Productivity in the Workplace

I got a job!  It is a 40 hr a week type job, and I am glad to be making some money, finally.  To celebrate this achievement, I have drawn a picture, using the pens and Sharpies and highlighters on my desk.

(please note that my scanner could not fully comprehend the awesomeness of the orange dayglow highlighter I used...so you will just have to use your imagination)

I drew this at work.  Perhaps I will hang it above my desk.  Nothing says "I am productive" like a Sharpie-marker unicorn, standing on a rainbow with a tap-dancing spider and a jackalope. 

Zombie Cat

Similar to the elusive Yeti (or Meh-Teh) of Tibetan steppes, or the Sasquatch of Del Norte County, California, the Zombie Cat is elusive, and seldom seen.

Husband was lucky enough to snap the following photos in the dead of night, under an eerily glowing full moon.

If you are squeamish, please turn away.  Do not continue to scroll down the page, because once you've glimpsed the horrifying Zombie Cat, she will haunt your dreams forever.

No more simple "naked at school or work" dreams for you.  Only "naked at school or work being chased by Zombie Cat" dreams from here on out.

The resolution might be grainy, the photos might be blurry.  But nothing can dull the horror.

Zombie Cat: Wwwwwrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrggggggggggggggggg...

The Job of Job-Hunting (the worst job there is)

 STEP 1 – The Cover Letter

I have written more cover letters than I care to count.  They are mostly the same: half-veiled suck up attempts that begin with “To Whom It May Concern” and end with “Sincerely.”

It is important, in a cover letter, to let your potential employer know how perfect you will be for the job.  You must also explain why you think their company is so wonderful (and it is, of course), and you must be sure to mention how much you are looking forward to hearing from them (you hope).

STEP 2 – Emailing the Cover Letter and Resume

I email my carefully written cover letter and resume into the void of cyberspace, where it either vanishes without a trace, or results in my email inbox getting spammed to death with get-rich-quick scams, ads for Russian mail-order brides, or coupons for free samples of Viagra.  None of which is very encouraging.

STEP 3 – Waiting

Waiting

Waiting

More waiting

Boredom

Low morale

Feelings of failure

Thoughts of becoming a Subway Sandwich Artist

Waiting

STEP 4 – Invitation to Interview

This happens sometimes.

For example, last month, I got a call from Tom, my contact at a temp agency.  Tom called me because he’d set me up to interview at a large office building in Providence.  It was a “front desk” type position, and I readily agreed to go.

I really did not wish to work at Subway.

I organized my paperwork, picked out a professional looking outfit, and waited – trying not to get too hopeful.

Not surprisingly, the day of my interview coincided with a massive snowstorm, so I left an hour early for a drive that should have taken fifteen minutes, and I drove down 95 going twenty miles an hour.

I made it to Providence, meandered through several side streets searching for parking, and managed to drive my Honda into a snow bank that used to be a parking space.  I fed two dollars worth of quarters into the parking meter, and trekked my way back into to enormous office building where my interview was to take place.  I thought I was doing pretty well, considering the circumstances, and I was still ten minutes early, which would give me time to readjust my horrible winter hat-hair, and attempt to de-fog my glasses.

Tom had informed me that my interview was taking place on the twelfth floor, so I headed for a bank of elevators at the back of the building.  Before I could make it that far, a security officer behind a huge marble desk flagged me down, and demanded to know where I was going.

Officer: I’m sorry, you can’t go up there without a guest pass.

Me: Can I have a guest pass?

Officer: Where are you going?

Me: I have a job interview with Mrs. So-and-So.

Officer:  What is your name?

Me: Emily.

Officer: Stay right there, I’ll check.

(The officer calls upstairs and checks that I am not a crazed stalker).

Officer: All right, Emily, she is expecting you.

(The officer hands me a “hello, my name is _____” name tag.)

I am almost to the elevator.  I press the button.

Officer: Oh…wait!  Where did you park?

Me: Um…outside?  Down the street a little ways?

Officer:  Oh, no – I’m afraid you can’t do that.  There’s a city wide parking ban. It went into effect half an hour ago.

Me: Okay?  So where should I park?

Officer: Well, you can’t park on the street.

Me: Are you saying I can’t park anywhere in the city of Providence?

Officer:  Well…I guess you could park at the Convention Center.

Me: Okay…and where is that?

Officer:  Oh… (gestures vaguely towards a large window, mostly covered with snow)  Do you see that domed building?  It’s right near that.

Me: …Can you be more specific?

Officer:  Just go that way, you can’t miss it.

While the officer called back upstairs to tell Mrs. So-and-So that I was going to be a little late, I slogged back to my car, rocked it out of the snow bank, and headed towards the “domed building” that was somewhere in the distance.  As far as I could tell, there were three.  Eventually I found the Convention Center, where I had to pay seven dollars to park for an hour, and I ran about a half mile back through the snowstorm so that I could be only a “little” late to my interview.  My shoes were the opposite of appropriate.

I got back into the building, slapped my nametag onto my shirt, and rode up to the twelfth floor.

Mrs. So-and-So: You parked in the garage under the building, right?

Me: Um…what?

Clearly, we were off to a wonderful start.

It is probably obvious that I did not get hired for this particular job.  Not only was I late, with matted hair, a runny nose, and exuding a stench of wet wool; I was also unable to successfully answer Mrs. So-and-So’s questions.  Perhaps my half-mile run through the snow in dress shoes had wrung every last drop of “suckupiness” out of me, but I found myself unable to give Mrs. So-and-So the answers she wanted to hear. 

My favorite:

Mrs. So-and-So:  So, what are your long-term professional goals if you are hired for this job?

What I should have said:

I love being at the front desk.  I love challenges, and working with people, and seeing tasks through to their finish.  I’m really organized, I’m a spreadsheet wiz, and I really, really, really enjoy the satisfaction of a job well done.  I love working in an office environment, so hopefully, I will learn many new skills from you, and I will be able to work for you in the future as a full-time hire.  …did I mention that I think you are awesome?

What I really said:

Well, honestly, I am looking for a job that provides me with a stable income while I work on my own projects.  I’m hoping to eventually work as a freelance artist.  (pause)  Which is why I am working as a temp.  (another awkward pause)  (I decide Mrs. So-and-So looks irritated.)  …But I would work very hard for you.  I would take this job very seriously.

Starting my sentence with “honestly” was my first big mistake.  My second was the word “freelance” and the third was my horrible attempt at ass kissing.

The all-time worst thing I said during the interview:

Mrs. So-and-So: Do you have any questions?

Me:  Not really.  Well, actually, what do you do, exactly?

STEP 5 – Waiting

Waiting

Despair

Waiting

Waiting

STEP 6 – Success or Failure

(in my case, failure)

STEP THAT IS NOT A STEP, BUT SHOULD BE –

Write an honest cover letter

If you have to suck up anyway, why not just cut to the chase?

Here is my new and much improved cover letter.  The one I can never send.

To Whom It May Concern:

I am awesome.  I have a Master’s degree, so clearly I possess follow-through, and I am not a slacker.  I am a professional person, who knows how important it is to wear a bra and appropriate pants to work.  I shower daily, and make an effort to smell nice.

I would be perfectly suited for this job because even though I am a socially awkward person, I am also outgoing and friendly, and I am a person who learns quickly.  I am always efficient and on time.  I am a strong writer and editor, and I know the proper uses of the words “there, their, and they’re.”  I can spell “tomorrow.”  I can use a computer and a telephone and a fax machine.

I hope you contact me for an interview because I really need a job, and I know I would be fantastic at this one.  Thank you very much for your time!

Sincerely,

Emily Lopuch

P.S.  I can also draw unicorns really well. 

The Time-Suck

In the film “It’s a Wonderful Life,” Angel Second Class Clarence Odbody says that every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings.

Similarly, every time a computer is made, a Time-Suck is born.

What is a Time-Suck, you ask?

By Definition, a Time-Suck is a small, invisible entity, which can read minds.  It possesses magical powers, not unlike a Unicorn or David Bowie. 

 If the Time-Suck were to be made visible, it would look like a cross between one of J.K. Rowling’s Dementors, a tumbleweed, and Slimer, from Ghost Busters.  Also, it would have the stumpy arms of a Tyrannosaurus Rex.

The Time-Suck’s only desire is to lure you from the path of productivity, into the pointless, meandering bowels of the internet, where it will suck on your soul like a watermelon lifesaver.

Life-Cycle of the Time-Suck

Stage One: BIRTH 

In the warm, chaotic conveyer-belt world of the computer factory, a computer was completed and sealed inside its dark cocoon of Styrofoam and cardboard.  Somewhere inside, perhaps near the motherboard and the nests of colorful wires and plastic chips, a sentient being blinked it’s little invisible eyes and yawned, displaying a mouth full of sharp, pointy teeth. 

Stage Two: PURCHASE

I saved my money carefully.  I was looking forward to buying that shiny new computer forever, and the day had finally arrived.  I brought the box home.  I admired it.  I enjoyed tearing the tape off of the box and I loved the squeal of Styrofoam as I pulled my new mechanical baby out into the light.  I plugged it in, turned it on, and then I just sit there, admiring.  I had grand thoughts.  I would use my gorgeous new computer to achieve my GOALS and I would be SUPER PRODUCTIVE.

Silly me.

Stage Three: DOING STUFF

I started researching, and writing, and using my fabulous new imaging software.  I turned a pony into a flying saucer using Photoshop.  I enjoyed how efficient my new computer was and I plowed through a whole bunch of things on my “to do” list.  And somewhere nearby, the Time-Suck was hovering, biding it’s time.

I was very proud of myself, and I decided that I deserved a reward…

Stage Four: DISTRACTION           

Me:  “I am going to get a SNACK!”

Time-Suck: But you are so comfortable right here in your chair.

Me: “I feel lazy.  Maybe I’ll get a snack later.”

           

I decided to check my email messages, instead.

Then I checked Facebook and left a few messages on my friend’s walls.

The Time-Suck sensed my resolve was crumbling.  It smelled weakness.  It used its mind-reading powers to ascertain that I have a soft spot for horses, cute animal videos, and men in spandex pants.

Time-Suck: You know what is cool?  David Bowie is cool.  Remember Labyrinth?  Remember the spandex and the crystal balls?  I bet there are a ton of good clips of David Bowie on youtube.

Me: “YOUUUTUUUBBBEEEEE…”

Stage Five: SUCK, SUCK, SUCK

It all started innocently enough; I told myself I’d only be on youtube for 15 minutes.  I checked out a few David Bowie videos, admiring his spandex and his hair…I watched him fondle his crystal balls and shuddered over that weird, creepy clip of dancing fire puppets from the stinky swamp.

Time-Suck: You know who else wears spandex?  Equestrian Vaulters wear spandex….horrible, be-glittered spandex costumes that could make Michael Jackson shudder and Tim Curry proud.  Do it…take a peek…I know you want to…

Me: “SPAAAANDEEEEEX…”

My Fifteen minutes had somehow morphed into an hour.  Also, I’d started twitching and drooling a little on my shirt.  I was singing “Sweet Transvestite,” under my breath.

By that point the Time-Suck was in complete control.  I had gone over to the internet Dark Side.

Stage Six: MORE SUCKAGE

I watched old circus clips of a 50’s housewife who threw kitchen knives at her daughters.  I chortled as a cat fell off of a TV set and I continued to chortle as a horse amorously humped a hay bale.  I wasn’t sure why.  But I just…Couldn’t….Stop…..

Stage Seven: WAIT, THAT CLOCK CAN’T BE RIGHT.

3 AM?  WHHHHYYY!

I really didn’t get much done that day.  The Time-Suck had triumphed.  I turned off my computer and went to bed, berating myself for getting so easily distracted.  What kind of a person enjoys watching four hours of spandex-glitter-knife-throwing- related videos, anyway?   I was sure I was only watching for an hour…two at the most.  Where, I asked, did those other two hours go?

Time-Suck: MRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWW!!!

Stage Eight:  THAT TIM CURRY DREAM.  AGAIN.

...sometimes it's better not to ask.

(Please note that EVERYONE has a Time-Suck.  This means YOU!

...and if you're reading this, you might be under it's influence RIGHT...NOW...) 

Cat Adoption, Part 2

Don't get me wrong.  I love Patches, the adorable adopted cat.  She is a remarkably friendly, gentle cat.  She sits on your lap.  She purrs.  She only eats the plants sometimes.


Unfortunately, Patches has an alter ego, which I have dubbed "Bad Cat."


Bad Cat is a terrible, destructive, animal menace.  This alter ego manifests itself in the wee hours of the morning, and I first become aware of Bad Cat when she leaps across the darkened bedroom and latches herself onto my sleeping face.


I suspect this behavior is the result of Bad Cat's overwhelming desire for canned cat food, otherwise known as "Fisherman's Delight."


8 AM:  Feeding Time

Bleary eyed from lack of coffee, I shuffle to the fridge.  On my way there I realize that at some point during the night, Bad Cat could not contain her exuberance, and decided to open every cabinet door in the entire apartment.


Muttering about the stupid cabinet doors and the dirty cat paw prints all over my clean dishes, I scoop out some cat food from the can, while Bad Cat winds herself around my ankles, up my leg, and nearly murders me.

I put her food in her dish.


8:05 AM: Shower

Have you ever been taking a shower, and somewhere between rinsing off the shampoo and rubbing on the face wash, you become certain you are no longer alone?

It is a Bate's Motel feeling.  And this time it is real.


8:25 AM: Make Coffee/Eat Breakfast

Bad Cat has yet to fully discover the mysteries of the coffee maker. If I had to wager a guess, I'd say she thinks there is a small, growling animal inside the percolator.  It growls.  She growls.  It is all very suspicious.


I shoo Bad Cat off of the counter for what feels like the millionth time, pour myself some coffee, get cereal, and leave the room to eat it.  Unfortunately, I am not a competent morning person, and I leave my water glass on the counter, beside the now-silent coffee maker.

Apparently, shoving your face into a mostly-empty glass of water is a totally worthwhile experience.  But in the seconds that follow Bad Cat's initial joy at finding she can shove her entire face into the glass, it dawns on her that the glass is, in fact, ON her face.


ON, as in STUCK THERE.

Panic ensues, followed by flailing.  

I can't say that this was a particularly traumatic experience, because Bad Cat has shoved her face inside three glasses, on three separate occasions.  And none of those glasses have survived her attentions.  


8:45 AM: Damage Control


9:00 AM: Work

It took me several months to realize that I wasn't crazy, and that my pencils, pens, erasers, and assorted chapsticks weren't somehow walking off on their own, and having grand adventures.

I realized this because I finally vacuumed.

WHEN I finally vacuumed, I discovered a massive hoard of writing utensils, styrofoam packing peanuts, chapsticks, buttons...even a piece of wax from a candle stick, all carefully hidden beneath a corner of the living room rug.  Everything was gnawed along the edges.

The erasers on the ends of my mechanical pencils were just gone.  I had to assume Bad Cat had eaten them; a sort of mid-afternoon snack.

And it isn't just plastic and styrofoam she loves.  Bad Cat enjoys the taste of shoes, books, sticks, bird seed, and even the end of her own tail.

Thankfully, Husband has arrived at a somewhat acceptable solution:

String.

We see Patches a little more often now.

Thank you, string.

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Vampirates (The Valentine's Day Special)

It is Valentines day.  Husband bought me some beer and some new pint glasses, which I am very excited about.  I baked Husband a pie, and got him some flowers, which the cat promptly ate.


It seemed appropriate, in light of this joyful day, to discuss another thing that starts with "V."
Mainly, Vampires.


And the inevitable question is:
In a battle to the death...who would win?  Which vampire?


In my opinion, three vampires stand out from the rest.  Let's start with the classics.  Clearly, this means the tried and true, original vampire, from the novel that started it all way back in 1897: "Dracula," by Bram Stoker.

There he is.  Anyway, Bram Stoker based the character Dracula on a real-life person: Vlad Dracul (meaning "son of the devil").  Vlad was born on December 1st, 1431, and reigned briefly as a king in Transylvania.  Vlad was ambitious, a sadist, and very possibly insane.  He was responsible for impaling over 30,000 people, leaving them to rot around his castle, and killed at least 10,000 more in various horrible ways.  He is rumored to have drunk human blood.  (For more detail, surf the internet.  It's all there in gory detail.)

Vlad's preferred method of killing (impaling people on stakes) is what contributed to Stoker's method of killing Dracula.  Dracula as a character was cunning to the extreme.  He was ancient, and wise, and interested in taking over England.  Mostly because he was bored, and needed something to do.


Assets in a fight:
1. Vlad can turn into just about anything - a bat, a wolf, a mist.  You name it, and he will impress you.
2.  He can control the weather.  He can conjure storms and fog at will.
3.  As a vampire he can go outside in daylight...he just isn't as powerful.
4.  Vlad can possess others, or pass on a desire for flesh and blood.  He can drive a man insane.


Hinderances:
1.  He doesn't like garlic or crosses.
2.  He needs his dirt (Dracula must sleep in dirt from his homeland of Transylvania to retain his power).


The second vampire of note is Anne Rice's character from her novel "Interview with the Vampire."  His name is Louis.

Louis was often overwhelmed by the fragility and cruelty of humanity, and hated what he had become.  Louis' greatest strength, and hindrance, was his empathy for human suffering.  Often, Louis fed on rats (or poodles) in order to keep himself from feeding on humans.


Assets in a fight:
1.  Louis is skilled with a scythe, and has killed vampires before.


Hinderances:
1.  Sunlight (he must sleep in a coffin).
2.  His self-loathing makes him self destructive.


These two vampires (and vampire novels) are, in my opinion, examples of the very best that literature has to offer.  But it would be absurd of me to overlook the series of books that has taken the world by storm in the last five years:


Twilight.  It might be possible to sum the series up like this:
Girl sees boy.  Girl thinks boy is hot.  Boy wants to eat girl.  They decide to date.


Or...maybe...we could sum the whole series up with this picture:

Edward was created by Stephanie Meyer.  Edward likes to play the piano and suck the blood of animals.  He also has perfect hair.

Assets in a fight:

1.  Edward is made of "stone," and it is very difficult to damage him.

2.  Edward can read minds

3.  Edward doesn't sleep.

4.  Edward can go outside in the sun.

Disadvantages:

1.  Edward is a "young" vampire.

2.  Edward is sparkly.

So in a fight to death...who would win?

Imagine all three of these famous vampires in the same place, dueling to the death...

It might look something like this:

First, I would like to point out that Dracula would not have to fight as a man.  He would most likely turn into a giant wolf, or a narwhal, or a unicorn.

Louis would pick up his scythe and run amuck.  He would also be lighting things on fire.

Edward would probably just be running around with his shirt off, groaning about how he loves Bella.  Also, he would be sparkling.

After some indeterminate length of time, something like this would happen:

Louis and Edward would realize that they were just fighting each other, because Dracula decided (in his infinite cunning) to just disappear as a mist or a bat and flutter away.   Louis and Edward would be thoroughly creeped out, and would realize they just weren't smart enough to take on Dracula, the Transylvania Gentleman.

Honestly, they just didn't know where his dirt was.

Dracula would bide his time.  Because he's used to it.  And he has oodles.  Therefore, I must conclude that Dracula would win.

But wait...isn't there something I'm forgetting?

...What about the Vampirates?

Vampirates is a series of novels by Justin Somper that originated in Britain.  And it is huge there.  I can't speak from experience, because I haven't read them...but they appear to be quite popular.

Personally, the title "Vampirates" just about me kills me from laughing.  My stomach tenses up and I start dry heaving.  Vam...pirates.  Say it out loud.

I start snickering as soon as I think of those two words fused together.

But I do feel it's got potential.  There's a new Johnny Depp "Pirates of the Caribbean" movie coming out soon.  I think Disney should take a clue from Justin Somper and just run with it:

"Vampirates...of the Caribbean." 

We already know he looks good in mascara.  Fangs aren't that much of a leap.  And the ladies love him.

Sexy, right?

So I am clearly advocating for Johnny Depp with fangs.  It has also been suggested that Johnny Depp should dress in drag for "Vampirates of the Caribbean."  I second this suggestion.

Wouldn't you pay $10 to see that in theaters?

I rest my case.

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone.