A Proposal

Office lingo has crept into The Real Housewives of New Jersey.

Theresa, easily the craziest of the bunch, actually said something to the effect of, “But I did reach out to my brother.  I texted him !”

She reached out  to him.  She didn’t contact or call ( pronounced “cawl” in NJ ) him.  She reached out to him. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I thought once I was in the confines of my home the lingo would remain behind to languish in the vapors of the office.

The expression seemed awfully “New Agey” for a person who wears thousand dollar shoes, dead animal skins, and flips tables while yelling “Prostitution WHORE! (Pronounced HO-WAH in NJ.)

It amuses me when new lingo is introduced in the work place and suddenly everyone around me is using it.  If you want to sound as good as a Manager or the “Os,” (CEO, CFO, COO, UFO) you use the snappy vocabulary.  You sneak it in to your conversations so they think you’re a team player and you actually know what you’re doing.

Here are some words and phrases that are currently hot in the workplace;

Reach Out- To talk to, to call, to discuss, to inform, to get together with someone and ask for a meeting, to get together with someone and tell them they’ve screwed up...

Push Back- To stand your ground about something, to not back down on an issue, to respond.

To model or modeling- To create a process or a contract, a blueprint or a template. (It has nothing to do with six inch stilettos on a slippery catwalk.)

To trend- To keep track of a bunch of silly-assed mistakes someone is making.

Challenges- Problems.  (Never say something is a problem, or you HATE an account because it’s difficult. You say it’s a CHALLENGE.)

Granular- The smallest level of something. (This one was a new one on me. Granular, really? )

Drill down-To get to the root of the problem …excuse me, to get to the root of a CHALLENGE.

To be proactive-To go ahead and do your damned job without someone reminding you a million times.

Then there’s a phrase that’s been around for longer than I can stand and I wish it would GO AWAY;

“With that being said.”-  You tack this on to an explanation to punctuate, recap, or totally invalidate what you’ve just said, or  to drop a bomb on someone.   “With that being said, I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go.” You can also still use, “At the end of the day.”  “At the end of the day  the company will need to institute some redactions, and your department will be among them.”

I propose a new workplace lingo to make life in cubicles more entertaining, more colorful for people. I’m going to start using these new phrases in my daily conversations. So, with that being said, let me bounce a couple ideas off of you. (That expression is sooooo eighties!)                                                                     

For instance, when I’m called in to my manager’s office, I might say, “A penny for your thoughts!” this means, “What do you want?”    

I already like to use the expression, “Like herding cats,” and I frequently use it when someone asks how it’s going with the unworked accounts.

I think “Come what may” is a pleasant little expression.  For example, 

“When are you going to finish that project I gave you last week?”  

“Come what may !”   See how sweet and pleasant that sounds?

What about when you have a better idea for how to do something and your manager tells you that it would create too many challenges.  She thinks we may have to reach out  to someone else and get their input?   I might want to push back and say, “Whoa there! Let’s not throw the baby out with the bath water ! We should chew the fat a little more.”

I think we should say, “Let’s make a bee line for the meeting in Classroom A.”  Instead of, “There’s going to be a meeting in classroom A right now.”    Yes?

When the office is way too crowded or there’s a lot of work to do we could say, “It’s all so Choc a Block!”  Let’s also bring back “the blind leading the blind.” I like that one, (and it’s so apropos in SO many situations.) “If they make Ralph the new Team Lead in billing it will be like the blind leading the blind.”  More fun …right?

Why can’t we just say “He bit the dust,” instead of down-sized or laid-off?  Or how about, “He bit the bullet?”

I think that when we’ve tried to get money from an insurance company for more than a year, we should call it a “Cut and Run” account.   The manager says, “You need to follow-up on that old account with Blue Cross.”  It would be an acceptable reply to say, “I think this is definitely a cut and run situation if you want MY two cents.”

I don’t want to play fast and loose with corporate America, but I believe that words, when strategically placed, can be very handy tools to get a point across.   Meetings would be far less boring than they currently are with all the stupid “reach outs” and “that being saids” that are currently used over and over.

 Bottom line, why beat a dead horse?

Passive Aggressive in Paradise

My writing group is homeless.    That is not to say that we’re  a cluster of humanity who live under overpasses or on sidewalks who also happen to enjoy writing. 

We are homeless in that the place where we normally meet is under renovation for a month or two and we have nowhere else to go.  

We’re a group of people that I sometimes liken to square pegs in a world of round holes.

Now that I think of it, not unlike many in the homeless community.   Interesting …

Our Fearless Leader who is NOT fearless, (which is why this little story has a twinge of irony to it,) had been attempting to locate an interim location for our sorry asses.  I say sorry asses only because we tend to be a difficult bunch who are rarely sorry for our outbursts, but may concede that we are difficult from time to time, and thus, sorry, (although we usually don’t know for what.)  Laura, our leader, is a saint. Holla.

Anyway, our Fearless- Leader- Who- Is- Not-Usually- Fearless decided to check out a Diner in the middle of town to see if it would be able to accommodate our group.  She spoke to a nice lady, who shall remain nameless to protect her from arsenic in her food served by her co-workers.  The nice lady advised Fearless that the patio room would be perfect because we’d be off by ourselves. It would be a quiet space, but we would also be able to have drinks and anything else we might want.  So Monday evenings at six were agreed upon. The Nice Lady wrote it on a piece of paper and attached it to the diner calendar.  Fearless Leader gave the Nice Lady a card with her phone number on it in case the Diner folks had any questions.  The room was verified again via a phone conversation a week before our meeting.  

When I arrived there on Monday night I was greeted by a sweet little old lady who asked if she could help me.

“I’m here for the writers group.”  I smiled down at her. She reminded me of Grandma Grindle.

“We didn’t know you were coming.”  Her demeanor changed from nice to something else, something sinister. The smile vanished like piss in sand.  In a cold, flat tone she said, “We put you all back there.  It’s the best we could do.”

I thanked her and made my way past the empty tables to a long setup where my group appeared to be sitting in each other’s laps. It was like an Escher optical illusion. I heard the old lady yell sweetly after me to enjoy my dinner.

An equally irritated server/waitress (what is the correct terminology anyway?) scurried around the table as if the Republican convention had just descended upon her.  Come to think of it …there was a framed picture of Jeb and Dubya over the cash register. They probably didn’t catch hell.  They probably called ahead.

I found an empty chair and wedged myself between Fearless Leader and a young lady in the group who is likely to burst into song anywhere, anytime … and she doesn’t even drink.  She calls these outbursts, “air concerts.”  She and one of the lawyers in our group were in rapt conversation about colleges.  We have lawyers, psychologists, students, retired auto-workers, bakers, frustrated office workers, etc. in our bunch.  Back stories abound.

Let me back up for just a moment.  I may have misrepresented us a little. We’re actually a pretty agreeable group.  We don’t ask for much.  We just need a quiet place to read aloud, make suggestions to each other, and eat an occasional snack.

I couldn’t hear everyone at the table because menus were being handed out as our server answered questions about the food. Plus, the table was the length of half a football field.

A few real customers came in, so our server, who knew we needed a quiet space, sat them in our immediate vicinity.

She told us over and over that if she had only KNOWN we were coming, she could have set up the patio.  But she was only one personand it wouldn’t be possible to go between two different rooms. (She’d actually have to OPEN A DOOR.)  Besides, they’d need to put the air on out there on the patio and it takes time for it to cool down. She couldn’t understand why we hadn’t made arrangements before we came.  Could she get us anything?   (Sweet smile.)

Fearless Leader was flummoxed as she apologized to our waitress and assured her, for probably the tenth time, that she HAD made arrangements.

“Well, you should have called and confirmed hon.  Now, what can I get you?”  (Sweet smile again.)

“I guess I’ll have a chef salad.  Is anyone else going to order anything?  I mean, we’re here to read and critique…”

“What do you want on that hon?  We have ranch, Greek, and French.”

We scrutinized the menus which took up most of what little table space remained. We were a little uncomfortable. This was definitely not like a normal writers meeting.  Glasses of water and iced tea sat on top of books and copies of stories. Condiments covered every space in between.  It was loud. We were confused as to whether we should order food or just a couple of appetizers to be polite.   

 I clicked my pen nervously and stared at the menu.  I was hungry, so what the hell.  I asked her if I could have a Caesar Salad.   She told me in no uncertain terms that they did not offer Caesar salads, but I could have a GREEK salad.  (Wasn’t the Caesar guy Greek? Maybe he was Italian…)    I did not wish to have a Greek salad so I went with fried clams.

I knew things were off- kilter because I never eat fried food.  I believe that an Evil Diner Spirit must have taken over the stomach part of my brain.

As the evening wore on, a few people attempted to read stories and poems they’d written.  

Every time a person attempted to read they found themselves competing with our waitress who was busy plopping plates down in front of people who had not ordered those particular items.

“Well then, who ordered this cheeseburger?   I could have sworn YOU did.  That’s alright; we’ll get this figured out.  Who got the wine?  Did you need more water sweetie?  Anyone want more tea? HOW’S EVERYONE DOWN THERE? Ok then, I’ll just leave ya’ll alone. Enjoy!”

“This is the first time I’ve read so I’m a little nervous…”

“Can you SPEAK UP?   We can’t HEAR you down here!”

“Sorry!”  It was the waitress again.    “Who ordered these FRIES?   Here you go honey.  Now, did anyone need anything else before I leave you be?” 

“Anyway, (clears her throat) this is a true story about  ...”

“WE CAN’T HEAR YOU DOWN HERE!”

Laura had not gotten her chef salad.  Everyone else was almost done eating. 

The waitress returned.  There was loud laughter from the tables around us. “I hate to bother you, but does anyone need anything else at all?  That’s what I’m here for!”  She winked.

“This is a story about a dog…”

“SPEAK UP!”

“I didn’t get my salad yet. I ordered a chef salad.”

“Are you sure? The waitress asked   Laura as if she was too feeble to know whether she’d eaten or not.  I wanted to jab my fork accidently into her leg while she stood next to us with her hand on her hip.

 We tried to listen to the story between the clearing of plates, the clanking of silverware, and the laughter of the few patrons seated directly around us. 

“HERE’S your salad honey.   I’m so sorry.  I hope it’s not too late.  Now what kind of dressing did you say you wanted with that?

 “Do you have Italian?”

“GREEK.   We don’t have Italian.  We have GREEK.”

“We were driving through the mountains when this very thin dog….”

“You know hon”, the waitress said as she placed the salad in front of Laura, “as long as you let us know AHEAD of time, we can get that patio ready.  It doesn’t take all that long.”  (She forces another smile.)  “What ELSE can I get anyone before I leave you alone?”

“But I thought you said you couldn’t handle two rooms.  I thought you said that you’d have to get another waitress?”

“The dog trotted up to our car like he knew us and…”

“SHOOT, I can handle these two rooms, but we have to know that you’re coming hon.”

“But I came and talked to someone.  I talked to another woman and I called.” Our waitress asked who she spoke to.  Laura told her.  She rolled her eyes as if to say, “HER?  You told HER??? Well THAT’S where you made your mistake!  WHY would you make arrangements with HER?”   We watched her roll her eyes about her fellow employee.   I wondered what their Christmas parties were like.

The writer finished reading her story and set it down on a wet spot in front of her.   I was reasonably sure it was a very good story. Thankfully we had copies, even though we had nowhere to put them so we could write on them.

“Well, we’ll be glad to have the patio ready from now on.  Enjoy your salad sweetie.”

Fearless leader, looking entirely bereft, asked, “Does anyone have any comments or critique?”

And so it went. 

Now, I’ve been accused of being passive-aggressive from time to time, but for the life of me I have no idea why.

So I mentioned to the waitress as we were leaving that I was sure the NEXT time they wouldn’t be so confused because maybe they’ll actually think to check their calendar.  Of course, they probably didn’t need our business anyway, given how PACKED they were. (I gestured to the empty tables.)   We truly enjoyed everything she did to accommodate us on such short notice, which probably explained why the clams had the texture of deep-fried rubber bands.  Still, they did us quite a favor considering how disruptive we were to the other patrons, all two tables of them.

 And the patio would probably have cost them extra money to cool. It was obvious they were on a tight budget judging by the food and all.   We probably shouldn’t come back, given what a pain in the ass it surely must have been to write separate tickets and pull these tables together. But she was so sweet to take care of us.  Really.   I conceded   that our group belonged more in a library setting, or someplace like that.   What were we thinking?

Never piss off a writer. 

Your Call is Important to Us, Please Hold

I’m pretty sure it was Jerome’s first day on the job.  Unfortunately, his technical skills, or lack thereof, were only exacerbating my mounting level of stress.  The full moon didn’t help  either.  I wouldn’t have been surprised if I'd sprouted hair, fangs, claws, and secreted really bad body odor.  I could imagine myself hurling everything in the room in a blind rage.

Instead, I politely said no problem when Jerome asked me to hold for the tenth time.

Let me back up a bit.  

An irate relative decided to send me a computer virus wrapped innocuously in a normal-looking email envelope.    I clicked on the envelope and flashing symbols went wild.  I was infected.  I couldn’t click on anything because I didn’t know what was my real security program and what could be a Trojan horse.   So I simply shut it down.  I made a call to the Microsoft technical support dept.  This wasn’t my first rodeo. I’m pretty sure they have a thick file on me. I’ve talked to Ganesh so many times I really should invite him and his family to the next cookout.

Here’s the set-up. I have a cordless phone that’s on its way out.  It holds a charge for two hours…tops.   I also have a toy cell phone.  By toy I mean that I can make and receive calls... and that’s about it.  I load minutes and time on it every two months. It’s like a TracFone that criminals use if they don’t want to be traced, only slightly better. It sucks being poor when everyone around you has partaken of the I-Phone Kool-Aid.

There I sat on hold for about an hour waiting for a techie. I had hoped it would be Ganesh, but I got Jerome instead. 

I’d turned my computer on prior to the call so I’d have the warning prompt in front of me so I'd be able to relay what it said to whomever would be assisting me.  But by the time Jerome answered my screen had gone black showing only my email  icon at the top.

He asked me what the prompt said.  I told him there wasn’t any prompt, just a black screen.

He asked me to click on start.  I told him I only had a black screen.

He asked me to hit enter and tell him what the prompt said.   I told him that no matter what I hit I got nothing but a black screen. I told him I couldn’t even end-task out.  He wanted to know what I meant by “end task.”  I knew I was in trouble.

He asked me to hold.   When he returned he told me to turn off the computer,  unplug it, then plug it back in and start it up while continuously tapping F8.  We tried this 3 times.  Still a black screen.

While all of this was happening my tabby Lester [who is the size of a Puma with a disposition that's worse] was breaking stuff in the living room and pulling things out of  kitchen cupboards.  He suffers from Aggressive Play Behavior. I don’t think Jerome understood the concept of a “pet cat” because he seemed frustrated when I asked him to hold for a second while I squirted Lester with the NoNoPeggy.

When I returned he told me to hold. We were now playing the I'm-putting-YOU-on-hold game.  I detected  spite in his voice.  My phone began to beep.   “I can’t hold!!!” I screamed.  “My phone is dying!  Call me on my cell!”   He said he could not do that.  He told me I must write down a case number and call back.  Midway through the case number my phone died.

I sat at the computer and cried.

After I composed myself, I flipped open my cell phone only to discover I had 60 minutes remaining and two bars of charge..   I called computer support again and was placed on hold.  At the half-hour mark I began to panic because I knew by the time someone answered and we went through the whole process again, the phone would die.   I closed my cell and cried some more.

Lester ran past with something in his mouth.  It was my last roll of toilet paper.   I checked the closet to confirm that it indeed was the last roll when there it was.  It was like a glowing guardian angel with a holy choir singing around it.  It was my plug-in princess phone!   And yes, there is a jack RIGHT NEXT to my computer.   I listened to the beautiful sound of dial tone… unlimited dial tone, (barring hurricanes and electrical storms, of course.)

I called support again and sat on hold for another 45 minutes but with a much lighter disposition.   Imeem took the call.  I started to tell her the black-screen-on-hold-phone-dying-cat-from-hell story  but she politely interrupted and said, “Tell me vat is wrong with your COMPUTER.”  Imeem had me up and running in 25 minutes, not counting the scan that took 3 hours.  I will invite her to the cookout as well.

As I wrote this, I lovingly glanced occasionally at my princess phone. I’m thankful for the simple things.  I don’t even harbor quite as much resentment for my toy cell and crappy cordless phone.  

I can get back to my blog where I like to complain about stuff again. I can write stories on my [currently ] virus-free PC.  Life is good.