Over the last several weeks I have had the amazing honor of tangibly experiencing the faithfulness of the Lord. Twelve months ago when I accepted my first real job out of college, I asked the Lord how long He was going to keep me there. I felt Him whisper in my spirit, "One year." As the year went on I hoped against hope that the Lord would provide me with a new, more exciting job before the year was up. "Lord, I don't know if I can last a whole year here," I found myself praying. In January I was feeling like I was reaching the end of my rope. I scoured job ads, sent out applications, and even went on an interview. Nothing. "Lord," I panicked, "a year will be up in a few months. Don't you think you should get moving on the new job thing?" Then I heard as clear as day, "One year, one year, one year!" With a sigh I said, "Alright then, it's up to You."
Wouldn't you know that just as I hit the 11 month mark, the Lord moved in an incredible way. Just as I began to give in to despair, hopelessness, and fear, God opened a door. I knew it had to be Him because I never would have thought of working at my very own church! Yet here I am as an Administrative Ministry Assistant. His timing is perfect and His ways, mysterious.
Looking back, I am so thankful for my stint as a Copy Girl. It was definitely a year of learning, growing, and experiencing God in new and profound ways. As a result of my first job out of college, I am humbled and so much more appreciative of where I am now.
So now I must hang up my cape and relinquish my role as Copy Girl only to reveal my true identity. I am Razmataz the Awkward and I am looking forward to the many adventures that lie before me. Stay Tuned!
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Friday, May 21, 2010
Niagara Falls, Rubber Gloves, and Birds
Hello again blog community. Please forgive my silence. It’s one of those things where I seemed to blink and then it was May. A whole month has flown by at supersonic speed since my last post. In the next few minutes I will attempt to succinctly recap my adventures over the last month.
I flooded the office.
So you know those relatively massive water jugs that fit into the common water cooler? (Offices are notorious for the gossip that proliferates from said structures.) I was blessed with the task of moving 7 of these monstrosities down the hall and into the kitchen. Little did I know that the cart I had chosen to move these babies had been compromised. I painstakingly loaded the cart and set off on my first trip down the cavernous hallway. Things were going swimmingly (a foreshadowing?) until it came time to turn the cart into the kitchen. Wouldn’t you know that on the turn, the cart tipped, catapulting the jugs onto the floor. One jug landed in such away that it punctured and out poured Niagara Falls. I was literally up to my ankles in water. Completely mortified, I hastily cleaned up and snuck back to my office praying that no one but my boss would be the wiser. Apparently the water had soaked into the carpet and anytime someone walked on it and trekked it across the newly waxed kitchen floor, disaster was not far behind. Several near calamities later, my boss taped a massive piece of cardboard over the spill and sent out an office wide email alerting everyone of the posed threat. So much for being subtle.
I discovered rubber gloves.
After a filing project that left the skin on my hands a shredded mess, I thought there must be some other way to get the job done without subjecting my poor hands to such torture. That’s when it hit me…gloves! I found a pair of bright, yellow rubber gloves under the sink. These ordinary dish washing gloves changed my life. The first time I used them I was like Speedy Gonzalez with those files. Not only do they protect my hands from vicious paper cuts, but they give me a better grip on the file folders. Hey, if you celebrate the small things, then the big things will be that much bigger.
I was attacked by a bird.
Indeed. The story I am about to share with you is alarming and traumatic not only because I was attacked by a bird but also because it was the second occurrence.
It was a bright, sunny afternoon in South Florida. I had just finished a lovely lunch with my dear cousin who was working a block away from my job. My belly was full and all seemed right with the world as I set out to enjoy the beautiful walk back to work. I was approaching a tree when my senses alerted me to the fact that something was amiss. Goose bumps arose on my flesh when I heard the terrible squawking and commotion in the tree that lay before me. My mind raced back to the time last year when I was attacked by a bird on the campus of Palm Beach Atlantic University. It was a frightening ordeal that left me with a keen disdain for birds. Planning to avoid another such confrontation, I quickly turned to cross the street and get out of dodge should the situation get ugly. Unfortunately I was not quick enough. No sooner had I stepped off of the curb when a beastly, maniacal black bird flew straight at me! It’s dry, straw like feathers brushed my arm sending shivers down my spine. On instinct, my lunch bag went up like a helicopter propeller and swatted at the angry beast as my legs took off in the other direction. The terror induced screams that escaped from my mouth sounded foreign to my ears. I finally made it back to my office building, willing my heart rate to slow down. I shudder at the thought of that horrible creature and wonder how many others have been a victim of his wrath. What did I ever do to offend the bird race? Be careful that this doesn't happen to you.
I flooded the office.
So you know those relatively massive water jugs that fit into the common water cooler? (Offices are notorious for the gossip that proliferates from said structures.) I was blessed with the task of moving 7 of these monstrosities down the hall and into the kitchen. Little did I know that the cart I had chosen to move these babies had been compromised. I painstakingly loaded the cart and set off on my first trip down the cavernous hallway. Things were going swimmingly (a foreshadowing?) until it came time to turn the cart into the kitchen. Wouldn’t you know that on the turn, the cart tipped, catapulting the jugs onto the floor. One jug landed in such away that it punctured and out poured Niagara Falls. I was literally up to my ankles in water. Completely mortified, I hastily cleaned up and snuck back to my office praying that no one but my boss would be the wiser. Apparently the water had soaked into the carpet and anytime someone walked on it and trekked it across the newly waxed kitchen floor, disaster was not far behind. Several near calamities later, my boss taped a massive piece of cardboard over the spill and sent out an office wide email alerting everyone of the posed threat. So much for being subtle.
I discovered rubber gloves.
After a filing project that left the skin on my hands a shredded mess, I thought there must be some other way to get the job done without subjecting my poor hands to such torture. That’s when it hit me…gloves! I found a pair of bright, yellow rubber gloves under the sink. These ordinary dish washing gloves changed my life. The first time I used them I was like Speedy Gonzalez with those files. Not only do they protect my hands from vicious paper cuts, but they give me a better grip on the file folders. Hey, if you celebrate the small things, then the big things will be that much bigger.
I was attacked by a bird.
Indeed. The story I am about to share with you is alarming and traumatic not only because I was attacked by a bird but also because it was the second occurrence.
It was a bright, sunny afternoon in South Florida. I had just finished a lovely lunch with my dear cousin who was working a block away from my job. My belly was full and all seemed right with the world as I set out to enjoy the beautiful walk back to work. I was approaching a tree when my senses alerted me to the fact that something was amiss. Goose bumps arose on my flesh when I heard the terrible squawking and commotion in the tree that lay before me. My mind raced back to the time last year when I was attacked by a bird on the campus of Palm Beach Atlantic University. It was a frightening ordeal that left me with a keen disdain for birds. Planning to avoid another such confrontation, I quickly turned to cross the street and get out of dodge should the situation get ugly. Unfortunately I was not quick enough. No sooner had I stepped off of the curb when a beastly, maniacal black bird flew straight at me! It’s dry, straw like feathers brushed my arm sending shivers down my spine. On instinct, my lunch bag went up like a helicopter propeller and swatted at the angry beast as my legs took off in the other direction. The terror induced screams that escaped from my mouth sounded foreign to my ears. I finally made it back to my office building, willing my heart rate to slow down. I shudder at the thought of that horrible creature and wonder how many others have been a victim of his wrath. What did I ever do to offend the bird race? Be careful that this doesn't happen to you.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
The Skills I've Acquired
It’s easy to get down doing the same job day in and day out that requires the skill of maybe a 6th grader. It is humbling to say the least. However, as many older and wiser loved ones have told me, “Every circumstance has a purpose. You never know what you will learn and how the Lord is going to use that experience to grow you, challenge you, etc.” So I am trying to stay positive. I have realized that they are right. Through this seemingly humdrum job I have acquired a specialized set of skills that I just know will come in handy in the future.
Skill #1: Sorting Paperclips
You would be surprised how much skill is involved in separating the big paperclips from the small ones. (Now you may be thinking, “Why must one sort paperclips? Don’t they come in individual boxes according to size?” Yes, indeed they do. The paperclips I am referring to are the ones that are recycled from already existing documents and thrown into a big pile. Make sense?) The sorting of said paperclips involves a keen level of hand-eye coordination. The eye must sharply detect the difference in size of each paperclip. This is not an easy task when a sea of tiny, metallic objects lies before you. As the eye becomes aware of the minor dissimilarity, the fingers must move quickly and deftly to separate the sea into two piles. This parting of the Metallic Sea requires the utmost concentration, and spider-like reflexes. One would not want to be responsible for a single paperclip being banished to the wrong side for all of paperclip eternity. It is a heavy burden but one I accept with alacrity.
Skill #2: The Alphabet
I would venture to say that most children who are born and raised in the United States have learned The Alphabet Song by the time they are ready to start school. I am proud to say that thanks to Sesame Street I am among this elite group of citizens. Now this is all well and good but is this the most efficient way to teach children (who are to become educated, responsible adults) this established, phonetic code? I admit I adhered to this school of thought until I began my office career. Allow me to explain myself. Filing is all about the alphabet. One must be well versed in the alphabetic code to accomplish this task. I quickly realized that I was not as adept in the alphabet as I once boasted. I would come upon a word such as “Lucifer” and it would take me a few seconds of singing the song (in my head of course) to remember the letters that preceded and followed the letter “L” so that I could find the corresponding cabinet. I stood completely befuddled. The academic foundation of my childhood was shattered. Without The Alphabet Song, the phonetic code was useless to me. After this staggering realization, I was determined to memorize the alphabet without the song as a crutch. I still have not quite mastered this skill but I have definitely improved and am making a concerted effort to continue to do so.
Skill #3: Braving Ricoh
Allow me to introduce you to Ricoh (pronounced Ree-co). Ricoh is our beloved copy machine. He is invaluable to the work that we do here at the office. We share a very special relationship. I do a lot of work with Ricoh and so we have gotten to know each other pretty well. Unfortunately if I am not careful he can turn on me in an instant. He starts beeping incessantly, flashing tiny red lights, and promptly quits working. Gone is his sunny demeanor and pleasant disposition. Ricoh then turns into a raging beast that is not to be reckoned with. The only way for me to right him again is to perform emergency surgery. I must open the terrible beast and extract the poisonous contaminant that has compromised his system, thus resulting in the Jekyll/Hyde effect. Once inside, I must work quickly to locate and retrieve the toxin. Fortunately my Sharpe intuition, dexterity, and cougar like reflexes allow me to seek out the problem and avert disaster. Ricoh is himself once again and the office is narrowly saved from calamity.
Just another day in the life of Copy Girl.
Skill #1: Sorting Paperclips
You would be surprised how much skill is involved in separating the big paperclips from the small ones. (Now you may be thinking, “Why must one sort paperclips? Don’t they come in individual boxes according to size?” Yes, indeed they do. The paperclips I am referring to are the ones that are recycled from already existing documents and thrown into a big pile. Make sense?) The sorting of said paperclips involves a keen level of hand-eye coordination. The eye must sharply detect the difference in size of each paperclip. This is not an easy task when a sea of tiny, metallic objects lies before you. As the eye becomes aware of the minor dissimilarity, the fingers must move quickly and deftly to separate the sea into two piles. This parting of the Metallic Sea requires the utmost concentration, and spider-like reflexes. One would not want to be responsible for a single paperclip being banished to the wrong side for all of paperclip eternity. It is a heavy burden but one I accept with alacrity.
Skill #2: The Alphabet
I would venture to say that most children who are born and raised in the United States have learned The Alphabet Song by the time they are ready to start school. I am proud to say that thanks to Sesame Street I am among this elite group of citizens. Now this is all well and good but is this the most efficient way to teach children (who are to become educated, responsible adults) this established, phonetic code? I admit I adhered to this school of thought until I began my office career. Allow me to explain myself. Filing is all about the alphabet. One must be well versed in the alphabetic code to accomplish this task. I quickly realized that I was not as adept in the alphabet as I once boasted. I would come upon a word such as “Lucifer” and it would take me a few seconds of singing the song (in my head of course) to remember the letters that preceded and followed the letter “L” so that I could find the corresponding cabinet. I stood completely befuddled. The academic foundation of my childhood was shattered. Without The Alphabet Song, the phonetic code was useless to me. After this staggering realization, I was determined to memorize the alphabet without the song as a crutch. I still have not quite mastered this skill but I have definitely improved and am making a concerted effort to continue to do so.
Skill #3: Braving Ricoh
Allow me to introduce you to Ricoh (pronounced Ree-co). Ricoh is our beloved copy machine. He is invaluable to the work that we do here at the office. We share a very special relationship. I do a lot of work with Ricoh and so we have gotten to know each other pretty well. Unfortunately if I am not careful he can turn on me in an instant. He starts beeping incessantly, flashing tiny red lights, and promptly quits working. Gone is his sunny demeanor and pleasant disposition. Ricoh then turns into a raging beast that is not to be reckoned with. The only way for me to right him again is to perform emergency surgery. I must open the terrible beast and extract the poisonous contaminant that has compromised his system, thus resulting in the Jekyll/Hyde effect. Once inside, I must work quickly to locate and retrieve the toxin. Fortunately my Sharpe intuition, dexterity, and cougar like reflexes allow me to seek out the problem and avert disaster. Ricoh is himself once again and the office is narrowly saved from calamity.
Just another day in the life of Copy Girl.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Meaningful Musings
I am at this moment sitting at the front desk at my job, staring out of the picturesque window that spans one whole wall of the adjoining conference room. I never get tired of this view. It is one of the perks of sitting up at Reception. Every time I look out of the window I am refreshed by the scene spread out before me. Blue. Deep, ocean blue accented by green palm trees, finished off with a warm, sky blue uninterrupted by clouds. In moments like this I relish the quiet phone and seemingly empty office. With one glance at this breathtaking scene I am immediately taken with thoughts of my Creator. It is particularly poignant today on this Good Friday.
I am astounded by the thought that Almighty God, the Maker of heaven and earth, King of all creation could have anything, create anything, do anything and yet He wanted me. He wanted you. He wanted the very thing He could not have because of the gaping chasm caused by sin. So what did He do? He didn’t just sit back and say, “Oh well. Guess I have to find another object of my affection.” No. God devised a brilliant, supernatural, heartrending plan. He sentenced His only Son to death.
The brilliance lies not in the death alone. After an agonizing death by crucifixion, Jesus was restored to life! Now if that isn’t a testament of God’s marvelous power I don’t know what is.
In light of all of this I look at my life and think, “what am I doing? I mean what am I really doing for my Savior?” I think back to the words of Solomon in Ecclesiastes when he refers to everything as “meaningless.” Compared to Calvary that is exactly the category that everything else in life seems to fall into. And yet, life would be utterly meaningless if it weren’t for the horrific tragedy of the cross.
So I guess in all of my ponderings I am challenged once again to look at life from a different perspective…an eternal perspective. I want my life to be a reflection of my Savior. I want to fulfill my purpose in Christ and not allow myself to succumb to trivial pursuits.
Lord help me to search for you even in the everyday, in the mundane.
I am astounded by the thought that Almighty God, the Maker of heaven and earth, King of all creation could have anything, create anything, do anything and yet He wanted me. He wanted you. He wanted the very thing He could not have because of the gaping chasm caused by sin. So what did He do? He didn’t just sit back and say, “Oh well. Guess I have to find another object of my affection.” No. God devised a brilliant, supernatural, heartrending plan. He sentenced His only Son to death.
The brilliance lies not in the death alone. After an agonizing death by crucifixion, Jesus was restored to life! Now if that isn’t a testament of God’s marvelous power I don’t know what is.
In light of all of this I look at my life and think, “what am I doing? I mean what am I really doing for my Savior?” I think back to the words of Solomon in Ecclesiastes when he refers to everything as “meaningless.” Compared to Calvary that is exactly the category that everything else in life seems to fall into. And yet, life would be utterly meaningless if it weren’t for the horrific tragedy of the cross.
So I guess in all of my ponderings I am challenged once again to look at life from a different perspective…an eternal perspective. I want my life to be a reflection of my Savior. I want to fulfill my purpose in Christ and not allow myself to succumb to trivial pursuits.
Lord help me to search for you even in the everyday, in the mundane.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Colloquialisms
Aside from the technical jargon that I've had to decipher while working in the office, there were a few common phrases being tossed around that completely escaped me. I thought they meant one thing only to find out that in this setting they mean something totally different.
For the first few weeks I would hear things like, "I have a present for you" and "I left a surprise for you on your desk." Now I love presents and so upon hearing these declarations I would get as excited as a little puppy waiting for a treat. My eyes would widen and my hands would wring in anticipation. Then I would skip back to my desk as giddy as a school girl only to find...no present. No beautifully wrapped package with a satin bow. No metallic gift bag with iridescent tissue paper bursting out of the top. Not even a little piece of candy or single gerber daisy. At first I tried to look around my tiny little desk to see if it was hidden somewhere. "Maybe this is a game, a sort of scavenger hunt," I thought to myself. My efforts to find this elusive "present" were soon found to be in vain. All that lay on my desk was a mountain of paper with a note marked, "SHRED." I returned to the supposed gift giver and said, "I'm sorry but, did you forget to put the gift on my desk?" Just then a second head must've emerged on my neck because the aforementioned individual stared at me dumbfounded. "Uh no," she said. I placed it on your desk with a note that clearly read "SHRED." Suddenly it all made sense. There was no present. I had been had. I have since learned that a sentence containing words such as "present", "surprise", "gift", "something special", or "something fun" is nothing but a cruel euphemism. Those terms are only used to soften the blow of a horribly boring, overwhelmingly tedious task that I have the pleasure of completing.
I had quite the opposite experience with another term. Let me tell you I was scandalized the first time I heard that we were going to be debriefed at the next staff meeting. "Debriefed?! Are they out of their ever loving minds? What kind of operation is this? I ought to report--indecency that's what it is! How inappropriate, well I never!!" I was quite flustered, flabbergasted, and in a tizzy of sorts. Let's just say I now know the correct meaning of the term and to my chagrin it does not involve the removal of undergarments.
For the first few weeks I would hear things like, "I have a present for you" and "I left a surprise for you on your desk." Now I love presents and so upon hearing these declarations I would get as excited as a little puppy waiting for a treat. My eyes would widen and my hands would wring in anticipation. Then I would skip back to my desk as giddy as a school girl only to find...no present. No beautifully wrapped package with a satin bow. No metallic gift bag with iridescent tissue paper bursting out of the top. Not even a little piece of candy or single gerber daisy. At first I tried to look around my tiny little desk to see if it was hidden somewhere. "Maybe this is a game, a sort of scavenger hunt," I thought to myself. My efforts to find this elusive "present" were soon found to be in vain. All that lay on my desk was a mountain of paper with a note marked, "SHRED." I returned to the supposed gift giver and said, "I'm sorry but, did you forget to put the gift on my desk?" Just then a second head must've emerged on my neck because the aforementioned individual stared at me dumbfounded. "Uh no," she said. I placed it on your desk with a note that clearly read "SHRED." Suddenly it all made sense. There was no present. I had been had. I have since learned that a sentence containing words such as "present", "surprise", "gift", "something special", or "something fun" is nothing but a cruel euphemism. Those terms are only used to soften the blow of a horribly boring, overwhelmingly tedious task that I have the pleasure of completing.
I had quite the opposite experience with another term. Let me tell you I was scandalized the first time I heard that we were going to be debriefed at the next staff meeting. "Debriefed?! Are they out of their ever loving minds? What kind of operation is this? I ought to report--indecency that's what it is! How inappropriate, well I never!!" I was quite flustered, flabbergasted, and in a tizzy of sorts. Let's just say I now know the correct meaning of the term and to my chagrin it does not involve the removal of undergarments.
Friday, February 26, 2010
It's a Dangerous Job
Typically when you think of an office job you think of a cushy position, in a comfortable office, sitting at a desk all day, right? I mean the last word you would think of to describe an office job would be "dangerous" am I right? I can think of an entire list of jobs that I could describe as dangerous but a normal 9 to 5 office job is not one I would put in that category. Well I guess that was until I landed this job. Allow me to educate you on the hazards of my job.
Physical Hazards
1. Oddly enough lugging 25, heavy, paper boxes full of documents back and forth takes a toll on the body. One particular instance I loaded the boxes onto a cart with wheels and by the time I had delivered them to their final destination I looked like I had just competed in a triathlon. I am telling you, pit stains are not attractive. My hair was matted to my scalp and my make up was making a fast exit south. I went hastily to the bathroom to try and salvage what little dignity remained. Wouldn't you know that the minute I returned I was met with, "Oh by the way I changed my mind and I would like the boxes to be put back in their original spot." "Dear Lord help me before I scream bloody murder!!" And He did. Needless to say I woke up the next morning feeling like I had just gone Venus and Serena all over the tennis court.
2. To say I handle paper at this job would be an understatement. I mean I am all over it like a... (*blush*)I'll let you fill in an appropriate analogy. If the trees found out about the copious amounts of paper that inundates this office, we'd be looking at World War Tree (I couldn't resist). The following scenario is practically an everyday occurrence: Here I am rifling through the stacks upon stacks of paper I must copy, file, or shred. All of a sudden the sterling white is blemished by a deep red spot. "What on earth?" I think to my self. I go back a few pages and realize that they too are blemished. It is then that I realize the deep red spots look like blood! I drop the papers in hand and turn my fingers every which way until I find the source of this drippage. Ahh. It's a nasty one. Oh well. If it is only paper cut #79 then I consider it a good day. "Paper, you have outwitted me this time but alas, tomorrow I'll be wearing gloves."
3. Standing at the copy machine for approximately 6 1/2 hours at a time. Definitely a hazard.
Mental/Emotional Hazards
1. I probably enjoy the most exciting tasks in the office. And by exciting I mean brain cell killing, mind numbing, and dizzyingly boring. Most of my projects involve a repetitive action. That may sound easy but after several hours of doing the same motion your brain does in fact shut down. When this happens your body goes on auto pilot and left to it's own vices it's not pretty. Symptoms include glossy eyes, vacant expression, and mouth frozen with lips parted slightly.
2. Unbeknownst to many, an office job can take a toll on your emotions. One day I was filling in for the receptionist and as such, I had to man the phones. I heard that familiar chirp, picked up the receiver, and gave our friendly greeting. My friendly greeting was met with an angry snarl. The lady on the other end demanded that I put her through to extension 123. Knowing that our extensions only spanned the 400's, but wanting to give her the benefit of the doubt, I kindly told her I would check to see if we had that extension. Apparently the time it took me to lift my eyes to the paper and open my mouth was an eternity to this person because she proceeded to unleash a slew of ugly verbiage. Not only did she attack my intelligence but she attacked my character as well. I said all of two sentences to this Venom Lady and yet she felt it necessary to abuse me with her words. She then had the nerve to hang up on me! God Bless her. I sat there stunned and shaking for a few minutes. Wow. Who knew that answering the phone was so offensive? Then I thought, I need to pray for Venom Lady. Who knows what may be going on in her life? She may just need a hug.
Physical Hazards
1. Oddly enough lugging 25, heavy, paper boxes full of documents back and forth takes a toll on the body. One particular instance I loaded the boxes onto a cart with wheels and by the time I had delivered them to their final destination I looked like I had just competed in a triathlon. I am telling you, pit stains are not attractive. My hair was matted to my scalp and my make up was making a fast exit south. I went hastily to the bathroom to try and salvage what little dignity remained. Wouldn't you know that the minute I returned I was met with, "Oh by the way I changed my mind and I would like the boxes to be put back in their original spot." "Dear Lord help me before I scream bloody murder!!" And He did. Needless to say I woke up the next morning feeling like I had just gone Venus and Serena all over the tennis court.
2. To say I handle paper at this job would be an understatement. I mean I am all over it like a... (*blush*)I'll let you fill in an appropriate analogy. If the trees found out about the copious amounts of paper that inundates this office, we'd be looking at World War Tree (I couldn't resist). The following scenario is practically an everyday occurrence: Here I am rifling through the stacks upon stacks of paper I must copy, file, or shred. All of a sudden the sterling white is blemished by a deep red spot. "What on earth?" I think to my self. I go back a few pages and realize that they too are blemished. It is then that I realize the deep red spots look like blood! I drop the papers in hand and turn my fingers every which way until I find the source of this drippage. Ahh. It's a nasty one. Oh well. If it is only paper cut #79 then I consider it a good day. "Paper, you have outwitted me this time but alas, tomorrow I'll be wearing gloves."
3. Standing at the copy machine for approximately 6 1/2 hours at a time. Definitely a hazard.
Mental/Emotional Hazards
1. I probably enjoy the most exciting tasks in the office. And by exciting I mean brain cell killing, mind numbing, and dizzyingly boring. Most of my projects involve a repetitive action. That may sound easy but after several hours of doing the same motion your brain does in fact shut down. When this happens your body goes on auto pilot and left to it's own vices it's not pretty. Symptoms include glossy eyes, vacant expression, and mouth frozen with lips parted slightly.
2. Unbeknownst to many, an office job can take a toll on your emotions. One day I was filling in for the receptionist and as such, I had to man the phones. I heard that familiar chirp, picked up the receiver, and gave our friendly greeting. My friendly greeting was met with an angry snarl. The lady on the other end demanded that I put her through to extension 123. Knowing that our extensions only spanned the 400's, but wanting to give her the benefit of the doubt, I kindly told her I would check to see if we had that extension. Apparently the time it took me to lift my eyes to the paper and open my mouth was an eternity to this person because she proceeded to unleash a slew of ugly verbiage. Not only did she attack my intelligence but she attacked my character as well. I said all of two sentences to this Venom Lady and yet she felt it necessary to abuse me with her words. She then had the nerve to hang up on me! God Bless her. I sat there stunned and shaking for a few minutes. Wow. Who knew that answering the phone was so offensive? Then I thought, I need to pray for Venom Lady. Who knows what may be going on in her life? She may just need a hug.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
"You want me to do what?!"
I take pride in my appearance. I probably care too much and spend a little too much time on how I look but unfortunately it is one of those character flaws I am trying to work on. If any of you ladies have discovered the secret to not caring what you look like then please do me a favor and enlighten me.
So I had on this not quite red, not quite pink jacket and wedge heels that matched perfectly. I'm telling you, it was going to be a good day. Now these wedges were brand spanking new (note to self: never break in new heels at work where you are stuck wearing them for 8 hours). Thirty minutes into my day, my feet were starting to squirm. "This was a bad idea, " I thought. Oh well, "suck it up girl. You are a professional now and your legs look hot."
I did not know that some bosses put their employees through job initiations. I always thought that that kind of thing was reserved for gangs, fraternities and sororities. Well my boss took one look at me and immediately I could see the wheels turning, "Now what can I do to torture our newest employee?" I did not like the look on her face. The hair on my arms stood on end and I felt the air around me take on a distinct chill. "Oh Copy Girl!" she said patronizingly. "I have a special job for you. I need this box of documents taken to the building downtown. Oh and you'll have to walk." "Alright. No problem," I said as I felt my feet scream "are you crazy?!" I turned to go and caught the look on my boss's face, "Hmph! That'll teach her never to wear her pretty little heels again." Funny thing, it did.
By the time I got home the skin on my heels was completely rubbed off and bleeding. I had blisters the size of grapes, and the bones in my feet felt like a pile of mangled hangers. What a day. I think it's time to go shopping for flats.
So I had on this not quite red, not quite pink jacket and wedge heels that matched perfectly. I'm telling you, it was going to be a good day. Now these wedges were brand spanking new (note to self: never break in new heels at work where you are stuck wearing them for 8 hours). Thirty minutes into my day, my feet were starting to squirm. "This was a bad idea, " I thought. Oh well, "suck it up girl. You are a professional now and your legs look hot."
I did not know that some bosses put their employees through job initiations. I always thought that that kind of thing was reserved for gangs, fraternities and sororities. Well my boss took one look at me and immediately I could see the wheels turning, "Now what can I do to torture our newest employee?" I did not like the look on her face. The hair on my arms stood on end and I felt the air around me take on a distinct chill. "Oh Copy Girl!" she said patronizingly. "I have a special job for you. I need this box of documents taken to the building downtown. Oh and you'll have to walk." "Alright. No problem," I said as I felt my feet scream "are you crazy?!" I turned to go and caught the look on my boss's face, "Hmph! That'll teach her never to wear her pretty little heels again." Funny thing, it did.
By the time I got home the skin on my heels was completely rubbed off and bleeding. I had blisters the size of grapes, and the bones in my feet felt like a pile of mangled hangers. What a day. I think it's time to go shopping for flats.
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