Garbage

In a daily update I send for my job I include famous birthdays and random facts. Today, I included a note that this date in 1970 was the first Earth Day. A woman in the office emailed me to share that she remembered being in elementary school and celebrating Earth Day by picking up garbage with her class. Things certainly change as you get older. If you pick up garbage as an adult, it is either court ordered or you're one of those people.

I was feeling good about myself until...

While looking for content to write a bulletin filler, I stumbled across The National Association for Self-Esteem (NASE). While they do welcome you to their site, there is a Members Only section. (Membership starts at $30.)

Does anyone else find this contrary to self-esteem building?

Work Quip

Against his will, my boss is trying to beat Charles Osborne's record for having hiccups.

 Coworkers have offered various "cures" to rid him of his hiccups.

 One suggested with a strong amount of hope, "Hold your breath."

"I don't want to die," my boss said.

 "I don't want to kill you," I replied.

That's what I call striving for a promotion and a raise.

The British are Coming!

Questions are opportunities. Every time someone asks me a question there are two answers: the serious and the farcical. More often than not I provide a sardonic retort to the posed question.

It was with great difficulty that I resisted the urge to answer the innocuous request to "Briefly describe yourself" for my company's weekly digest. Being one of the new hires, the communications director emailed me for some info. While I decided it would be best to play it straight, since my employer isn't a comedy venue, part of me still wishes I went with this:

Andrew was raised by a pack of wild hyenas. This upbringing has left him vulnerable to the sounds of laughter since he never learned to make the distinction between people laughing with him and at him. After the State intervened and separated him from his surrogate parents, he was thrown into a rapid immersion program and forced to abandon his native tongue. He still prefers a cave or open prairie to a cubicle, but it is an ongoing struggle. When dining out, he prefers his steaks rare and doesn't like cutlery. In his spare time, he likes chasing things and cleaning himself with his tongue. Plus, he's single.

In other news, work is going fine. I received my first strike for listening to music and not hearing my boss when he summoned me. The office policy is to write the song and artist on the board for the offense in question. Of course Pandora had to have an uber feminine song on: Title: "A Boy Like You." Despite clamoring that she wrote the song explicitly for me, my coworkers were not impressed. So much for claiming my devotion to jazz.

I have graduated the training program and have started writing real copy for real clients. Thus far, my filler content for the email bulletins has done quite well. On Friday, my three fillers each garnered about 200 clicks. My coworker/competition's fillers averaged about 40-50. I made sure to alert my boss of the victory.

Taking full advantage of my insurance, I went to the dentist during my lunch on Thursday. Fearful at the prospect of a stranger with a drill inside my mouth, I nervously waited for my check-up. With great pleasure, I discovered that aside from my wisdom tooth with a cavity there were no other flagrant offenses. I think the dentist was disappointed. I asked how things were other than the wisdom teeth. He didn't want to admit it. He whimpered "fine." But I will need to have my wisdom teeth out. What joy.

In regard to the wisdom tooth with a cavity, he commented, "That's a ticking time bomb."

I replied, "So THAT's what that noise was."

He was not amused.

Next week, one of my coworkers returns from her business trip to the UK. I've asked when it's my turn to cross the pond. One of the managers from the home base will be joining us this week.

I've started exclaiming: "THE BRITISH ARE COMING! THE BRITISH ARE COMING!"

Week One Report

No one ever told me work would be tiring. After all the glamorization of work from Disney movies, Office Space and TV shows like Murphy Brown, The Office and Cheers, I was prepared for a land of milk and honey. Thankfully, it isn't like the failed Fred Savage show Working.

The week started ominously with the miscommunication regarding my first day. After a prototypical night-before-a-new-job night's sleep, I went through my morning work routine then hit the roads. Arriving early, I was greeted by the receptionist, who was confused about my attendance. Turns out there was an error in my offer letter. My boss had told me Tuesday would be my first day, but the letter from HR informed me that I should show up Monday. My boss was right and HR was wrong. After a quick chat with my boss, it was back on the roads for home. The extra day provided me the chance to setup a new bank account and get insurance squared away on my new ride.

My second first day proved more standard. I met with HR and discussed the benefits available, which is pretty exciting. After an apology about the first day debacle, I asked "I still get paid for Monday, right?" The office does take Martin Luther King, Jr. Day in case you wondered.

The balance of the day and the week was spent training with my coworkers, who are all very nice and helpful. I have a pretty firm grasp on the role I'll play and what they strive for. Next week will be my final week of training before I am let loose on the world to write captivating copy and impress clients everywhere. Look out world.

Odd things about working:

Being followed into the Mens room. I've been followed in there twice. Both times I ended up washing my hands and trying to chat while darting my eyes all around the small room avoiding eye contact. Seriously, where am I supposed to look? Come on now. I appreciate my coworkers making an effort to get to know me, but is the Mens room the proper place for women?

The setup of this office is a bit peculiar. Taking its cue from interior design shows on HGTV, they went for an open floor plan. Avoiding the stigma of cubicle land, they opted for half cubicles so you can see everyone and subsequently they can see you. It's nice in a way, but the majority of people in the office are sales folk who are always on the phone pursuing clients.

De facto segregation in the cafeteria.

A tale of two parking lots. There is an upper lot that is much closer to the entrance and a lower lot that has a gate. If you want to park closer you need to get to work earlier. This incentive and competition for 30 spots is a source of office conversation. After reading a few Econ books, the Elite lot as I'm dubbing it, encourages people to get to work early, while also making those who arrive later feel less of themselves. Well played.

Casual dress. Once again, to the chagrin of my sister, I have landed a job with a very "relaxed" dress code. Office attire includes jeans and t-shirts.

Inter-Office politics: The company I work for is part of a bigger company that occupies 95% of the huge building. There is some animosity toward my company for its casual dress. This acrimony is taken out on the field during the summer when they play Wiffle ball. I've been warned.

Computer restrictions

I've dealt with this before, but it's the bane of my existence. Is iTunes really going to bring the company down? I need my Grammar Girl and The Bugle podcasts.

Last but not least, learning to speak proper English. A few of my coworkers are from the UK. Therefore, I am on the accelerated course to learning to speak British. There's another bullet point on my resume. I plan on keeping a log of new words I come across. Last week I learned naffie (corny), no worries mate (I knew this one), brilliant and cheers. There were others but I neglected to write them down.

Late last week I learned the master plan for my role. I'll be doing copy writing and split the account management roles with one of the people on the creative team. Yeah responsibility!

I'll do better next week, if they let me in.

Morning Thoughts

How much must someone hate themselves to start the day with McDonald's for breakfast?

I play chicken with pigeons in the city.

And finally, as you'll hear in my upcoming standup debut, I was trying to setup my voicemail message at the front desk this morning after I have been here nearly two months. Frustrated with the prompts and my ineffective attempt to change the prompt to my name, I continued pushing "star followed by the pound key." Then Dana slid a greeting card with a purple inner layer in front of me to sign.

I scrawled my full name for some unknown reason, then "Happy BDay!" above it. After I hung up the phone, Dana informed me that the card was a condolence card. One of the big donors to the festival had died. Since the card wasn't white, I was strictly anti-White Out, while Dana claimed a mastery level of prowess with the soggy sponge. My suggestion was to simply cut the corner where I had signed my congratulatory note. Or I could leave "Happy" and replace BDay with death. Morbid, but at least it would be quasi-appropriate.

So, over the white blots I sheepishly wrote "Sorry for your loss." But in reality, I'm sorry to the person who receives that card because you know they will look at the white splotches and try to decipher what was originally written.

The Intangibles

I should have known when I was asked my height and how much I could bench press that my real title would be "office muscle," not marketing project intern.

There are certain things that cannot be conveyed on a resume like body measurements, ability to boost office morale or to think quickly and solve problems. In my first two days interning I believe I have given a glimpse of my potential for greatness.
First, however, we'll need to discard the story of how I jammed the copier in my first hours on the job. Sabotage?

My fringe skill set that can't be conveyed on card stock was first displayed when I was asked to grab a binder from a high shelf. This is nothing new for me as honorary member of the Cincinnati Shrine Circus. At least once a month some hag, I mean sweet old lady who confused moth balls for perfume, asks me to get her the jar of pickles on the top shelf at the grocery. I love pickles as much as the next guy, but do the geriatrics think this preserved cucumber has magical properties?

My other strong showing came yesterday with the shuttling of several heavy boxes filled with festival guides. The boxes needed to be sent to various arts outlets in the city. A glut of the boxes were in the conference room and needed to be in the vicinity of the reception area for the messenger service. After lifting two heavy boxes, I used my brain.

I loaded a wheeled chair with three boxes and slid the chair to the front. Brains over brawn. Every day. This saved not only time but precious back muscles. While I do trust that my pilates regimen has been doing wonders to strengthen my lower back, I save all the energy I can. I also saved the company from potential workman comp claims for physical therapy which could have reached tens of dollars.

So, future employers (whoever you might be), when you hire me and give me the sweet corner office and keys to the corporate bathroom remember that you are getting more than a sometimes hard worker with diverse experience, and more than the experience listed on my resume. You are getting all the intangibles.