had gotten three lines in (right up to the picking up the cup part), and [Bing!] a light bulb went off.

It had to be in the trash. I hadn’t been sitting here very long and I had mostly been the only person in the mini kitchen during this saga so it should be near the top right?

Nope.

In the five minutes I had left the kitchen, someone had come in and made a new pot of coffee. I had to dig past the coffee filter & grounds plus all the paper towels I had used in my garbage disposal quest.

Woot! Woot! There it was!!!

I washed that baby, got it on my lid and guzzled the coffee. Now, I need another cup. I just may skip back to the mini kitchen.


Silver Lining:

1. Duh, I found the ring!

2. There were powdered donettes – five seemed like a good consolation prize for my efforts.

3. I managed to accomplish all this activity without an ounce of caffeine in my body. That’s a major feat. My boss doesn’t even ask me to do things without making sure I’ve had a cup of coffee first – he knows better. That’s what makes him so great. I might just get him a card for Boss’s Day this year.

One Cool Taco!

My company is celebrating their 300th customer! To celebrate, they had the icecream truck stop by and give us all a free icecream.

I usually go for a fudgecicle, but today the Choco Taco screamed, "PICK ME!"

Not wanting to disappoint, I got a Choco Taco.

As I was riding the elevator to the third floor (didn't want to ruin the yummy-goodness-soooo-not-on-the-diet moment by taking the stairs), I inspected the packaging.

This is what I saw (pay attention to the two circled items on the right):

Glad they cleared that right up!

Silver Lining:

1. It was free!

2. It was good!

3. It was free!

Another Dork Moment

I don't know when we moved to Seattle, but apparently it happened sometime last week. I'm sure it was a Harry Potter operation. They moved my entire house, the yard, even my neighbors! Amazing what a magic wand and some nifty, rhyme-y spells will do.

I just will not stop raining here!

So me and my umbrella were getting out of the car once I arrived at work late because of traffic. You know the weather is bad when I'M stuck in traffic, and my commute is only 10 miles.

I have one of the cool umbrellas that opens with the click of a button. I guess it's not really that cool, because almost all umbrellas are like that today. But I remember when we poor souls had to push the little do-hicky in and manually push the umbrella up until you hear the click. It really s*cked when you had a paper cut on your thumb. Of course, this was back in the day when I walked to school, uphill both ways, in the pouring ran with no shoes - sniff, sniff, I had such a tough life.

I usually open the door, stick my arm out and open the umbrella above the door so the rest of me doesn't get wet. Not today!

I hit the button as I was grabbing my purse. INSIDE THE CAR! I had the umbrella positioned in a way that it opened all the way and flipped my glasses off. It was like a reverse airbag.

I'm such a dork - again.

Silver Lining:
1. The umbrella closes as easily as it opens.

2. There wasn't anyone in the parking lot so I didn't get a lot of sh*t for it. Although, I'm totally going to get it from all of you. At least it won't be to my face :)

Get Smart

If you are in a technical field most people assume you are smart, correct?

Take, for instance, anything to do with computers. If you can open a box, connect cables, insert several plugs into a power strip, AND make a computer turn on, you’re doing okay. Get that internet thing goin’ on and you’re doing good.

Let’s take that to the next level. Let’s say, you can figure out how to connect more than one computer, set up a fire wall, route your telephone, and get movies on the TV using nothing more than a little box and a black cable, you’re on a roll!

There are a lot of people who have accomplished the above within their homes. We have all that, but that’s only because Hubby is a computer networking guru. It’s certainly not because of my computer know-how.

If it were up to me, I would have a land line, cable, and one computer with dial-up.

You know why?

Because someone else would have come in and hooked all this stuff up for me. And each one would remain separate so that I could tell exactly what which one is broken without using any non-existent computer/electronics troubleshooting abilities.

Hubby’s abilities go much further than home electronics, but I couldn’t even begin to tell you what else he does – it’s that complicated. He’s the guy that takes all those 24-like computer/electronic gadgets and makes them all “talk” to each other.

On the subject of 24 – that Chloe character has got to be smart, right? She hacks into all the s*ck-*ss networks (that Hubby did not set up/secure) in order to obtain necessary schematics to top secret underground tunnels and reprogram their computers to play the Hamster Dance every time there was an incoming e-mail.

Computer programming. Now, there’s some genius.

How many people understand that language?

Honestly, how many of my fellow bloggers been to The Blog Doctor whenever you’ve wanted to do something cool, but Blogger didn’t have a readily available gadget? How do you all think I figured out how to put those tabs on the top of my page?

On a daily basis, I walk amongst such geniuses. We have almost an entire floor of our building housing electrical engineers and programmers. These are the guys we depend on in order to create the product the sales department has already sold. They better be smart!

Imagine my surprise the other day, as I was walking to the break room (I think I needed more potato chips), which requires a walk amongst the geniuses, when I heard someone whistling.

What were they whistling, you ask?

IF I ONLY HAD A BRAIN!


Silver Lining:

1. This person was only one out of over a hundred in the engineering department.

2 . In an economy like this, we’re still producing what the customers want and the customers are still buying. We’re more fortunate than other companies out there.

Oh, The Irony

I was really in the mood for something salty. Not just in the mood, I was craving something salty. I grabbed a dollar out of my desk drawer and made a bee-line for the break room

Once I got there, I had to make a few decisions.

First off, how much salt did I “need”?

Pretzels or Potato Chips? Both very salty, but chips just sounded better.

There was more than one type of chip. I rolled my eyes and once again had to make a decision.

Baked Lays or Regular? Baked Lays were healthier, the even had the check mark indicating the lower fat grams – ooooo, I bet that influences a lot of people. There are other things in the machine with check marks next to their prices, but I don’t care. I want what I want and no check mark is going to influence me to get to choose animal crackers over mini sandwich cremes.

I really should have been responsible and gotten the baked chips, but my fingers were possessed. They punched in the number for the regular chips completely over-riding my brain. Kind of like men – they often let body parts have more control than their brains.

Go back to my desk or sit in the break room? There were a couple magazines sitting on one of the tables. I thought to myself, “You know what? I don’t take breaks and sometime work at my desk while eating my lunch. I’m going to sit down, read a magazine & enjoy my chips.” There was even a little high-pitched “hmh” and an indignant head nod at the end.

I sat down, opened my chips and savored that first one. I enjoyed reading a couple of short articles before I had to tip the bag and shake the last few crumbs in my mouth – you can’t let a good thing go to waste. I got up to throw away the bag and head back to my desk. I closed the magazine and started to put it back on the stack.

My mouth dropped open as I did this. The name of the magazine:

WEIGHT WATCHERS MAGAZINE

Niiiice, eat your salty, greasy, fat-laden chips while reading a diet magazine. It’s like ordering a diet coke to go with your Big Mac & fries.

Silver Lining:

1. No one was in the break room so they didn’t see me reading the WW Mag while eating those chips.


2. No one was in the break room to see the final crumb fall into my mouth – it’s not very lady like and a little on the unprofessional side.


3. I totally enjoyed those chips!

The Restroom Evolution

That’s right, there has been an evolution of sorts going on with the restrooms here at the office. It’s been pretty slow, like over the last year or so. The other day, the newest characteristic was the icing on the cake and I can’t keep my thoughts to myself any longer.

The first, was the addition of one of those paper towel dispensers that you wave your hand in front of and an allotment of paper whirs out. I can’t figure out why this one is necessary.

It can’t be sanitary issues as there was already a paper towel dispenser that has those individual z-fold papers in it. They didn’t take it out. Besides, the new dispenser has a sensor that is so insensitive, you practically have to touch it to get it to spit out a paper towel. Now, how can that be more sanitary than the original 1970’s version. Actually, why does even matter how you get the paper towels out of a dispenser? The people touching it, just washed their hands, right??

Also, the new, automatic dispenser is so high on the wall, you have to reach up to wave at the sensor. This causes water to run down your arm and in your sleeves.

Around the same time, sanitary gel dispensers were added just outside the restrooms. Didn’t you just wash your hands???

The next round in the evolution was the addition of signage to the outside of the doors.

For Privacy Reasons,
Please Refrain from Using
Phones in the Restroom

Really??? Is there anyone who doesn’t know that everyone outside the restroom can hear every noise in the restroom?? That includes that fart you went to the restroom to “discretely” let go.

I work in an office of professionals and access is restricted to employees, contractors & temporary workers. How immature to they think we are? I honestly don’t think anyone here is going to go into the restroom with their cell phones with the intention of taking pictures over the stalls. Even if there are creepy contractors, I don’t see women contractors doing this. The restroom doesn’t have a gender check so the mere presence of a male in the woman’s restroom would cause enough ruckus – with or without a phone.

The newest restroom characteristic comes in the form of a SHARPS box. Any they advocating shooting up at work? I suppose this is to ensure you’re being safe with your needles. You wouldn’t want someone else gets a disease by sticking themselves with a used needle when they reach waaaaaay down in the trashcan.

While were on the subject of restrooms, can I jump off my topic for a moment (not that you can do anything about it, but I thought I’d be nice and ask)?

Isn’t there an unwritten rule about using the stall next to someone? Unless it is absolutely necessary, aren’t you supposed to have an empty stall between two users?

For example, if there are three stalls and they are all empty, you should choose the one of the end stalls. That way there the other end stall is available for another person; thus, leaving an empty stall in between. I can see your heads nodding – I knew I was right on this one!

Why, when I’m in a five staller (all empty upon entering) and I’m in the middle one, would some one choose the stall right next to me??? I clearly followed the rules and left at least two available, more desirable stalls – what gives??

Anyway, back to the original topic for the silver lining.

Silver Lining:
1. Obviously, work safety is a positive priority. I’m glad I work for a company that promotes this and takes it seriously.
2. I don’t have to worry about someone in Hong Kong hearing me pee via cell phone.
3. I don’t have to worry about someone taking my picture while in a compromised position.
4. I’m not going to get any germs from the paper towel dispensers (unless someone at the paper towel factory sneezed on them during the rolling process).
5. In the highly unlikely even I get hooked on drugs so I can fry my brains like eggs, I know I can safely dispose of my needles at work.


PS – Before you get all up in arms, I’m sure the SHARPS box is there for a legitimate medical reason. But that’s not something that makes me laugh . . .

I'm Such a Dork

So I went to get coffee and catch up on the daily gossip. I was away from my desk for at least 15 minutes & wouldn't you know it, I came back to that obnoxious blinking light signaling I had a message.

First off, hardly anyone leaves me a message on my phone. If someone wants information from me, it usually comes in the form of an e-mail.

Secondly, I couldn't find a pad of paper.

I had difficulty finding a pad of paper, not because my desk was a mess. No, it was because I actually filed papers and cleaned most of my desk off yesterday. I was looking under the few folders & papers that were left and could find my blasted post-it pad. I finally looked in my desk drawer. Duh, I had actually put them all away in the cleaning process.

I'm ready for a really important message, but it was the hubby (didn't even need the post-it pad). He does have a tendency to say "um" a lot so there were several pauses in the message.

As soon as I heard his voice, I completely forgot that I had just logged in to the voice mail system. As he paused, I was saying, "Uh-huh, uh-huh" like he was actually on the phone. I even said "I love you" at the end. It wasn't until he didn't say it back I remembered that it was only a voice mail message.

I'm such a dork!!!

Silver Lining:
1. I'm going to say that this happened because I hadn't drank all my coffee yet, let alone given the caffeine any time to absorb.
2. You guys are the only ones who know how dork-ish I am.