Happy New Year of Blank Squares!

Twas The Week Before Christmas

Twas the week before Christmas, at every one's job
Not a creature is working, not Richard nor Bob.
Amazon, Zappos, and eBay we're shopping
Minimized with a click when the boss comes a' knocking.

JCPenney.com you think that you spied?
Of course not, Sir, that's your PowerPoint slides.
Now it's off to a two hour lunch and some drinks
Followed, to be honest, by forty afternoon winks.

But over by reception there arose such a clatter,
That I sprang from my cube to see what was the matter.
Away to the front desk I flew like a bird
Pushed aside Carl and shoved past some nerd!

Two more gift baskets had just been delivered
The cheese being ransacked, the sausages slivered.
When what to my wondering eyes was revealed?
A client with the foresight to send Mrs. Fields!

With peanut butter, chocolate, and Macadamia nuts,
I knew in a moment we'd fill up our guts.
More rapid than eagles they coursed down our throats
Our teeth snugly wrapped in their sugary coats.

"Now Marilyn! Now Amber! Now get back to work!
On Susan! On Celia! I pay you, you jerks!"
It's the boss come back early to spoil our fun
Not to worry, my friends, he's got more meetings at one.

We shall run out to Starbucks for lattes so tall,
That the clients won't get their Fed Exes at all.
Sixteen new voice mails that shall never be heard
Face facts you losers, it's December twenty-third!

Dictation tapes lay in an unwanted pile
My filing could stretch down the road half a mile.
But it all will be here when the holiday's through
So screw it for now. That's it. Woo hoo!

The clock turns to five and we sprint to our rides
The icy grip of the office still nipping our hides.
And you'll hear us exclaim, as we peel out of Hell

"Happy Christmas to all! Don't you dare call my cell!"

How I received one of my Christmas presents

French Fry Fail

Welcome! The Murderous Rampage Just Ended

It's so good to finally meet you!  Can I get you some water or a coffee?  Please, have a seat next to the chalk outline of our last Administrative Assistant, and I will be back in a jiffy. 

Love that sweater, by the way.  Ann Taylor?  Just as soon as I get this blood stained paperwork out of the way we can get started.  We've been swamped this morning, what with the arrest, the questioning, the police shootout. You know how Mondays can be.  Especially now that we're down a person. 

 
Let me just start by saying that we have a real good group of folks here.  Richard, the gentleman you saw being led out in handcuffs, he'll be your immediate supervisor.  Unfortunately he can't be here to meet with you right now - personal matter - but with any luck he'll plead self defense and be back in time to start your training.  That other man, the one who ran by like a rabid dog, that's Dave.  You'll be working closely with him as well.  He's frothing at the mouth right now, but after the inevitable restraining order that you will have placed on him is lifted, you'll find he's a real pleasure to work with.  God love him, it's like he doesn't even remember decapitating the Fed Ex guy.  So, do you have kids?

The position itself involves pretty basic administrative work.  Data entry, filing, never and I mean never looking inside the second floor broom closet, I swear to God if you touch that closet you will not live to see the light of day, answering phones, opening mail, you get the picture.  It's not glamorous work, but we make an honest living here.  Are you feeling okay?  If the mutilated Cabbage Patch dolls are making you uncomfortable, feel free to place them on the floor with the others.

 
We also offer an excellent benefits package that includes seven million dollars toward legal fees, a safe house in Stockhol - oh, pardon me, that's our Project Manager's benefits package. For an Administrative Assistant we offer two weeks vacation, unlimited visits to the emergency room, and access to our wonderfully secluded vacation home in Maine should we ever need to imprison -  I mean reward - you for your dedication.  That lake is gorgeous, and so very deep. 

One last thing, it's really just a technicality, but I will need to check your references before we can offer you the position.  The last thing we need is to hire ourselves a nut job. 

The Joy of Office Secret Santa

Every Christmas the girls in my office used to do a Secret Santa swap. We are a small office, so this usually worked out to be four admins, the receptionist, and the token female CAD worker that my company keeps on hand to fend off affirmative action. A few years ago, we made the unfortunate decision to end the Secret Santa tradition. The reason had something to do with saving money, or saving time, but I can tell you that one year I received a cookie jar in the form of a cat wearing a Christmas sweater, so it sure as hell wasn't my idea to pull the plug. Cookie jars shaped like cats in Christmas sweaters were put on this planet, and the clearance aisle of Ocean State Job Lot, to be made fun of. I talked about that cookie jar for months. I photographed my cat looking at that cookie jar with an expression on his face that said "I hope you didn't bring this broad home for me." Right up until the moment that the Salvation Army truck hauled its ugly ass away, that cookie jar brought me tidings of great joy.

And that, my friends, is the beauty of the Secret Santa swap. Sometimes you get something good and sometimes you get something horrid. Sometimes the woman who wears Gucci boots pulls your name, and sometimes it's the woman who wears pink corduroy overalls. Life is a crapshoot and Secret Santa is filled with crap. But at least it gave us a few minutes of giggly anticipation and holiday cheer in the conference room, and to me that was well worth the twenty-five bucks.

I bring tidings of great joy, and a tinny version of Don't Worry Be Happy

Now the only tradition left is that all the girls chip in to purchase a gift for our Branch Manager - a gift that usually costs us more than the $25 Secret Santa swap would have. He is supremely wealthy and we are all terrified of him. How the holiday joy abounds! My thought is that he could probably live without another gift card to that place where you get your hair cut by a woman in spandex shorts, and we could reinstate our little gift exchange. Perhaps then, instead of wanting to stick my foot out as he walks past my cubicle with yet another new golf club perched upon his shoulder, I could tip my hat, tuck a festively wrapped Big Mouth Billy Bass underneath my arm, and head gleefully into the conference room.

The Alchemist

My brother-in-law the teacher, the one with the schedule all us office workers are insanely jealous of, recommended this book to me.  I was hooked within minutes of reading the introduction, and continued on with little voices shouting "yes!" and  "so true!" in my head the entire time.  It is about a shepherd boy who literally follows his dream - a dream that tells him he will find a buried treasure at the pyramids in Egypt.  Along the way he meets characters who teach him about the importance of not giving up because the very next time that you try could be the time that you will succeed.  The book is an allegory and gets deeply philosophical at times, but the message is very basic and unbelievably inspirational. 
 


And now blog readers, consisting of my mother and possibly one coworker, I am going to put my latest goal up on the Internet so that I will have to answer to someone besides myself if I don't at least pursue it.  I wrote a novel a few years ago about an unhappy secretary.  I wrote for a year straight and then put it away and haven't thought about it since.  I recently entered it into a contest, and although I didn't make it to the final round, I received surprisingly good reviews from the judges.  And so, thanks to finishing The Alchemist right before my contest results arrived, I am vowing to take my novel out and spruce the old girl up. 

But my goal is bigger than that.  I say that one year from today I will have found myself an agent who is willing to work with me to find a publisher.  If little Santiago the shepherd boy can trek across the desert in the middle of tribal wars, then I can certainly give up watching The Sing Off in order to work on my book. 

See you back here in a year.

Area Plan Considers Options

Leftovers

There is some leftover mustard and mayonnaise in the kitchen. No sandwiches.

Thermostat

This is a picture of a non-functioning thermostat. Next up, a picture of my non-functioning frozen corpse.

Toilets

A mere four months after system failure, someone has finally come to fix the toilets.

Coworker's Creepiness Destroying Other People's Friendships

December 5, 2010

Boston, MA - Over the course of four years, office creep, Marty Thompson, 56, has singlehandedly ended the innocent friendships of four grossed out administrative assistants.

"Any time Tracy and I were talking, he would just appear out of nowhere and make a comment about how we're always together," said Annabeth Spencer, 29. "Then he would make a joke about how he was going to tell on us to our boss. He was practically drooling all over his scraggly beard."

"We decided that it was best if we never spoke to each other again," said Tracy Johnson, 28. "All I need is for that guy to picture us having a pajama party."

Over the years, several other administrative assistants have called it quits on their friendships due to Thompsons unwelcome remarks and the fact that he drives a 1997 Lincoln Towncar with a green wash cloth on the dashboard.

"Megan Riley and I used to be great friends," said Ariana Benson, 25, "until that day Marty walked by while I was cutting a tag out of her sweater and asked if we needed any help."

"Never again," said Megan. "It's not worth it. Now I just hang out with Rob Markowski in IT. He has acne. Wait, could he be into that too?"

While Thompson has never formally been charged with sexual harassment, he has been unable to escape his image as a total skeezoid loser. Neither his black tapered jeans and Miami Dolphins jacket combo, nor the nude mannequin legs in his back seat, have helped in shedding the debilitating label.

When approached for comment, Thompson locked himself inside his office either to review invoices or to watch video feed from the first floor ladies restroom.

Font

Your large font makes me doubt your intelligence.

S4L Daily News Headlines

Earring Back Lost Down Blouse.