About a decade ago I worked for a vehicle finance company that every year for Halloween encouraged each department to come up with a theme, decorate their area, and dress in costume to be judged by upper management for a prize that I think was five "Denim Day" passes, allowing you to wear jeans any day of the week.
I worked in the Records Administration Department (a.k.a. the File Room) my first Halloween with the company. Records Admin was one of four smaller departments, which along with Titles, Call Center and Document Services, made up the Customer Service Division. It was our choice to decide if Customer Service as a whole wanted to compete as one large team, or if the four smaller departments wanted to do their own thing. We in the Records division decided to do our own thing that year...The Wizzard of Oz. We had just the right number of people to make up all the main characters, and as far as anyone could remember, it wasn't something that any other department had done in years past, so it was perfect for us.
A few days after we had started making our plans, the Call Center manager approached me and asked if we would like to join her team for the contest. I told her about our plans, and that we wouldn't be interested in joining her group. But she loved our "Wizzard of Oz" idea so much more that what her department had been brainstorming about. She said, "That's such a great idea! Can we be a part of it too?" I explained that we had already been working hard on our plans and had all the main characters assigned. I said that if her group wanted to participate with us, they would end up being munchkins, Emerald City residents or flying monkeys. She said, "We don't care! We just want to participate!"
So she asked me to send an email to everyone in the Customer Service Division assigning everyone their parts. And it was just minutes after I hit that "Send" button that I started getting angry emails back. People saying things like, "Who the hell do you think you are, telling me that I'm going to be a flying monkey?!" I guess when the Call Center manager had told me that no one would care what they were dressed as...she hadn't actually confirmed that information with everyone.
So in response to the vicious emails I was getting, I went to talk it over with the Call Center manager, to let her know that her people were NOT happy about the decision that she'd made for them. Her response to me was, "Well your email was pretty blunt. I don't think that was really the best way to go about it. You probably should have asked people if they wanted to participate and if they were willing to be extra characters."
That was SO not what she had said before! WTF?! So now I look like an asshole and everyone hates me.
It probably goes without saying that we called the whole thing off. I was getting dirty looks and the cold shoulder from quite a few customer service members for the next couple of weeks. My Records department had talked about whether or not we still wanted to go through with our original plan of just us main characters, but we decided that would probably just piss people off even more.
I was so irritated about the whole situation that I took Halloween as a vacation day that year, and every year after that. I never found out what my department, or what the rest of Customer Service ended up doing that day...if anything at all. And ever since then, my standard answer to any Halloween related question is, "I don't do Halloween."
Monday, October 31, 2011
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Creepy
I am back home in Chicago now after two weeks of working in our Chattanooga office. I am so glad to be home. Not only did I miss my husband, but my coworkers in Tennessee were not too eager to hang out with me outside of the office, which left me as my only friend there. Eating meals alone in a restaurant is pretty sad, so I was thrilled to finally be home where there are people who like spending time with me and are happily interested in joining me for a meal.
So today I went to lunch with a friend. Bakers Square is usually our restaurant of choice so that we can indulge in pie, and today was no different. We were seated at our table by the hostess and almost instantly we were approached by our waiter. He looked like a 40-something nerd to the core...the kind of guy who probably spends most of his free time LARPing. We even heard him talking to the neighboring table about his halloween costume that sounded like something he already had in his closet from a previous Ren Faire outing.
He asked how we were, we replied that we were good, and out of courtesy we asked him how he was. He said, "I get to serve two beautiful ladies. I'm doing great!" He also seemed to be feeling pretty great about getting to look at my chest. I was wearing a sweater that covered everything, so it's not like it could have been misconstrued that I was looking for male attention either. The waiter was just plain creepy.
He opened my menu to point out some of their newer items, and while I was busy looking at my choices, my friend later explained to me that the waiter had only been vaguely pointing to the menu because he was focusing his gaze on me, not on the food selections. He walked away to give us a few minutes to look things over and when he came back, I had made sure to have my left hand very prominently displayed. It worked....kind of. In between writing down our order, I saw him glance down at my hand a few times. And then, just to make things extra awkward, he actually said, "Oh shoot. I'm really bummed now cause I just noticed that gorgeous ring on your finger." My friend replied that I was a happy newlywed and that she'd been with her husband for almost 10 years, making sure to point that out so that he didn't switch his gaze to her boobs instead. That didn't, however, prevent him from continuing to be creepy.
When he came back with our food, he made an attempt to compliment me. He said, "I figured out who you remind me of....Donna from "That 70's Show." I reacted with a WTF face, since I look nothing like Donna from "That 70's Show." I'm sure he thought I might be flattered being compared to an actress, but Laura Prepon is a redhead with a body similar to that of a 12-year-old boy. I am a curvy brunette. We look nothing alike.
The rest of the meal, I guess he seemed to realize that he should step back a little with the flirting, or whatever it was that he thought he was doing. And when he brought the check he said, "I hope I didn't scare you too much." Right.
So guys...lesson be learned, as soon as you are made aware of a women's relationship status, please stop your pathetic attempt at trying to "impress" me or whatever. It's just plain creepy.
So today I went to lunch with a friend. Bakers Square is usually our restaurant of choice so that we can indulge in pie, and today was no different. We were seated at our table by the hostess and almost instantly we were approached by our waiter. He looked like a 40-something nerd to the core...the kind of guy who probably spends most of his free time LARPing. We even heard him talking to the neighboring table about his halloween costume that sounded like something he already had in his closet from a previous Ren Faire outing.
He asked how we were, we replied that we were good, and out of courtesy we asked him how he was. He said, "I get to serve two beautiful ladies. I'm doing great!" He also seemed to be feeling pretty great about getting to look at my chest. I was wearing a sweater that covered everything, so it's not like it could have been misconstrued that I was looking for male attention either. The waiter was just plain creepy.
He opened my menu to point out some of their newer items, and while I was busy looking at my choices, my friend later explained to me that the waiter had only been vaguely pointing to the menu because he was focusing his gaze on me, not on the food selections. He walked away to give us a few minutes to look things over and when he came back, I had made sure to have my left hand very prominently displayed. It worked....kind of. In between writing down our order, I saw him glance down at my hand a few times. And then, just to make things extra awkward, he actually said, "Oh shoot. I'm really bummed now cause I just noticed that gorgeous ring on your finger." My friend replied that I was a happy newlywed and that she'd been with her husband for almost 10 years, making sure to point that out so that he didn't switch his gaze to her boobs instead. That didn't, however, prevent him from continuing to be creepy.
When he came back with our food, he made an attempt to compliment me. He said, "I figured out who you remind me of....Donna from "That 70's Show." I reacted with a WTF face, since I look nothing like Donna from "That 70's Show." I'm sure he thought I might be flattered being compared to an actress, but Laura Prepon is a redhead with a body similar to that of a 12-year-old boy. I am a curvy brunette. We look nothing alike.
The rest of the meal, I guess he seemed to realize that he should step back a little with the flirting, or whatever it was that he thought he was doing. And when he brought the check he said, "I hope I didn't scare you too much." Right.
So guys...lesson be learned, as soon as you are made aware of a women's relationship status, please stop your pathetic attempt at trying to "impress" me or whatever. It's just plain creepy.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Will Eat Curry for Companionship
I am a really picky eater--if I'm being honest with myself about it--which I'm usually not when it comes to this topic. Maybe it seems silly, but I'm afraid that when someone asks me where I want to go out to eat, if I suggest something someone will respond, "Yuck! How can you eat that crap?! That place is so gross! I can't believe you would suggest that! What is wrong with you??" So instead, when someone asks me where I want to eat my typical response is, "I don't care. I'm not picky."
Which as previously mentioned is so not true. Unless its macaroni and cheese, pizza or PB&J, I'm usually not interested. But I figure that at the very least, pretty much anyplace will have a basic salad that I can tolerate. Even if I'm not in the mood for salad, or even if it won't be filling enough to satisfy my current hunger level, it doesn't really matter. It will be good enough for the time being and I can always have a snack later if necessary. To me, that still seems like a better option than making a suggestion that someone else might not be interested in. So for the official record, when it comes to going out to eat, I'm "not picky."
Last week I was in Chattanooga on business. Some of my Chicago coworkers had already been down there for 2 or 3 or 4 weeks and were familiar with the area. But for me as the newbie, I had no idea what places were available for lunch and even if I had known, I wouldn't have made a suggestion anyway.
So my first day there, noon comes around and my Chicago buddy says to me:
B: What are you doing for lunch?
Me: Tagging along with you and N if that's okay?
B: Yeah, that's what I figured.
Me: Thanks. I just don't know what's around here and I don't really want to eat by myself anyway.
B: That's cool. We're going to an Indian buffet. Are you okay with that?
Me: *slight hesitant pause* then enthusiastically, "Sure! That's fine with me!"
I've never had Indian food before. And maybe it's really super delicious. But it's not peanut butter and jelly, so I was really not too excited about it. And my basic fall-back option of the garden salad was certainly not going to be available at an Indian buffet, right? For a second I considered that I might be better off eating alone at Panera or even better, ordering a sandwich to go and bringing it back to my desk. But I didn't want B and N to think I didn't like them, and I wanted them to still like me (as if they would certainly stop being my friend if I said that I didn't like Indian food). So I went along with them.
I can't say that I ended up enjoying the Indian food. I suppose that in order for me to be able to say that, it would have required me actually trying the Indian food, which I did not. Instead, to my great surprise, the buffet did indeed include a garden salad. Iceberg, cucumbers and tomatoes. The dressing off to the side was some strange mint thing that was much too foreign for me to try, but plain lettuce was better than nothing. I also enjoyed the pita bread, which I think was supposed to be used to sop up the curry sauce that the meats were cooked in, but that pita was delicious on its own. And plain white rice has never tasted so good!
N looked at my plate and asked:
"You're not going to try any of the Indian food? This chicken is really good!"
Me: No, I'm good with plain rice.
N: Don't you like Indian food? You should have said something. We could have gone someplace else.
Me: Oh, it's fine. I'm not picky.
Which as previously mentioned is so not true. Unless its macaroni and cheese, pizza or PB&J, I'm usually not interested. But I figure that at the very least, pretty much anyplace will have a basic salad that I can tolerate. Even if I'm not in the mood for salad, or even if it won't be filling enough to satisfy my current hunger level, it doesn't really matter. It will be good enough for the time being and I can always have a snack later if necessary. To me, that still seems like a better option than making a suggestion that someone else might not be interested in. So for the official record, when it comes to going out to eat, I'm "not picky."
Last week I was in Chattanooga on business. Some of my Chicago coworkers had already been down there for 2 or 3 or 4 weeks and were familiar with the area. But for me as the newbie, I had no idea what places were available for lunch and even if I had known, I wouldn't have made a suggestion anyway.
So my first day there, noon comes around and my Chicago buddy says to me:
B: What are you doing for lunch?
Me: Tagging along with you and N if that's okay?
B: Yeah, that's what I figured.
Me: Thanks. I just don't know what's around here and I don't really want to eat by myself anyway.
B: That's cool. We're going to an Indian buffet. Are you okay with that?
Me: *slight hesitant pause* then enthusiastically, "Sure! That's fine with me!"
I've never had Indian food before. And maybe it's really super delicious. But it's not peanut butter and jelly, so I was really not too excited about it. And my basic fall-back option of the garden salad was certainly not going to be available at an Indian buffet, right? For a second I considered that I might be better off eating alone at Panera or even better, ordering a sandwich to go and bringing it back to my desk. But I didn't want B and N to think I didn't like them, and I wanted them to still like me (as if they would certainly stop being my friend if I said that I didn't like Indian food). So I went along with them.
I can't say that I ended up enjoying the Indian food. I suppose that in order for me to be able to say that, it would have required me actually trying the Indian food, which I did not. Instead, to my great surprise, the buffet did indeed include a garden salad. Iceberg, cucumbers and tomatoes. The dressing off to the side was some strange mint thing that was much too foreign for me to try, but plain lettuce was better than nothing. I also enjoyed the pita bread, which I think was supposed to be used to sop up the curry sauce that the meats were cooked in, but that pita was delicious on its own. And plain white rice has never tasted so good!
N looked at my plate and asked:
"You're not going to try any of the Indian food? This chicken is really good!"
Me: No, I'm good with plain rice.
N: Don't you like Indian food? You should have said something. We could have gone someplace else.
Me: Oh, it's fine. I'm not picky.
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