November 23, 2006
It was like a honing device: that little golden envelop at the bottom of my screen. It was silent, without smell and measured no more than half a centimeter each way, but I had developed a sixth sense for the moment it popped up onto my screen, luring me with new mail. And I couldn’t resist it. Double clicking, Lacey’s message appeared: Vi: SD strikes again...must have had bitch flakes for breakfast...give you details at ten.
I shook my head at the code name Lacey insisted on using for our boss Bette. That girl had to have a touch of Schizophrenia to be so paranoid about company emails. I knew no one actually bothered to read them. My fingers flew over the keys, typing a quick message even though her blue fabric lined cubicle walls were a mere three feet away: Break room? Then, her quick reply: Of course.
Glancing at my watch I knew I had a few minutes to spare. I grabbed a file off of my desk and made my way to Bette’s corner office. Seeing me in the doorway, she gave me a wave to come in without losing her pace on the pile of forms she was signing. I closed the door behind me, we would need privacy for this, then sat in the straight backed chair opposing her. Beams of winter sun were dancing through the crystal angel our mom had bought her for Christmas. This office must get sweltering hot in the summer, I thought to myself.
“How can I help you Viola?” She asked, her brow wrinkled in concern but her fingers continued their efficient work with the pen. She didn’t even look at the decoy file I had placed open on her desk. The file had been her idea.
“Why do you always pick on her?” I asked. “You may not like the way she dresses, sis, but she gets the job done. In fact I’m sure her stats are better than most of the slackers out there.” I attempted to stare her down. I lost. Bette finally set the pen down with a sigh, displaying the patience that only an older sibling can have.
“First of all,” she started, “you are not to refer to me as ‘sis’, even behind closed doors. It’s a bad habit and you know the consequences if they find out. I’ve stuck my neck out for you and would appreciate if you’d follow the ‘rules’.”
Grumbling under my breath and starting to slouch down in my chair I responded “I know, I kno-” but she cut me off.
“Secondly, I can’t have you running in here to be a hero every time I ask Lacey to redo some numbers. And it has nothing to do with the way she dresses. However I will be bringing up the dress code again at our next meeting to emphasis that we must be wearing professional business wear at all times. I can’t have clients coming into this company office and thinking we are a bunch of street walkers.” Street walker was a bit harsh, though Lacey did wear some revealing clothing. Bette picked up her pen again signaling the end of our conversation, but I wasn’t finished.
“It’s not what you say Bette, it’s how you say it. Maybe you just take after your dad a lot more than you want to admit.” I left that part hang in the air as I grabbed the decoy file and left her office.
I was a breath away from eviction when Bette came to my rescue with this job. She had bad staff turnover and I was desperate: it’s ironic how the job that I got with my degree didn’t pay enough to cover my student loan payments. There was nothing glamorous about the data entry slash sales job but it paid the bills so I took it. She had some ‘rules’ though. It was against Company policy to hire family members into the same department. However since we had different last names no one would be the wiser if we both kept our mouths shut. It seemed like a great idea at the time.
“Then,” Lacey paused for dramatic effect. Her next words were muffled from the fat free bran muffin (smothered in butter) she had shoved in her mouth, “she told me to redo the order form as the numbers ‘didn’t quite add up’.”
I tried to think of what someone who wasn’t related to the “She Devil” would say, the overhead fluorescents flicking to the beat of a silent song. “That sucks”, seemed like a safe answer.
“Tell me about it.” Lacey said. More bran muffin then, “I can’t figure out where my mistake is. Do you think there could be a problem with the built in formulas?”
“I doubt it” I said with a grin. “It’s probably just a couple inverted numbers. Want me to give it a quick look over? A fresh set of eyes usually helps.”
“You’re such a doll.” Lacey said, returning the smile. “The polar opposite of SD!” Lacey pushed herself up from the break table and tipped her head towards the giant analog clock above the EXIT sign. “Better get back to our desks before the clock Nazi’s report us.”
As we made our way back through the maze of cubicles I felt the all too familiar weight in my stomach. I hated all the lying (or the absence of the truth, as Bette called it). Lacey and I were starting to become really good friends and you can only avoid the family questions for so long. Plus what if we started hanging out outside of work? Was I going to frantically run around trying to hide every Bette picture every time she comes over?
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Friday, November 17, 2006
English Class: Nov 9 Assignment
Assignment: Re-write on my last story...
It was like a honing device: that little golden envelop at the bottom of my screen. It was silent, without smell and measured no more than half a centimeter each way, but I had developed a sixth sense for the moment it popped up onto my screen, luring me with new mail. And I couldn’t resist it. Double clicking, Lacey’s message appeared: Vi: SD strikes again...must have had bitch flakes for breakfast...give you details at ten.
I shook my head at the code name Lacey insisted on using for our boss Bette. That girl had to have a touch of Schizophrenia to be so paranoid about company emails. I knew no one actually bothered to read them. My fingers flew over the keys, typing a quick message even though her blue fabric lined cubicle walls were a mere three feet away: Break room? Then, her quick reply: Of course.
Glancing at my watch I knew I had a few minutes to spare. I grabbed a file off of my desk and made my way to Bette’s corner office. Seeing me in the doorway, she gave me a wave to come in without losing her pace on the pile of forms she was signing. I closed the door behind me, we would need privacy for this, then sat in the straight backed chair opposing her. Beams of winter sun were dancing through the crystal angel our mom had bought her for Christmas. This office must get sweltering hot in the summer, I thought to myself.
“How can I help you Viola?” She asked, her brow wrinkled in concern but her fingers continued their efficient work with the pen. She didn’t even look at the decoy file I had placed open on her desk. The file had been her idea.
“Why do you always pick on her?” I asked. “You may not like the way she dresses, sis, but she gets the job done. In fact I’m sure her stats are better than most of the slackers out there.” I attempted to stare her down. I lost. Bette finally set the pen down with a sigh, displaying the patience that only an older sibling can have.
“First of all,” she started, “you are not to refer to me as ‘sis’, even behind closed doors. It’s a bad habit and you know the consequences if they find out. I’ve stuck my neck out for you and would appreciate if you’d follow the ‘rules’.”
Grumbling under my breath and starting to slouch down in my chair I responded “I know, I kno-” but she cut me off.
“Secondly, I can’t have you running in here to be a hero every time I ask Lacey to redo some numbers. And it has nothing to do with the way she dresses. However I will be bringing up the dress code again at our next meeting to emphasis that we must be wearing professional business wear at all times. I can’t have clients coming into this company office and thinking we are a bunch of street walkers.” Street walker was a bit harsh, though Lacey did wear some revealing clothing. Bette picked up her pen again signaling the end of our conversation, but I wasn’t finished.
“It’s not what you say Bette, it’s how you say it. Maybe you just take after your dad a lot more than you want to admit.” I left that part hang in the air as I grabbed the decoy file and left her office.
I was a breath away from eviction when Bette came to my rescue with this job. She had bad staff turnover and I was desperate: it’s ironic how the job that I got with my degree didn’t pay enough to cover my student loan payments. There was nothing glamorous about the data entry slash sales job but it paid the bills so I took it. She had some ‘rules’ though. It was against Company policy to hire family members into the same department. However since we had different last names no one would be the wiser if we both kept our mouths shut. It seemed like a great idea at the time.
“Then,” Lacey paused for dramatic effect. Her next words were muffled from the fat free bran muffin (smothered in butter) she had shoved in her mouth, “she told me to redo the order form as the numbers ‘didn’t quite add up’.”
I tried to think of what someone who wasn’t related to the “She Devil” would say, the overhead fluorescents flicking to the beat of a silent song. “That sucks”, seemed like a safe answer.
“Tell me about it.” Lacey said. More bran muffin then, “I can’t figure out where my mistake is. Do you think there could be a problem with the built in formulas?”
“I doubt it” I said with a grin. “It’s probably just a couple inverted numbers. Want me to give it a quick look over? A fresh set of eyes usually helps.”
“You’re such a doll.” Lacey said, returning the smile. “The polar opposite of SD!” Lacey pushed herself up from the break table and tipped her head towards the giant analog clock above the EXIT sign. “Better get back to our desks before the clock Nazi’s report us.”
As we made our way back through the maze of cubicles I felt the all too familiar weight in my stomach. I hated all the lying (or the absence of the truth, as Bette called it). Lacey and I were starting to become really good friends and you can only avoid the family questions for so long. Plus what if we started hanging out outside of work? Was I going to frantically run around trying to hide every Bette picture every time she comes over?
It was like a honing device: that little golden envelop at the bottom of my screen. It was silent, without smell and measured no more than half a centimeter each way, but I had developed a sixth sense for the moment it popped up onto my screen, luring me with new mail. And I couldn’t resist it. Double clicking, Lacey’s message appeared: Vi: SD strikes again...must have had bitch flakes for breakfast...give you details at ten.
I shook my head at the code name Lacey insisted on using for our boss Bette. That girl had to have a touch of Schizophrenia to be so paranoid about company emails. I knew no one actually bothered to read them. My fingers flew over the keys, typing a quick message even though her blue fabric lined cubicle walls were a mere three feet away: Break room? Then, her quick reply: Of course.
Glancing at my watch I knew I had a few minutes to spare. I grabbed a file off of my desk and made my way to Bette’s corner office. Seeing me in the doorway, she gave me a wave to come in without losing her pace on the pile of forms she was signing. I closed the door behind me, we would need privacy for this, then sat in the straight backed chair opposing her. Beams of winter sun were dancing through the crystal angel our mom had bought her for Christmas. This office must get sweltering hot in the summer, I thought to myself.
“How can I help you Viola?” She asked, her brow wrinkled in concern but her fingers continued their efficient work with the pen. She didn’t even look at the decoy file I had placed open on her desk. The file had been her idea.
“Why do you always pick on her?” I asked. “You may not like the way she dresses, sis, but she gets the job done. In fact I’m sure her stats are better than most of the slackers out there.” I attempted to stare her down. I lost. Bette finally set the pen down with a sigh, displaying the patience that only an older sibling can have.
“First of all,” she started, “you are not to refer to me as ‘sis’, even behind closed doors. It’s a bad habit and you know the consequences if they find out. I’ve stuck my neck out for you and would appreciate if you’d follow the ‘rules’.”
Grumbling under my breath and starting to slouch down in my chair I responded “I know, I kno-” but she cut me off.
“Secondly, I can’t have you running in here to be a hero every time I ask Lacey to redo some numbers. And it has nothing to do with the way she dresses. However I will be bringing up the dress code again at our next meeting to emphasis that we must be wearing professional business wear at all times. I can’t have clients coming into this company office and thinking we are a bunch of street walkers.” Street walker was a bit harsh, though Lacey did wear some revealing clothing. Bette picked up her pen again signaling the end of our conversation, but I wasn’t finished.
“It’s not what you say Bette, it’s how you say it. Maybe you just take after your dad a lot more than you want to admit.” I left that part hang in the air as I grabbed the decoy file and left her office.
I was a breath away from eviction when Bette came to my rescue with this job. She had bad staff turnover and I was desperate: it’s ironic how the job that I got with my degree didn’t pay enough to cover my student loan payments. There was nothing glamorous about the data entry slash sales job but it paid the bills so I took it. She had some ‘rules’ though. It was against Company policy to hire family members into the same department. However since we had different last names no one would be the wiser if we both kept our mouths shut. It seemed like a great idea at the time.
“Then,” Lacey paused for dramatic effect. Her next words were muffled from the fat free bran muffin (smothered in butter) she had shoved in her mouth, “she told me to redo the order form as the numbers ‘didn’t quite add up’.”
I tried to think of what someone who wasn’t related to the “She Devil” would say, the overhead fluorescents flicking to the beat of a silent song. “That sucks”, seemed like a safe answer.
“Tell me about it.” Lacey said. More bran muffin then, “I can’t figure out where my mistake is. Do you think there could be a problem with the built in formulas?”
“I doubt it” I said with a grin. “It’s probably just a couple inverted numbers. Want me to give it a quick look over? A fresh set of eyes usually helps.”
“You’re such a doll.” Lacey said, returning the smile. “The polar opposite of SD!” Lacey pushed herself up from the break table and tipped her head towards the giant analog clock above the EXIT sign. “Better get back to our desks before the clock Nazi’s report us.”
As we made our way back through the maze of cubicles I felt the all too familiar weight in my stomach. I hated all the lying (or the absence of the truth, as Bette called it). Lacey and I were starting to become really good friends and you can only avoid the family questions for so long. Plus what if we started hanging out outside of work? Was I going to frantically run around trying to hide every Bette picture every time she comes over?
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Dabbling in Rap Lyrics
My friend/ex-co-worker Katherine is applying for Deal or No Deal...she wanted to spice up her application so she asked me to write a poem or rap...here's what I whipped up:
My name is Katherine,
I'm a mom of two.
I've got lots of skills,
but Administration is what I do.
I'm a really good time,
Don't you know blondes have more fun?
Spunky, peppy, pretty,
All rolled into one.
Bringing my sister in my heart,
plus my lucky blue socks,
maybe even my husband or co-workers,
Regardless, my posse really rocks!
I'm excited, I'm thrilled,
I just can't contain how I feel,
I'd love to be a contestant on
Deal or No Deal!
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