I know of a Place

I know of a place, where things get done, with no interruptions, it’s called my home office. My job is project based, it also requires design and programming. This requires some major skills, project management (organization, timeliness, detail orientation, etc), creativity (a flippn imagination), and tech savvy (going beyond surfing and doing the social media 2 step). How many people do you know are good at all three of those things? Think about it, I’ll wait…Well I’m one of those people. And as a goober, I need a lot of concentration in order to get my job done. No one understands this. People think that their “oh I just need one second of your time” will not throw me off course. Sorry bozo, engaging all parts of my brain to produce a masterpiece requires more attention than it takes to tie a shoe. Which is why I’m a commodity and you only have your inflamed sense of self importance. I need to be separated from lower functioning, annoying, disorganized, always looking for me to solve their problems and complete their tasks, people. I need to be home.

Why is that so hard for organizations to understand? Why is management intent on creating as many obstacles as possible to prevent me from completing their tasks by their dead line of ASAP? Why do they think that I love this so much that I will keep putting up with it? Granted, I’m still here. But I’ve been sharpening my head enough to resemble a thorn point. I’m not jumping ship at the first sign of rough seas. I have an ulterior mission that requires me to stay here. For now. But while I’m here, I’m determined to get what I want. Like a son or daughter who presents a straight A report card, you gotta give them what they want, within reason.

Secret Wars

It’s been awhile. I’ve been waging a secret war, me against the world, while I’ve been away. I had to make a decision that set me back in one way, but hopes to bring me forward when it’s all said and done. I’m a corporate creep now. I’ve been one since I stopped writing this blog, because as some of you may know, once you go corporate, you die. Going corporate, it’s like selling your soul, and every day that you clock over 8 hrs to finish a project, everyday that you get up early to get a head start on a new project, everyday that you leave a bit of your old, non corporate, carefree creative self behind, you die a little. Your cute lil bunny soft soul gets sucked out of your body, leaving dark circles around the peepholes to your soul. The dark circles are the skid marks your soul leaves behind as it exits, just to confirm with you that this just ain’t right. BUT all is not lost. I made this decision in order to finance my academic chess move. You see, I wish to take over the world help people through mental health counseling. I also wish not to be broke as I do this, or to have to take out more student loans. I followed the money and am using it for the greater good. This is what I tell myself every day. Please let me believe it.

So what have I learned since becoming a corporate creep?

Corporate is for the young woman. I am not young. I do not have the stamina, energy, or the desire to be a corporate rock star. Irony alert: of all the sectors of work I’ve clocked into, this is the only one I’ve progressed within the most, without really trying. I became a corporate rock star. Don’t want the fame though, definitely didn’t want the blackberry, and most certainly don’t want to be the go to girl with all the answers. But I am. And I’m crying.

Corporate has its own sense of what constitutes an “emergency”. To me, as a normal girl from Saturn, and a future mental health professional, I think of an emergency as life and death, severed limbs, pints of blood, homicidal inclinations and suicide attempts. This may be a bit extreme, but if you work in social services or hospitals, or schools, this is status quo. Corporate believes reports, PowerPoint presentations and memos are emergencies. All antiquated forms of communication if you ask me. If you can’t say it in 5 sentences, or better yet 5 minutes, then it doesn’t need to be said. This also means you have to have competent professionals working for you. This is why I’m a rock star at work. This is why I don’t quite fit at work as well. I do not believe in their emergencies. I just look at them like they are crazy when they come at me wrapped up in chaos. Like pigpen, they come around me tracking their dust, muss and fuss. Like pigpen I show them the door and whip out my Oreck. Then I come up with a solution 5 minutes later. Send them an email. Problem solved. This is why they keep me around. This is why I want to run away.

I’d rather solve the problem of a suicidal homosexual teenager. I’d rather assist an abused wife gain some self esteem so she can do better for her children. I’d rather help a Vet work through his or her PTSD so that they can regain some semblance of a quality of life. I’d rather heal the world, than burn the last of my brain cells helping pinheads compound numbers for a data analysis that I was never supposed to be a part of that they are just going to manipulate the numbers for anyway.

My secret war is to keep convincing myself that this is for the best until I can do better. My secret war is to keep my soul from leaking out of my tear ducts every time I shed a tear over the idiot circus that surrounds me. I mustn’t cry.

Guest Post: "Reindeer Games"

It ain't Christmas, my name ain't Rudolph, and your Reindeer Games don't interest me...

Hi! It's AmyMay... remember me, "Theory Woman?" No? Okay... forget you, then. Well, Alise and I have been having mutual blog block, so we thought that doing a post swap might kick start our collective writing muses. (I stay tellin' Alise them heffas took off to the Bahamas and just didn't tell us they were goin', but I can't prove it.) We aren't entirely sure it will work, but, hey... it's worth a shot.

This time, I have archetypes and opinions on said archetypes. Kinda like theories only not quite. Theory Lite, if you will!!

Now, like the last time I wrote something that I contributed to this blog, I'm gonna take a moment to give a disclaimer: My brain is a busy and dangerous place. There will be trains of thought which take perilous turns, dives and twists. There might be derailments. Keep your hands and feet inside the ride until the post comes to a full and complete stop. Management is not responsible for any loss of life, limb or good sense. Thank you! Enjoy the ride!

So, normally when I blog, I steer clear of the workjob. I work in a profession where privacy and confidentiality are legal mandates, not just suggestions. But this really doesn't have anything to do with my specific job. It's more of a general workplace kinda situation... I'm thinkin' this one time, I can make an exception.

I love my job. I love the place I work. I genuinely like many of the people at my job. That said, one of my greatest pet peeves is something that I encounter almost exclusively at the workjob. A little something I like to call Reindeer Games. Reindeer Games are that boolshiggity that most of us outgrew when we received our high school diplomas and moved on with life. Yet there are those allegedly grown adults who revel in them. And I just can't abide them!

Reindeer Game: We're IN, You're OUT. This is self explanatory. Call it what you will... cliques, the in-crowd, the cool kids. Whatever. All I have to say about this is, if you have to work at convincing me you're cool.... well, you're not. Sorry to break it to you, Sparky.

Reindeer Game: I know important people around here! Ummmm... so? If you suck at your job, but you know someone in an office, well.... hun, you still suck at your job, and I still don't respect you. Now what?

Reindeer Game: If I look busy, people will think I actually do stuff around here! Yeah. Go saddown. You ain't foolin' NO.BODY!! But if it helps you sleep at night, knock yourself out!

Reindeer Game: I work hard at getting out of work! This one is closely related to the last one. But I genuinely don't understand the point. If you play this Reindeer Game, I'm thinkin' you need more people.

Reindeer Game: I take credit for stuff I didn't do. Nothing funny. You suck. That is all.

Reindeer Game: I live to stir the pot. If your life is so empty and boring that you must instigate drama in the lives of those around you... *smh* All I can say to that is Karma is a bitch, and Hell is hot!

I'm sure I haven't but scratched the surface. What are some of your favorite Reindeer Games? What kind of workplace shenanigans get your blood pressure up? Share with the class!

P.S. I hope you will join me in encouraging Naturally Alise and Eyesqueen to come out of hibernation!! I been missin' them chicks!!

P.S.S. The post is now at a halt. Feel free to move about the blog!

visit Amy at: http://www.amymaysumthin2say.blogspot.com/