Dwight heard the water pouring into my glass and decided there had been one too many "glugs" for his liking. Apparently we were in the middle of Africa during a drought and I had been abusing my rations.
"What do you think you're doing?" Dwight asked with annoyance in his voice. "Aren't you going to leave some water for everyone else?"
I immediately stopped pouring water into my glass, but the water cooler continued to glug as if it was mocking me. If I had been on top of my game, I would have replied with something witty. Or perhaps I would have answered his question with another question like, "ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?" but I wasn't fed up enough with Dwight's antics to bark back at him like that.
In real life, Dwight is Michael's older brother. As you already know, Michael runs the show and it's quite obvious that Dwight was just given a title in the company to feed his cravings for authority over others. It's not uncommon to look behind your shoulder only to find that Dwight has been standing behind you, hands on his hips, monitoring your activities for who knows how long. I've counteracted this by strategically placing a mirror on my cubicle wall that allows me to see him sneaking up. This isn't the light footsteps kind of sneaking up either, Dwight feels that a more stealthy approach is necessary. There's the "Pop up from around the corner" as well as the "Pretend to check the mail" but my absolute favorite is the "Hide behind the Christmas Tree."
This time, water glass in hand, Dwight had caught me in his snare. He was the one assigned to monitor the water cooler and he was obsessed with the task. I was speechless and gave him the "deer in the headlights look." Dwight pushed his glasses up high on his nose, placed his hands on his hips and smiled a smug smile. He had won, this time. Normally when Dwight has you in his trap, he'll continue to poke and prod at you like a little boy who tears the wings off of a fly just for fun. Instead Michael interrupted the Water Nazi, "Get ready to have a sales meeting in ten minutes, we'll meet in the conference room."
I was saved, Dwight would have to wait until another time to rip into my appendages. The four of us responsible for sales settled in the conference room. Dwight sat next to Michael, Andy and I took up the other side of the table. My first sales meeting, this was exciting!
The excitement was short lived once I realized that sales meeting was synonymous with "Listening to Michael talk for an hour just to hear the sound of his own voice." At the end of Michael's speech he made an announcement. "Tonight, we will have a booth at the local Chamber of Commerce business expo and I would like all of you to make an appearance."
"Right-o," chimed in Andy who always had to be first. Dwight also nodded in agreement.
"And I'd like you to come too Amanda, just so you can get a feel for how everything works."
It was a good thing this was my only evening off from working at the restaurant, so I agreed to be there. The event started at 7:00 which gave me enough time to go home, change clothes and drive to the fairgrounds where the business expo was being held. Of course, life always has it's own plans. I got home to find that my dog had taken his aggression out on my carpets and I had a large mess to clean up. Of course, when a dog-owner comes home to see that her pup has eaten through three pairs of Birkenstocks (apparently he had a cork fetish) and two pairs of pants, it's usually a sign that the dog needs to get out and have some stimulation. I didn't blame the guy, he was living in the same shitty one-bedroom apartment as I was, so I took him for a nice long walk.
When I got back, I realized it was already 8 o'clock so I frantically changed clothes and headed to the business expo. I arrived to find Michael sitting in a fold up chair in our booth, his chin resting on his chest with a plastic cup of red wine in his hand. Michael looked up at me with his bloodshot eyes. "Oh...*hic*...you made it," he slurred.
Michael was drunk. He stood up and placed his hand on my shoulder for what I assumed was keeping his balance. "Do you know wh-what? You're the only person....that even....showed up."
I was relieved to hear this since I was over an hour and a half late. Where was the over-achieving Dwight? What about the do-gooder Andy? Why did I always find myself in these positions? I didn't want to seem like the one in the office who was kissing ass, if I had known that my other coworkers weren't going to show up I would have stayed in my apartment and enjoyed my only evening off.
"And you changed clothes too," Michael noted. Then he looked me over and said, "Those pants look really good on you, they make your butt look good."
Years of bartending told me the red wine had definitely taken it's affect on Michael. I made a mental note to buy a recording device as soon as possible. Obviously I had the upper hand here, I knew exactly how to deal with a drunk man; take charge and don't ask permission. "Well Michael, I'm going to go around and introduce myself to a few of these business owners."
"I'll come with you," all of Michael's words were running together.
"No," I replied, "you should stay here, someone has to watch the booth."
He agreed and sat back down with a relaxed smile on his face. I pretended to walk around and introduce myself, but what was I supposed to say? I had no business card, heck, this was my second day on the job, I barely knew what my job description was. I walked around each booth casually and pretended to give a damn about what all of these people were selling. As soon as I was out of Michael's peripherals, I bolted out of there and walked briskly to my car. I would spend the night thinking about an excuse for Michael the next morning, but for now the work day was over.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Andy's Jumping Higher Than You Kick
Imagine yourself standing in the middle of an office on your second day of work. You've been assigned to assemble and program a very complex and complicated piece of equipment. You've crossed your i's and dotted your t's....I mean,. . . you know what I mean, and you flip the switch. Do you ever get that little voice in your head screaming "NOOOOoooo" as you do something, and yet, despite the volume and urgency of this little voice, you go ahead and do whatever you were going to do anyways? Well I had that voice, and as soon as I flipped the switch it was telling me, "I told you so!"
Before the little voice could go any further into it's rant, Meredith was up out of her chair trying to help me extinguish the smoke coming from what looked to be a power supply. Of course, smoke tends to get the attention of bystanders so with the shitty luck I'd been having, Michael appeared to assess the situation. "Great!" I thought, "I'm three for three now." Every time I encountered Michael I feared losing my job. I mean, heck, wouldn't you? The first time I was late to the interview, the second time he scolded me about my work attire, and now I was burning down his office and all of the expensive equipment along with it. This had to be some kind of record.
Inspection of the unit revealed I had blown up a power supply and some other kind of router. Damages totaled to about $150 which was just about as much money I had earned from the company since I started, and that's before taxes are paid. Michael seemed surprisingly calm about the whole thing, as if he had planned it all along. Could he have? "No," I thought, "What would be his motive?" Whether or not the whole project had been rigged from the beginning, I had somehow escaped by my chinny chin chin and still had a job, that's all that mattered.
My smoke stack had danced it's way into Andy's nearby cubicle so he stood up to see what all of the commotion was about. "Well, well, well 'Lil' Sparky!'"
That was my new nickname...there's always one person in the office who is the "nickname assigner" and that was Andy.
"What have we here? Damaging company property are we?" He slapped his knee and laughed at his own joke. Andy is the type of guy that says, "I don't wanna brag," right before he brags about something. Despite his perceived confidence, Andy is as sensitive as the antique shower knob. You know the kind I'm talking about , the kind that will go from icy cold to boiling lava hot in less than 1/16" of an inch turn. Also, watch out for Andy's wrestling moves, apparently he was a high school wrestling coach back in the day and likes to remind everyone that he can have you down on the ground in a choke hold whenever he chooses. It would seem that this type of physical contact would probably be looked down upon in a normal office setting, but seeing Andy take down other coworkers seems to be a bi-weekly occurrence. In my time here at the office I have seen the following wrestling moves demonstrated: Back Elbow, Lou Thesz Press, Vertical Press, Knife Edge Chop, Kesagiri Chop, Short-Arm Clothesline, Bionic Elbow, and just yesterday I'm pretty sure I witnessed what is called the Kneedrop Bulldog performed against the purchasing agent.
Violent tendencies aside, Andy has become another close friend here at the office. There is a sparkle in his eye and you know that deep inside he's just a big softy. As you might already know, Andy in "The Office" is the master of politeness. He will not be outdone by favors. If you buy Andy lunch, he will buy you a more expensive dinner. If you buy Andy a birthday present, he will buy you two. If you open a door for Andy he will build you a house with two doors that can only be opened by him. It's the competitive courtesy that you can only accept with a smile because if you dare challenge him, he'll win. Spare yourself the "Flying Forearm Smash" and just trust me on this one.
"It's okay Lil Sparky, everyone here has blown something up." Andy continued to console me while artfully telling me about the time he destroyed office property even bigger and better than I had. And even though he was boasting, it did help me feel a little bit better. All of the smoke inhalation had left me thirsty so after hearing Andy's story I headed to the water cooler.
Any interior decorator will point out that water cooler placement is key. The water cooler is a magnet for "time wasters" and as such, should always be placed within earshot of someone higher up in the company. This is done for several reasons. I believe the main reason to be conversation monitoring. If you have a disgruntled employee, he or she will vent their feelings at the water cooler, it's a scientific fact (not really). If you ever want to know which employees were up until the wee hours of the morning drinking their faces off, park yourself around the corner from the water cooler. If you hear the first glug glug glugs before 8:15 am, you'll find a very hungover employee filling up his or her coffee cup with the clear cold water that soothes so many hangover maladies.
But it wasn't 8:15 am, it was a quiet 2:15 pm and there were no other water cooler patrons at the time. It was the perfect opportunity to wet my whistle without having to confront any more employees. When you're low man on the totem pole it's good to lay as low as possible for the first couple of weeks, and considering my track record I thought it best to extend that time to a few months. I bellied up to the nozzle and started pouring water into a cup I had found in the lounge. After only two or three seconds I could hear the squeaky wheels of an office chair and suddenly, out of nowhere, Dwight was standing directly behind me.
"What do you think you're doing?" Dwight asked. "Do you plan on using ALL of the water in there or do you plan on saving some for everyone else?"
I had just had my first encounter with Dwight, the Water Nazi, and I was starting to catch on to how things were going to work in this office.
Before the little voice could go any further into it's rant, Meredith was up out of her chair trying to help me extinguish the smoke coming from what looked to be a power supply. Of course, smoke tends to get the attention of bystanders so with the shitty luck I'd been having, Michael appeared to assess the situation. "Great!" I thought, "I'm three for three now." Every time I encountered Michael I feared losing my job. I mean, heck, wouldn't you? The first time I was late to the interview, the second time he scolded me about my work attire, and now I was burning down his office and all of the expensive equipment along with it. This had to be some kind of record.
Inspection of the unit revealed I had blown up a power supply and some other kind of router. Damages totaled to about $150 which was just about as much money I had earned from the company since I started, and that's before taxes are paid. Michael seemed surprisingly calm about the whole thing, as if he had planned it all along. Could he have? "No," I thought, "What would be his motive?" Whether or not the whole project had been rigged from the beginning, I had somehow escaped by my chinny chin chin and still had a job, that's all that mattered.
My smoke stack had danced it's way into Andy's nearby cubicle so he stood up to see what all of the commotion was about. "Well, well, well 'Lil' Sparky!'"
That was my new nickname...there's always one person in the office who is the "nickname assigner" and that was Andy.
"What have we here? Damaging company property are we?" He slapped his knee and laughed at his own joke. Andy is the type of guy that says, "I don't wanna brag," right before he brags about something. Despite his perceived confidence, Andy is as sensitive as the antique shower knob. You know the kind I'm talking about , the kind that will go from icy cold to boiling lava hot in less than 1/16" of an inch turn. Also, watch out for Andy's wrestling moves, apparently he was a high school wrestling coach back in the day and likes to remind everyone that he can have you down on the ground in a choke hold whenever he chooses. It would seem that this type of physical contact would probably be looked down upon in a normal office setting, but seeing Andy take down other coworkers seems to be a bi-weekly occurrence. In my time here at the office I have seen the following wrestling moves demonstrated: Back Elbow, Lou Thesz Press, Vertical Press, Knife Edge Chop, Kesagiri Chop, Short-Arm Clothesline, Bionic Elbow, and just yesterday I'm pretty sure I witnessed what is called the Kneedrop Bulldog performed against the purchasing agent.
Violent tendencies aside, Andy has become another close friend here at the office. There is a sparkle in his eye and you know that deep inside he's just a big softy. As you might already know, Andy in "The Office" is the master of politeness. He will not be outdone by favors. If you buy Andy lunch, he will buy you a more expensive dinner. If you buy Andy a birthday present, he will buy you two. If you open a door for Andy he will build you a house with two doors that can only be opened by him. It's the competitive courtesy that you can only accept with a smile because if you dare challenge him, he'll win. Spare yourself the "Flying Forearm Smash" and just trust me on this one.
"It's okay Lil Sparky, everyone here has blown something up." Andy continued to console me while artfully telling me about the time he destroyed office property even bigger and better than I had. And even though he was boasting, it did help me feel a little bit better. All of the smoke inhalation had left me thirsty so after hearing Andy's story I headed to the water cooler.
Any interior decorator will point out that water cooler placement is key. The water cooler is a magnet for "time wasters" and as such, should always be placed within earshot of someone higher up in the company. This is done for several reasons. I believe the main reason to be conversation monitoring. If you have a disgruntled employee, he or she will vent their feelings at the water cooler, it's a scientific fact (not really). If you ever want to know which employees were up until the wee hours of the morning drinking their faces off, park yourself around the corner from the water cooler. If you hear the first glug glug glugs before 8:15 am, you'll find a very hungover employee filling up his or her coffee cup with the clear cold water that soothes so many hangover maladies.
But it wasn't 8:15 am, it was a quiet 2:15 pm and there were no other water cooler patrons at the time. It was the perfect opportunity to wet my whistle without having to confront any more employees. When you're low man on the totem pole it's good to lay as low as possible for the first couple of weeks, and considering my track record I thought it best to extend that time to a few months. I bellied up to the nozzle and started pouring water into a cup I had found in the lounge. After only two or three seconds I could hear the squeaky wheels of an office chair and suddenly, out of nowhere, Dwight was standing directly behind me.
"What do you think you're doing?" Dwight asked. "Do you plan on using ALL of the water in there or do you plan on saving some for everyone else?"
I had just had my first encounter with Dwight, the Water Nazi, and I was starting to catch on to how things were going to work in this office.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Meredith Loves AC/DC
Though Angela had mentioned her hopes that Meredith would soon be fired, Meredith quickly became my favorite. Her hair was dyed jet black at the time and she definitely gave off that biker vibe. Later I would find out the biker act wasn't an act at all. Her love of leather fringe paired well with the cracked vocal chords she had earned from decades of smoking Virginia Slims. Her gravely voice made her an odd choice for receptionist, but that's what she did and she did it with a smile.
Of course Angela and Meredith would be at each other's thoats, they were exact opposites. Angela's drink would be prim and proper, Meredith's drink would be scotch on the rocks. If you asked Angela what she did the previous weekend, her answer would include gardening and playing with her cats. Meredith wouldn't have to answer the weekend question, the smell of alcohol on her breath would tell quite the story.
Meredith was the type of girl who wouldn't wear panties on casual Fridays. Meredith was the type of girl who got a virus on her computer and had to admit that she probably downloaded it while, "shopping for shoes," which we all knew was code for, "looking at pictures of cock." One bite past the rough edges of Meredith's personality would reveal a truly genuine woman, a wonderful mother who had been through it all and had done her best to give her children a life she never had. The fire in her eyes would ignite passionate conversations about anything and everything. Soon she became my cubicle confidant, she would come over to my house after work and we would drink cheap white wine and talk about work. She was my mother's age and I was the age of her daughter who lived too far away for weekly wine and cheese visits, so we both helped each other out.
Meredith and I shared a love for alcohol, probably because we both shared the burden of working two jobs. Her second job was around the corner at the local mortuary. She would come to work, eyes ablaze, telling us all about the newest cadaver. She lived in a little apartment above the funeral home and whenever I would visit I would have to walk by the cremulator before reaching her door. The embalming fluids would dizzy my senses and always threw me off a bit, but this was all a part of Meredith's story.
My theory is that no one truly knows the job they're in for until a few paychecks have cleared the bank. This would explain my nauseating optimism on my second day of work. After arriving at my desk and fidgeting with some papers, my boss arrived with a huge PC looking console and placed it in front of me. "This is the 'Telewave POS', it's a system you'll be selling. This is the operators manual, read it."
This wasn't the measly 300 page operators manual that would come along with a cell phone, no this was much heavier than that.
"And I want you to program this system until you know everything about it."
I knew immediately what had happened. My boss was the father who throws his child into a cold lake with no luxury of arm-floaties or life jacket, trusting that his kid's inner instincts will kick in and miraculously start swimming. I was the child, with the 100 pound manual tied around my ankle. A good salesperson can bullshit their way through any interview and now he was trying to call my bluff. Maybe Michael really did have good intentions and really did believe that I could figure this puzzle out in under 8 hours, but in my 2+ years working here I can confidently say that is NOT what he was thinking.
I wouldn't step down though, I couldn't. I had dabbled in some programming before, nothing this extensive, but I had something up my sleeve. Perhaps Michael had forgotten that almost any woman in the workforce has spent her first few years caked with flour and egg yolk as she reads a recipe in her mother's kitchen. Even a young girl with aspirations of chocolate chip cookies must learn that you can't get overwhelmed by the entire recipe but instead take it one ingredient at a time. So I heaved a heavy, overwhelmed sigh and started with the first ingredient.
I wish I could go into more detail about the system I was instructed to assemble, but that would just make this story dry and boring. Perhaps that's why I'm a good saleswoman now, because I understand that most people don't want to hear about wattage and voltage. Picture a science fair project with wires going every which way, telephones, speakers, sirens, modems, and all of those other nerdy things all in one giant ball of confusion. After much sweating and second guessing I finally had this system programmed to the best of my abilities; the only thing left was to turn the sucker on and see if all of the lights came on.
After flipping on the power came my worst nightmare. Suddenly and unexpectedly a plume of smoke arose from the Telewave POS, and with it all dreams of finally getting my life together evaporated. Oh, the lights came on alright, but only to tease me, since they turned right back off in just one second. I didn't have to be an uber programmer to know that was a bad sign. Meredith was the first one out of her chair to come help, this was how I knew she wasn't as bad as Angela said she was. Meredith knew that if we didn't get this smoke cleared before Michael came barging in, that I'd be toast.
We followed the smoke stack to a power supply. I fumbled through the dictionary-sized manual and finally came upon the power supply in question. Everything seemed right, wattage was correct, all except for one thing. The manual called for a DC power supply, I had used AC. Could that have been it? Was AC verses DC really that big of a difference? Just then Michael walked into the office only to see Meredith and I wide eyed and confused. It felt like we had just shipwrecked and finally got our smoke signal going to call for help, but when we saw our rescuer we knew we were in for one wild ride.
Of course Angela and Meredith would be at each other's thoats, they were exact opposites. Angela's drink would be prim and proper, Meredith's drink would be scotch on the rocks. If you asked Angela what she did the previous weekend, her answer would include gardening and playing with her cats. Meredith wouldn't have to answer the weekend question, the smell of alcohol on her breath would tell quite the story.
Meredith was the type of girl who wouldn't wear panties on casual Fridays. Meredith was the type of girl who got a virus on her computer and had to admit that she probably downloaded it while, "shopping for shoes," which we all knew was code for, "looking at pictures of cock." One bite past the rough edges of Meredith's personality would reveal a truly genuine woman, a wonderful mother who had been through it all and had done her best to give her children a life she never had. The fire in her eyes would ignite passionate conversations about anything and everything. Soon she became my cubicle confidant, she would come over to my house after work and we would drink cheap white wine and talk about work. She was my mother's age and I was the age of her daughter who lived too far away for weekly wine and cheese visits, so we both helped each other out.
Meredith and I shared a love for alcohol, probably because we both shared the burden of working two jobs. Her second job was around the corner at the local mortuary. She would come to work, eyes ablaze, telling us all about the newest cadaver. She lived in a little apartment above the funeral home and whenever I would visit I would have to walk by the cremulator before reaching her door. The embalming fluids would dizzy my senses and always threw me off a bit, but this was all a part of Meredith's story.
My theory is that no one truly knows the job they're in for until a few paychecks have cleared the bank. This would explain my nauseating optimism on my second day of work. After arriving at my desk and fidgeting with some papers, my boss arrived with a huge PC looking console and placed it in front of me. "This is the 'Telewave POS', it's a system you'll be selling. This is the operators manual, read it."
This wasn't the measly 300 page operators manual that would come along with a cell phone, no this was much heavier than that.
"And I want you to program this system until you know everything about it."
I knew immediately what had happened. My boss was the father who throws his child into a cold lake with no luxury of arm-floaties or life jacket, trusting that his kid's inner instincts will kick in and miraculously start swimming. I was the child, with the 100 pound manual tied around my ankle. A good salesperson can bullshit their way through any interview and now he was trying to call my bluff. Maybe Michael really did have good intentions and really did believe that I could figure this puzzle out in under 8 hours, but in my 2+ years working here I can confidently say that is NOT what he was thinking.
I wouldn't step down though, I couldn't. I had dabbled in some programming before, nothing this extensive, but I had something up my sleeve. Perhaps Michael had forgotten that almost any woman in the workforce has spent her first few years caked with flour and egg yolk as she reads a recipe in her mother's kitchen. Even a young girl with aspirations of chocolate chip cookies must learn that you can't get overwhelmed by the entire recipe but instead take it one ingredient at a time. So I heaved a heavy, overwhelmed sigh and started with the first ingredient.
I wish I could go into more detail about the system I was instructed to assemble, but that would just make this story dry and boring. Perhaps that's why I'm a good saleswoman now, because I understand that most people don't want to hear about wattage and voltage. Picture a science fair project with wires going every which way, telephones, speakers, sirens, modems, and all of those other nerdy things all in one giant ball of confusion. After much sweating and second guessing I finally had this system programmed to the best of my abilities; the only thing left was to turn the sucker on and see if all of the lights came on.
After flipping on the power came my worst nightmare. Suddenly and unexpectedly a plume of smoke arose from the Telewave POS, and with it all dreams of finally getting my life together evaporated. Oh, the lights came on alright, but only to tease me, since they turned right back off in just one second. I didn't have to be an uber programmer to know that was a bad sign. Meredith was the first one out of her chair to come help, this was how I knew she wasn't as bad as Angela said she was. Meredith knew that if we didn't get this smoke cleared before Michael came barging in, that I'd be toast.
We followed the smoke stack to a power supply. I fumbled through the dictionary-sized manual and finally came upon the power supply in question. Everything seemed right, wattage was correct, all except for one thing. The manual called for a DC power supply, I had used AC. Could that have been it? Was AC verses DC really that big of a difference? Just then Michael walked into the office only to see Meredith and I wide eyed and confused. It felt like we had just shipwrecked and finally got our smoke signal going to call for help, but when we saw our rescuer we knew we were in for one wild ride.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)