August 2004 Archives

Whew!

A whole week without blogging. It was hard to go that long, but I was busy. Really, really busy. I kept trying to get time to get my new blog set up. A gratifying number of people emailed asking me to let them know where I had gone, but I had all this damn work to do. And then I went out of town. But now I'm back, and it's time to blog!

So...the new title. My spies believe they have unconvered the identity of the person who turned me in to HR, and they warned me that the suspected BlogNarc can be quite vindictive. I don't plan on blogging from work, or blogging much about work, but still, I want to avoid giving BlogNarc any more ammunition against me. This meant I had to come up with a title that is completely random, and not linked to me in any way.

When I first started my old blog, my husband joked that I should somehow work penguins into the title. I didn't do it then, but since I'm starting over, I decided to go with that. Bad Penguin struck me as funny for some reason.

I know. I have a weird sense of humor. But there you have it.

I have to set up my new blogroll and add the Haloscan comments again. I'll probably get to that tomorrow night. But yay! At least I have a blog again.

The work/blog saga continues.

I don't want to get into details, but I've decided it will be easier if I just move on to another url.

If I know you read the blog, or if you've ever been nice enough to leave me a comment, I'll send you the new url in the next couple of days. If I don't know you read and you want to know where I've gone, just send an email to me at and I'll tell you where to find me.

If you are one of my coworkers:

My career is important to me. That's why I'm moving the blog. I don't want you to read it. It's not that I'm going to talk about you, or cover topics that I don't want you to know about - I don't write about things that are really private. In fact, I'm proud of my blog. I just don't want anyone at the company having to waste another second thinking about me and my little blog, and this seems like the easiest way to put it all behind us.

Thanks,
Hilldery

A few final thoughts on the whole work/blog incident, and then I’ll move on, I swear. My next post will be all about Seamus or JournalCon or some weird dream I’ve had.

So, I’ve been thinking, and the explanation of how this all came about just doesn’t wash. Supposedly the person who contacted HR felt it was important that I know people in my office were reading my blog. Ok. It is good to know. But if that was all it was, why didn’t you just come tell me yourself? Or if you felt you couldn’t talk to me for some reason, why didn’t you stick an anonymous note in my mailbox? Or contact my boss? Why drag HR into it unless you were trying to get me in trouble?

And the worst part is, even though I’m not officially in trouble – I haven’t broken any rules or done anything wrong – you still succeeded to a certain extent. Now someone corporate has been made aware. I’m sitting here, in my home, writing on my computer, with that itchy feeling between my shoulder blades, knowing that a person who has the power to fire me will probably read this and judge me for it. Now someone will likely pay just a little more attention to which websites I visit, and how much time I spend on them. Some poor IT guy is probably going to have to slog through the logs of my IM conversations (sorry, dude. I’ll try to use the smiley faces less. I’m sure that gets annoying.)

I can’t figure out why you felt the need to “turn me in.” Did I do something to you? Are you jealous of my promotion? Or did you think I was slacking off, blogging at work and deserved to be punished? Perhaps you just don’t like me?

I guess it doesn’t really matter in the end. I still have my job, and I’m going to keep blogging. Hopefully that big brother peering over my shoulder feeling will fade in time.

And by the way? Even with the anxiety, distraction, insomnia, upset stomach and tmj headaches this whole thing brought on? I hit everyone one of my big deadlines this week and then some. That’s the kind of employee I am. So bite me, blog narc.

I got a call from HR this morning. About my blog.

Apparently you guys are reading the blog. I had no idea. I hope you find it interesting and entertaining.

So, first I had a small heart attack. Then I calmed down after it became clear that I’m not in trouble. Not precisely, anyway. However, over the course of the conversation, I realized there are a few things I need to make clear now that I know you are reading:

1. I work very hard. I generally spend close to 50 hours a week at work, and it’s not unheard of for me to work more than that. I also take work home. I pride myself on my work ethic. And while I can’t say that I’ve never written a blog entry at work, I generally work on my posts at home, and sometimes push the drafts live from here. (This is acceptable under company policy – believe me, I asked that question this morning.) To give you a comparison point, I spend less work time blogging in a week than the average smoker spends on smoke breaks in a day, ok? (No, I'm not slamming smokers. Smoke your little lungs out. I don't begrudge you your breaks.)

In fact, one of the many motivations I had for starting the blog was to be a better writer. For work. So don’t look at dates and times and think I’m some sort of slacker. I can assure you, I’m not. And I think my dates are set for Singapore or something, because they don’t always line up with when I was actually posting.

2. This blog is not about you. Not even a little bit. It is about me, and my thoughts. My job is a big part of my life, so work will come up. But really, my blog is about me. I generally try to be respectful of, well, everyone, but in particular, my coworkers. I like you guys.

3.The post that seems to have caused some problems? Is not about anyone who works here. It is about people at one of the outside companies I work with from time to time. One of the reasons their behavior made the blog is because I was so shocked by it. People who work here typically hold themselves to a much higher standard. I keep my work posts vague on purpose in an attempt to avoid trouble, not cause it.

So, whoever you are – you are not Mr. Infuriatingly Superior or Ms. Unprofessional Baby. I’m sorry you thought I was talking about you, and your feelings were hurt. I would like to point out that it isn't my fault that you assumed I meant you. I can only reassure you with this – as I mentioned in a recent post, if I have a problem with you, you’ll know about it.

4. Now that I know my co-workers are reading, I will probably be blogging about work less, just so that I can avoid inadvertently hurting anyone’s feelings again. I’m comfortable with thinking of myself as straightforward. I’m not so comfortable with thinking of myself as insensitive.

5. Also, you might want to keep in mind that sometimes I exaggerate for comedic effect.

There you have it -- all the disclaimers I can think of right now. So, please read, enjoy, leave comments. And remember: I’m not talking about you.

1. You start struggling with English, which is your native language:
a) you write copy every day. For a living. And suddenly you catch yourself mixing up homonyms as you type. Write/right. Here/hear. And the ever popular they’re/there/their trio.
b) apostrophes start to confound you, so you spend extra time rewording your copy to avoid plural possessives.
c) you find yourself making up words, and it’s not because you are mocking George W. Bush.

2. Irrationality:
a) you get irritated with your husband for eating macaroni and cheese for lunch after saying he didn’t want it for dinner the night before
b) the car that stole “your” space on the street really pisses you off, even though you know the street belongs to everyone.

3. Confusion:
a) you intend to call your husband, but your fingers dial your boss
b) it takes you a couple of seconds to figure out that you have not reached your husband
c) you go to the Safeway to get dinner and buy only a six pack of coke and frozen garlic bread. The logic behind these purchases? They were on sale. Nevermind that no one would ever define coke and garlic bread as dinner.

4. Stupidity – concepts you have grasped firmly since 3rd grade start to elude you:
a) you briefly can’t remember whether big bang theory refers to the creation of the planet earth or the creation of the universe (a slight difference in scale)
b) you screw up simple addition

5. The inability to stop thinking about work, ever:
a) you dream about spreadsheets
b) you write copy and make website to do lists in your head while walking the dog
c) your husband and blog readers are subject to many diatribes about work

But all is not lost! I declare this weekend to be all about Hilldery. I am going to buy a cheesy novel and lose myself in it. I will laze around the house and not worry about vacuuming. I plan to enjoy the company of my husband and my dog and emerge on Monday morning a relaxed, re-energized woman. And I will not think about work at all!

I think I said something the other day about lots of deadlines. Well, I've got a bunch right now. I've got a major marketing effort going out on Monday...a huge project starting on Wednesday...yet another big thing [note: I am being deliberately vague here. I'm not that bad of a writer] on Thursday...and a redesigned website launching Wednesday or Thursday. And then there are all of the little everyday deadlines that I always have.

The website is trying to kill me. It is the source of all of my stress and office conflicts right now. Ok, that's not completely true. It is the source of 85% of my stress and conflicts right now. And it is certainly the most frustrating, because I can't do all of the stuff myself. I do not know how to do some of it. And I don't have any of the right software. Actually, that's probably a good thing, because I'd be tempted to go in and mess around with it myself.

Anyway, rather than go on and on about my stress and the various people I'm fighting with right now, I thought it would be refreshing to praise the people in the office who are making my life better this week. So, here goes:

Print Buyers. You make me laugh, you are always there for me, and you put up with me pushing the print deadlines to the very last minute. Thank you!

Ecomm. Thank you so much for creating that brand new offer for me with almost no notice. You did it quickly and you did it correctly. You rock! Now, I'm sorry, but I'll be putting in another one tomorrow.

Desktop. You are efficient, you don't argue with me, and you helped me meet my deadlines yesterday. Gold stars for you.

Certain members of my team. I love my team.

Now, most of these people don't even know that I have a blog, but hopefully they will feel the gentle vibe of my gratitude wash over them.

I’ve just had one of those days that makes me want to hide under my desk. I can juggle a lot, and I’m starting to feel just a little bit overwhelmed. I’ve got many, many deadlines in the next week and a half. Many. By the time JournalCon gets here, I will really be ready for a drink. Please tell me there will be drinking!

So, anyway, today. I think of myself as a nice person. A little shy, but possessing basic social skills. I am, however, very straightforward. I suck at subtlety. I don’t play games or have hidden agenda. If I have a question, or a problem with you, you’ll know about it. First off, every thought I have shows up on my face, clear as day. Also, I’ll come talk to you. But not everyone is like me, and that’s what trips me up, every time! Either I’m pissing people off by being straightforward – which they take as “mean” – or I’m unprepared for someone who is not straightforward in their approach to me.

This caused difficulties for me with several people today. I’m sure my face is now decorating dart boards all over the building. Yay.

And honestly? Other than being more diplomatic with someone who completely caught me off guard, I don’t think I’d change anything I did today.

I’m not sure what that says about me.

I had the oddest dream last night. Men could get pregnant, and it was my job to help a bunch of pregnant guys with being pregnant and then delivering. One of my pregnant guys was Worf, the Klingon from Star Trek. In the dream I was very frustrated because all of these men were pregnant, but not me.

For some reason, taking care of these guys involved a lot of spreadsheets, and running this one report we use in my office. And every time one of the guys went into labor, the president of my company would come congratulate them on doing a good job.

What is my subconscious up to? I mean, I get the whole expressing my desire to have a baby thing. I want kids, sure. But pregnant male Klingons, spreadsheets and the president of my company?

I had a sudden fierce desire for a cigarette today. It was unexpected, since I quit smoking almost six years ago. But there I was driving along, and bam! I wanted a cigarette like nobody’s business. I could almost taste it. I wanted that shock when the smoke first hits the back of your throat…that hitch while you hold the smoke in your lungs…the long slow exhale. I could picture myself walking into the store -- Marlboro Reds, box, please. What would it be like after all this time? Would I cough? Would I still be able to handle the Marlboro Reds, or would I have to smoke wussy cigarettes, like Capris? Do they even still make Capris? How much do cigarettes cost now anyway?

I don’t know why the urge struck today. I’ve only come close to smoking once since I quit, and that was on the day my friend Leo died. That day, I almost mugged one of the smokers outside my office building for a cigarette, but I was so frantic to get to the hospital and my friend Jules that I decided not to stop.

But there’s no reason for it today. I’m having a fine and relaxing Saturday. Addiction is so strange.

• I realized I am wearing the exact same clothes that I wore to work last Thursday. I hope the outfit police don't get me.

• Somone robbed the bank accross the street from my building. The cops were up on the roof of our parking garage for a bit, but they didn't do anything interesting.

• We are still lacking power in half the house, but John has successfully employed extension cords to rig up the computer so he can use it. I have orders to bring home more extension cords so we can watch TV tonight.

• I just called Pepco again to complain that 7 hours didn't really fit my definition of "soon." I breezed through the voice menu now that I know all you have to say is the word "person," only to be told that there is a 1 hour 16 minute wait to speak to a representative. Maybe they should hire some more people.

When I woke up this morning there was no power in half of my house. That’s right, just half. John and I spent some time messing around with the circuit breaker, which, naturally, is in the part with no power. And, of course, all of our flashlight batteries are dead. Which meant I wasted a bunch of time, half asleep, trying to read the stupid circuit breaker with a lighter. And all for nothing, because apparently a broken circuit is not the problem.

So, then I did what every 33 year old does when they can’t solve a household problem – I called my mom. She didn’t really have anything helpful to add, so I called an electrician. The electrician said it was probably a Pepco problem. So I called Pepco, which has the stupidest system in the world for reporting problems. Here’s a reenactment for you:

Pepco: You have reached our outage line. For service, say “service”
Me: Service (imagine bitter, cranky early morning monotone)
Pepco: It sounds like you said “service.” Say “yes” if you are calling about a service problem.
Me: Yes! (impatient and a little pissy)
Pepco: You are unimportant to us, even though we charge you an insane amount of money each month. You have to call this other number.

New number
Pepco: You have reached our service line. Please listen to these 800 options and say what you want.
**long, annoying process of me making my way through the system**
Pepco: Please state your name. You have 10 seconds.
Me: Hilldery
Pepco: Please state your address. You have 10 seconds.
Me: 123 Main St.
Pepco: Please state the problem. You have 20 seconds.
Me: I only have power in half of my house and I tried the circuit breaker and the electrici-**click**
Pepco: A service ticket has been entered. Good bye.
**Dial tone**
Me: Hey! No! Fuck!

Call first number back.
Pepco: You have reached our outage line. For service, say “service”
**listen to long list of other options, none of which fit**
Me: (pushing 0 repeatedly) I want to speak to a fucking person! How about that you stupid voice recognition phone?
Pepco: It sounds like you said you’d like to speak to a person. If this is correct, say “Yes.”
Me: Yes! Yes!
**Wait on hold for customer service representative **

So, I finally got to talk to someone. He was very nice and sounded like Barry White. I kept expecting him to say “we’ll just take care of the problem, baby, and let you get back to making sweet, sweet love…” But he never did. He did confirm that there was a problem at my building and said someone would be on their way “soon.”

However, I should probably have gotten a more precise timeframe than “soon” because poor John is stuck at home with no air conditioning, no computer, no TV and no stereo. He can microwave food, but not use the stove or run the dishwasher. And no lights, except in the bathroom and bedroom. At least it’s not as hot today as it has been.

I really had no idea what to expect when I started this blog. I’d read plenty of other people’s blogs and I thought I’d enjoy having one of my own. But I didn’t realize how much fun it would be, how much I’d get out of it, or how many smart, funny, interesting people I would “meet.” Anyway, a couple of neat blog-related things have happened this week that I want to share.

First, to all of the people who commented on my credit card debt post – I wish I’d had this blog last year when I was trying to get my debt all sorted out. At the time I felt like the biggest loser moron ever for running up so much debt. While it sucks that so many other people have the same problem, it also makes me feel a little better about myself. All I can say now is, I dug my way out, and I’m pulling for all of you to do it too. Do not let the credit card companies bully you! And if you ever need a sympathetic ear, you know where to find me.

Second, today I posted a comment on Chris’ blog. That’s a fairly normal occurrence. But what happened next was different. See, Chris is smart, and pays attention, and remembered that Amalah and I work together. So he emailed me and asked me to bring her a soda, because he knew she was having a tough day. So I did, much to Amalah’s surprise. I was a little worried she would think it was stalker-y on my part (this girl started a blog after me, and now she's bringing me a soda?) but she did not, and I was glad I took the time to do it.

Third, I posted a comment over at Beth’s, about my pretend celebrity boyfriend Colin Farrell. Within a couple of hours, someone had emailed me a photo of Colin in Jamestown, given me the scoop on the movie he’s filming there and said the locals think he’s cool. Talk about six degrees of separation -- I can now keep tabs on my fake boyfriend via a comment on someone else’s blog!

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to hit the road to Jamestown.

Today my friend Laila (yay, Laila’s back in DC!) and her son Noah came over for lunch. Noah is 15 months old and Laila had warned me that he gets into everything. No problem, I thought. It’s not like we have china figurines all over the place. We have clutter, but nothing really breakable. I’ll just vacuum and clean the bathroom, and we’ll be all set. So this morning I was looking around my living room when it dawned on me. My house is pretty much a toddler death trap. It’s not that we have breakable things. It’s just that we have a lot of stuff. Laila was due in about an hour, though so I decided to tackle what I could and started cleaning. The bathroom went fine, but the vacuum just wasn’t sucking up the dirt, which is what happens when the bag gets full. Changing the bag is always messy, so I got a big trash bag out. And then I thought, “Oh I might as well throw the kitchen trash in here while I’m at it.

Big mistake. The kitchen trash was nasty. There was about six inches of disgusting trash water in the bottom of the can. Naturally, I spilled some of it as I tried to stuff the little trash bag into the big trash bag. And this was one of the worst smells I have ever encountered. I seriously almost threw up. I ran the trash down the trash room and when I got back upstairs, and the trash was all I could smell. So I frantically hosed down the kitchen, and the trash can and washed everything that had even come close to the trash can.

At this point, John came through the door with a “What is that stench?” look on his face, making it clear that my efforts had not been very successful so far. We banished the trash can and the little throw rug from the kitchen to the balcony and dug up every scented candle anyone has ever given me. The hollyberry/apple/vanilla/lavender combination seemed to be helping, so with about five minutes to spare, I threw myself into hurriedly vacuuming the living room and front hall, skipping the bedrooms completely, but managing to finish moments before Laila arrived.

I think they had a good time. Noah is awfully sweet, and seemed to enjoy the grilled cheese sandwich I made him. Lucky for me, Laila is one of my oldest friends and still loves me even though I live in a stinky, filthy-carpeted, cluttered apartment, chock full of sharp objects, pointy stuff, and all kinds of little things that a small child wants to swallow. I hope they'll come back again.

But I don't think I'm in the running for hostess of the year.

At the end of the day yesterday I got notification that my eagerly awaited stock options money had been direct deposited into my checking account. A couple of phone calls and online payments later, my credit card balances are all at ZERO!

I don’t even know how to begin to explain what a huge deal this is. This time last year, John and I were slowly being crushed by credit card debt, which we had stupidly run up a lot of a while back. We eventually figured out we had a problem, and stopped using the cards. But then John got laid off from his job, and we could only afford to pay the minimum payment on each of our four cards. Which I did, every month, on time, like clockwork.

But the credit card companies didn’t care. They kept raising our interest rates, which made the minimum payments go up. Finally, MBNA, the most evil fucking credit card company there is, raised my interest rates so high that I couldn’t make even the minimum payment anymore. I won’t go into the whole long saga, but things got pretty desperate. John and I argued about money all the time. I worried constantly. And the bastards at MBNA made my life hell. Loan sharks hassling me about covering the vig would have been more reasonable. (I’m not 100% sure what “the vig” is, but I know it has something to do with borrowing money from the mob.) Note to anyone who reads this: MBNA is a predatory company you do NOT want to get involved with.

It seemed like we’d never get out from under. John sold a kidney. We made soup from old shoes. No, not really. It was much less dramatic than that -- a combination of a loan from my mother-in-law, a loan from my 401k, my entire income tax refund, pouring every spare cent we could scrape together into the monthly payments, and finally, the options check.

It feels so good to be credit card debt free. Free free free free free!