I admit: I think the idea of reducing a life full of education and experience and personality to one itty bitty sheet of paper is insane. But, apparently a resume is just one of those things that people can't survive without. So, instead of the standard canned personal history lesson, I've decided my next official resume will actually be a list of things I like and things I don't like. Here's what I have so far:
Things I like:
-My family
-Reading
-Writing
-Making people laugh
-Watching TV
-Making shit (not actually breaking food down and making waste in the potty, but creating stuff, like wreaths)
-Flexibility
-Equality
-Jokes, both corny and dirty
-Music
-Movies
Things I don't like and/or am incapable of doing:
-Schmoozing - That's a biggie. I am a HORRIBLE schmoozer. I just don't have it in me to be nice to others only to help me out in some way. I would rather do without than to have to schmooze. Because of this, anything sales-related is not feasible.
-Being told what to do (this is different than advice - I LOVE good advice. It's also different than guidance offered by those who are more intelligent and more experienced than I am. I always appreciate heartfelt guidance. I cannot stand being told to be here and do this at this particular time for this long).
-Dishonesty
-Bad grammar
-Rudeness
-Ignorance
-Mornings
-Monotony
-Ambiguity
So, here's my idea of the perfect job - First and foremost, one that doesn't require or expect me to be an absentee parent to my small child. In other words, flexibility is a MUST. Must offer decent pay (and if it doesn't offer health insurance, it has to pay even more) and allow me to utilize my talents/abilities to the fullest. Preference will be given to companies that enforce a strict No Asshole Rule (seriously, read the book and thank me later).
I'm thinking about posting this to monster.com just to see what happens.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Buzzwords that Make Me Want to Stab Myself
This blog has been a-brewin' for a while, ladies and gents. And following today (aka The Day From the Depths of Hell), I'm feeling the need to get some stuff off my chest. I'm sure there will be some profanity somewhere along the way, so if you are easily offended or have Puritan-like tendencies, stop reading now.
I've been mentally composing a list of buzz words and catch phrases that make me want to stab myself. Here's what I've come up with so far, along with examples of how they are (over)used nowadays and what they make me think about when I hear them (stabbing myself notwithstanding).
1. Reach out
Used in a sentence: "I just wanted to reach out and see how things are going."
This shit has GOT to stop. There are so many ways to convey what you mean without going there. For example, say "check in" instead of "reach out." Or how about avoiding the very cliche phrase issue altogether and just say, "I just wanted to see how things are going." Every time I hear or read the phrase "reach out," I immediately think of this:
That's right, folks. your attempt at proving how with the times you are by using the coolest jargon makes me think of the dead alligator's hand (paw? claw?) from the opening credits of Swamp People. Nothing says "current" like a dead reptile's mitt. Take Penny from Dirty Dancing's advice: "You gotta stop it. Now."
2. Buy-in
Used in a sentence: "I'm going to run this fabulous new idea of how to reinvent the wheel to you and when I get done, I'm going to ask for your buy-in."
What? With the economy in the proverbial sewer, you're going to ask me to buy something? One moment, please, while I laugh in your face.
Whatever happened to saying support or help? For some reason, when people ask me for my buy-in, I always imagine they're trying to talk me into signing up to sell Amway.
3. At the end of the day
Used in a sentence: "At the end of the day, that's all that matters."
At the end of the day, the sun goes down and I start dreading tomorrow. End of discussion.
4. Low-hanging fruit
Used in a sentence: "We've got to pick the low-hanging fruit."
Always makes me think about rotting, worm-filled apples lying on the ground. Gag a maggot.
5. Tweak
Used in a sentence: "I need you to tweak this before you send it out."
Dear Lord Baby Jesus! What, is change or revise no longer cool enough? Now I have to find a way to get my work high on meth before I send it out? Because that's what the word "tweak" makes me think about. Pock-faced, toothless, paranoid, sore-covered meth addicts. Nice visual. Whoever thought of that one should have to spend a week dragging around a pillow case full of Blow Pops and quarters in a crack house full of meth addicts.
6. Going forward
Used in a sentence: "Going forward, I can be reached at this number."
Fabulous. Like that's somehow better than "from now on," or "in the future," or "from here on out." It sounds very elitist to me. Like, "Dahling, going forward, we shan't drink wine from a screw top bottle." Side note: I think it's time to start enjoying a glass of wine each night. And, in extreme cases, at lunch each day.
There are many, many more which I will add at a later date. Trust me, this post has just scratched the surface. I have only started to pick the low-hanging fruit, if you will. I will continue to tweak it going forward. I just wanted to take a moment to reach out to you all and see if I could get your buy-in toward never again using these phrases. Because, at the end of the day, eliminating these awful phrases begins with you and me.
I've been mentally composing a list of buzz words and catch phrases that make me want to stab myself. Here's what I've come up with so far, along with examples of how they are (over)used nowadays and what they make me think about when I hear them (stabbing myself notwithstanding).
1. Reach out
Used in a sentence: "I just wanted to reach out and see how things are going."
This shit has GOT to stop. There are so many ways to convey what you mean without going there. For example, say "check in" instead of "reach out." Or how about avoiding the very cliche phrase issue altogether and just say, "I just wanted to see how things are going." Every time I hear or read the phrase "reach out," I immediately think of this:
That's right, folks. your attempt at proving how with the times you are by using the coolest jargon makes me think of the dead alligator's hand (paw? claw?) from the opening credits of Swamp People. Nothing says "current" like a dead reptile's mitt. Take Penny from Dirty Dancing's advice: "You gotta stop it. Now."
2. Buy-in
Used in a sentence: "I'm going to run this fabulous new idea of how to reinvent the wheel to you and when I get done, I'm going to ask for your buy-in."
What? With the economy in the proverbial sewer, you're going to ask me to buy something? One moment, please, while I laugh in your face.
Whatever happened to saying support or help? For some reason, when people ask me for my buy-in, I always imagine they're trying to talk me into signing up to sell Amway.
3. At the end of the day
Used in a sentence: "At the end of the day, that's all that matters."
At the end of the day, the sun goes down and I start dreading tomorrow. End of discussion.
4. Low-hanging fruit
Used in a sentence: "We've got to pick the low-hanging fruit."
Always makes me think about rotting, worm-filled apples lying on the ground. Gag a maggot.
5. Tweak
Used in a sentence: "I need you to tweak this before you send it out."
Dear Lord Baby Jesus! What, is change or revise no longer cool enough? Now I have to find a way to get my work high on meth before I send it out? Because that's what the word "tweak" makes me think about. Pock-faced, toothless, paranoid, sore-covered meth addicts. Nice visual. Whoever thought of that one should have to spend a week dragging around a pillow case full of Blow Pops and quarters in a crack house full of meth addicts.
6. Going forward
Used in a sentence: "Going forward, I can be reached at this number."
Fabulous. Like that's somehow better than "from now on," or "in the future," or "from here on out." It sounds very elitist to me. Like, "Dahling, going forward, we shan't drink wine from a screw top bottle." Side note: I think it's time to start enjoying a glass of wine each night. And, in extreme cases, at lunch each day.
There are many, many more which I will add at a later date. Trust me, this post has just scratched the surface. I have only started to pick the low-hanging fruit, if you will. I will continue to tweak it going forward. I just wanted to take a moment to reach out to you all and see if I could get your buy-in toward never again using these phrases. Because, at the end of the day, eliminating these awful phrases begins with you and me.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Memorial Day Mountain Spotted Fever
Our little family enjoyed a long holiday weekend at the camper. You know, the home-on-wheels that I vowed to never again refer to as the "house trailer," because doing so will get us kicked out of The Association. Apparently that is written somewhere in the by-laws, which I still haven't seen. But whatevs.
A few weeks ago, our camper neighbors had their bug man come out and spray for creepy-crawlies. Of course, they offered to send him on down to our camper for a small, nominal fee, but being the cheapskate I am, I declined in favor of having our regular bug man spray for us. I figured maybe we could get a multiple structure discount or something like that. Warning: This was NOT a good idea. When everyone around you sprays their campers for bugs, you must have your camper sprayed, too. At the exact same time. Guess where everything that gets shooed away from the treated campers goes? Based on my experience this past weekend, I can now answer that. Every single creature will come to the nearest untreated camper, which will be your camper if you do what I did and decline pest control services to save yourself a few bucks.
I didn't think about that Friday evening when we arrived at our home away from home. Sure, I noticed a few spider webs in our shelves, but I thought they were probably just created by those teeny tiny little house spiders that crop up from time to time. We had three whole glorious nights to camp, hang out with the greatest people in the world, eat, swim, rest, and relax. I was STOKED. We were all worn out by the time we got there, unpacked, and visited for a few minutes, so we went straight to bed and the night passed without incident.
Saturday was spent swimming, playing, and chit-chatting. Husband and Progeny went to bed and I stayed up to hang out with the neighbors. Normally, our sleeping arrangements at the camper are like this: Hubs and Progeny take the bed and I sleep in the living room area, either on the couch or on an air mattress that I put in the middle of the floor. When I got back down to our camper to go nighty-night, I snuck into the bedroom area to get my jammies (in the dark, I might add), and retreated to the living area to take out my contacts and change clothes. I couldn't find my contact case so I had to turn on the light in order to search for it in the abyss-also-known-as-my-purse. And that's when I saw this. In the middle of the floor. No more than 10 feet from where I was planning on sleeping.
*Please excuse the poor quality of this photo. My hands were shaking*
Zoe, being the curious (read: nosey) dog that she is, decided she would investigate matters for me. She trotted over to the tarantula (it WAS a tarantula, y'all, just not the kind with hair) and decided to sniff it that way she could lead the police to its den after Adam found my lifeless corpse in the floor and called 911. Every time she would get close, the spider would buck up on its hind legs and run around in circles. Kind of like it was popping a wheelie. This lasted for a good 5 minutes - or maybe 15 seconds - before I hurdled to the sink and got a bowl to trap the beast with.
I then patted myself on my back for my quick thinking and for not screaming like a little girl. I also threw a couple of canned goods (Bush's baked beans and Del Monte corn, to be precise) on top of the bowl, just in case the spider were to go all The Bride on me and Kung Fu kick the bowl in an attempt to free itself and attack my face. I contemplated whether or not I would be safe to go to bed. I decided that wasn't an option, so I woke Adam up. Here's how the conversation went:
Me: Smith, Smith, SMITH!!!! Wake up! There's a situation I need you to handle down here.
Adam: What? What is it?
Me: There's a man-eating spider trapped in the kitchen and I need you to come kill it, pretty please, you handsome, strong, fearless, man you.
Adam: Well, since you asked so nicely.... (gets out of bed and comes into the kitchen).
*He then looked at my makeshift spider Alcatraz, but couldn't see the spider. It was hidden under the Bush's beans.*
Adam: I don't believe you.
Me: I swear! I took a picture before I woke you up!
Adam: Let me see. (Looking at the picture) HOLEY MOLEY! (Grabs a shoe, then freezes) I've never killed a spider this big.
Me: I just pray it doesn't have babies on its back or inside its belly. I don't think I can do this whole camping thing anymore. I'm ready to never camp again. We should sell the camper. Better yet, we should burn it to the ground.
Adam: (Kicks bowl over and drops a Nike anvil on the spider). Okay. It's dead.
Me: Are you sure? Did you hear and feel it crunch? You should hit it again just in case.
Adam: (Hits spider again) I'm sure.
I heard the spider crunch that time and was convinced it was dead, so I handed Adam a paper towel and he disposed of the spider.
The next morning, Adam woke me up to tell me that everyone in the entire campground (or at least 5 of our neighbors) were on their way down to work out on our porch and I should at least get up and put a bra on, just in case one of them decided to say hello or needed a bottle of water. I obeyed his instructions, because he literally saved my life from an entire nest of gigantic camel spiders the night before. I walked outside to grant the mob of fitness-crazed people.
Neighbor: Mornin'. I hear you woke Adam up to kill a spider about this big (holds up fingers in the a-ok symbol, about the size of a quarter).
Me: It was NOT a small spider like that. It was a giant spider. As big as my face. And now I have a rash. I think I have Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. Or malaria. Or flesh-eating bacteria. And I'm sure Adam didn't bother to tell you that he broke out in hives and began to sweat when he saw the spider, which was the size of half of our kitchen floor!
I slept with the TV on the next night. I hoped that would confuse the spider's companions into staying in their lairs. I got three hours' sleep. Tops. And I killed 3 more (tiny) spiders. And I vowed not to go back to the camper without sticky pads and some heavy duty spider repellant.
A few weeks ago, our camper neighbors had their bug man come out and spray for creepy-crawlies. Of course, they offered to send him on down to our camper for a small, nominal fee, but being the cheapskate I am, I declined in favor of having our regular bug man spray for us. I figured maybe we could get a multiple structure discount or something like that. Warning: This was NOT a good idea. When everyone around you sprays their campers for bugs, you must have your camper sprayed, too. At the exact same time. Guess where everything that gets shooed away from the treated campers goes? Based on my experience this past weekend, I can now answer that. Every single creature will come to the nearest untreated camper, which will be your camper if you do what I did and decline pest control services to save yourself a few bucks.
I didn't think about that Friday evening when we arrived at our home away from home. Sure, I noticed a few spider webs in our shelves, but I thought they were probably just created by those teeny tiny little house spiders that crop up from time to time. We had three whole glorious nights to camp, hang out with the greatest people in the world, eat, swim, rest, and relax. I was STOKED. We were all worn out by the time we got there, unpacked, and visited for a few minutes, so we went straight to bed and the night passed without incident.
Saturday was spent swimming, playing, and chit-chatting. Husband and Progeny went to bed and I stayed up to hang out with the neighbors. Normally, our sleeping arrangements at the camper are like this: Hubs and Progeny take the bed and I sleep in the living room area, either on the couch or on an air mattress that I put in the middle of the floor. When I got back down to our camper to go nighty-night, I snuck into the bedroom area to get my jammies (in the dark, I might add), and retreated to the living area to take out my contacts and change clothes. I couldn't find my contact case so I had to turn on the light in order to search for it in the abyss-also-known-as-my-purse. And that's when I saw this. In the middle of the floor. No more than 10 feet from where I was planning on sleeping.
Zoe, being the curious (read: nosey) dog that she is, decided she would investigate matters for me. She trotted over to the tarantula (it WAS a tarantula, y'all, just not the kind with hair) and decided to sniff it that way she could lead the police to its den after Adam found my lifeless corpse in the floor and called 911. Every time she would get close, the spider would buck up on its hind legs and run around in circles. Kind of like it was popping a wheelie. This lasted for a good 5 minutes - or maybe 15 seconds - before I hurdled to the sink and got a bowl to trap the beast with.
I then patted myself on my back for my quick thinking and for not screaming like a little girl. I also threw a couple of canned goods (Bush's baked beans and Del Monte corn, to be precise) on top of the bowl, just in case the spider were to go all The Bride on me and Kung Fu kick the bowl in an attempt to free itself and attack my face. I contemplated whether or not I would be safe to go to bed. I decided that wasn't an option, so I woke Adam up. Here's how the conversation went:
Me: Smith, Smith, SMITH!!!! Wake up! There's a situation I need you to handle down here.
Adam: What? What is it?
Me: There's a man-eating spider trapped in the kitchen and I need you to come kill it, pretty please, you handsome, strong, fearless, man you.
Adam: Well, since you asked so nicely.... (gets out of bed and comes into the kitchen).
*He then looked at my makeshift spider Alcatraz, but couldn't see the spider. It was hidden under the Bush's beans.*
Adam: I don't believe you.
Me: I swear! I took a picture before I woke you up!
Adam: Let me see. (Looking at the picture) HOLEY MOLEY! (Grabs a shoe, then freezes) I've never killed a spider this big.
Me: I just pray it doesn't have babies on its back or inside its belly. I don't think I can do this whole camping thing anymore. I'm ready to never camp again. We should sell the camper. Better yet, we should burn it to the ground.
Adam: (Kicks bowl over and drops a Nike anvil on the spider). Okay. It's dead.
Me: Are you sure? Did you hear and feel it crunch? You should hit it again just in case.
Adam: (Hits spider again) I'm sure.
I heard the spider crunch that time and was convinced it was dead, so I handed Adam a paper towel and he disposed of the spider.
The next morning, Adam woke me up to tell me that everyone in the entire campground (or at least 5 of our neighbors) were on their way down to work out on our porch and I should at least get up and put a bra on, just in case one of them decided to say hello or needed a bottle of water. I obeyed his instructions, because he literally saved my life from an entire nest of gigantic camel spiders the night before. I walked outside to grant the mob of fitness-crazed people.
Neighbor: Mornin'. I hear you woke Adam up to kill a spider about this big (holds up fingers in the a-ok symbol, about the size of a quarter).
Me: It was NOT a small spider like that. It was a giant spider. As big as my face. And now I have a rash. I think I have Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. Or malaria. Or flesh-eating bacteria. And I'm sure Adam didn't bother to tell you that he broke out in hives and began to sweat when he saw the spider, which was the size of half of our kitchen floor!
I slept with the TV on the next night. I hoped that would confuse the spider's companions into staying in their lairs. I got three hours' sleep. Tops. And I killed 3 more (tiny) spiders. And I vowed not to go back to the camper without sticky pads and some heavy duty spider repellant.
Monday, May 21, 2012
How to Succeed in the Corporate World - Lesson #4
If you are to be a successful Kool-Aid guzzler, you MUST be sterilized.
I recommend that you have your tubes tied as soon as you declare your major, and no later than spring break of your senior year. One might think that tubal ligation surgery would be a sweet graduation gift. One would be wrong. Remember Lesson #2? Having abdominal surgery at the same time you should be running away from everyone you know and love is like texting after a couple of bottles of wine. It's a bad idea.
You might be thinking, now why in the world can't I just go on the pill or get a NuvaRing? Let me tell you why. Because one day, there will be a little voice in the back of your head telling you how fantastic it would be to give birth to your very own cute and cuddly spawn. You might even decide to stop popping your nightly BCP or fisting yourself each month (the concept of NuvaRing insertion freaks me way out) in order to become impregnated with yourveryown wittle bitty bambino. However, if you've followed my advice and had those tubes snipped, then you will realize that pregnancy is impossible and you will quickly move on from such absurdity.
Never having kids is the only way to go if you want to climb the greasy pole of corporate success. The act of childbirth alone requires that you miss at least 2 days of work; and some people are so wrapped up in being a new mom that they take MONTHS off from work. This is just not acceptable for a budding CEO.
And it's not just calving that will require you to be away from the office (unless a water birth in the company fitness center appeals to you). Kids get sick. And who do kids want when they get sick? Well, that's a trick question. If you've been a good little company sheep, then your kids will want Daddy. But Daddy can't be missing work every single time that the kiddos fall ill. Which means that you will have to stay home and change out DVD's every couple of hours and maybe even *gasp* cuddle and comfort your little one. And in addition to the occasional (or not so occasional in those first couple of years at day care) sick day, there is also an endless tidal wave of sporting events, school functions, and special occasions that any decent parent is expected to attend.
So take my advice. Let Michelle and Jim Bob Duggar carry your contribution to planetary overpopulation. Have yourself spayed. If you want to succeed, don't breed.
I recommend that you have your tubes tied as soon as you declare your major, and no later than spring break of your senior year. One might think that tubal ligation surgery would be a sweet graduation gift. One would be wrong. Remember Lesson #2? Having abdominal surgery at the same time you should be running away from everyone you know and love is like texting after a couple of bottles of wine. It's a bad idea.
You might be thinking, now why in the world can't I just go on the pill or get a NuvaRing? Let me tell you why. Because one day, there will be a little voice in the back of your head telling you how fantastic it would be to give birth to your very own cute and cuddly spawn. You might even decide to stop popping your nightly BCP or fisting yourself each month (the concept of NuvaRing insertion freaks me way out) in order to become impregnated with yourveryown wittle bitty bambino. However, if you've followed my advice and had those tubes snipped, then you will realize that pregnancy is impossible and you will quickly move on from such absurdity.
Never having kids is the only way to go if you want to climb the greasy pole of corporate success. The act of childbirth alone requires that you miss at least 2 days of work; and some people are so wrapped up in being a new mom that they take MONTHS off from work. This is just not acceptable for a budding CEO.
And it's not just calving that will require you to be away from the office (unless a water birth in the company fitness center appeals to you). Kids get sick. And who do kids want when they get sick? Well, that's a trick question. If you've been a good little company sheep, then your kids will want Daddy. But Daddy can't be missing work every single time that the kiddos fall ill. Which means that you will have to stay home and change out DVD's every couple of hours and maybe even *gasp* cuddle and comfort your little one. And in addition to the occasional (or not so occasional in those first couple of years at day care) sick day, there is also an endless tidal wave of sporting events, school functions, and special occasions that any decent parent is expected to attend.
So take my advice. Let Michelle and Jim Bob Duggar carry your contribution to planetary overpopulation. Have yourself spayed. If you want to succeed, don't breed.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
How to Succeed in the Corporate World - Lesson #3 (On Marriage)
Basically, this entire post can be summed up in three words: Never get married. Unless, of course, you need a green card in order to prolong your time in the United States so you can continue to climb up the ladder and suck down the Kool-Aid.
Citizenship notwithstanding, the only - and I do mean ONLY - time that marriage is appropriate for a corporate minion is when said corporate minion decides she (or he) is tired of the rat race and would like to spend her (or his) days doing something besides kissing asses and stroking egos. If this is the case, you MUST marry up the social chain. Not laterally; and for God's sake, not down. And NEVER for love.
If you wish to be CEO of the company one day, you might as well kiss your dreams of one day walking down the aisle a big fat goodbye. While it is expected that a successful corporate person will have abandoned her family and not have any real friends, having a spouse seems to fall more into a gray area. After all, lots of CEO's have spouses who bear children for their nannies to raise, decorate their homes, and sip drinks poolside, right? Well, in case I haven't made myself clear already, marriage is a NO-NO!!!!
Swearing off marriage is one specific example of how to distance yourself, which was discussed in Lesson #2. I will reiterate for those of you who didn't read Lesson #2 (and shame on you if you didn't). We distance ourselves because people are needy. Spouses get sick. And we can't shun our spouses when they fall ill, because that would make us look really bad. Additionally, if you're like me, you would much rather burn in the pits of hell because of all the heads you trampled to get to the top; not for punking out on the holy vows that you swore to uphold in front of a minister and a church full of people!
If your spouse gets sick, you have no choice whatsoever but to care for him or her and that could mean being out of the office for a few days here and there in order to transport him or her back and forth to appointments for surgeries and the like. It might mean that you aren't able to travel. It might even mean that you have to leave work at quitting time every evening, thus missing out on precious face time, because you are concerned about the well-being of your extremely-ill-and-not-in-a-very-good-place-mentally spouse. Any of scenarios is bound to play out like a turd in a punchbowl for you; and it will impede your progress up the work food chain.
Medical crises aside, people expect their spouses to be there for them. If you want to be the best little sheep you can be, you just wont have anything to give to anyone or anything else besides yourself and your job. At some point, your spouse will probably expect you to go on vacation with him. Or travel with him to an out of town wedding. Or actually sleep at home a couple of nights a week instead of on the floor of your cubicle. Marriage will only bring you grief you can't afford to deal with. So treat marriage like it's meth. DON'T DO IT.
Coming soon: Lesson #4 - Sterilization.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
How to Succeed in the Corporate World - Lesson #2
Distance yourself.
You heard me. If you are to become a successful ladder-climber, distancing yourself is a MUST. You should pull a Melanie Smooter from Sweet Home Alabama, change your last name, and relocate to a completely different area of the country. Better yet, you should live like you were the one who tipped the feds off about Whitey Bulger's location and are now living out your years in the witness protection program. The day of your college graduation, you should thank your parents and friends for all they've done for you, kiss them all goodbye, and hit the trail.
Why is distancing yourself such an essential element to corporate success, you may ask? Here's why. People are NEEDY. The fewer people who really know you and think they can depend on you for anything, the better. This is especially true for parents. As they age, parents get sick and end up in hospitals. They become unable to mow their own yards. They try to shovel their own driveways and break a hip. If they know how to get in touch with you and you are made aware of these unfortunate events, you will feel the need to go be with them in their times of need. This is not acceptable behavior for a corporate puppet. Your parents may have changed your diapers, mopped up your vomit, dried your tears, and paid your college tuition, but you are married to your job.
The same is true for friends, which is why you should never plan on having any. Friends will reach out to you during a crisis and expect you to be a shoulder for them to cry on. They might want to come visit and crash at your house. Now, how in the world do you expect to entertain company when you spend 14 hours a day chained to your desk? Of course, you should always look for an opportunity to rub elbows at the office, but only rub the elbows of those who are higher up the ladder (and salary scale) than you. Not with those on the same level with you, and NEVER with your subordinates.
Be an island. Buy stock in your favorite frozen dinner company and your favorite fast food joint. In short, make like a Coyote Ugly bartender and always appear available, but never be available.
Next lesson - On Marriage.
You heard me. If you are to become a successful ladder-climber, distancing yourself is a MUST. You should pull a Melanie Smooter from Sweet Home Alabama, change your last name, and relocate to a completely different area of the country. Better yet, you should live like you were the one who tipped the feds off about Whitey Bulger's location and are now living out your years in the witness protection program. The day of your college graduation, you should thank your parents and friends for all they've done for you, kiss them all goodbye, and hit the trail.
Why is distancing yourself such an essential element to corporate success, you may ask? Here's why. People are NEEDY. The fewer people who really know you and think they can depend on you for anything, the better. This is especially true for parents. As they age, parents get sick and end up in hospitals. They become unable to mow their own yards. They try to shovel their own driveways and break a hip. If they know how to get in touch with you and you are made aware of these unfortunate events, you will feel the need to go be with them in their times of need. This is not acceptable behavior for a corporate puppet. Your parents may have changed your diapers, mopped up your vomit, dried your tears, and paid your college tuition, but you are married to your job.
The same is true for friends, which is why you should never plan on having any. Friends will reach out to you during a crisis and expect you to be a shoulder for them to cry on. They might want to come visit and crash at your house. Now, how in the world do you expect to entertain company when you spend 14 hours a day chained to your desk? Of course, you should always look for an opportunity to rub elbows at the office, but only rub the elbows of those who are higher up the ladder (and salary scale) than you. Not with those on the same level with you, and NEVER with your subordinates.
Be an island. Buy stock in your favorite frozen dinner company and your favorite fast food joint. In short, make like a Coyote Ugly bartender and always appear available, but never be available.
Next lesson - On Marriage.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
How to Succeed in the Corporate World - Lesson #1
Have a penis and testicles. It is best if you are born with said twig and berries, but I guess a gender reassignment would get you the same result. That being said, this series of blogs is about those of us who were born with and decided to keep our jayjays and are trying to make it in the business world.
Now for the disclaimers: I am NOT a bra-burning womens' libber. I do believe that there are LOTS of jobs in this world that are better suited for men than women. And I'm okay with that, because I also happen to believe that there are LOTS Of jobs in this world that are better suited for women than men. I just wholeheartedly believe that, if a man wants to become a nurse (traditionally viewed as a woman's job), or a woman wants to become a mechanic (traditionally viewed as a man's job), then more power to him or her and they should each get the same fair treatment from their employers. I will be making reference in these posts to jobs viewed as being traditionally male or female. This doesn't make me sexist or mean I am being derogatory toward those professions. I'm just using them as examples to illustrate the working world as I see it.
As sad as it may seem, and as jaded as it makes me sound, gender equality in a corporate environment is like Nessie. It doesn't exist. We live in a world where women who are well into their 40's are having children and women are allowed to serve in the military right along side their male counterparts (and excel in doing so). I can't think of a single job that men do that women either aren't allowed to do or aren't capable of doing. Yet, if a woman and a man - both with the same education, certifications, and experience - both apply for the same job/promotion in a corporate-type environment AND (this is a big AND) the person doing the hiring is a man, the male candidate will, 9 times out of 10, get the job/promotion. That's isn't equality. Equality is 5 times out of 10 (no extra charge for that little math lesson).
Women are usually seen as fragile, emotional airheads who will believe whatever they are told, so long as the voice telling it to them is attached to a man. I cannot begin to count the number of times that something has gone wrong with my car or I've needed a repair done at my house and the man on the other end of the phone either talks to me like English is my second language or blatantly lies to me because after all, that pair of tits on the other end of the phone will believe absolutely anything, right? Wrong.
On the other side of the perception coin is the woman who uses her intelligence and strength and shows the world what a tough bird she can be. I'm all about being true to oneself, but that can backfire, too. Women like that are usually seen in the corporate setting as battleaxes (think SNL's version of Janet Reno). It is also usually assumed that this type of woman prefers the company of other women over the company of men. So you have lots and lots of women out there who are, in fact, extremely smart and capable, yet they play the ditz card for fear of not being accepted.
So, where does that leave us? How can we make it better? I have no idea.
Check back soon for Lesson #2 - Distance Yourself.
Now for the disclaimers: I am NOT a bra-burning womens' libber. I do believe that there are LOTS of jobs in this world that are better suited for men than women. And I'm okay with that, because I also happen to believe that there are LOTS Of jobs in this world that are better suited for women than men. I just wholeheartedly believe that, if a man wants to become a nurse (traditionally viewed as a woman's job), or a woman wants to become a mechanic (traditionally viewed as a man's job), then more power to him or her and they should each get the same fair treatment from their employers. I will be making reference in these posts to jobs viewed as being traditionally male or female. This doesn't make me sexist or mean I am being derogatory toward those professions. I'm just using them as examples to illustrate the working world as I see it.
As sad as it may seem, and as jaded as it makes me sound, gender equality in a corporate environment is like Nessie. It doesn't exist. We live in a world where women who are well into their 40's are having children and women are allowed to serve in the military right along side their male counterparts (and excel in doing so). I can't think of a single job that men do that women either aren't allowed to do or aren't capable of doing. Yet, if a woman and a man - both with the same education, certifications, and experience - both apply for the same job/promotion in a corporate-type environment AND (this is a big AND) the person doing the hiring is a man, the male candidate will, 9 times out of 10, get the job/promotion. That's isn't equality. Equality is 5 times out of 10 (no extra charge for that little math lesson).
Women are usually seen as fragile, emotional airheads who will believe whatever they are told, so long as the voice telling it to them is attached to a man. I cannot begin to count the number of times that something has gone wrong with my car or I've needed a repair done at my house and the man on the other end of the phone either talks to me like English is my second language or blatantly lies to me because after all, that pair of tits on the other end of the phone will believe absolutely anything, right? Wrong.
On the other side of the perception coin is the woman who uses her intelligence and strength and shows the world what a tough bird she can be. I'm all about being true to oneself, but that can backfire, too. Women like that are usually seen in the corporate setting as battleaxes (think SNL's version of Janet Reno). It is also usually assumed that this type of woman prefers the company of other women over the company of men. So you have lots and lots of women out there who are, in fact, extremely smart and capable, yet they play the ditz card for fear of not being accepted.
So, where does that leave us? How can we make it better? I have no idea.
Check back soon for Lesson #2 - Distance Yourself.
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