Category Archives: Office Space

An Ender to the Bender

SHUT THE FRONT DOOR,  I’m employed!  Gainfully and such!  Finally!

Found out that I indeed got the job.  I’ve been running around in headless chicken mode ever since.  SO MUCH TO DO, I didn’t know where to start.  Well, I started by getting up off the floor because I was positively sure that I not only didn’t get the job but probably offended them so completely that they had put me on some employment blacklist circulating the city.  When I got the offer letter email it took me 15 minutes to open it.

So, first things first.  Hair appointment.  Done.  My gal moved some things around for me after I threatened to key her car begged her and she took 5 inches off my mop and gave me a whole new chestnut color.  LOVE IT.  Well then I had to kick it in high gear and get this house/laundry/grocery situation in order because now?  Now I’m a working gal and I can’t lay about and attend to these matters while I pause “Storage Wars”.

Then I went to the worst place on Earth second only to jail or Toys R Us… the mall.  God, I abhor the mall.  I don’t know where I’m going for starters because I never go to the mall unless it’s to see a movie so I wander around in a stupid chaotic haze the whole time I’m there.  Then those kiosk fuckers practically accost you with their perfume/lotion/cellphone covers/massage bullshit.  These guys are getting really aggressive and it irritates me to no end.  I would see one coming and actually fake a pretend phonecall just to elude the awkwardness of it all but truthfully I just wanted to just punch them all in the throat.

I am awful at shopping for clothes.  Here’s an idea, someone make Garanimals for adults.

I managed to do some smart shopping and put together what I think is a functional/adult and somewhat trendy fall wardrobe.  Go me!

I started last week and have been completely overwhelmed challenged by learning my new role.  The people are terrific, the office is beautiful and I’m loving that I’m pretty much getting paid to ORGANIZE.  Can you imagine?  In a perverted universe I would totally be paying them.  C’mon guys, let me color code your files!  PUHLEESE!?!

I’m calling this a comeback folks although one could argue that by calling it a comeback it means I was somewhere or someone to start with.  Here’s the deal – I’ve not really had a life of my own since I’ve been flopping around like a salmon on hot concrete in unemployment and despair.  I pounce on Johnny like a spider monkey at the end of every day and hound him with ridiculous questions about his day and his lunch and who he saw and who he spoke to and whatnot.  All he wants to do is crack a beer and lay in the hammock.  I didn’t have a “thing”, you see.  Now, I have a thing.

I have a real job with real folks and real responsibilities.  I can come home and talk about MY day and not once mention Hoarders or YouTube clips of Kathy Griffin.  Yay me!

So, stay tuned won’t ya?  I mean, obviously I’m going to write a best seller or get my own show rivaling Chelsea Handler eventually but for now?  For now this is just peachy.  I tend to do better with my time if I have less of it, if that makes any sense.  I need structure and organization.  I like lists and graphs and spreadsheets.  I love a good schedule.

I’m so gonna rock this.  And thanks dear readers, your faith in me never faltered, did it?  Wait, don’t answer that.

An Interview beats an Intervention

Okay you guys I totally had my interview and I *think* it went well.  Here’s a list of things that didn’t happen.

I did not..

  1. fart (audibly or otherwise)
  2. burp
  3. vomit
  4. use profanity (this one was close)*
  5. fall down
  6. shit pants
  7. scratch butt
  8. sniff armpits
  9. pick nose
  10. hock out a loogie into their trash can

Victory!  I’ve come a long way, huh?  Remember it was just a scant few years ago that I picked my teeth with my car keys and nonchalantly spit out whatever was stuck in there in a crowded elevator.  I tend to get a little too comfortable sometimes.

I had a pretty good vibe about the whole thing and they asked if I was available to start Monday, so I think that’s a good sign, right?  My plans for Monday involve napping in between Hoarders episodes so I told them I was free.

It’s a REAL job, guys.  Like I’d be running their office.  Now I’d be the only chick working there which I’m totally down with but I’ll be honest, I’m somewhat concerned and here’s why – normally I’m not worried about working with dudes because I am pretty much a dude and I’m what they call “a guy’s gal” but here’s the thing:  these guys are totally metrosexual and I’m not sure they’ll think I’m amusing whatsoever.  I do well with regular guys-guys and I do fabulously well with the gays but it’s the in between where things get a little blurry.  I can clean it up for a little while but the metros don’t appreciate a trash talking whore like you’d think.  The guys and the gays?  LOVE IT.

So, we’ll see.  If they don’t hire me I’m totally going down to their swanky glass store front and wiping a booger on it.  At 3am.

* this one was way close because we were discussing a mutual acquaintance who happens to be a little shady and I ALMOST slipped and referred to him as a fucking fruitcake.  Luckily I caught myself and just kind of stumbled into “f-f-f-fruitcake”.  So there’s that.  I’ll take it as a win.

Just wrong.

Last night’s happy hour discussion.

Shannon: You know what? I totally think Christopher Reeve was faking it.
Me: *blink* Um, Shannon? HE DIED.

Shannon: I know, but I kinda think he was faking that whole thing.
Me: What thing? His accident? His paralysis? His inability to breathe?!?
Shannon: Well, I never saw Superman, so I didn’t really think it was that big of a deal.

Me: What in the hell does that have to do with it? He was a human being!
Shannon: Whatev. I still think they blew that whole thing out of proportion.

Me: You’re going to hell.
Shannon: I’ll save you a seat.

I’d be embarrassed if it were not so AWESOME.

I swear to you, this is an actual online conversation from 8:03am this morning. I work in a very cool and modern professional office. We are in the software business. Technically, I work with *adults*. However, as has been proven over and over again, that’s debatable. My co-workers vote, pay taxes and raise families. You’d never know it because it would seem that I arrive to work in a dorm room every morning.

starwarsgeek: Good morning!
girl,corrupted: How do?
starwarsgeek: Pretty good. Trying to wake up. How you be?
girl,corrupted: I’m good. Sitting here laughing.
starwarsgeek: Oh yeah? What’s up?
girl,corrupted: I just farted and it bubbled up my crack and tickled. It made me giggle.
starwarsgeek: That very well may be the best thing I’ll hear or read all day.

girl,corrupted: Sadly, I’m pretty sure that will be the highlight of my day as well.

starwarsgeek: So, I bought a digital camera last night. I showed Chris and she only remarked, “it’s sooooo small”.

girl,corrupted: THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID.

starwarsgeek: No kidding! Let’s not revisit awkward moment in college!

Wow. Looking back it would seem that I am mostly the one who is not behaving like an adult.


Conversations with Ann

Ann: I think I want to see a movie this weekend.
Me: Yeah? Which one?
Ann: Maybe “Choke”…that “Blindness” movie with Julianne Moore looks pretty lame.
Me: Yeah, I heard “Choke” was alright. What about that new Cohen Bros. movie?

Ann: “Burn before Reading”? You know, I have problem with that type of movie.
Me: Whattya mean?
Ann: Well, I like a comedy and I like a drama, but I don’t like it when you can’t define between the two genres in a movie.
Me: I see. You think they should make up their mind one way or another.
Ann: Exactly!

Me: Funny you say that. That’s the way I feel about bisexual people. I really feel like they should pick one side or the other. I’m just sayin’.

Ann: Totally. I mean, it’s a pretty BIG DIFF.

Me: Did you actually just say “big diff”!?!?

This was an actual verbatim conversation from pretty darn early this morning.

*sigh* I’m really going to miss my office.

I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, an adult.

starwarsgeek: What’d you do for lunch?
girlcorrupted: Ran to Cracker Barrel and then over to Pubics for a few items.
starwarsgeek: I believe it’s “Publix”.
girlcorrupted: No. No, it’s not. It’s Pubics.
starwarsgeek: No, really, it’s an “x”.
girlcorrupted: Pubics! Pubes! Tubes of pubes! Pubics everywhere!
starwarsgeek: Who would want to shop at a pubics store?
girlcorrputed: Well, I wouldn’t want to find one in my butter dish, but I personally have nothing against them.
starwarsgeek: That very well may be the quote of the day.

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell

Jim: Ya’ll ever get one of those massages at the airport?
Randy: Oh, hell no. I’m afraid I’ll see someone I know.
Me: No. I’m afraid I’ll fart.

*Randy bows his head and shakes it back and forth, clearly disgusted*

Randy: You’re a piece of work, you know that?

Me: Duh. So why do you care if someone you know sees you?
Randy: I dunno, it just seems gay.

Me: You’re a retard. What are you talking about?
Randy: Getting a public massage. Seriously, how can I relax with all that foot traffic passing by?

Me: You’re face down with your head in that toilet seat contraption. You can’t even SEE who’s walking by, dude.

Randy: I don’t care. Everytime my wife and I vacation at some resort she wants us to go get massages. You gotta be careful, sometimes there are only men to massage you, and I’m not having that. Jen, that’s not my idea of relaxing. No hairy man is going to rub on me.

Jim: Well, didn’t you tell me about a massage you got years ago when you were in the military?
Randy: *flustered* Well, yeah…I mean, NO. I mean, I can’t tell that story!

Me: Dude. That’s called a massage with a happy ending.

Randy: Please get the hell out of my office. Both of you.

First Impressions

Today at work I was walking down the hallway and I saw a bunch of my co-workers standing around talking to our HR Director, and a lady I had never seen before. I quickly ascertained that this woman was interviewing with the company and was being introduced around. We have quite a few positions open and this is pretty commonplace.

HR Director: Jen! Come here, I want you to meet Carolyn.
Me: *extending hand* Hi Carolyn, I’m Jen – it’s nice to meet you!

Carolyn: Thanks, you too! So, Jen, what do you do?

Me: “Well, Carolyn, right now I do absolutely nothing. They are transitioning me from the Legal Department to Sales. It’s great! When they come to me with Legal tasks, I tell them that I’m in Sales and don’t do that anymore. Then they’ll come to me with Sales assignments and I casually mention that I’m still in the Legal Department. It’s awesome!

So, Carolyn, what position are you interviewing for?

Carolyn: Sales Manager. Um…your boss.

Me: Interesting. Now if you’ll excuse me I obviously need to go locate my work ethic.

Yeast Infraction

Yesterday on my way to work I decided to stop by the grocery store and grab something for lunch. As I was perusing the frozen selections, I noticed a big box of Jimmy Dean bagel breakfast sandwiches. They looked pretty darn yummy and as you may recall it’s been documented on this blog how much I love the Jimmy Dean company and their commercials. The box contained 6 sandwiches so I figured I’d just leave them at work and grab them on the mornings I don’t have time to eat breakfast at home. When I got to my office, I popped one in the microwave and enjoyed the warm melty goodness of a bagel-y cheesy breakfast. Score.

This morning I had boot camp. Let me just make it clear that on the mornings I have boot camp, I am starving afterwards. Often after our 5:30am class I feel like I could eat a reindeer. Whole. Maybe raw. All that running and weight lifting and whatnot will make a gal ravenous by 8am. I could seriously eat a rhinoceros turd burrito, perhaps.

On my way to work I gleefully envisioned my delicious breakfast awaiting me. I even brought a little salsa in which to dip my bagel sandwich. I like things spicy, innernet, don’t judge. Anyway, I got to work and skipped gaily into the breakroom looking forward to my delightful breakfast. I swung open the freezer door and grabbed the box of delectable bagel sandwiches. It seemed a little light. I scowled, and peered inside. There were TWO lonely-ass bagel sandwiches chillin’ in the box. There should have been FIVE.

My head filled with white noise and rage. Which one of my fat-ass coworkers took it upon themselves to eat THREE of my sandwiches? Absolute Fury. I put one in the microwave, hands shaking from the urge to strangle the culprit, and hid the other one in the butter dish section of the fridge. I’ll be damned if I let the bagel burgling bastard strike again!

I went back to my desk with my bagel breakfast but sadly my mood had turned sour. I had been violated and wronged. Who in their right mind just takes someone else’s food out of a shared refrigerator? A dumbass co-worker with a tremendous sense of entitlement, obviously. Well, the more I thought about it, the madder I became. So, I typed up a little note:

To the douchebag and/or douchebags that ate THREE of my breakfast bagels –
What made you think that these were for public consumption? That’s just rude, a-hole/s.
Thanks a heap.

I taped it to the empty Jimmy Dean box and put it back into the fridge. I figured I’ll never know who did it, but it made me feel a wee bit better.

The buzz around the office began almost immediately with people seeing the note whilst filling their glasses with ice. Next thing I know, HR is in my office and our company intranet has a “If you didn’t put it in the refrigerator, it’s NOT yours for the taking!!!” masthead. I had started a war. I felt like William Wallace in Braveheart. I was taking a mf’ing STAND, people! I was representin’, yo!


After an hour or so, three slightly (yet obviously tickled) sheepish looking co-workers walked into my office.

Lori: We ate your breakfast sandwiches, but it was an ACCIDENT.
Lori: Let me explain.

Lori: Calm down. Diane brought in a box of Tennessee Pride breakfast sandwiches yesterday and didn’t like them. She sent us an email saying that we could help ourselves. She didn’t specify brand, however and when we opened the freezer, we saw your breakfast sandwiches and assumed they were what she was talking about. Frank and Tina ate the other two.

*Frank and Tina are not feeling the LEAST BIT guilty, FYI – Frank and Tina are standing in my office, LAUGHING THEIR ASSES OFF*

Me: Oh.
Lori: I’ll go out at lunch and buy you another box.
Me: No you won’t. That’s the funniest coincidence ever. Plus, now I have blog material.
Lori: They were good.
Me: I know! I love Jimmy Dean!

So, after the misunderstanding was cleared up, I removed my nasty note and told Lori, Frank and Tina that I really didn’t think they were douchebags, just dumbasses. We had a group hug and went back to work.*

* kidding about the hug, but I did giggle all day.

My TPS Report

It’s time for my yearly review at work. I am required to submit three accomplishments from the prior year, as well as three goals for the upcoming year.

I would rather have a Tarantula crawl into my ear and lay eggs.

I abhor this type of thing and sought out the sage advice of my co-worker and drinking partner, Chris, while he was taking a cigarette break this afternoon.

Me: I have to submit my goals for the upcoming year, Chris. I’m screwed.
Chris: (taking a long drag from his smoke and exhaling slowly) Indeed, you are.

Me: My goal for the upcoming year is not to shit my pants in public. Think my boss would appreciate that?

Chris: No, but I appreciate that because I know how challenging that will be for you.

Me: My accomplishments? My only accomplishment this year was not getting fired.

Chris: Here’s the thing; it’s bullshit. No one cares. All you have to do is make your goals so broad that they cannot be measured.

Me: Whattya mean? Like, “try to increase the turnaround time on my contracts”?
Chris: No you retard, that’s way too specific. Your goals need to be something you can’t prove.

Me: I’m so confused.
Chris: Listen, just use a lot of buzzwords like “working smarter, not harder”, “learning opportunity” and “tacit knowledge”. They won’t know what the hell you’re talking about, and that’s ultimately what you want.

Me: Good grief, this may be harder than not shitting my pants in public.

Chris: Perhaps.

Goal #1 – To successfully remove my foot from his ass.