Bossy Got Greenbacks

(Apologies to Sir Mix Alot)

I hate my job and I can not lie
You other workas can’t deny
That when the boss walks in with an itty bitty list
And a ruler in your face
You get sprung
Wanna pull up tough
Cuz you notice that list was stuffed
Deep in the wants she’s bearing
I’m trapped and I can’t stop staring
Oh, lady I wanna spit at ya
And call ya a bitcha
My voices tried to warn me
But the pay I get
It’s really torn me
Ooh, jump for the money
You say I gotta work for it honey
Well use abuse me cuz you’re making me woozy

I’ve seen you dancin’
Your razor tongue glancin’
My Sweat, you get, cuz I can’t leave yet

I’m tired and don’t feel keen
I can’t quit that’s the thing
Take the average worker and ask her that
She gotta have the greenbacks
and that’s that

So Workas (yeah) Workas(yeah)
Has your boss she got the whip (hell yeah)
Well fake it, fake it, fake it, fake it, no if ands or butts
Bossy got greenbacks

Talk Radio

When I was a kid, I remember my father had a police scanner and an old radio next to his bed. He often worked the night shift and would have to sleep during the day – the radio and scanner would help lull him to sleep.

Though I always wondered how a bunch of people talking and squawking radios could put someone to sleep. They have the opposite effect on me.

I also never thought I would ever become a fan of talk radio. It always seemed so weird to me that people would actually tune to a radio station where other people just talked. What about music? Isn’t that what radios were really for?

Without any intentional thought, I gravitated to talk radio. I used to read the papers but I’d always get upset and pissed off when I read them. I tried watching the news and it had the same effect. It seemed that the papers and the newscasts were more interested in getting a rise out of people or alarming people than they were in reporting the news – whatever the heck that’s supposed to mean. They should probably call it the ‘bad news’ because that’s all I ever got from those sources. In fact, I found that I would become depressed if I read or watched that stuff too much. Still, I wanted to know what was going on in the world.

I’m not sure how it started but I think it was a few years ago when I was working with the prop making guys. I had to cover the phones, while I did other work at my desk. Since most everyone was out in the warehouse making cool things I was usually alone in the office.

So, I turned on the radio – for some reason the only good reception I got was on am talk radio stations – so I started to listen to it. And shortly, I began to really love it. The talk radio folks would take the news of the day and analyse it, question it, discuss it with callers. It was really kind of cool because I got a multitude of viewpoints on the same story – which made me feel that I really understood the topic and could discuss it intelligently with others.

I am one who loves to talk, debate and discuss, so apparently talk radio was right up my alley. I never called in, because I was at work and also because I really preferred to listen. It was almost like hanging out with a good friend, rather than working alone in an office. My day flew by as I listened and did work and answered the phones.

But then I changed jobs. Haven’t listened to talk radio since because I can’t listen to the radio in a doctor’s office. I can’t really listen to it while driving, because I have to pay attention to driving and other drivers and I don’t know, it’s just not the same.

But I miss it, I really do. I miss the fact that I could get the news without  having to read yet another thing. That I could listen to a dialogue without having to contribute to it and learn something, find out about something. I still miss it.

In fact, I miss my old job and I think talk radio is a big reason why. I haven’t really listened for about 6 months and I feel so out of touch with the world and the news and world events. I miss it because I’ve lost a lot of blog fodder by not being able to listen to it. Somehow my world is a little smaller because talk radio isn’t in it.

Must get a job that has talk radio as a perk. I don’t know what I’ll do in 2008 if I can’t follow every minute detail of the candidates and shenanigans – this could get serious. 😉

How about you? Do you listen to talk radio?


Living in a Box

Is this an amazing picture, or what? But you know, it got me thinking about apartment living. I’ve never been one to live in apartments much. I don’t like them. You hear too much and see too much of your neighbors, secret behavior. You know too much about what the couple next store argues about. You never manage to get your laundry done before 3 in the morning because the little old lady downstairs monopolizes the two machines and/or forgets for days that she has wash in it.

To me, apartments are boxes. They somehow threaten my humanity. I feel like an insect trapped by an over-ethusiastic pre-teen who likes to torture little creatures who can’t fight back. Except with a feeble stinger or two. And oddly enough, I’ve found that bugs love to live in apartments too. I’ve rarely gone into a house and found a plethora of insects all fighting for real estate. Yet in just about every apartment I’ve been in, it seems that you must know the secret password in order to get the cockroaches to let you into the kitchen after hours. And is it the cottage cheese ceilings or do spiders just prefer the ceilings of apartments.

Then there is what landlords do to apartments. They are always painted ‘dead white’ – it’s not really white, it’s a brownish, grayish shadowy color, that apparently costs $5 for every 50 gallons. And it’s always flat paint. So any marks, dirt, stains, etc are sure to stick to it for all of eternity or until the landlord breaks down and paints more ‘dead white’ over it.

The parking spaces are made to nicely accomodate shopping carts or bicycles, but not cars, even compact cars risk ruining the paint job backing out of those babies. And for some reason, your neighbors friends feel it’s perfectly okay to park in the lot and block your car by inventing their own parking spaces.

If anyone has a party, you can pretty much assume you will get no sleep that night, that the cops won’t come until the following morning and will need to be careful to step over the party barf in the courtyard.

The last apartment I lived in was many years back. And really, as apartments go, it wasn’t a bad place. I was struck with a surge of creativity and I really set to fixing the place up. I pulled up the green indoor/outdoor carpeting in the tiny kitchen and replaced it with a sweet little blue and rosey beige tile with a flower pattern. I took off the cabinet doors to the cupboards, painted the back walls blue to match the tile and had shabby chic, open air cupboards.

I found a splashy print with lots of color and hung it over the tiny little bistro chair and table set, I found to put in the tiny dining area.

I bought matching furniture for the living room and a nice bookcase. Replaced the shower curtain and painted the bathroom, with matching towels. Oh yes, I really went for it.

When I was done I had a sweet little french cottage motif and I loved it. Two weeks later the building was bought by a developer and we were all served with a notice saying the rent was doubling the following month. We could either pay it or move out in 30 days.

I was sad to leave my little created cottage but I’ve never been in an apartment since. I think I’ll leave the boxes to the people who don’t mind being tortured.


PS: Happy birthday, Pop.

You’re Not the Boss of Me


I had a very interesting conversation with an employee the other day. This particular employee has been giving me a hard time since day one and really drives me up the wall.

It started as a dispute over an error on her timecard – I’d shorted her a half hour. I told her so, after she complained and offered to cut her a check right then and there or to add it to her next paycheck. She insisted it was more than that, and essentially I wasted an hour teaching her math so she could understand, in fact, it was a half an hour. Now this girl is a medical assistant and can’t seem to do basic math. Are we alarmed yet?

Of course, the conversation didn’t end there – oh no, there were many things that had to be discussed. Temper tantrums and flashes of anger, which I advised her to knock off and she did sort of…

As the time ticked off and essentially I was being paid to deal with this whining girl and she was being paid to whine to me, we got to the crux of the matter. She informed me that she was taking two vacations over the next 8 weeks. Two vacations???? This girl hasn’t even worked here a year, and has taken one week already to go to Hawaii and a long weekend to go to Vegas. Apparently there is a family reunion and a cruise she absolutely must go to.

Now, look, I don’t like to spoil people’s fun and I don’t really mind trying to work something out so people can go to things like family reunions and so forth. But give me a break – she expects to be given off essentially four weeks during the a course of 9 months employment. Call me crazy but I’ve never worked anywhere that would give that kind of time off in such a short employment.

And the kicker is, that she didn’t ask me. She told me. Like, “Oh, by the way, I’m taking these dates and these dates off. I have a family thing and then I’m going on a cruise.”

Eh? I asked her if she could take them at the same time, schedule them back to back so it would only be one leave. Oh no, can’t do that. Because her boyfriend is paying for it. When asked if she could persuade her boyfriend to schedule the cruise right before or right after the reunion, she said “I can’t afford to take that much time off at once.” Excuse me?

She can’t afford to take that much time off. So what? I’m supposed to be worried about her finances while she throws the practice into mayhem because she’s leaving on her little trips? She doesn’t have anyone who is coming to cover her, nope, she figures her supervisor can just cover for her during her absence.

So, I say, “Well if your supervisor can cover you during your absence, then why do I need two medical assistants?” You know? Why? If the supervisor can do all the work that needs to be done, what the hell is she doing?

Ooops, no answer for that one. Nope, she has to think about that. Kind of like her math problem, she just doesn’t know the answer. She just knows that she wants what she wants and she’s going to tell me and I’m going to do it.

“You’re not the boss of me, ” I tell her. “It may come as a shock, but I’m actually the boss of  you. And I just don’t know if we can give you the time off. Sorry.”

“Well, what are you going to do,”she asks. “Fire me?”

I smiled wryly and left the room.

You know, she’s been awfully nice to me since then. Let’s see if that lasts.


Are We Society Bots?


After the nearly 10,000 spam hits I’ve gotten on this blog, I’ve started thinking about this whole spam-bot thing. This isn’t another post complaining about spam, though it’s tempting, it’s really about how maybe the weird little things in life actually mirror who we are. Bear with me and we’ll see if I can make my point.

I’ve noticed with the spam that there seem to be trends. For example, one week it’s all sicko stuff, the next week it will be apparently from Russian or Yugoslavian guys, the next week from real estate people and this week I’ve gotten almost 2,000 spam hit from the drug planet. Every kind of drug you can imagine, which I dare not specify lest, they send another 2,000 my way. But it’s not the numbers or even the spam that interests me – it’s the trends. It’s the type of message they are spewing all over the place.

We live in a modern and technologically -savvy world. Heck, there is a gadget for everything, even a special clip for your potato chip bag, every method under the sun for your love-making preferences and a drug for everything that ails us. Still, we’re all restless, can’t seem to find our purpose in life, our soulmates, happiness, nirvana, whatever you want to call it. We’re still as screwed up as we were 30 years ago – maybe more so. Now doesn’t that give you pause?

Don’t you have to wonder that if none of this stuff is really floating our boats, if none of it is solving our woes, if none of this is tickling our fancy, then there must be some other reason for it all? I’m not going to go into any conspiracy theories here, because there are spambots for that too, so why would I take the time. But, I will say that if none of this stuff is solving our problems then it must be solving someone else’s. Right? I mean, no company keeps doing something just for the heck of it. They don’t advertise things to death because they aren’t selling it. So, if you put aside the ‘reasons’ they say they are selling it – to make you feel better, so you won’t hurt anymore, because you deserve the best, I’m okay, you’re okay, blah, blah – then you have to look at who/what it might behoove.

I think the spam bots are trying to tell us something and that that something is that we will not find our answers in pill bottles, blue videos, dates with Blonde Russian girls or real estate seminars. That no matter how many pills, vids, seminar, get rich quick schemes, promises of true love and so on are promoted that the answers lie somewhere else.

We’ve become convenience junkies – from junk food to remote controls. Why walk when you can drive the two blocks to the grocery store? Why cook when Micky D’s is down the street? Why talk to your family at the dinner table when you could be eating KFC in front of the big screen t.v.? Why be responsible when there is always someone else you can blame and make responsible for you?

We’ve become prisoners of our own laziness and apathy. We’ve stopped caring about each other and given in to a preference for living in our own little worlds, where companies and advertisers will gleefully supply us with everything we think we need or want. Hell, it’s all just money to them. And they are probably just as wound up in this silly string as everyone else.

Yep, we’re the little society bots who get up every morning, fire up our computers, check our emails, stop by Starbuck’s to get our fix, crank up our sound systems in the car and dial the cell phone and the heck with everyone else. You think I’m kidding but I’m not. I find it really sad and i worry, that we’ll someday all end up as Borgs or some odd configuration of man and machine all because we bought into the idea that life should be easy, that we are entitled to every little thing our hearts desire and that we shouldn’t really have to work too hard for it. Shouldn’t have to stand on line, shouldn’t have to be polite to our neighbors or care if some fellow is stranded on the side of the road.

Yep, we be society bots n’ shit. But I’m kind of hoping that the people out there who still think – give this some thought. Otherwise, we may soon find ourselves impelling through space into a bigger universe where we are the bots spamming the bigger guy’s computers.


Is Blogging Meant to be Therapy?


You know I haven’t been at this blogging stuff for very long – a few months – though it seems more like years. Or really it seems like something I’ve always done. Perhaps it is, in a way, as a writer I’ve always had these sort of running dialogues ripping through my mind and occasionally they ended up on paper or computer screen.

They are often seem endless. Non-stop, going at the speed of light thoughts that are questions, ponderings, annoyances, wonder, shock, stupor…you name it – it’s in there. Then suddenly…nothing. Yep, it all stops and I feel a kind of statis. As though my mind simply went on vacation and really I’ve said or thought every thing there is to say or think and well stick a fork in me cuz I’m done.

Still, even when I’m in that empty-headed state I still feel the urge to express thoughts, ideas, points of view. Is it arrogance on my part? That I believe that my thoughts are so important that I must commit them to paper and publish them on the Internet, or (so the dream goes) in books and magazines, newspapers? I mean, really, what is so special about me that I  have the irrepressible(sp) urge to force my views on others? Am I forcing or am I simply looking for a meeting of the minds across the great spatial divide of cyberspace? Am I looking for understanding, agreement or just a safe, warm place to rest my weary head? Could be all of the above or none of the above.

Are bloggers really just writers who have turned to technology to get their message out? Or are we all just a bunch of losers who need to air our problems, concerns, insecurities and little life tragedies just to feel okay about ourselves?

 I wonder, I really do wonder about this stuff. Particularly on days when I don’t feel especially funny or witty. See, in case you missed it that is my thing. Don’t know why but really I live to make people laugh. I would go through just about anything to put somebody in hysterics. Do you think that is a sterling quality or a character flaw? I don’t know. Do you?

During my short adventure as a blogger I have read and visited many blogs. Many more than I ever would have thought I could or would want to. Initially I think it was curiosity. Like, gee there are bagillions of blogs out there and there must be something to this stuff, you know? I mean jeez everybody seems to be doing it – maybe if I read enough of them, I’ll know why.

But despite my research and reading and following and discovering of the many blogs I’ve found and stumbled upon, I still am no closer to answering that curiosity than I was the day I started.

When it comes to blogging it seems there is something for everyone – knitters, political junkies, writers, poets, dancers, artists, musicians, geniuses and idiots alike. But in the greater scheme of things does it really contribute to the oneness of the allness of the human community? Or are we all just trying to vent enough to get through the day without committing murder and mayhem? Trying to get by the things in our lives that disappoint and baffle?

I know in my case sometimes the only thing I had to look forward to was blogging later in the day. Or at least responding to comments from readers. That little burst of joy I felt whenever I saw I had a comment on something I’d written. But why? Do I need that validation from readers? Is it important? Is it silly?

If I pulled the plug tomorrow on my blogs would it matter? I mean truly – would it change a thing other than for me? LOL – I’m just totally lost on this topic. Cuz I really don’t know.

And  honestly, I don’t have a big bang up ending for this entry – so I guess I’ll just leave you guys with the questions for now. Hopefully somebody has some insight or at least a couple of funny come-backs.

Later kids.


Snappy Office Come-backs!


Hey – ever get a little tongue-tied at work? You know, somebody chaps your hide and you just sit there like a kid with an IQ of 30 or something? Then about 15 minutes later your mind kicks in again and  you think of all manner of things you should have said? Well here’s a little list you can keep under your keyboard for those very occasions – you can even laminate it so coffee spills won’t hurt it. Good luck and hope it helps.  

1. Never give me work in the morning. Always wait until 4:00 and then bring
it to me. The challenge of a deadline is refreshing.
2. If it’s really a rush job, run in and interrupt me every 10 minutes to inquire how it’s going. That helps. Even better, hover behind me, and advise me at every keystroke.
3. Always leave without telling anyone where you’re going. It gives me a chance to be creative when  someone asks where you are.
4. If my arms are full of papers, boxes, books, or supplies,  don’t open the door for me. I need to learn how to function as a paraplegic and opening doors with no arms is good training in case I should ever  be injured and lose all use of my limbs.
5. If you give me more than one job to do, don’t tell me which is priority. I am psychic.
6. Do your best to keep me late. I adore this office and really have nowhere to go or anything to do. I have no life beyond work.
7. If a job I do pleases you, keep it a secret. If that gets out,it could mean a promotion.
8. If you don’t like my work, tell everyone. I like my name to be popular in conversations. I was born to be whipped.
9. If you have special instructions for a job, don’t write them down. In fact, save them until the job is almost done. No use confusing me with useful information.
10. Never introduce me to the people you’re with. I have no right to know anything. In the corporate food chain, I am plankton. When you refer to them later, my shrewd deductions will identify them.
11. Be nice to me only when the job I’m doing for you could really change
your life and send you straight to manager’s hell
12. Tell me all your little problems. No one else has any and it’s nice to know someone is less fortunate. I especially like the story about having to pay so many taxes on the bonus check you received for being such a good manager.
13. Wait until my yearly review and THEN tell me what my goals SHOULD have been. Give me a mediocre performance rating with a cost of living increase. I’m not here for the money anyway 

Feel free to add any to the list that I’ve overlooked. 😉

(PS: HT to A-Mum for the list – come back soon Moe)