Overheard in the office 2

As you may have guessed, I am always looking for new and innovative ways to keep sane through the seemingly-ENDLESS work days. One of my more preferred tactics involves regular conversation and paper airplane throwing with good friend and cubicell neighbor, Rachel California. Here is an excerpt from one of today's compelling exchanges:

(A paper clip lands on my desk from over the cubicell wall. )

Westchester: Yeeeeeeesssss?

Rachel California (speaking from the other side of the cubicell wall): I just wanted to let you know what was up.

Westchester: What IS up?

Rachel: Nothing.

Westchester: ……..Thanks for keeping me informed.

Thank God it's Friday.

Cake That!

Never having been one to bow down to personal/societal injustices, I just stole a piece of Coworker K’s birthday cake and ate it. Take that bitches!

MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Pathetic? Maybe. But SO worth it.

88 Days, 14 Hours, and 10 Minutes to Christmas

In postings past I have mentioned my ongoing annoyance over having to sign countless birthday cards and make countless gift donations for the people that I work with. It's not that I have any ill-will towards these people, but having never received one thing from the lot of them-I just don't see why I should have to participate. Lately I have been very good at ignoring the shenanigans; however, my coworkers have just hit a new low, and I feel the need to talk about it.

When it comes to office birthdays, some people chose to bring in treats for the whole department, while others just bring in something for their friends…or nothing at all. There is no set rule-but as you can imagine, the people that only bring things for their friends are usually a little hush/hush about it; because let's face it, some people get hard feelings when they are not included. Usually, I could care less.

Today is Coworker K’s birthday; and as a result, she has brought in treats for her friends. Normally, this would be fine; however, rather than set the treats up in her own cube (7-8 cubes away from me) as most people do, she has instead decided to use the empty cubicell right next to mine.

So, all morning I have had to sit here as seemingly-endless parades of her friends “ooh” and “ahh” over her birthday treats- all the while, having never been offered one. Frankly, I think the whole thing is a little “in your face” rude.

Grrrr-if only they would just let me work from home...or space maybe. That would be nice.

All I want for Christmas is...another IPod

When it comes to technology, I am usually behind the curve.

A few Christmases’ ago my parents bought my brothers and me iPods, but it wouldn’t be until a full year later that I would sell mine, unopened to my brother for a fraction of what it was worth. Clearly, this was one of my MANY poorly-navigated business decisions. But at the time, I just wasn’t willing to learn how to use the iPod, and I figured my brother would get better use of it. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Unfortunately, this is not the first or the last time I have denied myself of a good technological thing out of misplaced reverence to the old, already learned technology. Before iPods, it was the Discman, and before that, it was my Strawberry Shortcake record player…

“But I have so many tapes!” I would whine to my classmates when they asked why I wasn’t into CD’s. “Plus I just got the soundtrack for “Cocktail” and I don’t want to miss out on that. Besides tapes are just as good as CD’s…”

Right.

After the whole Cocktail debacle, it would be several months before I was forced into buying my first CD; when, while on a field trip with my church’s youth group, I couldn’t, for the life of me, find an audio cassette section in Best Buy.

Surrounded by a group of the Christian-ist kids I knew, I enthusiastically reached for the CD of Extreme’s “Pornografitti.”

“Pornografitti? REALLY Westchester,” they said judgingly.

By that point, it was too late to tell them that the only reason I had wanted the CD was for the song “More than Words,” which I had heard earlier that week on the Mickey Mouse Club.

I guess for that singular moment in time, I was the church group rebel. That’s right, REBEL.

Now in my late twenties I have still not managed to get that iPod….but I am hoping by the time I do, my brothers will have amassed all the songs I could possibly need; and I can use all that money I’ll be saving on ITunes to buy myself that pony I have always wanted. I will name her “Dusty,” and she will be merry.

A Pirate's Life for....someone else!

Last night I was watching this terrible reality show called “Wife Swap.” The premise, as the network describes it, is this: “Each week from across the country, two families with very different values are chosen to take part in a two-week long challenge. The wives from these two families change places to discover just what it's like to live another woman's life.”

This week’s episode involved a “wife swap” between a family of neat/control freaks and a family of “pirates” claiming to live their lives according to a chaotic principle they called, “pirate-titude.” That’s right, PIRAT-titude. This, of course, is not a real word; but the bastardized joining of the words “pirate” and “attitude.”

The father in the pirate family did not hold a job, and instead preferred to spend his days writing pirate fiction while dressed as a….pirate. As you might imagine, the neat freak mother did not fit in with this bunch of free-wheeling buccaneers-and spent most of the episode shacked up at a nearby hotel or trying to organize and make labels for the pirate-children’s messy rooms.

Now I realize that this is reality TV, but whenever I see people waxing poetic about how great it must have been to live in , I am forced to immediately disagree, knowing full well just how poorly most of us would really fair in a world without toothpaste. I mean let’s be realistic about history here: our forefathers lived in rougher times! And it was perhaps only the smallest percentile that had it good (i.e. owned their own horse). Give me a time period, and I will tell you why I wouldn’t want to live then. You might think it was all fine and dandy-but odds would have it that you wouldn’t be royalty-or noble; odds are you would be one of the poor people who died of scurvy or lost all of their teeth before the age of 15.

I mean, it’s fine and dandy to sit around all day romanticizing the pirate life of yore; envisioning that (unlike the majority of people who lived during the 1500’s) you would be different. The family on the show acted as though they would have ruled the seas or ended up in the best possible versions of pirate society. I, on the other hand, know better than to make those kinds of sweeping assumptions, understanding full-well that I would never have had it that lucky.

Had I lived during the 1500’s, I know enough about myself to be able to confidently say that I would not have lived in a cushy set up as ship captain, or even as the captain’s main whore. Indeed, if I was alive during the 1500’s, I would have served in one of the following capacities:

1. Pirate Hostage/Bargaining tool
2. Dilapidated bag of bones
3. Parrot

Knowing this understandably takes away from the appeal of that time period, and makes me once again thankful that I live during this time-and no other. It might be fun to imagine your life in another time and place; but, I think it is fair to say that comfort is a luxury of the present.

What can you do with a BA in English?

I am beginning to think that I am NEVER going to escape the nefarious folds of Company X.

As you may have guessed, I did not pass the spelling test; and while I don’t remember exactly how many words I was asked to spell, I somehow got 17 wrong. 17.

It’s enough to make a grown woman cry…oh wait, I am a grown woman, and I HAVE been crying.

But rather than give up, I will press on bravely into the night, I mean, the job force. I WILL find that next, better paying job, where I like my coworkers and I do not feel like I am dying a little bit inside each day.

You might be surprised to know, that in addition to applying outside Company X, I have also been looking within the company as well, in hopes that maybe, it is just the banal task of my current job that is bothering me…well that and the DAMN Christmas countdown.

So when a woman from HR called me the other day with news of a job opening that might fit my skills, I jumped at the opportunity. Company X was anxious to fill the role, so HR set up the interview for the next day-leaving me little time to prepare. The day of the interview arrived; and, as I do with every interviews, I wore my best (and only) suit and brushed my hair.

I arrived early, and when Vice President R appeared, I firmly shook his hand and confidently introduced myself. I then followed him to his office and sat down where I was instructed. Normal pleasantries were then exchange, before R launched into his questions.

The interview started well, however, things took a discernable turn for the worse when VP R asked if I was a “glass is half full or glass is half EMPTY” kind of person.

“Well R,” I said, “I think that in life, I am generally a glass is half FULL kind of person; however, I am also realistic, and I know that there is always the possibility that something happens to the glass- so I believe it is important to anticipate that, and be ready to creatively fix the problem, or glass.”

Silently, R sat back in his chair, considering my answer, then, after inhaling quietly R replied:

“Actually, the way I would have answered that question, is the glass is FULL. Half water, half air-and YOU need to figure out what innovative things you can do with the AIR to stay ahead of your competition.”

……………WHAT!

Air......AIR! First of all, if I was interviewing someone and they gave me a bull shit answer like that, I would be forced to punch them in the face. Secondly, when you asked me that asinine question about the glass-you asked if it were half full, or half empty. THOSE were my choices. At that rate, I might as well have said, that rather than pour my water into a glass, I would rather consider a Nalgene bottle; because Nalgene water bottles are durable, and built to withstand the elements. Plus, they can easily survive a nasty fall down the stairs. I mean REALLY. Who IS this guy?!?

Dreamweaver...

Last night, I dreamt that my bed was infested with a rare species of red bed bugs that had roller skates for feet.

After I woke up this morning, I somehow knew that my life would never be the same.

(Rare artistic peak into the dreamscape of Little Miss Westchester)

God bless America

In heartfelt remembrance of those we lost.

Something wicked this way comes...

As you may recall, I spent this weekend in Chicago with my girlfriends. On Friday, Peppermint Patty treated me to the hit musical Wicked as a belated birthday present. The show was amazing; and as was expected, I cried a few times during the performance. I would highly recommend seeing this musical if you are at all interested in the theatre.

Saturday brought the wonderful, and highly anticipated wedding of college friend Nurse Blondie. The whole gang was there: Fucking Early, Jazzy A, Spanish Houlihan, Peppermint Patty, Foxy Sunshine, and yours truly, Little Miss Westchester. From Blondie’s beautiful gown to the delicious dinner and fun-filled dancing, I think everyone in attendence would agree with me when I say, that I am really good looking.....

But seriously, the wedding went off without a hitch and I just had an amazing time!

Here is a great photo of the girls and me before the reception. Now I can’t put my finger on it, but this picture reminds me of another group of well-accessorized Americans, hell bent on having a good time...but now, who am I thinking of?

Oh yes, now I remember....


Thanks again to all my girls for the amazing weekend, I hope we can all get together again real soon (I call dibs on the electronic repairman)!

The countdown continues...

Many of you may remember a certain posting I made in APRIL, about the inconceivably-early Christmas countdown one of my coworkers was keeping on the outside of her cubicle. Well in case you were wondering, said countdown still exists today, but with one very noticeable new addition:

All I can say is, it is a VERY good thing it's Friday.

Blondie's wedding

This weekend, I will travel down to Chicago for the looooong awaited nuptials of my dear friend Nurse Blondie and her long-time love, Dave.

Congratulations Blondie, you are going to make SUCH a beautiful bride! For all the rest of you poor bastards who weren’t invited to the wedding, keep your eyes peeled for some action-packed pictures of the wedding on Monday.

Westchester and the Bee

If you have been reading this blog…at all, you have probably deduced that I don’t like my current job. There, I said it. Now deal with it…I mean me. ANYWAY, rather than sit around and sulk about it, I have actively been applying around and trying to find a job that is more fun and creatively fulfilling (translation: I want more money). Plus, being the competent, very good- looking person that I am, I figure, any company would be lucky to have me!

One tactic I have employed to find my great new job is a little something called: networking. That’s right kids, in addition to submitting many applications online, I have also been asking my friends if THEIR companies were hiring, and praying to God they’d give me a referral. One such friend, Skeet McQueen followed through, and I immediately sent my resume to his company in hopes of securing the interview.

A few days later, Skeet’s HR lady e-mailed me to tell me that my resume looked good, but that I would have to pass a spelling/grammar test before they could proceed with the interview process. So yesterday, I wore my bestest (not a real word) suit, rushed to Skeet’s office, and arrived with just enough time to spend five minutes fretting in the parking lot about where to park.

No sooner had I entered the building than HR Lady B warmly greeted me and whisked me into a little room with no windows and a fax machine where I would be taking the test. Having already declined HR Lady B’s offer for water and/or a potty break, she laid the tests before me, started the timer, and quietly closed the door.

Like many of you, I have taken spelling tests before; however, with spell checkers built into practically every computer applications I use these days, knowledge of how to spell has become a somewhat obsolete art- which is why I immediately began to panic, and sweat.

Going in, I knew I needed to pass this test before I could get the interview-but I guess I just ignored that little voice in my head that was telling me to "study," and instead chose to follow the other, darker voice that was telling me to "drink a lot of beer." I may just be the worst speller ever (*), so clearly, that was a misstep.

Anyway, after my timed hour was up I was surprised to see I had somehow managed to finish the test. I was even more surprised to see that I had also left lipstick fingerprints all over the pages. Thinking quickly on my feet, I explained to HR Lady B that I had PURPOSELY put the lipstick fingerprints there, so if the company lost my name they could identify me through a simple finger print analysis…..and oh how we laughed and laughed at that one.

Sadly realistic artistic representation of my spelling test.

(*) I think my spelling troubles began in the fifth grade when, being too lazy to study, I was never able to muster any grade above a "C" on my spelling tests. Luckily, the teacher was even lazier than I was, and rather than collect and grade our papers, he had us announce our scores out loud or, if we would prefer, we could approach him at the front of the room and whisper it into his ear. Having never cheated a day in my life, I was surprised at how easily the plan formed in my head. Rather than announce to the world that I had, once again, failed my test, I instead would go up to my teacher and quietly tell him I got a “B-.” It was genius really. Well, that was until he uncovered my scheme at the end of the year, and subsequently called my mom (even though I asked him not to). Ever since, I have not been a fan of spelling or whispering.

Empty Nest

It’s official: the last of my siblings have moved out of the house, and my parents are empty-nesters for the first time in 26 years. As you would imagine, both are coping with this new change in their own ways; and I, in turn, am trying my best to navigate the new home-dynamic when I visit every week without going crazy.

Since my brother left got college, my mom spent a large portion of her time quietly sobbing, but she is pressing on bravely and is filling her time with a new devotion to her charities and a job as a preschool teacher. Meanwhile, my dad has been keeping busy through a position in local government and a time-consuming new hobby that entails the purchase and repair of old-fashioned typewriters off of E-bay.

As the proud owner of 10+, (now) working typewriters from the 1950’s, my dad says he holds a unique piece of the vintage typewriter market, and assures me that he will be able to sell them all for a very nice profit. However, I have yet to see his collection dissipate, so something tells me he might have misjudged the supply and demand for 1950's typewriters.

The silver lining in all of this is that I have a place of my own; because frankly, my parent’s have also started flirting a lot more, and it is REALLY awkward to be around.