Friday, January 16, 2009

To my coworkers:

Things I would say to my coworkers if I had no moral compass:

To the lady who leaves at 4:00 everyday: I don’t care what your excuse is. Really, I don’t. I know you pass by me as you go out the back door to escape, but it doesn’t matter one bit to me why you’re not suffering to 5:00 like I am. I’m only jealous that you can do that, and I can’t. So, whether it be your fourth dentist appointment for the month, a phantom illness that doesn’t seem to make you pale, tired or appear sick in ANY way, or the fifth major appliance at your house to fail in recent history, I don’t care. Just smile, keep your dumb excuse to yourself, and go along your merry way.

To the woman who FLIPS OUT every time the printer is occupied with another job that isn’t hers: Chill. Really, just chill. It’s not going to be the end of the world if you can’t print right this second. Relax, drink some coffee (or maybe have a midday nip) and come back in five minutes.

To Monica Gellar: Really, your husband can go to the dentist by himself. I’ve been going by myself since I was 16, so I think your 25-year old construction worker can waltz in there on his own and get that cavity filled. No one will need to drive him home, and he’s perfectly okay sitting in the dentist’s chair without you holding his hand. So please, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, stop taking extended lunches every week so you can “be with him when he needs you.” Call a spade a spade. Just tell us you want to slack.

To the lady who is constantly taking my stuff from the printer to her desk: Look through things before you walk away with them. That printer is used by 5 other people than you, and – believe it or not – not every one of us jumps up as soon as our print job is done to yank it off the printer. We’re a little less high-strung than that. So take that extra three seconds to assess the papers in your hands and leave the ones that are not yours on the printer. DO NOT under any circumstances start bothering me and asking, “Is this yours? It’s not? Well whose is it? Could it be Shari’s? Should I leave it on her desk? Can I leave it on your desk? Maybe I should call her and ask? What should I do with it?” Shut. Up. Please?

To the young “up-and-comers” here for a management fellowship: Stop asking me to do things for you. I don’t care. I am not your assistant. You are three years younger than me, and you have much more time than you think you do. Make your own damn copies.

To the woman who thinks it’s necessary to tell me about her bathroom problems: It’s not. Stop. I don’t want to know. Now or ever.


Joel said...

Sorry for your pain.

But this is brilliant. The workers of the world salute you. Yeah, welcome to "the office." Fun, isn't it?

This, dear, is part of why you should pursue your dreams with reckless abandon, so that you either don't have to put up with all of this crap (eventually) and/or the crap fits (well, sort of) into or is obscured by the immensity of a larger framework that is meaningful.

End of old man lecture. Now get off my lawn, damnit.

Jenn said...

What, am I trampling your rhododendrons?