Monday, January 29, 2007
* Jordan, our temp and go-to man, would not only be the windshield since he gets all the crap, but also the floor mat since he always gets stepped on.
* I would be the shocks since I keep the office stable and the gas pedal because I make things happen in the office. However, when the office isn’t busy, I’m more like tinted windows. Nice to have but not really necessary.
* Michele, the office manager, is the car’s governor. She tells us what we can do but there are always limits we aren’t aware of. Also, she likes to sing which makes her the radio; always saying something but not necessarily anything important.
* Tommy, the office head, has the loudest cell phone so of course he would be the horn.
* Tommy also would be, along with Chris and Mark, the project managers, component parts of the engine. Without them, we really wouldn’t go anywhere.
* Jim, my 79 year old boss, would be the brakes. Although he’s crucial to the company, he does tend to slow us down.
* Ray, the marketing director, is like gas. He’s the one who gets things started but he’s always running out of energy.
* Claudia, another temp, would be the automatic windows and locks. Not necessary but sure makes things easier.
* Subcontractors – Tires because they are always so over inflated and full of hot air.
So...what part of the car would YOU be in your office/home/relationship/etc?
Thursday, January 25, 2007
So Rachel-the-flight-attendant, hope you are feeling better. And Rachel-the-used-to-be-my-boss-out-in-Utah-but-now-lives-in-California, you are awesome!
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Anyway, I pumped up my tires, filled up the car with gas, and got back onto the road, er, parking lot. I don’t know who makes the decisions about road construction but they have yet to consult me because I would let them know it is NOT a good choice to merge three lanes into one just a mile before the onramp – which by the way, pours onto the freeway in the left – or fast – lane. I did all I could do: sat in my car with my wipers and defroster on high. (I neglected to mention this trip was taken while Atlanta was under a tornado watch).
I finally was able to merge onto the freeway and get to my interview. Even leaving with an extra half hour, I got there 5 minutes late. I removed my rain jacket, shook hands, sat down and was caught off guard by the first comment:
“I see you have a degree in Science from the Y.”
…No, I have a bachelor of science in Recreation Management.
“Oh. Okaaaaay. Well, that’s alright, that’s alright.”
The interview, not one of my better ones, finally finished and I left. I wanted to quickly stop in at Ikea before attending to other errands and then meet a friend for dinner. My plans did not go as I anticipated but, always looking for a learning opportunity, this is what I gleaned from my day in Atlanta.
- Ikea is huge!
- You can find a parking spot, walk a mile to get to Ikea, walk a mile to the one item you need, walk the mile back to the checkout, wait in line for the two clerks to ring everyone up, walk a mile back to your car FASTER than you can drive 20 miles on the freeway.
- In the planning meeting, city officials must have run out of names because every street is called Peachtree-something.
- Atlanta has tornadoes?!
- The toll on GA 400 is $ .50.
- Downtown Atlanta is not set up like downtown Salt Lake City.
- Spaghetti junction really is like pasta. Although it looks smooth, there are always sticky spots.
After dinner, I started thinking about all the events of the day and laughed when I remembered the whistler at the gas station. One thing was clear: as for the job, I don’t know if I got it, but I do know that I still got it!
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
With a capital, bolded, underlined C...and this cheap is on the border-line of ghetto.
Yesterday while sorting the mail at work I noticed one of the envelopes had gone through the stamp reader upside down. This meant the red ink that normally indicates where the letter sent from was across the bottom of the envelope instead of the stamp. Since the stamp didn’t have the red markings, I cut it out to use again. That’s what makes me ghetto-cheap. But here is my moral dilemma.
Should I reuse the stamp? I mean, it technically was used but then again, no one can tell. If I just throw it away, that’s a good $ .63 just wasted. (Extra postage stamp…I could write a friend in
Before you answer though, here is your moral dilemma. I watched my mom do this when I was little. So if you call ME cheap and dishonest, really you are name calling Mama Mia. (and she reads these blogs.) So NOW what do you think?
Thursday, January 11, 2007
* I don’t have a husband or children,
* I’ve never been to war and,
* I am not related to Britney Spears.
According to my friend "google", if I am stressed, I should be experiencing:
Headaches (well, my head does feel like it weighs 10 lbs)
Sleep disturbances (especially when my alarm clock goes off in the morning)
Irregular heartbeat (Is this when a cute boy walks by or all the time?)
Weight gain or loss (Before or after this past holiday season?)
Hair loss (especially if I continuing pulling out each gray hair)
and sweatiness (can someone hand me a towel…and a new shirt?).
…whoa, just reading that list is stressful. Perhaps I should check for more gray hair!
Tuesday, January 9, 2007
I go to dances.
Those two statements alone provide endless fodder for my blog. Once a month I go to a Young Single Adult Dance in Atlanta composed primarily of Latter-day Saints. I am not the best dancer there – by far – and the 1.5 hour drive each way usually isn’t too exciting but the dance allows for socializing, networking, and (I hate to admit it) dating opportunities. Of course, there are a few weirdoes that also attend and I thought I'd met them all. There is “the leaner” that, legend has it, leaned into a girl and said he thought she looked like she needed a kiss. She moved away but he has been seen coming out of classrooms with different girls whose hair shows ruffling. There is also “Matrix” who shaves his head and wears his floor-length, black, leather coat the duration of the dance. There is another guy who I’ll just call “True southern boy” who wanted to show me his rifle collection and even gave me directions to his mobile home. (You can’t make these things up!)
This weekend I met a new weirdo though. He was standing maybe 10 feet away motionless except for his fingers. His hand was up like he was about to wave at someone but his fingers moved slowly back and forth like he was twisting an imaginary pencil back and forth from pinky to pointer, pointer to pinky. Never having seen someone wave in such a slow deliberate manner, I walked closer to investigate – and recoiled back once I saw the snake in his hand. Let me take a moment to point out that snakes are not all bad. I have held a fair share of them. However, a dance (or a plane) is neither the place nor time for reptile exhibits so I asked him what he was doing with a snake. He told me he had owned the snake for 7 years; it was his pet. I wondered why he wasn’t getting my point and further asked where he planned on putting the snake during the dance. He said that he would continue to hold it and when he asked girls to dance, he would let them know about the snake on the way to the dance floor.
Now, I like to think that I am a friendly person…when someone talks to me, I engage in conversation. If I need to exit for some reason, I can always find a way out like, “Well, that sounds good” or “Nice seeing you,” but when he told me that, I nodded, raised my eyebrows in silent shock, turned and walked away.
Ssssee ya later!