There's this lady at work, Stella, who's probably old enough to be my mom. Apparently, she's a font of marriage wisdom. I'm not sure what makes her think she qualifies, but maybe it has to do with the fact that she's going through a divorce, and her current boyfriend has been so fleeced by his ex-wife that he sleeps on the floor of a single wide. I mean, between the two of them they have like...almost three marraige-worths of advice to hand out, right?

Anyways, she's constantly...berating me about the things that I absolutely have to do or my marriage won't last. I'm saying - it's like a barrage. She's waving her hands around and her eyes are giant dinner plates bulging behind her bifolcals. She's speaking loudly, emphasizing every other word, she should've been a televangelist.

She told me a few months ago that nothing else mattered, as long as I got a luxurious suite for the honeymoon. And draped rose petals all over the floor. And got the nicest bottle of champagne. It was just complete idiocy.

This morning she starts telling me the following:
"Shank, listen me. NOTHING else you do will matter so much as asking her if you can help her out."
"..."
"Around Christmas time, women feel all this pressure. We have to make cookies. It's stupid, but we just have to make cookies!"
I start making a weird, tight lipped grimace. It's because I can't decide if I want to scream or double over in laughter. My options are to start fucking with her, or just sit through this latest episode.
"If you just ask her 'Hey, is there anything I can do?" Even if there's nothing you can do, she'll appreciate it so much. Because the cookies andthepresentsandthedinnersandthecardsit'sallsostressful!"
I decide to commence the mind fuck. "Stella, you got to lay off the cookies."
"I can't."
"Besides, I'm not good at anything so I never ask to help. Furthermore, I would hate for her to actually say she needed some help, because God knows I'm not interested in helping her."
"But you should ask anyways." God, she so self-absorbed I can't even get her to bite at the sarcastic bait I'm throwing at her. Instead, she launches into this story about how her daughter, sick with a cold or something, asked Stella if she could help make cookies. Apparently, it made her day. Blah blah blah blah blah.

Look, if the secret(s) to maintaining a happy, lasting marriage could be codified and boiled down into a few little pearls of wisdom - your ass wouldn't be divorced. If it's just that fucking simple. Look, I got some advice for you. How 'bout, when shit needs cooking or cleaning, whoever has the time does it. How 'bout, when shit is piling up around the house, you take care of that shit together, ya know as a couple, instead of enabling your obviously lazy husband to sit on the couch and watch you work yourself into some kind of Yultide panice attack.

I mean, fuck. If you hate feeling stressed about the obligations of your role in your marriage, maybe you should try changing that role, instead of giving people advice that directly promotes such restrictive gender boundaries...bitch.

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At work, we have an administrative resident. It's basically a position for folks who've just completed gradschool; they work closely with senior leadership on various projects. Similar to an internship, but it lasts for a year and it pays.

So anyways, the resident and I work close, and she kind of identifies with me since we're the same age and all that. She asks me for advice sometimes, since I'm a little more familiar with the unspoken mores of the organization. Today, she came to me complaining about this specific AA who's notorious for trying to throw people under the bus. She's always handing off challenging work to others, playing stupid, and yet somehow manages to enjoy decent job security. I hate this bitch, because she's tried to dump on me several times right in front of her direct report, one of the VP's.

So the resident's like "You're never gonna believe what happened today."
"Shoot."
"The bus driver is making me take minutes at the senior leadership meeting."
"She's not the bus driver, she's the person throwing you in front of the bus. And she shouldn't be making you do a goddamn thing, since she's not superior to you."
"Whatever. She said 'The residents used to do this, but I've been doing it for the past few years. I don't know why, but I'm giving it to you.'"
"Horseshit. The reason the residents quit doing it was probably because it was a waste of their fucking time as future CEO's and shit to take minutes."
"I know."
"So what the fuck does that bitch do for a living now? Answer the phone for 40k/year and full benefits?"
"I know."
"So did you tell her to fuck off?"
"No! Dude, I'm trying to get a job offer out of this gig."
"Well, you fucked yourself. You should always have a busy response."
"A busy response?"
"Yeah. As soon as you realize this bitch is trying to throw you in front of the bus, or get you to do her goddamn job for her that she's been doing for the past few fucking years; you cut her off mid-sentance with your busy response. Like so: 'Yeah look Helen I've got (list several projects here, make some up) the labor reqs to take care of, supply budgets for sixteen units, PAF's to clean up, operational budget variances are stacking up on my desk, and next week the VP of (any department will do, except the one the bitch works in) Strategy and I are presenting some AD/C data to the CEO. Just can't do it. Hey, would you mind chucking something in the interoffice mail for me?'"
"Wow."
"Works everytime. But be sure that what she's actually asking you to do is horseshit. As a matter of fact, you need to get a job offer somewhere else, just so you can someday bask in the pure pleasure of telling her she's full of horseshit."
"Dude. You're the man."
"Fuck, you're the one who got the residency. Now get out there and administrate."

That's me. Fostering educational growth and career expansion. GO TEAM!

Posted by: shank at 08:19 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Last night we went to this local Asian market because we were cooking Thai with some friends. Apparently, between the leaving the market and getting into our car, the fiancee unknowingly drops her cell. About two hours later, we get ready to leave the house to meet our friends.

"Where's my phone?"
"Iono. Lemme ring your bling." I dial, the phone begins ringing. The fiancee runs hither and thither trying to find it or hear the ringing. Then someone picks up. It was a little weird.
"Heh-ro?" Thick Asian accent.
"Um. Where are you?" The fiancee is giving me the fish eye, she's only hearing my side of the convo, and she wants to know what's up. I'm now having two conversations with one mouth. "Someone has your phone."
Asian stranger: "I have your phone."
Me: "Yeah, um. Are you at the Saigon Market?"
Fiancee: "Who is it? Where are they?"
AS: "No, I have a meeting."
Me: "Can we meet you somewhere to pick up the phone?"
F: "Where will they meet us?"
AS: "What? I have a meeting?"
Me: "She has a meeting or something. I have no clue what she's saying. WE CAN MEET YOU AT THE SAIGON MARKET." I'm beginning to think some village in Korea or maybe on the high steppes of China has lost their idiot; an idiot who has managed to find this particular cell phone. I have an epihpany: When Rube Goldberg died, God made him fate's architect.
F: "What the fuck? She has a meeting? She's got my damn phone! We can meet her at her meeting." We begin speeding through the city streets toward the Asian market, just to see if the owner has it, or anyone said anything to her. I have a hunch it's probably not the owner of the market, but I'm willing to satisfy a little curiosity.
Me: "We can meet you at your meeting. Just tell us how to get there."
AS: "What? I can't hear you. Why do you need to come to my meeting?" She said it pleadingly, like, 'Why are you torturing me?' Almost like she was complaining.
Me: "Because you have our phone. Where can we meet you then?"
F: "She won't meet with us? Jesus! She's stealing my phone."
AS: "I can't meet you tonight. I have a meeting, it's going to be late. Call me tomorrow." She's still complaining, like a kid who wants some candy and you won't give it to them. She hangs up.

I look back at the fiancee and she's ratcheted up somewhere between 'Pissed' and 'Murderous Rage'. "That bitch won't give us the phone? Why the fuck did she answer then?" She's flying around corners, I think we just knocked a delivery boy off his moped. We're driving down the shoulder, straddling the curb. Pedestrians on the sidewalk throw their belongings in the air and dive out of the way. It's complete bedlam.

One of our friends calls me. "Dude, I just called your fiancee's cell, and some weird Chinese woman answered. She started asking me whose phone she was talking on."
Fiancee: "Who's that? Is that the bitch who stole my phone?" We fly through an intersection, narrowly missing a school bus, and pass an ambulance with it's lights flashing.
Me: "Asian."
Friend: "What?"
Me: "Nevermind. Yeah, some lady picked up her celly and now it's like, too much of a pain in her ass to give it back to us. I gotta call you back."
Friend: Laughing. "Ha! What? Well, good luck with that, the Chinese are a hard-bargaining people."
Me: "What?"
My friend hangs up on me. That's two hangups in a row.

We arrive at the Asian market and speak with the owner. She obvisouly doesn't have the phone, and no one said anything about it to her. She wishes us luck. Damn. Back in the car towards our friends' place.

We decide to call back the Asian Stranger who's falsely imprisoning our phone.
"Hi."
"Hello? This your phone?"
"Yeah, look we can meet you anywhere. We've got to have the phone back tonight." I begin to tell her a lie about us getting married tomorrow. I really get myself worked up good. She's ruining our wedding. Our day, you cold hearted beast, you. I imagine myself accepting an Oscar. I cry, I thank Jesus and my children. The music begins playing...
"I can't hear you. Fine. I meet you at ten."
"Okay, well, where at?"
Hangup number three for the evening. I'm having a swell half hour here.

The fiancee has finally peaked, and upon attaining 'Violently Irate', she begins spewing death threats, curses upon future descendants, plagues, and all manner of grotesque physical injuries. I try to call the cell back, but the Asian Stranger has turned the phone off. I mumble something about this newest development and we damn near slam into a telephone pole. The fiancee's anger is now so powerful, that it has become it's own entity. She has become so filled with rage that it begins to manifest itself physically. His name is apparently Vincenze. He calls himself a businessman in a way that makes me think he's a hitman. It's appropriate anyways.

We call periodically over the next few hours, just to see if maybe the Asian Stranger has gotten out of her meeting early. It's straight to the voicemail every time. We never hear back from the Asian Stranger.

We eventually went to the Cingular store this evening, having given up on ever seeing our little lost celly again. She got one of the Razor V3's. It's frickin' awesome, and I am highly jealous. I can't get an upgrade until January, maybe the fiancee will let me borrow hers until then. I promise to give it back.

Posted by: shank at 09:08 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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I'll just tuck this in the extended entry, because it's not a happy thing. more...

Posted by: shank at 11:24 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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1 I'm working to change an organization of nearly 4,000 employees that tells me "But this is the way we've always done things." Your new job is at my company? Holy shit!

Posted by: Jim at December 02, 2005 05:30 AM (oqu5j)

2 I'm working to change an organization of nearly 4,000 employees that tells me "But this is the way we've always done things." Most people are afraid to leave their comfort zones. Most people understand that 2+2=4, but are not interested in 3+1=4, etc. Most people are barely able to do their current jobs. Most people live in state of fear which lurks just under the surface. I'm a man of action. My fear doesn't lurk...I'm on red alert all day. That's why I'm on the ball and embrace change. You're facing a common problem that almost all executives have to fight all day. I've been successfull by leaving them no "outs". "This is why we're changing. This is how we're changing. Please complete the change by this date. If you are unable or unwilling to support this change, I will run you over with the rest of the winners trampling close behind me." As for the church, just after I went through all the rigamarole to get married in church, against my will and for the benefit of my wife, a priest told me he didn't want my kind in church. "What's my kind?" I asked. "People that never want to go to church." "Fair enough. We'll both be a lot happier." I now go to church on occaision, when I'm in europe, and there's no mass being held, and the building was constructed several hundred years ago and filled with priceless art. That's my kind of church-going. As for cars, I seem to blow through O2 sensors once a month, at $600 bucks a pop. As soon as the car was out of warranty they started going left and right. Seems the old lady has four in her car that go out reguarly. You can't win. No matter how fast you run the race, you cannot win. Once you realize that you tend to relax a lot more.

Posted by: Paul at December 02, 2005 08:24 AM (vbP6L)

3 A wise person once told me that insanity is doing the same thing over and over and over expecting a different result each time. Furthermore, *bubabubabubabubabuba*.

Posted by: DeAnna at December 02, 2005 11:57 AM (IdVP4)

4 Hey, I'm coming home next week and we can talk out some of this shit. You're one of us, Brother, and you're just like Dad: we're goign to get through all of this (the Volvo is a POS, too, the latest problem being something wrong with the steering column. it's a good thing I40 is so straight, or I probably wouldn't make it home next week. Don't flip your shit, you're going to want that stuff some day!

Posted by: youngers at December 02, 2005 01:17 PM (vtVDO)

5 Dude... relax. The more serious you take life the more likely it is to run you over. Don't worry about your religion, it is YOUR religion (or not)... don't let anyone else tell you what to do with it... do you really care what the priest thinks? Your car - yeah, shit happens. Don't worry about it... get it fixed and move on. If you were meant to be homeless so be it... Work - fuck. Your company is just like everyone elses... do what you can and don't worry about what the other fuckers are moaning about... I like the adage from Paul, "If you are unable or unwilling to support this change, I will run you over with the rest of the winners trampling close behind me." Deep cleansing breath - now move on...

Posted by: Wendy at December 02, 2005 03:51 PM (FYcXB)

6 deep breaths actually, really, are the poopoo.

Posted by: youngers at December 03, 2005 09:54 AM (4hSmc)

7 Have you tried it? You'd be surprised...

Posted by: Wendy at December 06, 2005 12:31 PM (FYcXB)

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