For a while I was convinced Howler had been visited by a trio of ghosts.
Like, they went from excoriating me in every possible forum … to complimenting me.
I figured they realized I am much more useful when I am not doing my level best to pretend you’re as dead as I can’t wait for tRump to be.
Anyway, all good things come to an end. And they have been on my last muh-fukkin NERVE lately.
Like, they were mad my people weren’t replying to a mass message to all of them.
To be specific, they posted word salad in a public forum. But it wasn’t a question. And it didn’t give them any information, either.
So my people saw it and ignored it. Because, nothing was asked of them.
So I hear from Howlah how unresponsive my boys are. I’m like well what did you want and I can get it for you.
Which, that is the tradition across my department.
Howler tags other people because I tend to not prioritize answering word salad … until I see one of my people pulled into that Bermuda Triangle. Then I answer for all of us.
It’s something they’ve said they are grateful for. They are in the know, without having to ask me what that was all about.
Anyway. So a day later, after I called a meeting with all my people, I sent back a list of five people’s responses to what was apparently a question …
Only to be told that those answers have to be approved by our boss.
OK, and? Is that on me now?
You asked me for the info. Go fly it up a flagpole. I’m out.
In talking with my team this week, we had even MORE ideas for how to make (redacted) sensational.
I very nicely howled (hah) that there are two things we want to do. That’s cool, right?
I got back basically wow those are two stupid ideas. “But I’m open to ideas!”
Head. Face. Palm. Desk.
I mean … I have two other ideas and they are both a size 8.5.
Ready to deliver both of them them UP yo S.
Finally I got smart today and didn’t ask. I just said here are THREE things we are GOING to do. Just FYI. Love, Dawn.
Hoo boy, I got two meetings requests out of it to discuss because, “You can’t do that!”
Um, just did.
I’m like yo you told US to figure shit out.
We figured it out.
And if there is something we cannot figure out, we will figure it out. So, again, the agenda for these three items is xyz.
Well.
Half a day went by with glorious silence.
Finally I got an, “OK I can help you do that. I just need a guest list.”
Look, homie.
You’ve asked for that guest list for a month.
For a month, I’ve said I cannot release the names until the 12th. Then I can tell you everything.
I am not being a twat here. I’m no Cindy or Karen or Pam or whatever.
I am barred by the company’s own SOP — that the owner and I wrote together — on confidentiality about xx project.
The moment I am able to reveal things, I reveal them. On a designated date that my person says I can.
Which is March 12.
Oh it’s funny. I called our head of sales to chat out some stuff yesterday.
Not wildly specific. But as much as I could give.
She asked if we should invite Howler’s mini me to this chat.
I said I consider YOU a friend. And you’ll accept how much I can reveal and let me slide on what I can’t.
Unsaid: Howlah and Lil Howlah will push the nuclear button until something erupts.
In other words, I am tired as shit of trying to help people out, only to get kicked like an ICE agent when it sees a cute dog. (True story, have seen videos.)
Yesterday was a good example. Something BIG dropped, and now I can open my mouth about it.
As it was dropping, I told Howler’s Mini Me I am about to send you as much data as I can. But there are questions I haven’t gotten the answers to yet, so expect customers to ask more.
Sure as fucking shit, annoying little one pokes me with all kinds of dumb smiley emojis to try to get more info out of me “for customers.”
I ignored it. I’m used to this. People hate not being in the know. And they don’t appreciate how I do try to make everyone’s life easier.
Honestly even if they weren’t WILDLY inappropriate with me at our last in-person meeting, I still wouldn’t have acknowledged it, either.
Ick, I have to see this person at (redacted). FUCK.
In any event, my takeaway from all this shit is, one, this.
And two, asking Howler for help repeatedly gets me nowhere. But “I’ll do it myself like I always do” yielded me, “Oh, OK, I shall help so I may take credit.”
Not in so many words. But that’s how it went in the old days.
Before the Hitchhiking Ghosts of Christmas Past descended upon the socialist state of Maryland.
And clearly the cracks are showing again.