Corporate Shaft

Hey there, sluts! Happy Hump Day! (Bow-chicka-bow-wow)

First off:
Wow, man, sorry for dumping that BIG BUCKET OF HATE all over your parade yesterday. I was in an especially dreadful mood yesterday, what with the rain and lack of sleep and the stench of corporate conformity all around me. Kind of a bummer. But today it’s not raining (although it IS cloudy grrrrrrrrrr grumble grrrrrrrr), and I got more sleep last night (because I let the pup out at 6:30 and went back to bed for an hour), and although the stench of corporate conformity is still wafting through the air, it is partially negated by the fact that day-old pastries still abound in the kitchen.

So, thankfully, today I’m back to my only moderately hateful demeanor. Lucky you

And speaking of corporate conformity…

We had our monthly office meeting today. For once I remembered ahead of time and got the BIG MAMBA JAMBA coffee from Wawa, which ultimately backfired and I spent the entire meeting doing the pee-pee dance. But that’s beside the point…

For starters, I wanna say that these people either need to get out more often, or get a better list of descriptors, because switching from our current time-keeping software to new time-keeping software is not "exciting". Neither is the newly updated flowchart on virtual lecture processes or the fact that new signs outlining our emergency exit route were posted. STOP SAYING THIS CRAP IS EXCITING. It’s not. Period. And if you call it exciting again, I’m going to start taking hostages and then you’ll see what REAL excitement feels like.

Nothing gets the ole’ adrenaline pumping like a room full of hostages and vest full of dynamite

(I kid.)
(Or do I?)

And then there’s this dress-code thing. Look, I get that you don’t want us walking around the office in hot-pants and shirts that say “My other car is a moustache ride.” Neutralizing sexuality at the office is hard enough without the ladies serving up their bits and pieces on a big ole’ platter of low-cut, spandex-ensconced inappropriateness. But insisting that jeans can only be worn on Fridays and that capris cannot be higher than calve-length crosses the line from gender equality into Wardrobe-Nazi territory. Banning me from wearing flip-flops will not make me write any better or waste less time. Trust me. And considering the fact that I spent the vast majority of my day yesterday worrying about my uncomfortable pants rather than finishing up my most recent project, I’d think that making your employees MORE comfortable would be a priority. But what do I know? I’m just a lowly writer. Who spends more time thinking about her 3-inch heels and underwire than doing her job. Hey, you reap what you sew…

But the best part of these little meetings is the end, where monthly birthdays are announced [Everybody look at Jill – she’s one year closer to dying today!!], and the obligatory “Happy Birthday” is sung. If you’re looking for a visual and oral reference for this event (did I just say ‘oral’?), watch the scene in Office Space where they celebrate the boss’s birthday. The monotone, unenthusiastic singing, everybody eyeing of cake with a look of panic and vengefulness…yeah, we have all of it.



Of course, since we’re in a recession, no cake was provided by the company this time. Luckily, a few of the employees realized that the only thing more pathetic than our company rendition of “Happy Birthday” would be to sing the song sanz cake finale. So a few brave souls took one for the team and brought in treats, which was totally clutch and I need to give them each a big smackaroo. Or…I would, if it wasn’t forbidden by HR. They have a policy for everything these days.

And when the meeting is over, we all shuffle off to our cubicle dungeons of despair to work away the best years of our lives.

Can you see why I dig these meeting so much?

Later on this morning, my coworker pointed out that I have a lot of anger regarding this whole corporate lifestyle, and I had to agree with her. I totally resent the misguided priorities of Corporate America, from the dress-codes to the inflexible company policies to standardized emails…I loathe the whole shebang. After all, I spent the better part of my youth trying to figure out who I really was, only to have my identity stripped from me the minute I entered the workforce. Shafted

BUT…

To prove that I’m more than a proverbial “bitcher and moaner,” I’ll end things on a good note.

This Saturday is Brian and my 1-year anniversary. A year ago I was confused and bewildered, reeling from a divorce and convinced that real love was a giant crock of sh*t dreamed up by Hallmark to sell cards. And then I met Brian and I realized that real, lasting love not only exists, but only gets better with each passing year. I’m sure I’ll write a whole sappy, nauseating, puke-your-guts out blog later this week, but suffice to say, I’m a happy camper. Despite the ranting and raving that comprises about 90% of my blogs.

So there you have it; happy, sappy, optimistic words, straight from the horse’s mouth. Sunshine and lollipops this life ain’t, but when you have someone to stand by your side, it certainly makes things better.

/scene.