Riding the Bike with One Pedal.

Category: work (Page 4 of 5)

I Believed Customer Service Had Died, Until the Last Leg.

I cannot believe it’s only Wednesday. I feel like I’ve been traveling for a week. I’m thoroughly exhausted, I’m out of sync with virtually everything, I still have birthday thank-yous to write, and I just want to sleep for an extended period of time, to wake up refreshed and discover it is Saturday. That would be sweet.

We left Kansas City on the 6:11 am flight with a connection in Detroit. My memory of that plane ride is a bit hazy, it could have been in part because we were in the very back row and the engine noise was so incredibly loud, I was pretty sure it had rearranged some fillings in my teeth.  We landed somewhere in the 20’s of Concourse A. Our connecting flight to White Plains was on Concourse C, Gate 35, supposedly leaving around 10:30. So off we trek, and even with moving sidewalks, it was a bit of a haul. Only to discover the plane we’re supposed to take has been hit by lightning. And our flight has been canceled.  The gate agent offered no solution, no recourse. When my boss asked about the next flight, she snapped, “Nine pm.” He told her that wasn’t acceptable, and so she found four seats on a flight going into LaGuardia, departing at 11:30. Which was better than 9 pm, but still would make our new business meeting a near impossibility. But we got the car reservation changed and then went to our new gate. Which would be Concourse A, Gate 77. The very end of the concourse we’d left. Sweet cheeks mary and no pockets of cheese, were my dogs a-barkin’ by the time we got to that flight. Because we were all in our “outfits” for the pitch, because even when the original flight was scheduled, we would be pressed for time. That flight was full, and miraculously, the package we checked actually followed us to LaGuardia, and we didn’t have to get a courier to retrieve it from White Plains.

So our plans went all to hell in a handbasket, and our prospective clients were so incredibly understanding, they rescheduled the meeting to the next day. I got to ride in a rental car through midtown Manhattan (I Plurk’d and Facebook updated throughout this journey, it was my entertainment), and my boss is a good driver & aggressive enough to handle the NYC traffic. To his credit, he even refrained from reading his Blackberry, something we all appreciated!  We had a different meeting in midtown, and I was reminded why I like NYC – the hustle and bustle, so much packed into tiny amounts of real estate. But my yarn stash and I could never, ever, call it home!

We got lost in Yonkers, just like the movie title, and eventually found our hotel. I’ll skip over the middle of Tuesday, just because everything went so well, and was such a fantastic experience for me, personally and professionally, that I simply can’t take the risk I’d jinx it somehow. It truly was a notable moment in my life and I enjoyed it immensely. And I will say that my background and NPR-listenin’ and funny dad stories all were natural fits. So. More on that, I do hope, just at another point in time. Right now I have to complete the travel circle.

I should point out that in KC, I got patted down. I don’t know if they thought my boobage or bellyage were secret weapons (of mass destruction?) or that my flowy clothing disguised some non-metallic item that they couldn’t wait to seize, but the TSA at MCI (KC) are nothin’ compared to the grouchy, over-the-top folks at the Westchester County Airport. The line was long, and one worker started yelling at all of us that there were TWO TABLES and to SHARE and KEEP THE LINE MOVING. Hi. Have to quibble with you, mate. When you STOP THE XRAY MACHINE to examine shit, shit piles up. When my jewelry sets off the sensor and I have to remove it, send it through the machine, and retrace my steps? It HOLDS UP THE LINE. It’s the way it works. Unless you’re going to open the other inspection post, we’re all sucking it up and lining up as best we can, so STFU with the angry, contradictory commands. And through all of this, I have a blinding headache, borderline migraine.  What else could happen? Well, newbie TSA boy scout has to inspect my luggage. Awesome. You know what it was?  A small bottle of talcum powder. I’d like to point out neither my jewelry, nor my powder tripped any alarms in Kansas City. And this airport is a darn sight smaller. You walk out to the tarmac and climb friggin’ ladder steps to get into the teensy plane.  In any event, I had purchased 4 Excederin and downed those as soon as my “inspection time” was completed. They finally kicked in and I was able to take off my sunglasses!

Our plane was delayed out of Westchester (after we’d boarded) and our area of the plane kept doing timetable calculations. We were going to KC, my seatmate was going to St. Louis, and the guy behind us was going to Milwaukee.  All of our connecting flights in Cleveland? Last flights out. And with the delays in NY, we would have (respectively) No minutes, 10 minutes, and 15 minutes to make our connections. Sweetness. I was pretty sure we were going to be spending the night in Ohio. Fortunately, though, our flight to KC was delayed by two hours! And finally, I got some decent customer service – the gate agent moved my seat to guarantee I wouldn’t have a seatmate, even gave me a choice, and her co-worker chimed in to tell me which row was better. Bless them both, it was perfect.  I finished my book on the flight home, had a Bombay Sapphire and tonic, and walked in the house after midnight. The dogs and the Wo missed me, they all waited up for me, and James had made me a plate of fresh tomatoes and a couple pieces of cheese, since my dinner had been two tiny bags of mini pretzels, granola bars and a couple Ghiarardeli squares.

The meetings were fabulous, the travel could be improved. But some of my fears were unfounded – the small planes were just fine, and I fit in the seats, and my spinner suitcase is awesome. Except when you’re trying to climb up stairs!

Sunday Quickie…

I have both my bosses showing up on my doorstep at 4:50 a.m. tomorrow. Yes, that’s right. A time one normally associates with PM and GOING HOME.  Knowing them, they’ll be early. Knowing me, I’ll be scrambling. We’re going to NYC (unfortunately, not on a direct flight), and while I would have preferred the train (sleeper car, of course), methinks it would have taken a lot longer.  The only flight back was Tuesday evening, so it will be interesting to see how we occupy our time on Tuesday (there is one scheduled appointment, but I have been pulling to be dropped off at a yarn shop. Anywhere in the five boroughs.)

I haven’t flown in a couple of years, so today required a trip to Target, to get the prescribed zip-top storage baggies, and then some snacks (because I will forever be scarred from another work trip, where our only sustenance was Coors Light & Slim Jims in the back of the mini-van!) Granola bars are our friend! And I got some nut/berry mix & some Ghirardelli chocolates. I will also have to hide them from my trip mates, as they will undoubtedly NOT have planned accordingly and would mooch me out of everything in seconds flat. You’d think we were heading out in covered wagons, and I’m afraid of running into the Donner party!

OH but talk about one trashy encounter after the other at Target. Lordy. I poked my head down the pool toys aisle, hoping for a kickboard or something similar, and was suddenly in the presence of The Trashy McTrashersons. Mother, Child, Grandfather, and Grandmother, and every adult was wearing a flashy bluetooth headset. Every adult was also shouting every word out of their mouth. The mother was calling for her son, and started doing the counting thing (ONE!) and grandad then yelled THREE! adding (loudly) that HE DOESN’T BOTHER WITH THE FIRST TWO NUMBERS and then the kid came flying around the corner and they all were screaming at the kid, at the prices of everything, and how everything would be on sale anyway and I just had to leave.

I decided to get myself some handkerchiefs for the trip, as it is going to be sweltering, and it’s apparently archaic for ladies to carry them, so I was in the men’s department, and I turned around and two guys had their shirts off, trying on t-shirts. Not A&F model guys, or young hot guys, but two swarthy sort of characters with paunchy bodies and apparently, no time to be wastin’ with dressing rooms.

I had to get out as quickly as possible.  And now, since tomorrow morning will be here before I know it, I am off to shower and go to bed. Wish me luck flying & travelling, and most of all, success with our meeting! It would be, to quote Cartman, kickass…..

Tu quoque, my friends…

I posted a response to a fellow Raveler about the soap we watch – yes, I still enjoy my frothy taffy goodness of ATWT….. and while I was snarking, I heard a voice in my head saying, “Tu quoque, motherfucker.”

Because my father planted these seeds of Latin in my head growing up, they rattle around and surface at various times in my life. Not to mention he was hell-bent on teaching me every element of Philosophy and Logic before I hit middle school. (Long-time readers will recall how effectively that worked in fifth grade, what with the Ex Post Facto Bubblicious Incident of 1978)

It was a nice break in my day, hearing a little smart thing in my head, and then, because I can sometimes be wrong (don’t gasp or clutch your heart, it has been known to happen once in a while), I went and looked it up just to be sure I was using the phrase correctly. Indeed I was, and I smiled, because Dad had done a good job. The phrase he intoned with that was always, “If I am one, then you’re another”, and it aptly summarizes the fallacy of the argument. (Too bad they didn’t  have “nanner, nanner boo-boo” back in Ye Olde Roman Times, it would have made it so much sassier. Or “motherfucker” for that matter. Wait. They did. Oedipus!)

In other updates, it’s been a pretty stressful week, and I’m going to be working part of the weekend, with a business trip Monday/Tuesday. It’s half exciting, half stressful, and if there would be room to squeeze in something extra, I’d complain about the weather. But, we do have our li’l pool, so I am going to do as much chilling in it as I can in-between all this other stuff. For it all does pass, it works itself out, and some of the things I’m worried about may be only imagined shadows.

A=Apprehensive

The Reflex

What I’m going to write about isn’t :that: serious. It isn’t like Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome, where a soldier comes home from war. Or even being in a serious accident. But I opened up one of my numerous marketing emails today (having deleted all the ones that arrived over the holidays, because seriously, I would not be able to get anything done if I just read the daily news.) And there, the first article in the summary email, was a little write up about how a former client of mine (at an old job) was relaunching their brand and their new spokesperson and blah blah blah blah, and ordinarily I read that stuff with some interest, maybe click through, whatevs, jobs and clients do ebb and flow, come and go, and while I try my darndest to come up with a revolutionary idea on all my accounts, sometimes you just part ways. Like people you dated in college. But this client? This client scarred me.

This was a piece of business that seemed fantastic and exciting and wonderful and it was quickly discovered to be a shiny thin veneer of 24k gold that belied an evil below the surface, a tar baby of a project, that required vast amounts of atypical work and unreasonable deadlines. This would be when I worked under the person who habitually disappeared for hours (or the rest of the day) and basically did as little work as possible while making life hell for everyone under her. So as I describe this, know that I was out there at the edge of the plank already, unsupported and alone.

The project involved trading trips for advertising. With very little cash, mostly trade. If you’ve ever worked on trade, you have already flinched a little yourself. But we’re talking certificates beyond just “you can stay here for 4 nights”. This involved airfare (they had their own airline service), and then free nights at one of several hotels/resorts. The value of each resort was different. The value of the airfare was different from each departing city. There were – oh god, I’ve blanked so much out – maybe 17 markets? And we entered into trade agreements with every cable system in each market, parsing out packages and flights and oh, did I mention they had expiration dates, too? and it was all in exchange for advertising time. And the client changed their needs, expectations, and mind every other day.

This project required multiple daily conversations with my national cable sales rep, Joe. Joe and I were the lone paddlers in this boat, because at this point, not only did nobody else want to touch it, nobody else could even do it, what with the elaborate spreadsheets and our Rain-Man-esque ability to calculate various configurations of resort stays and flights from all the different cities. Our friendship was seared and sealed in the blood, sweat and tears we shed working on this project. We found our own strange coping mechanisms – singing, using funny voices (he does a Gay Cuban like nobody’s business). One of the markets was Miami, and when he would call about issues in that market, he was always starting out with the MY JAMMIES, We have to figure out MY JAMMIES, Chennifer. Oh god. It was just brutal. I altered a poster of the movie Waterboy to have his face on it and renamed the movie “BarterBoy” and it hung on his door for the rest of his tenure with that company.

So of course, when I found myself seeing my client’s name in print, and caught myself reflexively wincing and moving my head sideways away from the screen?

I sent him the article immediately.

I wish we’d never had to go through that hell, but I know one thing for certain. He will be my friend until death. We were In Country together and we got out alive. I’m still blinking a little bit, just traveling down memory lane. But smiling, too, because we at least found a way to survive, together, and get some laughs in – because there was no other choice except to cry, and it all kind of fits with where I’m trying to put my head in 2008. To be happier. To be less sad. To manage the Very Large Pain that has stayed with me, to laugh more than cry. I’m not exactly sure how to do it yet? But I’m going to start with a phone call to my buddy Joe and schedule lunch.

It Would Help With The Laundry Situation…..

I like the fact that my boss & I can argue & disagree and it doesn’t turn into WWIII. However, he also possesses the ability to send me straight UP crazy in a reaction, when he’s only kidding. I know a certain other someone who has actually perfected the art of this, and we share pillows. The Wo says it’s great fun to get a reaction out of me, and I had to wonder if the same boy-humor was afoot this afternoon. Of course I wondered this after I’d begun spluttering!

See, BossMan and I disagreed about the solution to a problem, and if you know anything about me, you know that I will not even realize my heels are dug in until the water has risen above my kneecaps. Terrier Tenacious J. I am stub-born. And somewhat principled, and argumentative and not one to shy away from a tussle. I really should have gone straight on to law school, so I could get riled up every day like this, and get paid for it, and then keel over dead at the age of 42. A life lived, I say. (just kidding!) Thankfully, Bossman :is: married to a lawyer and he recognized the impasse (while I was busy creating picket signs and barking about precedent and my logic) and proposed I execute the solution both ways and only later did I realize I now had MORE work to do. But I was heard, and we will discuss it further and I am already at the point where I don’t care which one wins (well, 15% of me still does, but that will fade, like the 80% before it.) I just Need to be Heard, I think. I am a Roman Candle, and usually burn brightly and fall back to earth, tired and ready for dinner, and no longer needing to orbit the earth on fire. (Of course, there are a few instances when the terrier would not let go and we were on more of a NASA mission, and the common thread in those cases happened to be I Been Done Wrong. I don’t let go of that so easily.)

So I am tired, it’s been a hectic wonky day, and the American Royal is coming up this weekend, and I’m nervous about judging “Side Dishes” because that really covers a W-I-D-E breadth of food, and even if you’re judging things you hate, you have to ask yourself, “But is this the best Mustard Spam Salad I :could: eat?” Mmmmm. I feel a little more comfortable with the meat judging (that’s on Sunday), but will have to remember you can end up eating 6 pounds of meat if you actually eat the portions you’re given. This is all starting to feel like a crazy barbecue-slathered Roman feast. Roman candle, Roman feasting, I should just wear a toga the rest of the week and call it a theme. And how sweet that would be, as I’m behind on laundry and need to get some done if I’m going to continue to show up for work in a state that’s acceptable. There is no laundry sport game on the Wii, and I must admit, that’s a design flaw. Or maybe I just need to put down the Wiimote and get some laundry done…. Sigh. I’d rather argue. Or knit. I’ll give you knitting updates soon, because there ARE some!

Marathon

The next two days are going to be marathoners. I’ve got two plans due by tomorrow, and a presentation tomorrow afternoon (for a third plan), and today’s full of meetings. I caught JWo’s cold, so I’m also a bit bleary, but fortunately, his lasted all of three days, so I’m hoping mine follows the same timeline. It’s not even a regular sort of cold, it’s just a cough/sore throat with some congestion, but not the sort that feels like someone packed your brain in cotton. Which is good, because none of my clients want those cotton-padding plans!

I do sound like Kathleen Turner, doing the voice-over for a cartoon frog. And my lungs feel like I’ve just run a half mile (15 yards) as fast as I possibly could – the searing/burning sensation – it’s sweepin’ the nation.

I am excited about a small project that my buddies in the design department are working on – our department went out on Monday & took some wacky pictures, and they’re going to convert them into a Warhol-esque, enormous photo quad that will go behind my desk in my new office. The current artwork there contains a montage of numerous clients, most of whom are old & aren’t there anymore, and it needs updating. I got the idea last week, and couldn’t stop laughing, so I guess I was able to convince my boss (who will also be in the quad) and the head designer to have some fun with the idea.

In the interim, here’s what messing around with one of my photos looks like. You can see why I’ll have this BEHIND me. 🙂

jencutout1

I’m Pulling This Merry-Go-Round Over, RIGHT NOW.

I’m hearing the sharp, tinny sounds of a carnival in the background as I write this.
(Not really. Let’s not cart me off for hallucinations. Yet.)

However, I am about out of rope this week, and as I ponder the length I have left, I start to think about using it to its maximum potential, which usually has the goal of bringing the madness to a screeching halt.

Man, the madness has just flown in from multiple directions – work, life, my head – and I actually had someone declare something my friend & I did (To my face!) “Stupid”. Wow. I felt a few feet of rope slip right through my hands, but then I pulled it back. And when I say “pulled it back”, I mean, I wasn’t going to let it go. Use up more rope. I responded. Not swinging, but firmly, and I don’t think this person EVER has other people do that to her. Wow. It was not comfortable. For me, or my friends, and I don’t think for her, either. But I’m learning this week that there are people who don’t even come close to responding the way most of us do in similar situations. BECAUSE THEY’RE BATSHIT CRAZY. Or just different, whatever.

ANYhoo, we’re having our annual fish fry tomorrow, and I’m looking forward to the weekend. We’ve got a lot of cleaning to do between now and tomorrow, but it’ll be fine, and we’ll have a lovely time with friends and family, we’ll confront :another: table full of tomatoes at some point, and the merry-go-round music will take on a fuller, robust sound, with less flats and sharps and grating. Even though I get riled up, more and more I see the longer view, which is that the road you are on is still your road. You walk it today, tomorrow, you walk it next week – deity willing –
and things move on. Staying stuck and putting in land mines or digging holes isn’t progress, it’s distraction.

So, let’s see. Now I have how many metaphors going on? Yes, 1) Merry-Go-Round (Insanity of Life), 2) Rope (Patience, Wisdom), 3)The Road (Life’s Journey and 4) Theme Music (the Soundtrack of Your Life). I think that’s enough of a mix for today. I’m excited to do some knitting this weekend, make some progress on MS3, and begin something new and exciting. And in the next couple of weeks, I’m also going to start designing a sweater for JWo, to wear when he goes hunting. I’ve gotten some awesome advice from Ravelry, and given the old-timey Fisherman sweaters’ ability to stand up to fierce conditions, I’m waiting for a book I ordered to arrive and help me make the sturdiest sweater I can so he’ll have many happy hunting seasons in it. (His won’t be cabled and such like the Aran sweaters, but the construction is what I want to see.) It’s new! It’s a challenge, and I’m excited to try out my puzzling mind on something different. Same old round-n-round can drive a gal wonkers, eh?
Happy weekend, peeps.

It’s Whack-A-Mole Time, All Da Time.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, when I get stressed, I either shut down, or my Dictator Gnome takes over. Today, DG shoved the more peaceable gnomes out of the way and sat in the big chair. We had a rep meeting/lunch that was supposed to happen, and then a series of phone calls took place – the first two involving someone I don’t know yet asking if his boss could ask me some questions, and then being put on hold for five minutes. The lack of organization (and being on hold, twice, when THEY called ME) sent me into orbit. I called the rep I did know and said we weren’t going to do this lunch today. Turns out, that’s what they wanted to do as well – BUT! – the process was enough to turn me into Jentilla The Hun. There’s just too much work going on to jack around and put people on hold – when YOU called them in the first place! He kept calling back, too, and said we’d gotten disconnected. I said, NO, I hung UP on you. He didn’t even comprehend what had happened.

I had a rep leave me a message about a month ago who fell into the “Too Stupid” category. (I surmised he was calling from his car, with his car door open/keys in ignition? Because the background was filled with an insistent dinging, so loud I could barely hear his message.) Then, when I returned the call, he didn’t know who I was, why he’d called me, and this was followed by a long pause and “Can I call you back in a minute?” Which ended up being an hour. And he thought I was in Grandview. (No.) And wanted to come over that day. Hi, ah, NO. He then (somewhat hopefully) asked if our offices were by “Blonde”, the wannabe exclusive nightclub. Ah, no. I’m not really sure how some people fall into this business. (They’re in every business, I recognize this.) I just am continually amazed by the people who seemingly walk under suspended pianos on a daily basis and emerge unscathed, unwitting, unknowing, and sometimes even successful! I shake my head. And whack the moles. Some of them are really, really stupid, and there’s nothing that gets my dander up faster than stupid moles. My gnomes have a 100% zero tolerance for stupidity. Faster and faster they come, but I? Will not be vanquished.
I might need to upgrade my whacker, though. Mine’s getting a little worn after all these years.

The Puzzle Is Jenga.

I am working on an outdoor/billboard campaign for a client, and I’m working with two vendors & two time frames. I am slowly, sometimes rapidly, going insane. I told one of my reps today that it’s the equivalent of playing Jenga over and over and over, but every time you take out one single block, the whole damn thing falls down. And when I get input from one vendor, it changes what I need from the other, and honestly, this is the kind of stuff I love, the mental juggling and whatnot, but this has been pretty extreme, and I’ve had a bunch of OTHER stuff to do in the same amount of time. Plus I’m getting a crown on my tooth tomorrow, and I have The Anxiety.

So, I’ve had all these awesome things I wanted to blog about, and then I forget them. Poof, right out of my head, leaving a dark hole of memory, like a brick out of a Jenga tower. I appreciate you checking in on me, but I also realize my blog’s been about as fun as watching paint dry of late. I have knitting pictures to share, I have foodie pics to share, I still have stuff to SAY! And shout! I did get my invitation to Ravelry, and I immediately snatched it up like fresh sock yarn and clutched it to my chest with great gusto. Then this afternoon, I got invited to the De-stash blog, and so I can only conclude the stars are aligning for me. Which is nice, because if I were going to write myself a retrospective horoscope, I would say, “For the past year, you will have a lot of suckage and unsolvable puzzles and big hard emotional blocks to work with, and they will collapse around you like a Jenga tower, sometimes multiple times a day. The Jenga will sometimes be impossible to balance and you must learn to accept this futility even as you never fully stop trying to solve the puzzle.”

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