Worku Saturday, Jan 10 2009 

     They say writing is great therapy. I’ve discovered that’s true, especially when applied in the workplace. In order to combat the feelings bombarding me at work – exasperation, frustration, indignation, and whatever the -ation word is that means ‘a strong desire to suckerpunch your co-workers – I’ve started writing worku.

     To refresh your memory, a haiku is a 3-lined poem. The first and third  lines have 5 syllables, the second has 7. This is a Japanese art form. Here is an example:

the first cold shower
even the monkey seems to want
a little coat of straw
    
      Lovely. Simple. I tried my hand this week at writing worku, an art form developed by me to entertain myself out of going completely ballistic at work. See what you think.
   
  mean arrogant rude
     you should be waiting tables
     but you’d spit in food
    
 kabuki makeup
     clothes too tight and small for you
     makes my head hurt. lots.
  
   seventh floor window
     so very far from the earth
     sometimes i could jump
   
  i call you ‘facepaint’
     you keep Avon in business
     purple eyeshadows
    
i’m writing worku
     they think i’m really busy
     worky busy bee

Just when you thought it was safe to go to work… Wednesday, Dec 17 2008 

     Remember, you three faithful readers, when I said I was going to remind myself of what I like about my job and I was sort of trying to be nice about the fact that I work with a bunch of catty bitches? Remember that? (See: last post) Well…Monday turned out to be such a thrill I haven’t been able to sit down and share it with you here.

     Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?

     I start thinking about Monday morning at 4 pm Sunday afternoon. It looms like a guillotine blade. This last Monday morning it was raining, traffic was a disaster, and I was running late. I worked from home Friday afternoon and was toting a laptop and assorted sundry items – umbrella, purse, lunch bag, coat, self.  Keep in mind, it’s a 1/2 mile walk from my parking space to the building.

     Just as I set my things down on my desk at 9:20 am my manager swoops in and invites me for a personal chat. SHe’s visibly rattled. In an empty conference room, she proceeds to tell me that “some members of my team” had been wondering where I was. Had been angrily and shrilly suggesting that unexplained tardiness is grounds for termination. Had been fretting loudly that I would probably miss my ten o’clock meeting with one team member – let’s call her Princess – and Princess would have to reschedule another meeting. Had been repeatedly condemning me and my tardiness. Oh and Princess can’t see my on-line calendar which is just beyond the pale in terms of Things That Shouldn’t Happen to Princess…EVER.

    Manager seems irritated at Princess and the other complainer – let’s call her Unhinged – and recalls that they have nary a leg to stand on when complaining about other people’s lateness. Both Princess and Unhinged are regularly in after 9:30 am and leaves before 5 pm. I am thinking, as Manager speaks, that I am very sorry I was 20 minutes late. I apologize, promise to call in the future should I anticipate tardiness of any kind.

     I am not usually late. I turn my work in on time. I make all my meetings. I do my work well. Boss says that if you’re going to be later than 10 am, you should call and let someone know.

     For the rest of the morning, both Princess and Unhinged are perfectly nice to me. I am in fact, not late for the meeting with Princess, and her performance at said meeting was typical of her meeting behavior – bossy, uninformed, and rude.  Since Manager seems to feel their behavior was uncalled for and that I am not in trouble here, I am having no trouble playing nice. The knives sticking out of my back don’t even hurt. This is surprising to everyone else who witnessed the tantrums. Three observers, two of whom stood up for me, by all accounts, continued to voice their disbelief in the behaviors. They tell me it was ugly, unprofessional, stupid, and out of control. I’m told that Boss knows about the tantrums, not because one of the team members informed her, but because someone else on our floor was distracted and complained about the ruckus Princess and Unhinged were making.

      I’ve been documenting everything of late. I write down when Princess comes in to work. I note that she spends hours shopping on-line, looking at her profile on dating sites, and talking with her mother on her work phone. And I noted that last week, Princess took a two hour lunch and was 45 minutes late for a meeting with me.

     I have to remind myself what’s going on here. This is a scary time for people with jobs and we’re all afraid of the state of the economy and what it means for us personally. Combine that with women who are not only out for themselves to get ahead, but who have no problem throwing you under the bus when its convenient. I’m not a bit surprised about this little flare-up. It was only a matter of time, really. It takes a lot of energy, however, to look to the future while you’re constantly watching your back.

     Stay tuned. I”m sure there’s more to come.

Stickin it to the Man Sunday, Dec 14 2008 

     I fight my job. Every day, I have to talk myself into going to work. Let me ’splain.

    No, there is to much. Let me sum up.

    I lost a job last year when the ad agency I worked for closed. Suddenly. After I’d been there for about two months. I very much enjoy ad agency life because there are a lot of creative people there and its work I love; indeed, my department/job title involved being part of the Creatives department. I spent six long months freelancing my tushie (touche? tooshy?) off and interviewing for another full time job. I got a job with Huge Corporation, Inc. via connections in advertising. You might already know this if you know me.

     My frustration and discomfort are no secret to most of my friends. I think my feelings stem largely from the idea that I am truly not cut out for corporate life. For starters, I am not a fan of the clothing restrictions. I don’t like having my Internet usage monitored constantly and not being able to conduct adequate research for the work I do via my work laptop. I am not a ladder-climber of the corporate type and I don’t appreciate the game of Let’s Play Favorites. I hate TPS reports and PowerPoints and the break room that smells of stale coffee and canned beef soup. I hate that my desk is not far enough away from my two neighbors to afford any of us a modicum of privacy. I am  happiest when writing and being creative and I don’t get to do that terribly often.

     But WritingSpider, do you like the work?

    Yes and no. My talents are clearly not being used to their full extent, which frustrates the hell out of me – I despise inefficiency.  What it really comes down to is how I can work this company for what I need and want while they work me for their bottom line. My department is getting all kinds of attention for the work we do and I have specific skills that I bring to the table which are had by only one or two other people at the company. If I can keep my sanity and my health benefits long enough to get what I want from them, I’ll be in good shape to do what I really want to do – start my own freelance business full time.

     I’m doing things like taking classes and attending development sessions as much as possible. I’m looking for conferences I can go to. I’m doing my job, and I’m doing it well, being a team player but my eye is not on the prize that everyone else is eyeing.

    But WritingSpider, why don’t you just go start your business now?

     Are you kidding? Have you seen the economy right now? People don’t want to pay for a good writer in a decent economy and I’m not about to go to the mat without a safety net. No thanks! I’m keeping my job, my paycheck and my health benefits for as long as I can. Well, until I have this home freelance business thing all worked out. I can freelance on the side now, and I do sometimes. Which is another perk of the work I do. Work all day at the job that pays the pills and feed the Muse at night with freelance projects and my own literary amusements.

    Tomorrow I might write about what I like about this job, so as not to talk myself into not going in ever again.

This is not my beautiful job…. Thursday, May 29 2008 

I have reached a Very Difficult Point at work. I like the work itself pretty well, I like the pay which is more than I’ve made before in my adult life. But this is not the team I signed up to work with. This is not what I wanted to happen. It is an exercise is dread every morning. In fact, It’s 7:30 am and I haven’t even eaten breakfast or taken a shower. Denial, anyone?

It could be that I’m just having a hard time *right now* and it will get better later. (Oh please God I hope so.) But I’ve been with this group for almost 6 months and it’s not getting better.

My problems stem from my history of enjoying something Work. PEOPLE. I’ve stayed in jobs I’ve outgrown just because I liked the people. I chose my job because of the boss and the group I would be working wth. In November I got moved to another team and it’s a whole new ball of earwax. These women are all friends. They go out together outside of work, they know each other’s business, they’re thick as theives. 

I’m having trouble coping with the fact that I cannot relate to ANY of the rest of the team on a personal level and to some extent, a professional one.  I just can’t afford to go out to dinner three nights a week and spend $75 on expensive eats and drinks at expensive restaurants in their neighborhoods. (Don’t see anybody wanting to eat at that hole-in-the-wall bar in MY hood…)

I spend 8 hours a day literally face to face with these people. (We don’t have offices or cubes…just open desks…in one bunch…like corporate sardines.) I feel that it would be in my best interests to be a TeamPlayer but I can’t connect really. Once I witnessed a 20-minute conversation on how it’s just really important to have someone else clean your house and I realized I’m out of my league. (I clean my own house…in fact, I kind of enjoy it…it makes me feel good in a way. I pay for my mortgage, I might as well take care of the house, right? I can’t say that to them. I get a look like I’ve got lobsters crawling out of my ears.)

It’s exhausting trying to smile and ask people about their new shoes or did they try that new restaurant on Third. You know what I want to talk about? Recycling. Charity work. Art. Books. Making the world a better place for more people than ME ME ME. I want someone to wait until I finish my sentence before they start talking about themselves again. I’m tired of hearing about the new SUV, the addition on the McMansion, and the prep school the kids go to. Yeah, maybe I’m a little green about not being so wealthy, but I want somebody to GET me on some level. And they don’t.

Honestly, it also hurts a lot that this feels frighteningly familiar. This is your average middle school clique on steroids. This is MY middle school clique on steroids. The same girls who were evil in fifth grade have grown up and are still harrassing me on the playground.

Husband has a very hard time with me being upset because he doesn’t understand at all. He says it’s normal to not like work, to not get along with your co-workers, etc etc. He tells me to just go do my job and get over it. Is it wrong to want to connect with one’s co-workers? Is that too much to ask?

I’m not cut out for corporate life.

I found a page online that lists ten things you can do to cope if you hate your job and I think I’m going to read that every day at work. Not publicly, of course. Maybe in the stairwell.