Professionalism

I Do Not Know Everything

Posted by

7

Or: Why I Will Totally Mess with People Who Constantly Ask Me Questions That Don’t Pertain to My Job

When I first became an official grown up*, I was so excited. I’d conquered college. I’d graduated with honors. I had a cap, a gown, and the world’s most expensive piece of paper proving I was ready to be gainfully employed. I was about to become a professional.

*When I received my very first mildly threatening phone call from the people who own my student loans.

But it came with a hat

Ahhh…the naive enthusiasm of youth. That piece of paper cost $87,000.

I started my career as a Publisher’s Assistant**, which is about as low on the corporate ladder as you can get. EVERY question I was asked pertained to my job. I knew when every meeting was, I knew how to contact printers, and I knew exactly which exotic land (Iowa) was shipping that giant box of fortune cookies we’d ordered. I knew how much it weighed and how many days it was due in transit. I felt like a knowledge guru. It was epic.

**All-purpose office minion.

And it was my job.

Now I am older. I’m probably wiser. But mostly, I’m a more specialized*** asset for my employers.

***expensive

Climbing the corporate ladder means my job no longer includes a lot of the in-office maintenance, and it also involves knowing less about projects I have nothing to do with. Mostly because I’m being paid to deal with completely different projects (which I happen to know lots about. Oodles, even.)

On the one hand, it’s kind of sad to not know about where boxes of fortune cookies are in transit. On the other hand, I know more about things like “Return on Investment” and “market response.” I still try to know as much as possible about what’s going on around me, but some things I just have no reason to know.

(I’d still like to know where the boxes of cookies are, though.)

But that doesn’t stop people from asking me lots and lots of questions about things I’m not involved in. Without providing context. It’s perplexing, and kind of implies they think I know everything.

This is becoming an exciting new game for me, and a dangerous game for them. Because I like making things up. It’s like a science experiment.

I'm serious. People ask me this. A lot. Maybe I'm accidentally dressing like a US Postal Service employee every day?

I’m serious. People ask me this. A lot. Maybe I’m accidentally dressing like a US Postal Service employee every day?

Coworker: “So how much does this box weigh?”

Me: “Three tons. You are amazingly strong.”

Coworker: “No! Seriously. I need to know.”

Me: “Why are you asking me?”

Coworker: “Because I need your help.”

Me: “…What?”

Coworker: “So how much does it weigh?”

Me: “…127 ounces. And be sure to get them to add flammable liquid insurance****. It won’t ship without it, and I heard someone say we need to get it on every package we send.”

Coworker: “Really? Thanks!”

Me: “Have fun at the Post Office.”

****Apparently this box was full of promotional notepads.

This may seem a little harsh. What you need to know, however, is that my job has literally nothing to do with shipping things, or with determining box weights. Our office also has a scale. (Like I said: Everyone is on a diet.) Periodically, I remind people that their guess is as good as mine. In fact, their guess is probably better than mine, because shipping things is part of their job, and they do it all the time. They’re good at it. I am not.

I'm changing my name to Encyclopedia Brown

^ Actual question I have been asked. Verbatim.

Coworker: “So, which form are we sending to the conference?”

Me: “Sorry, but I don’t know. I’m not part of the conference team. If I had to guess, I’d say Form A. But you should probably ask-“

Coworker: “You’re really being unhelpful.”

Me: “…The CEO. You should definitely go ask the CEO. He knows for sure.”

Coworker: “Isn’t he in meetings all day?”

Me: “I thought you said this was important. Probably important enough that he won’t mind if you barge right in and ask him about a conference that has a whole team dedicated to it.”

Generally, these questions occur while I am working on some sort of rapid turn-around project. That limits my ability to commit vengeance beyond bad advice and quick-fire sarcasm.

So, to save everyone’s time, I am confessing this here on the Internet.

I do not know everything.*****

*****Just a lot of things that absolutely no one should know.

Leave Me Alone

Someday, however, I am going to be less busy. Someday, I will get my revenge. 

It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year…

Posted by

4

Halloween is the holiday I celebrate for a full month. (Ok, admittedly, I also do this with both Thanksgiving and Christmas.) Horror movie marathons start October 1, and carry on until I have to legitimately accept that it’s November and I have to start obsessing about semi-racist Thanksgiving decorations. Candy shopping happens sporadically (Mostly because all those horror movie marathons need snack, and then I remember I have to compensate for trick-or-treaters). I make plans to go to every single party I’m invited to.

This year, I made my own stegosaurus costume.

In my head it looked like this.

This glorious example of costume excellence and artistry is courtesy of my favorite blog, Hyperbole and a Half. Go read it and buy her book.

This glorious example of costume excellence and artistry is courtesy of my favorite blog, Hyperbole and a Half. Go read it and buy her book.

What it really looked like was this:

I was chasing a tiny dog dressed like a dinosaur at this time.

I was chasing a tiny dog dressed like a dinosaur at this time.

I’m on a classic costume kick, so I was going to dress as the bride of Dracula for work today…but then I realized I had to go to the mall at lunch for an errand, and didn’t want to deal with long frilly sleeves in the stores.

That’s right. The mall affected my wardrobe decisions for the day.

So, I’m a blood sucking lawyer. Because I am both work appropriate and _hilarious_. (For reference, no one in the office thinks this is even remotely entertaining. Apparently the term “blood sucking lawyer” hasn’t made it to the south yet.)

Halloween Blood Sucking Lawyer

Lawyers _Totally_ make this face. Just go see one and tell them you can’t afford to pay them.

I may be one of the few adults below the Mason-Dixon line who actually enjoys Halloween, but by golly, I’m going to celebrate it enough for everyone. You’re welcome, the South.

(This blog post is very short and unenthusiastic because no one will leave me alone today and I used up all my creativity this month on costumes. It’s a finite resource, y’all.)

Financial Ideas from a Recession-Era College Graduate

Posted by

4

A few of you might know I’ve been considering a serious career change. Unfortunately, swapping from relatively successful career to a new career, and managing to maintain the “relatively successful” part can be kind of problematic. With that in mind, I’ve spent the past three weeks brainstorming and plotting how I might be able to afford nursing school without going broke or giving myself an overworked nervous breakdown.

This morning, inspiration struck…in the form of “I should write a Craigslist ad.”*

That’s right. Craigslist. The original “bleak meetup” site for missed connections, odd hookups, garage sales and new apartments. So, for the benefit of others like me, I am sharing the sweet poetry of how to subsidize your advanced schooling and career change in the form of a Craigslist ad. This ad is focused on nursing, as that is my ideal career swap of choice, and really, this is all about me here, people. (And my quest to discover just how many commas I can put in one sentence. Current record: 8.)

For your benefit, I have included parentheticals noting the logic behind all the bits of this ad.

“Ad Title: I Want to be a Nurse
(Because really, just putting the word nurse on Craigslist in any ad section is going to get lots of interest.)

Hi! Like the title of this ad, I want to be a nurse. There’s just one small problem with this wild career change plan of mine: I’m already paying college loans, and can’t afford to just live income free for a couple years.
(Because all the people on Craigslist really want to know your personal motivations.)

That, my friend, is where you come in.
(Using “you” and “my friend” here makes this ad feel like it was personally written for the reader! You’ve got ‘em now!)

I’m looking for a sugar daddy.**
(Don’t be coy. Readers will respect your direct honesty.)

Are you old, rich, and weird? Then I’m the right investment for you!

A) I’m college educated, but I do an _excellent_ valley girl voice, so I can be bimbo-y arm candy any time you need it!
B) I’ve maintained a solid and steady employment history since graduating from college. So, I am totally capable of any amount of independence.
C) You can think of funding my education as a directly contribution to a local charity. I’m local. And, I’m kind of a charity case.
D) I’ll be learning about nursing, so I can clearly help with your at home care, if you’re old enough to need it.

(Highlight your redeeming qualities! But don’t sound slutty. You don’t want them to get the wrong idea. You need money, but you have standards.)

So how do you get in on this great deal?

1) Make enough money to pay my room, board, old student loans, nursing school payments, and some “running around money.”
2) Have the desire to be a benefactor.
3) Write me into your will.

(Mix it up. Use numbers here instead of letters. It’ll throw them for a loop and they’ll skip the fact that you want to be written into their rich person will.)

That’s it!

References are required. I don’t want to be murdered, y’all.”*** (It’s important in everything you write for the internet that you highlight the fact that you do not want to be murdered.)”

It’s as easy as that! One simple ad, and all your financial troubles are over! Or rather, in this instance, my financial troubles are over.

All the best brainstorms happen during Monday morning showers.

*Don’t do this. It’s a bad plan.

**Seriously. I mean it. Don’t do this.

***Are you really still considering this? Stoppit. This is how you get murdered.

Why Ninjas Don't Sit in the Sun

This is a drawing of a ninja being attacked by a very small superhero under a very convincing sun, which has been added simply to ensure that you read the for-your-safety footnotes above. _You’re welcome._

Why Corporate Meetings Should Never Last Longer than One Hour

Posted by

4

It may be obvious at this point…then again, given that my last post directly referred to my handmade Halloween costume, maybe not. I have a corporate job, in corporate America. I dress up in fancy clothes and flounce off to work every day, doing my best “knowledgeable professional” impression while chugging coffee. I put together presentations. I submit reports. I write proposals.

And I attend meetings.

Now, I understand the purpose of gathering together to discuss business-y things. Sometimes we need to brainstorm. Sometimes we need to catch everyone up on the status of a project. Sometimes we need team training.

But no meeting should last longer than one hour.

After one hour, attendees stop learning. By this point, I’m plotting my escape; I’m dreaming up daring exploits involving ninja costumes, grappling hooks, and a guest appearance by Channing Tatum dressed as Batman. (Stop judging. I need someone to distract the meeting attendees while I make my escape.)

BatMike...aka "Bruce Wang" (Kudos for this image and slick pun go to the artist: @jeremyhyler on twitter http://www.filmlifeco.com)

BatMike…aka “Bruce Wang” (Kudos for this image and slick pun go to the artist:
@jeremyhyler on twitter
http://filmlifeco.com)

In my experience, everyone participates and takes notes at first. We’re all competing to be the best at meetings. After about 60 minutes, the process devolves into higher-ups arguing about long term intentions, and minions checking Facebook on their phones. After an hour and a half, people on diets are eating the conference room candy and coffee addicts are going through withdrawal. And I’ve added a cameo from Willem Dafoe, reprising his role in Boondock Saints, to my plans.

For your escape-daydream reference,.

For your escape-daydream reference,.

Let’s not even talk about three hour meetings.

If you’re an employer, I hate to tell you this, but I’m going to anyway: You have employees just like me. So ban all meetings over an hour. We’ll be too busy to daydream about movie stars and five minute dance parties set to “99 Red Balloons” because we’ll be working during all that time once dedicated to superfluous, distracted meeting time. Also, you won’t have to refill the meeting room candy as often.

I hope this was informative. If you need me, I’ll be in the conference room. I have an all-day training meeting.

These balloons are on their way to my dance party.

These balloons are on their way to my dance party.