I Think My Feelings Are Best Expressed Through Gifs

At my previous job I would email the company anytime I launched a new website.  I felt like my feelings of working with said client were best expressed through gifs.  So when my last day came I thought it was only fitting I said goodbye via a gif fest.  Enjoy.

My first week or so here I felt like:

And sometimes all the tech speak sounded like:

But then you do your first demo and are like:

And you finally enter a ticket correctly in Redmine and Development is like:

And you start to pick up on some html so you can do things without asking Design and they are all:

Then Sales teaches you how to schmooze clients:

And then you get your first new client:

And you get them to add on a butt-load of extra stuff just because you said so:

And sometimes they ask you some ridiculous questions:

And you say the software gets easier to use the more they use it and they are like:

So you make some training videos to help:

So you arrange calls to walk through things and it feels like:

And sometimes they get it right away and you're like:

And sometimes, after 2 hours of 1-on-1 training they say, "Wait… I haven't figured out how to log in yet.  Can you start over?" and you feel:

But then you have your first company meeting with beer as a special guest:

And you have an afternoon nerding out with Marketing over your shared love of #BastardizingHashtags:

And then you get a new member to the client services team:

So be kind to Jim:

My parting words- May you all receive all the pleasures life has to offer:

And Remember:

Now let's all get out of here before something goes wro-
 

If I Delivered Your Commencement Address

Dear Class of 2012,

As we gather here today on this great lawn/auditorium/cafetorium/function hall/Elks Lodge, I look at a sea of people I could have babysat.  I mean Jesus.  My version of "illegally downloading music" is when you used to hold a tape recorder up to your stereo at the ready incase Z104 played that Envogue song which you would inevitably miss the first 15 seconds of and/or someone would come in the room and start talking thus messing up your track.  Did you know Oregon Trail wasn't always an app on Facebook?  We had to ford the river with our scurvy or dysentery.  Also I never understood why you could only carry back 100 lbs of meat.  Why not get one of those lazy ass kids of yours to help?

You will leave these hallowed halls/overflow trailers/internet classrooms with hopes of landing your dream job.  Look, I'm gonna be straight with you. 1% of you will actually hold a job that relates to your major.  The rest of you will become administrative assistants.  I'm looking at you theater/communication grads.  Don't go weeping into your PBR.  You'll get to where you're supposed to be, but honestly, it's going to take a while.  Much like Freshman year of college you will face times of being the new kid, finding your class, now meeting, goof off buddy and you will gain weight.  I swear it's like life knows you crossed over some predetermined age where you're not allowed to be a cute collegiate anymore and life is determined to not let you rock cut off shorts and sorority baby Ts (just dated myself).  You will follow ANY end of the day, once class now meeting, with beers.  You will still have roommate's, but Sallie Mae will not be picking up the heating bill so go buy as many collegiate sweatshirts as you can before your student ID discount expires because that will now be your heating source.

Group projects don't go away with graduation.  You will still have "group projects" in the real world, but now you just look like a real d-bag when you run like a 4 year old to your boss because Erwin from accounting won't stop playing CafeWorld long enough to do his Power Point slide.  Take that amazing talent and morph it into a manipulative skill that sets Erwin up.  I had friends in middle school that were so good at this they researched rival student's science fair project topics for RIDICULOUSLY complicated questions to ask in front of judges and teachers just to see them squirm.  Vindictive?  Yes.  But honestly we would have all rather been playing Bejewled... or Oregon Trail.  And most of them are in politics now so...

Abbrevs.  Stop.  Nothing makes you look like more of an asshat than sending this in an email, "We totes had that account.  Obvi, IMHO, Erwin messed it up.  WTF Erwin?!  Evry1 else, KUTGW.  TTYL143." *Note: I had to google half of these.

Foods you should stop eating now: Hot Pockets, anything in a wrap stuffed with items from more than 3 of the major food groups, anything from a vending machine/quickie-mart/street vendor.  Your late 20's gastro-intestine will thank you.

If you are hipster I would like you to line up on the right side of the stage.  We will be confiscating your "retro" glasses with no lenses, anything flannel (that died with Cobain), all hair products that you use a ridiculous amount of to make your hair look like you did nothing to it and any "old school" media.  You look like an idiot.

Overweight girls that wear the following: baby Ts, pants with writing on the butt, sleeveless anything, white pants, and metal upper arm bands (most of you are wearing them as bracelets....).  Line up behind the hipsters.

Clothing: Dress like you don't buy everything at Forever 21.

Money: Get used to not having it.

Friends:  BFF is a load of shit.

Now.  I'm not trying to be a Debbie Downer.  This part will be fun.  You'll have your own apartment (still with roommates, but at least your fate is not in the hands of campus housing).  You should probably get REALLY good at writing passive agressive notes.  Then you can post them to the web, become internet famous and solve the money problem for a hot sec because we all know the possible tv show "Sh*t My Roommate's Say or Do That Inspire Passive Aggressive Notes" is going to die after the pilot.

You will succeed at something.  Some of you will be amazing at-home moms- please limit your posts of "Timmy Eating Applesauce" to less than 400 pictures.  Some of you will become business men/women and we will secretly hate you for your business lunches that include liquid lunch on an expense account.  Some of you are going to work for the MBTA and for that I'm assuming you punched a kitten at some time in your life and this is payback.

The point is: Make friends with a really good bartender.  Don't buy furniture/massage services off craigslist.  Don't expect to be Director of Awesomeness and Head Blogger at your first job, but don't settle for a life of post-its and board packets.

In closing, Class of 2012, I leave you with this.  Live your life like Oregon Trail.  Don't be a lazy ass kid.  Carry your fare share of the meat.  Always be the banker.  And when it comes time to write the epitaph for your tombstone make sure they use the word toot because everyone laughs at gas humor.

<drops mike to a standing ovation>

So I was trying to think of the next thing to blog about and nothing was really standing out. I'm currently "between jobs" for two days and went to the gym in the middle of the day. It's like whole new world when you go to the gym mid-day. You don't have to hoover over someone like you do when you're in line at a salad bar and they've been in front of the bacon bits building a salad with a lettuce to BB ratio akin to 1:89043 and then they walk away and all that's left are some crumbs and that stupid plastic packet that comes in things to hold out moisture, but thanks to the miracle of the interwebs we all save those in case water get's into our watches or we need to freshen up before going out so we dab a little behind the ear.... wait... oh, right. The gym. So I was on a machine that was acting a little wonky and went to report it. This leads us to the purpose of this post. Stupid, awkward and/or inappropriate things happen to me constantly. Maybe it's so I "learn life lessons" or maybe it's so "I'll stop stalking certain blond petite entertainers" or maybe it's so "I can write this blog for your entertainment... so that I can be discovered and meet certain petite blond entertainers"... whatever, you get the point. Stupid stuff happens to me.

Let me begin with a story some of you already know, but bares repeating to support my previous statements. I've had A LOT of jobs. Current employer that I begin working for tomorrow, this is in reference to Kate ages 13-21. So we're still cool. My first real job was at a McDonald's. I was not thrilled about it, but I needed a job. I should have realized how wrong this situation was by my interview. I was 16 (albeit the daughter of a high school guidance conselor so I was slightly more prepared than most) and walked into the store with a business suit and resume... we didn't interview. He made sure I had the power of speech and told me to start tomorrow. I showed up and had my 2 days of training... pictures on a cash register can be hard to decipher... you tell me the difference between a 5 ct and a 7 ct mcnugget meal in a time of haste. The third day they put me on drive through. I remember it well. It was a Saturday in late May. I was to work 9-5. 2pm rolled around and I was getting the hang of it. You had to wear a headset attached to a communication pack that hooked to your hip. When someone would pull up to the drive thru it would ding in your ear. You had to press a button to speak and release to listen... anyone who has ever buzzed an apartment door or stage managed a show has got me right now. So a car pulls up and her total to be paid is $5.93. I open the window and she begins to pull money from her purse. I stick my hand out to get it when the ding goes off in my ear that another call has pulled up. I instinctively try to grab the monies that she is giving me while trying to be a fast food worker rock star and press the button to talk. In slow motion I see the woman pouring her payment in pennies, nickles and dimes that then go streaming all over the ground and her car. In fear and frustration at what my life had already become at the ripe age of 16 I say aloud a phrase that I'm not sure can be repeated here as I want to keep these readings PGish, but it involved a goat and some level of copulation. I then see out of the corner of my eye my boss (wearing a similar headset) running at me like she's in a Die Hard film and the building behind her is about to blow. She speaks into the mic for the patron who had just heard the exclamatory statement I had just uttered through the speaker to pull around. I peered through the glass hot box of hell I had worked in all day at the car coming around the corner. I then felt my face go hot and that feeling in your stomach as if you ate chili cheese fries and you're lactose intolerant and you have no gallbladder as I started to recognize the car... it was some of the nuns from my old catholic school. I then took off the headset, stepped over the pile of change still in the hot box, walked out of McDonald's and never returned... except a week late to ask if I was going to be paid for those 2.5 days I worked. I've got class.

Another example. I was 17 and working for a bagel shop. I loved that job. Surrounded by bagels and 7 different types of cheeses all day. HEAVEN. My ass still talks about it like it was boarding school and how muenster had made her the big ass she is today. I was working on a Sunday (as some of you probably know, I should not work on Sundays- it brings out the Jersey Shore in me and I'm not even from there) and in the South it is big to go to church and then breakfast so it was extremely busy on Sundays. I was at the prep area when I took orders and made sandwiches. I saw this heinous punta come in and knew nothing was going to go well. She walked up and hand to God said she wanted a bacon, egg and cheese bagel. Now let me set the scene for you. This place is already like the floor of the New York Stock Exchange with people yelling things and making number gestures that I still have no clue what they were trying to convey. I can only assume it meant something related to some underground lox & schmear mafia. My station's only barrier from the motley crew of customers was something akin to a sneeze guard and I say that to prove this point... everything I do and touch you can see. I begin to swiftly make her sandwich and cut it and put it on a plate for her. She has watched my every move with the diligence of a waspy woman around hired help. She looks me up and down and says in a shrilled voice like Gilbert Gottfried and Rosanne procreated, "WHAT IS THIS?! THERE'S BACON ON THAT!!! I'm a vegetarian! I can't eat that". I replied, "Ma'am, you order a bacon, egg and cheese on a bagel...". With that statement made she saw that I was not even close to her level of bitchydome and I would be an easy target. She continued to scream at me and although, filled with rage much like the kind I have only felt in similar moments of public embarrassment or when West Wing went off the air, I grabbed the plate with the sandwich, ripped the bacon off, slammed it back onto the counter and said, "YOU WILL EAT IT AND YOU WILL LIKE IT!". I then turned smoothly to make a grand exit as in my mind I had won (how naive) and felt my left foot as I put it down in my leave of triumph step into pea soup that someone had spilled. I can only describe my fall as one that the physical complexities achieved can only matched by a member of Cirque du Soleil or Goofy.

There are many more of these instances in my life and I take some responsibility for the outcome as usually my mouth gets me in trouble, but someone has to be held accountable for these situations... you can't make up this stuff. And I'll end it on where I began. I went to tell one of the attendants at the gym that a machine was malfunctioning. She asked me to find out which machine section and the number of it so she could have it looked at. I went back up to report to her and she said, "Can you just tell me briefly what number machine and what's wrong?" and I replied (obviously without thinking), "Yeah, 69 is jerking on and off"... I slowly put my sunglasses on and walked out... I will no longer be attending this gym mid-day.