November 25, 2009 | Filed under: Because They Pay Me

I spend a lot of time being aggravated by work, people at work, things associated with work, etc.

But today I spent 15 minutes with some construction paper and access to 64 of Crayola’s finest.

And not just me — most of my office.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.  Maybe this year we (and by “we” I mean “I”) should lower our standards just a bit and be thankful to have a job and a home and friends with whom to celebrate this crazy holiday that features a conveniently hand-shaped bird.

January 11, 2009 | Filed under: Because They Pay Me, DC! DC! DC!

Preparations are in full swing, here in our nation’s capital, where soon five million people* will descend upon the city and surrounding six states for the historic inauguration of Barack Obama.

* Or two million. We’re not sure. Either way, we’re pretty sure it’s gonna be a shit-ton of them and it’ll make the natives cry and wish for the easy, breezy, uncongested streets we see during the Cherry Blossom Festival.

Things started last fall, with the repaving of Pennsylvania Avenue (Confidential to those of you who will see the parade on TV: Yes, DC has had some work done, but let me tell you, the asphalt really does look *that* good in person. It’s not just her make-up artist.); the assembly of the bleachers and podium and whatnot in front of the Capitol has been going on for a couple of months; and in the last few weeks, weekly updates about which roads and bridges into the city will be open on Inauguration Day. (Hint: none.)

In the past two weeks, the activity around my office has gotten quite noticeable.  The street is blocked off a couple of blocks away.  That started right around New Year’s, without notice, just nope, you can’t go there. A police car is permanently parked in the way. Today there were jersey barriers strategically placed on the sidewalk at each corner of the block. And many more bleachers have been set up along the parade route leading to the White House. I was worried today that going to the ATM was going to require crossing a police line — the yellow tape fluttered in the wind. Thankfully, Bank of America appears not to be off limits. Yet.

* * * * * *

So, DC is nearly ready. You know who is not ready? ME.

Work is hosting an Inaugural Ball, which, yay! fun! fancy dresses and guys in tuxes! (Note to self: Hands. Off. 90% of them are married and the other 10% are gay.)

I’ve had my dress for a while (knowing life would be insane now-ish and I would have no desire to go shopping for a dress under such stressful conditions), which sounds very prepared of me. Yeah. Let me tell you, Christmas cookies for breakfast + no gym time + fancy dress made of totally unforgiving satin = not prepared.  NOT PREPARED.

I’m hoping for my own version of an 8-day miracle, and it better not involve any oil.

(The dry cleaner/seamstress lady in my office building really liked the dress, though, and thought it fit perfectly. I agree, if by “perfectly” you mean “it shows perfectly every ounce of mass in my body without a millimeter to spare for lovely supportive undergarments.” I’m hoping for a miracle from her, too, because I’m out of town until the day before I need to pick the dress up, so there’s not much margin for error here. No pressure!)

(And yes, my dress features boobs. Nice, tasteful, work-appropriate boobs.)

* * * * * *

Just in case there was any confusion out there and y’all thought I am a mature, responsible grown-up, let me assure you that I have the mind of a 12-year old boy. That was probably clear from the title of this post, but if not, please know that in the span of ten minutes, I snickered at both of the following quotes from sportscasters calling a football game this weekend:

Not a lot of room for Kurt Warner to get the ball in there.

Just stick it up in there and get three or four yards.

I mean, that first one isn’t even that funny. But it sort of is, especially if you’re only half listening to the commentary, which I was. Similarly, I have a credit card whose online account access page requires you to visit — and I am not making this up – www.servicemycard.com. WHO IN MARKETING MISSED THAT ONE? Really, people? Really? Or am I the only customer out there who can’t keep a straight face while she checks her most recent statement?

Finally, a tip for all of you football fans:  do not date someone with the same last name as a talented running back.  When you cease dating, watching football will become noticeably less enjoyable, as you will continually be reminded of your ex’s existence, and spending the game hoping some horrible groin injury befalls him isn’t really fair to the football player.

October 4, 2008 | Filed under: Because They Pay Me, Good Things Come to Those Who Are Impatient Whiners

You know that $700 billion financial bailout package the House failed to pass last Monday?  That the Senate voted out on Wednesday?  That the House DID pass on Friday and the President nearly immediately signed into law?  Well, somewhere in those 400-and-some-odd pages are about five pages dedicated to my organization’s top priority.  A policy we’ve been working on getting enacted for nearly two years.  (To be fair, that’s pretty decent turnaround time.  Some groups have fought for policy changes for better than a decade, without success.)  A policy which commands the attention of much of the staff and sucks all the air out of the room whenever we consider tackling other projects.

One 15-minute vote, and just like that, the whole world changed. 

We high-fived and hugged and drank champagne and went to the roof deck to smoke cigars.  Somebody thought to order pizza.  When we ran out of booze, we went to the bar downstairs.

My role isn’t to be the office cynic — someone else has that title wrapped up — but I am, at best, “cautiously optimistic” when it comes to this sort of stuff.  I know the many, many, many ways in which things can go wrong, so I take a firm stance of not counting one’s chickens before they’re hatched.  Thus, even yesterday morning I was unconvinced this bill would actually pass with our policy intact.  Blame it on my conservative Midwestern upbringing, where even deserved celebrating is frowned upon, let alone premature celebration. 

It’s slowly sinking in, but I don’t think it will be real for a week or two or maybe not for another couple of months, when our Board sits down to identify next year’s priorities and we have to find something new to put in that #1 slot.  It’s somewhat frightening to realize that the issues I work on are leading contenders, but that’s a good problem to have.

June 30, 2008 | Filed under: Because They Pay Me, Thinky

I started my first job in DC six years ago, on the tenth of June. (I meant to write this to commemorate the actual anniversary, but like so many brilliant blog ideas I’ve had this year, time got away from me.) I had a good job, it was in the field I wanted, there was a lot to learn and my colleagues were willing to teach me. Work also provided a hefty part of my social life, for which I am still grateful. It was exactly what I wanted.

* * * * *

I’d had visions of my big city life since I was a kid. My job, oh, that was usually the focus of these daydreams. The frantic pace, the expense account lunches, the schmoozing at cocktail parties, the conversations about how we’d be a hell of a lot more successful if certain people were capable of removing their heads from their asses for just five minutes. (Yes, even my daydreams contain foul language.)

My last place of employment had none of that, which is probably a good thing.

* * * * *

I wear a suit every day, except for the days on which I don’t anticipate any outside meetings and then I wear an outfit over which I can toss the jacket that lives at the office specifically for that purpose. You know you’re dedicated to your job when you work six days in a row, one of which is a Sunday and another of which is a federal holiday, all of those days decked out in a suit and heels. It was three months before I wore jeans to work on a Friday, and only then could I get away with it because it was Good Friday and half the city wasn’t at work anyway. I blow dry my hair and do full makeup almost every day, again only slacking on the days I’m not in a suit. I shave far more than once a fortnight now, to accommodate all the pantyhose-wearing. The personal upkeep alone is a part-time job.

* * * * *

“How’s the job going?” a friend inquired.

“Have you ever been thrown into a murky pool filled with piranhas that immediately get to work eating you alive?” I replied. “It’s kind of like that.”

I had a rough couple of weeks there, time that conveniently coincided with my parents’ visit, which I’m sure just made me a barrel of monkeys to be around. I don’t know – maybe they liked being snapped at and told I don’t have time for things and work sucked, could we please not talk about it, what did you do today? Probably the icing on the cake was when I left them at the table to order my dinner for me while I went to the restroom and sobbed. If they noticed that I came back to the table without any mascara on, they didn’t mention it.

* * * * *

I knew this job would be a challenge. I picked it because there were new things to learn and good opportunities to develop skills in areas in which I know I’m weak.

I grossly under-estimated the extent of the challenge. Every day is a busy day. Few days go as planned, even when I don’t make a plan until 10 AM. I try in vain to enforce my rule of going home on time two nights a week. Officially we end at 5:30 but anything before 6:30 counts as “on time” in my book; 8:30 is not unheard of. And those weaknesses? Boy do they come to the fore in some pretty ugly ways. Well, awareness is the first step, right?

* * * * *

“Who are the piranhas?” my friend asked, “And why aren’t you biting back?”

I didn’t bite back, but I did manage to pull myself out of the water last week and score a couple of wins. That’s enough to keep me afloat for a while.

April 8, 2008 | Filed under: Because They Pay Me, Is She Still Talking?

I’ve had several inquiries recently from people wondering if I’ve given up blogging.  The short answer is: No. 

The long answer is: I’m eating a piece of cherry pie (free in the break room from the DC Convention & Visitors’ Bureau) and drinking a Diet Dr Pepper (also free in the usually well-stocked fridge in the break room).  For lunch.  Yes, lunch, at 5 pm.  This is what my life has come to.