Friday Five

May 9th, 2003, 7:05 AM by Goddess

1. Would you consider yourself an organized person? Why or why not?

Not in the traditional manager’s sense. I don’t have everything in logical places, at any given time, but I do know that my hairbrush is under the bed right now and that my favorite spiral notebook for work is under my home computer’s keyboard. On the opposite end of the spectrum, I have all kinds of little storage units where everything (screws, nails, sewing materials, batteries, jewelry) are organized by compartment, so I am in fact anal about some things!

2. Do you keep some type of planner, organizer, calendar, etc. with you, and do you use it regularly?

I have a Day Runner. I look at it twice a year. I’m very good at memorizing dates, so it’s usually an extra, wasted step for me to write stuff down.

3. Would you say that your desk is organized right now?

According to my definition of organized, yes. It’s a huge desk, and everything is within arm’s reach, even if half of my paperwork is leaning against my G4 tower or sitting under my coffee cup.

4. Do you alphabetize CDs, books, and DVDs, or does it not matter?

I alphabetize CDs, for the most part — I have so many that it’s helpful to scan for the general area of the alphabet I want. Books are arranged by size, type, color and author.

5. What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to organize?

My thoughts, especially when I need to confront somebody about something. I have no problem with confrontation, but I oftentimes bite my tongue to keep the peace, but all the while, I’m boiling over, imagining the nasty things I want to say and tempering them with the nice things I know I have to say. But sometimes, I bite my tongue till it bleeds, and that’s when it’s time to open my mouth and let it all hang out.



Imagine

May 8th, 2003, 3:14 PM by Goddess

Imagine a workday in which, if you decided to take a three-hour lunch, nobody but you would care. Imagine not wanting to take an extended break because you are so motivated to get back to your projects in progress.

Imagine really giving 100 percent effort to your job — imagine what you could and would accomplish if you were rewarded, in whatever way, for always being and giving your personal best.

Imagine how motivated you would be to perform if you could just see how your good works impact your target audience. Imagine the whole world working solely to please their customers and not just their bosses.

Imagine not praying, every time your boss comes near your office, that he or she keeps on walking by and leaves you alone. Imagine being your own boss and being responsible for meeting your own expectations, which are usually better prioritized and much, much higher than the average manager’s, anyway.

Imagine being so inspired every day that you dream and brainstorm and produce until you are so exhausted that you are forced to sleep. Imagine looking forward to awakening every morning and not dragging yourself out of bed with a heart full of dread — imagine loving, truly loving, your work so much that you realize you love your entire life.

Imagine your income increasing every time you work harder or longer hours. Imagine your pay being commesurate with your efforts. Imagine having enough money in the bank to take a day, week, month or a season to yourself as a reward for how beautifully your earlier efforts had paid off.

Yes, I’ve been doing a lot of dreaming today, but as I’ve always believed — dream it and it will be so. Envision it, live it, breathe it, want it, need it … and it will come. Hopefully sooner rather than later.



Fun with webstats

May 8th, 2003, 7:54 AM by Goddess

We interrupt our regularly scheduled bitchfest to bring you some of the more popular phrases that bring guests to my site. Sit down, take your shoes off, and I’ll pour you a cup of coffee for this one.

Wash the coochie

Bitch

Benefits of oral sex

Crap myself

Clay Aiken

Celine Dion sneezing

Dawn the goddess

Eat my pussy

Other than the weird Celine Dion reference, I am glad to have provided y’all with Dawn the Goddess’s oral sex entertainment. (Just a word on the “benefits of oral sex” — I doubt I can name a downside to it!)

At any rate, I am increasingly puzzled and pleased that the No. 1 reader of my own website isn’t me. Which is strange, given that Tiff and I share an IP address, and between the two of us, our ranking on my site is No. 5, and my work IP is No. 6. It still shocks the shit out of me that anybody reads this page, but to have people who visit me more often than I do, well, knocks off my frog socks. 🙂 Thanks for coming — hope you’re enjoying the ride!



Wanna fight?

May 7th, 2003, 12:21 PM by Goddess

Received an annoying, four-page, single-spaced letter to the editor today, ripping me to shreds personally. It was ironically about the article I wrote featuring my old employer, which was a child welfare agency. The writer told me in no uncertain terms that I obviously have no clue how the child welfare system works. Heh. Bitch.

So this is my response to her and to everyone who wants to write to me. Thanks to Barbara J. Winter for encouraging me to write an article about this!

How to write print-worthy letters to the editor:

Tips from a trade association newspaper editor-in-chief

Everyone’s written a letter to the editor at one point or another. While many of us simply wanted to write to the publication as an FYI, let’s face it, a great deal of others want their words to be published.

Many editors are swimming in responses to their content, and that’s a good thing. We love letters, because that means we know we are reaching our target audience and that our subscribers are truly reading the content we so carefully selected to publish. And if nobody is commenting on what we’re doing, we assume we’re doing a terrific job and that our readers want to see more of the same. Or, we take risks until we incite some response. We want to get you thinking and talking. Our job is to provide you with the information — your job is to process it and do something with it. And oftentimes, what you do is want to give us your feedback … and while we welcome it, that doesn’t mean that we have to publish it.

The mistake many readers make is to only write when they are enraged, which results in a nasty letter to the editor that often never gets farther than the File 13 where the insulted editor deposits it. The following is a list of tips and tricks to ensure your letter is not only read but also shared through publication in the newspaper, magazine or newsletter that is part of your regular reading list:

1. Like a “Dear John” letter, if you are writing to express extreme anger or displeasure, go ahead and write it. Then tear it up and start over, now that you’re rational and ready for a discussion. The “delete” key is easier to reach than the “send” button for a reason!

2. Begin your letter by introducing yourself and why you are qualified to speak to the topic at hand (i.e., “As a licensed professional counselor, I was pleased to see an article about safety precautions home-based counselors should take …”).

3. Always include your full name, city and state and your contact e-mail address. If you do not want your e-mail address printed, please make that request clear to the editor. The editor may, in fact, keep your information on file to contact you as a source for a future story.

4. Keep it short. One or two paragraphs are preferred, with short, easy-to-read sentences. Keep in mind that general-circulation publications are aimed at people with an eighth-grade reading level.

5. When you start off by insisting that the editor and/or the writer do not know what they are talking about, or that you can’t imagine what they were thinking, the brilliant points you go on to make about the topic will be lost. Just because you write to us does not mean that we have to read, let alone publish, personal assaults.

6. You’re not my mom, so please don’t use my name in every paragraph or sentence. What right do have to be condescending to me?

7. When writing to a trade journal or newspaper, note that the editors and writers are professional journalists who may or may not have experience in the trade itself (i.e., medicine, psychology, consumer protection, etc.). Their job is to communicate what their members are doing in the field or information that may impact their members.

8. Don’t disguise professional inquiries as letters to the editor. Letters to the editor should never, ever require a personalized response.

9. Please organize your thoughts and run the spell/grammar check. Just as you want the facts to be clear and straight in any article you read, keep in mind that you are writing to someone who loves and enforces the English language for a living. If the editor doesn’t want to read your letter, nobody else will, either.

10. Letters to the editor are not job performance evaluations. If the topic of an article disgusts you or if you truly believe that a point of view was missing from a story, this is not your place to tell the editor that he or she is “irresponsible” or “a bad journalist” or any name you feel like typing into your letter. Remember the aforementioned delete key — because your editor sure will.

11. Journalism is about balance. Accordingly, praise the publication before raising your concern. The editor is much more likely to run your letter as well consider your point of view the next time that particular topic is written about.

12. Editors prefer letters to arrive via e-mail, without attachments. When you send a letter (especially a long one), someone must re-type your words, thus increasing the chance for error. Attachments are acceptable in Word or Rich Text Formats, but with the extra time it takes to run a virus scan on attachments, your chances of getting your letter read immediately increase when the editor can scroll through the original message without launching additional applications.

13. If you are so impassioned that you want to write an article instead of a letter, go for it! Pick up a recent copy of Writer’s Market and find out submission guidelines. Publications with tight budgets and deadlines may be receptive to a well-crafted story that presents a different viewpoint. Send your draft to the editor, who will likely ask you to add or re-write it, but at least that shows you are working together, not against, each other’s goals.

14. No SPAMming. Yes, the editor received your letter the first time — please don’t send multiple copies to him or her or to others on staff. A follow-up hard copy to an e-mail is annoying as well. When your editor is deleting the extra copies of your message, the original message might just go out the window after the others. A note about spamming: do not use your letter as a forum to promote your product or business, particularly if the readers will not benefit from it — this is not advertising space.

15. Try try again. Providing ongoing constructive feedback is not mandatory, but it certainly stands out in the editor’s overflowing inbox! Even if your first letter doesn’t make it into print, your second or third might. Editors are only human — we want what’s best for our publication, and we want the people reading the publication to contribute their perspective and support.

Whether it’s bearing good or bad news, editors enjoy receiving mail just as much as you do. And in the midst of deadlines, difficult writers, money-conscious publishers and printing crises, a letter offering a kind word has a funny way of brightening our days. Sometimes we wonder what we’re doing it for, but when one of our readers takes the time to say hello, share a thought and thank us for our work, believe it or not, that makes it all worth it. In the end, we are here to help each other.



I’m on strike

May 7th, 2003, 9:19 AM by Goddess

For the morning, anyway.

I awoke at 8:20 a.m., only to stay in bed listening to a live Jewel performance/interview on 104.1 FM. I liked that. I liked the feeling that all of my days could be like this — that if I didn’t feel like dragging my butt to the office by 9, that the world wouldn’t end. That I don’t have to pull on pantyhose and restrictive dress clothes that get wrinkled while I sit on my ass at a desk all day. That if I knew from Moment One that it was going to be an off day, that I might as well sleep in and save my work for a day when I am feeling better.

No, I’m not sick. Not physically, anyway. But my psyche can use some TLC. Everyone’s down in the dumps about their jobs these days. And for many of us, we like the work and maybe even a colleague or two, but we can’t stand the management and/or the people down the hall.

Shan and I strategized for hours last night about how to take down Mouth Almighty. It wasn’t the fact that Mouth opened her mouth last night, but this is for all the times she’s deliberately hurt or screwed us — it’s for all the rumors she’s spread in her career; it’s for all the people who kept her secrets and were loyal to her even though she sold their heart’s secrets — with her own embellishments — for a few minutes in the Rumor Mill spotlight.

This shit ends HERE. Not just Mouth and Town Crier, but the whole kit and kaboodle. I have to go in at 11 only to get bitched out by Demure for things I just don’t have the time or inclination to do. Unfortunately, one of those things is the newspaper itself — What these dipshits will never understand is how easy I make their lives … how many crises are never brought to their attention because of my quick thinking and even swifter actions.

Shan pointed out early yesterday that the only teamwork ever exhibited at the Veggie Patch is between the two of us, and we aren’t even in the same department. You’ve got assholes like Mailroom Dipshit who goes to great lengths to show you the effort behind his few actions, but he doesn’t show you outcomes. Fuck that. I have been trained in outcomes-based performance, and damn it, I intend to retain that. I don’t want Demure doing my review and deciding my raise upon the fact that I don’t report every time a mouse farts in the hallway. I don’t want a bad review about my poor time management skills when she’s the one draining my time on insipid matters.

And I am sick of her compliments when I pull my hair back in a tight ponytail and don’t let it hang loose and wild like I like it. I’m sick of her praise when I wear clothes that are two sizes too big because she doesn’t like seeing womanly curves. I’m sick of her disdainful looks when I wear a sheer blouse that lets you see whatever tank top I am wearing beneath it. I’m sick, sick, sick of working in an office among enemies who talk behind our backs and spread their editorial commentary as though it were the gospel.

I had to fight long and hard to prove to those dipshits that I wasn’t going to walk out the door after Shawn when he quit in January, and now Mouth is speculating that when Shan takes a leave this fall, that 1. she won’t come back from the leave, and 2. that I will be lost without her and probably will leave myself. How DARE she attack our credibility in that way! Granted, we do want to leave this fall. No question about that. But that was said and plotted in a private conversation between Shan and me. And like I said, I worked hard to convince those assholes that I am a leader, not a follower, and not that Mouth holds a lot of credibility in the organization, but when her words reach the wrong people, well, those people do have the power to make my workday even more like hell than it already is.

I was proud to have pulled off a beautiful, full-color, 64-page issue of the magazine last month. That is not going to happen again anytime soon. I will barely pull together 40 pages of content this month, and the editorial deadline is in 8 days and I haven’t written a fucking word yet. Why? Because I’m spent. I orgasmed repeatedly last month, and I am officially drained and am sensitive to the least bit of stimulation right now.

It’s 10:15, and my strike is about to end. Hair is in ponytail; clothes are loose and flowing; burning attitude has seeped out of my system and onto my blog. I am going to finish my coffee, smoke another cigarette, and begin this lovely motherfucking day in a place I despise with people I abhor (sans Shan, natch!). And the sad thing is, there are millions of people just like me who are dragging themselves through the day in a similar fashion.

Must. Stop. This. Madness. NOW!!!



Random

May 6th, 2003, 9:39 PM by Goddess

1. Mouth Almighty (at work) is going down. And I hope I get to hold her down while Shan beats her ass to a bloody pulp. I hope she kicks the shit out of Town Crier while she’s at it. Those two are the Duo of Evil, and they must be destroyed for their meddling in a sensitive situation.

2. Had a nice dinner with Shan and great bitching session with Shawn. Missed “American Idol” but it was worth it.

3. I regret going stalking today, because there I go again, chasing after a man. Fuck it. He comes to me, or nobody comes! 😉

4. Why Pussy Demure insisted on meeting with me today, and then insisted that we meet again tomorrow, is beyond me. I am sick of her fucking micro-, non-management. Fuck everyone at that stupid workplace who has to scramble to justify their jobs, while keeping the rest of us from DOING our jobs!



"Goin’ Prowlin’ …. tooooooniiiiight"

May 6th, 2003, 2:27 PM by Goddess

After relentless Dogpiling, I finally found an address for my Candy Bar Man. And I used my lunch break to go stalking. 😉

Turns out that he lives like two blocks from Shawn, so I might have to be a more regular visitor to the neighborhood, if this is indeed the right address. 😉 Damn, the place is outta my price range, so the guy must be, too, right? Heh. One wouldn’t peg him as really having any money (minus the very nice car he drives).

At any rate, money doesn’t scare me — I’ve got a tiny bit of my own and that’s the only person’s money I ever intend to handle. I’ve been poor and hobnobbed with Pittsburgh’s most elite, without any of them ever having a clue how destitute I always was, so that’s no problem. Hmm. At any rate, I’m more concerned about the personality. We seem to click in the brief conversations we have, but I’d love to get to know him in a setting where we aren’t terrified and frustrated — shit, attending dance class is like sleeping with someone for the first time! It’s all awkward and tense and disastrously funny at the same time.

I’ve been wanting to move to the Duke Street area (after abandoning the idea of going to Arlington — I refuse to sit in I-395 traffic to commute to work!), so maybe this is my impetus to localize my apartment search a bit more. Tee hee. I feel like such a stalker — and here I’d thought I was out of practice after all these years!

At any rate, I need to figure out a way to bump into him in public (without stalking him to see where he loafs or shops!). Any suggestions?



Dancing Queen, part 3

May 5th, 2003, 10:00 PM by Goddess

Got through the third class with no casualties. 🙂 I really dreaded it, but honestly, the people are so nice and so fun that I can pretty much ignore the disapproving gaze of the instructor. And I got to dance with Mike, who looked dashing in an eggplant-colored sweater that brought out his eyes, so alas, the evening wasn’t half bad. And I finally got to dance with Dave … twice, even!

Never, ever underestimate the importance of a good partner who can lead. Debonair Gary may irritate the fuck out of me, but boyfriend can lead. He will literally push me into the steps when I stop paying attention, and I need that. Dave is a great lead — whether he believes it or not, white boy has some rhythm on the dance floor. I was encouraging my partners to follow his lead, only for me to later overhear those guys telling their partners to just watch Dave and whoever his partner was at the time. I had to smile. 🙂

Mike and I share a sense of nerves and impatience. We breezed through the steps so quickly that we feel like we did something wrong, but then we came to the conclusion that we did just fine … we just forgot to pause and step, in favor of just stepping through the routines. Made me happy, anyway, to find somebody who moves at warp speed like I do. 😉

Dave swears he sees Mike checking me out once in awhile, but Operation: Get the Digits is still in progress. At least I now have a reason to come back for the next three classes — I need to get the boy’s number!

I checked out the dance class’s roster — turns out that Mike bears the last name of a candy bar. Hee hee. Oh, the sexual slurs I could make at this point, but I will digress before I indulge that temptation. Mmmm. Chocolate. *drool*

I was dancing with this little dipshit who kept criticizing me and telling me that I was fucking up the steps. I wanted to club him, because he did it to me last week as well. If I recall correctly, I was the one leading him through the steps, but again, I digress. Finally he admitted that he’s not doing much leading, which was about the biggest admission I’ll ever get from him. I dutifully claimed that I didn’t know what I was doing, but at that point, I really did have the steps down pat, so I figured I could afford to be humble. He’s a little guy with Big Man Syndrome, and I’ll never see him again after May 26 anyway — thankfully. I swear I have a torn ligament from this debacle. 🙂

I enjoy the people in the class and hope to get to know them a little better next week. Goofy Gary (formerly Onion-Breath Boy) makes no claims to know what the fuck he’s doing, despite the fact that his Stephanie is the star of the class. They’re sweet and a lot of fun to chat with, even though we only talk for 30 seconds at a time. 🙂

I’ve decided that I need a more uptempo dance routine. I don’t slow dance. I never have, and this will probably be the only time I do so. And she keeps playing the same annoying song every week. Gaah! Let’s get a little “Impressive Instant” (Madonna) going, shall we? X for everybody! 😉

At any rate, I guess I’ll go back next week. I have become addicted to Dave’s and my post-workout coffee-and-donut breaks. And everyone join me in wishing Dave all the best in his big trial on Wednesday! Can’t wait to hear the details!

UPDATE

You’d think that a boy with a candy bar for a last name would be easy to Google or Dogpile. Oh, but no. I searched for hours, and all I got was a phone number that might or might not be his. He seems pretty bright, so I thought he might have a blog or something. But I hit the MetroBlog Map and ran a few more searches, but to no avail. I swear, I was a better stalker *before* the Internet went public! 😉



Simon!

May 5th, 2003, 1:58 PM by Goddess

Thanks to Steve for submitting this one:

Simon Cowell Soundboard!!!



‘I Don’t Like Mondays’

May 5th, 2003, 9:56 AM by Goddess

That song keeps running through my head today. We’re back to dressing up for work (we had a casual month last month), which means pantyhose which just means I am uber-annoyed already. 🙂

No signs of our villian Pussy Demure, which is wonderful but that means I will have to deal with her full-force when she does come back into the office.

I am swamped, but it’s a good kind of swamped. It just sucks that I have to write three to four articles in addition to being swamped with my general editorial responsibilities. Writing is fun, but it’s the most time-consuming part of the job. Not to mention that I just wrote two job descriptions (my own and one for the person I will eventually hire), I’m doing a year-long calendar of what should go into the Veggie Patch Gazette each month (Demure’s request — normally I just look at a year-old issue and figure out what should go in, but dipshit wants it written out till the end of time). I’m also deciding — because we have hit editorial and advertising gold with special-themed issues — what issues I want to cover and when.

Demure keeps bugging me for what’s going in this issue, but who the fuck has had time to decide? Plus, last month I promised seven stories and only wrote three (whopping) ones, so it’s sort of pointless to do the same — she makes me commit to all these topics, yet even she knows that I can’t do it all myself. I have my freelancer overloaded for the next three months. I attempted to give her two stories a month for the past couple of months, but even she’s busy and can only crank out one at a time, so I have her doing this fluffy ass-wiping series through the summer that King Kumquat, chief executive extraordinaire, commissioned.

I asked Demure about changing what we pay freelancers (they make more per story that I ever will!) so that I can either have more money to play with in my budget or to hire more freelancers who will work at a lower rate than the main writer we use. Her head almost exploded — she can’t handle good, solid ideas that are easy to implement. She needs to think about it and run it by Kumquat (I fear she runs it by him every time she needs to use the ladies’ room), which means I’ll never get an answer.

I also must kick myself in the ass — I told her I wanted to create a policies and procedures manual for my department (the existing one is a joke). So now she’s breathing up my ass, wondering when I’ll have it done. (Note: Haven’t started it yet, nor do I plan to until I hire someone.) I swear, she has nothing better to do than to harass me. Even she admits that her own secretary is useless, but never will I be allowed to farm some of my shit work onto her, which just sucks ass.

I guess I’m just tired of working for and with people who are on an eight-hour lunch break. Especially after my class this weekend, I realize that I’d like to join the ranks of the “joyfully jobless” so that I don’t have to look at this ship of sad sacks every day as we cruise around Club Medicated.

Dance class is tonight. Sadly, I am not looking forward to it. It’s not fun. I try to have fun … I try to enjoy it, probably because I already paid for it. LOL. But everyone’s so serious, so uptight that I just don’t fit in. I would love to get together with the class and have a beer with everyone — something tells me that these are really cool people underneath (and yes, I’d like to get underneath Mike’s clothes! Ahem.) because they were spunky enough to sign up for this crazy class.

What they need to do is turn down the lights, have the disco ball flashing and, hell, maybe even host it in a nightclub — or at least, they should simulate the nightclub environment. And let’s face it, if we came with a partner, we should stay with that partner. I will not be dancing ever again with Debonair Gary, so why the hell do I need to dance with him now? I understand that some singles come in to meet other singles, and the law of nature usually works out that there are unmatched people who can be matched up. Granted, without the pollyanna partner-switching crap, I’d never have met the guys in my class, but really, that’s OK. I could have lived without it, ’cause I will probably never see them after our last class anyway.

At any rate, my last class is the day after my birthday. w00t! Now to just make it the four weeks until then without going crazy. …