October 26th, 2001

JOY

Breakfast Advice

Things went wrong in such an orchestrated consecutive order this morning as to take me from being 15 minutes early to 15 minutes late.

Things were going fine at home. I woke up a little late but decided to treat myself to a bagel on the way in, since I found out that the bagel + large coffee combo at High Noon is only $1.50. I had $2.35 on me, less $1.10 for the bus, so I’d have to go to the Mac machine. I arrive at the machine at 8:56 to find it is temporarily out of service. The adjacent bank branch opens at nine. I wait. They finally open at 9:03. Then I go over to the deli, which happens to be next door to the bank for my bagel and coffee. The coffee runs out mid-cup so I am told that if I wait just a few minutes they’ll have more brewed to fill me up.

As I’m waiting for the coffee, a young couple and their very young baby are standing around looking confused. The “deli” is kind of a shi-shi nicoisse salad, foccacccia sandwich kind of place that does serve eggs for breakfast (but said eggs are inedible since they do not carry American cheese, only Cheddar) and has shockingly good bagels. I smile at the baby’s mushy face and they ask me if I know if any bagel places around.

I said that they’re in the best bagel place around. If they’re looking for a bagel bagel place, they better try another state, and that most deli places around here you can’t just wander in to and find a good bagel. But I did tell them I was surprised at how good their bagels were and suggested they give them a shot.

It’s fun to be able to flex a little Northern Snobbery here and there.
JOY

Job Satisfaction

I find myself in an odd position. The past two days have been the best two days at work since I started here nearly seven months ago. I have been asked to do tasks that actually require thought, have been commended on my input and have received recognition for a job well done. I am the happiest I have ever been at this company. I just hope it lasts.

When I started here, I worked as hard as I could, proofing documents as fast as I could while keeping them at top quality (I’m a copyeditor). I would finish my work sooner than expected and ask for more work to do. My boss would either ignore me or ask me to wait a few minutes for a response and then never get back to me. I asked others in the office for help. It seemed that everyone was so busy that they couldn’t take the time out to give someone else some of their workload in order to alleviate their own. Then, a few months into my employ here, a new system of “goals” (read: quotas) was put in place in order to increase productivity. The weekly goal set for me was about the amount of work I could do in two to three days. For a while there, I continued working as hard as I could, usually exceeding my goal by half and at times doubling it.

We had weekly meetings to discuss who met and didn’t meet their quota and how close we were to the Main Goal down the road. I found my extra work going unnoticed. So the following week, I worked less hard, spent more time in IM, and got the same nod as I did when I had worked harder. So the next week, I worked even less hard, spent more time on IM and updated my journal more often, and got the same nod as I did when I worked less hard than I did in the first place. Finally, it got to the point where I stopped asking for extra work and spent enough time goofing off just to meet my quota at the end of the week, and it was as if I had done it all right.

I’m a bit of a workaholic. I get terribly bored if I’m not busy and working hard; working a lot and working well are very important to me. I’ve had a job almost continuously since I was fifteen, and have worked more than one at a time on multiple occasions, as many as three at once during my senior year of high school. Consciously doing a bad job was depressing me, and I was considering leaving. What is the point of going someplace to not work hard and not do a good job? I’d rather not have a job than go to work and piss around.

Anyhoo, what I’m worried about now is a.) how long will this last or is it only going to be a couple of days of me feeling good about my job before I hate it again, and b.) if things do keep coming up Milhouse, it will be kind of a bummer since I have become nice and fond of loading my friends page every seven minutes.
  • Current Mood
    rejuvenated rejuvenated
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JOY

Not Fawlty Towers! Noooooooooooooooooooo!

Even though at times I may think I'm smarter/wittier/hipper/more in tune/less gullible than others, I know deep down in my heart of hearts I am nothing but a slave to the media around me. I just can't help myself.

Example: I just finished taking the "Rate A Scream" thing from that little box that pops up every time you sign on to AIM nowadays. This was a little game where they played clips from horror movies and I thought the goal was to rate the clip, but judging from the cumulative scores, I think people were more picking their favorite movie. They had this little picture come up with a picture of a scene from the movie being rated, a little blurb about it at the bottom, and a wav of the catchphrase: "they're here", "Here's Johnny", "Every town has an elm street", stuff like that (although the one for Halloween had no speaking or anything, just the eerie music). The one for Silence of the Lambs had Hannibal Lecter saying that business at the end about how he'd love to stay and chat but he's having an old friend for dinner. The part that confused me, though, was how the quippy blurb describing why this is scary said "Hannibal Lecter with his chilling words and scary accent will frighten us forever."

Since when is an English accent scary?

That Eric Idle scares the living poop out of me. That accent? Damn. And forget about those two chicks on AbFab...
  • Current Mood
    scared scared
JOY

If you have lost telephone service, please call...

There is a sign in the elevator at my work that says "In case of elevator emergency during non-business hours, call (202)-something-something-something-something.

I know lots of people have cell phones, but come on. That's a little presumptuous. Even if they do have a cell phone, I know I can't get any reception at my desk; I can't imagine how impossible it would be to make a call from the elevator.

Note to self: keep granola bars in purse in case of elevator emergency.
  • Current Mood
    amused amused