Category Archives: jobby jobby job job

Thuh

Posted by plumpdumpling on July 26, 2010 – 12:00 pm
Filed under good times at everyone else's expense, jobby jobby job job, my uber-confrontational personality, stuff i hate, why i'm better than everyone else
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One of my office pet peeves is when people call me and end the conversation with, “What did you say your name was again?”

It’s always after I’ve been super-unhelpful and/or snarky with the person, because he’s always a telemarketer. I’ll say, “Oh, we don’t have an IT department in this office,” and he’ll say, “Well, where is it?”, and I’ll say, “At your mom’s house.”

And then he’ll say, “What did you say your name was again?”, and of course I haven’t given my name, so I’ll say, “The. Office. Manager.” And I’ll pronounce the like thuh to make him feel stupid.

He actually probably thinks I’m retarded, but I’m okay with that.

I Was Making Fun of Her Behind Her Back, If That Helps

Posted by plumpdumpling on July 23, 2010 – 12:00 pm
Filed under good times at everyone else's expense, jobby jobby job job
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I was making fun of a co-worker this morning for having something from a company called Model in a Bottle Inc. delivered to the office.

And then the mailman showed up with my Frederick’s of Hollywood package.

I still contend that mine is less embarrassing.

I’m Sorry If I Gave You AIDS

Posted by plumpdumpling on July 6, 2010 – 12:00 pm
Filed under jobby jobby job job, potty mouth
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I know it’s neither polite nor sanitary, but I got an unexpected nosebleed in my office’s bathroom last week, and a drop of blood hit the blue-tiled floor before I could do anything about it. I lifted my hand to catch the drops that followed, but the blood kept somehow escaping me, and after a few seconds, I stopped trying and just let the floor become littered with my DNA. It felt so good to do something I wasn’t supposed to and to not care.

How’s It Hangin’?

Posted by plumpdumpling on May 6, 2010 – 12:00 pm
Filed under jobby jobby job job, narcissism, potty mouth
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I just noticed today, after working at the same company for almost four years, that the woman who refills the toilet paper in our bathroom puts one roll into the side-by-side holder so that the paper’s dispensed on top and one roll in so that it comes from underneath.

I love that the janitorial company cares enough to not take sides in the over/under debate, even though one of the sides is clearly incorrect.

ANNOYINGLY EXCITED

Posted by plumpdumpling on May 4, 2010 – 12:00 pm
Filed under jobby jobby job job, narcissism, restaurant ramblings
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My friend Anthony took this photo of me outside of Dim Sum Go Go, where my co-workers past and present and I met for our monthly dinner club a couple of weeks ago:

Look how freakin’ excited I am about pork buns! And look how hard Meredith‘s pretending not to know me.

Auf Wiedersehen, Jessica! Hallo, Drunk Katie!

Posted by plumpdumpling on April 29, 2010 – 5:00 pm
Filed under all of my friends are prettier than i am, jobby jobby job job, par-tay
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My favouritest German intern of all time, Jessica, recently came back into town after being back home in Düsseldorf for nine months. In honor of her visit–and because she bugs me about it at least once a week–here are the greatest photos from the night we said goodbye:


I like how Beth apparently had no idea that this was supposed to be a funny picture
and not a try-out for “America’s Next Top Model”.


These are funny because I’m, like, the not-drunk-est person everyone knows.


Please notice Anthony’s face in the background.


I don’t remember why this was being done, but I do know it was offensive.


We all rode the bull. It cost $15. Someone paid for me, because that’s how I roll.
I broke my thumbnail on it.


Sonya puts this much feeling into literally everything she sings. This was probably “Barbie Girl”, Jessica’s absolute favourite song to do at karaoke. She likes to sing the boy part even though she’s the girliest girl you’ll ever meet.


Classy.

Move back soon, mama.

Quit Prank Calling Me, Jesus

Posted by plumpdumpling on March 3, 2010 – 12:00 pm
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Dude, look who called me the other day at work:

I mean, I know the Latino community has way cooler names than we white folk do in general, but that’s just ridiculous.

Hey, not to make matters worse, but seriously, keep your hair off my toilet seat in the future.

Posted by plumpdumpling on December 3, 2009 – 1:35 pm
Filed under good times at everyone else's expense, jobby jobby job job, my uber-confrontational personality, politicking, potty mouth
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You may remember that fateful day a year ago in which I went to my favourite bathroom stall at work to find

THE LARGEST PUBIC HAIR IN EXISTENCE.

Well, today, I came out of my stall, and as I was washing my hands, a black woman from the office next door walked in, half-acknowledged the hello I gave her, and went straight for the very same stall. I thought to myself about how funny it is that I always see her using that stall and how we must appreciate the same sort of conditions while doing our bizness.

And then it hit me. The largest pubic hair in existence was probably . . . the hair from her head. And if she saw that sign, she was probably offended, maybe even deeply hurt. It likely called to mind all of the years of latent racism she’s endured, all of the rage she felt when Don Imus called those girls “nappy-headed hoes”. She probably went to the back of the bus that night out of shame.

I don’t have to feel bad about it as a privileged white person, but I sort of do.

I Never Thought I’d End Up Here, Either

Posted by plumpdumpling on September 3, 2009 – 11:37 am
Filed under jobby jobby job job, potty mouth
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There’s a very sweet woman who cleans our bathroom at work. She’s a couple of years older than I am, I imagine, with large eyes and shiny brown hair that grows past her shoulders. She’s fit but curvy, so she looks pretty smokin’ in the white shirtdress that serves as her uniform.

For some reason, we always end up in the bathroom at the same time in the mornings. She rolls a little cart full of toilet paper, seat covers, and paper towels in and goes about refilling each stall. I always say hello to her, and she always smiles and says hello back with a bit of a European accent. I always think about how she was probably a teacher or a surgeon back home, but I’d never talked to her enough to ask her.

I was waiting for the elevator with two other women from the floor at noon yesterday, though, and when the doors opened, she was standing inside in a colorful striped shirt and dress pants. I said, “Done already?”, and she said, “Oh, no, just going for lunch. I change clothes, though, because I hate my uniform.” She paused and added, “I hate my job.”

I said, “I love your uniform! It’s really adorable, actually.” She said thanks, and then, out of nowhere, she said, “This is the only job I can get. In my country, I got a degree to be a physician’s assistant, but it doesn’t matter here.” I asked where she’s from, and she said Albania. I said, “You hear that a lot here. People who speak multiple languages and are obviously intelligent had jobs they loved overseas but can’t get work here.” One of the girls with me said, “I’ve met more doctor cab drivers . . .”

We all bid each other good day as we began to part ways in the lobby, and I wanted to say something like, “Umm . . . you’re really great at your job, if that helps.” But then I remembered that this is the girl who has to put a roll of toilet paper in the bathroom stall I’ve just pooped in, and nothing I can say is going to comfort her.

This Ain’t “Seinfeld”, People

Posted by plumpdumpling on July 20, 2009 – 2:46 pm
Filed under jobby jobby job job, potty mouth
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Last week, I walked into the ladies restroom at work and saw a black cardigan sweater draped across the back of one of the toilets and spilling on to the floor. Just looking at it sort of made me sick to my stomach, and in order to keep from vomiting, I had to stop myself from picturing some woman coming in, realizing it’s hers, picking it up off the back of the toilet, and putting it back on.

I swear, I’m about ten seconds away from putting a hazmat suit on every time I go in there, and someone’s taking her clothes off to pee?

The One That Got Away

Posted by plumpdumpling on May 22, 2009 – 3:46 pm
Filed under bigtime celebrity, jobby jobby job job, living in new york is neat
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I was reading in You Don’t Know Us But . . . this morning that the NBC drama “Kings” was canceled, which probably means nothing to anyone but me but means enough to me to make up for everyone else.

Did I tell you that I was asked to be in that show? Before I had even heard of it, I was called on a Friday afternoon by a casting director and asked to play the part of the mayor’s wife at a shooting in Brooklyn on the following Monday. At the time, I had just started working for the then-president of my company and was so concerned about looking diligent and not skipping work that I decided to politely decline the offer. Because I am an idiot who thinks it’s not cool to actively try to become an actress.

When the ads for the show started appearing all over New York City this spring,

I cringed every time I saw one. I blamed Kamran for everything, really, since when I told him that I’d turned the part down, he Google chatted to me, “Oh honey, you have all kinds of talent and all kinds of opportunities. And you’ve already done a FAMOUS TV show and a major motion picture, so you’ve already cemented your bragging rights, too. I wouldn’t sweat this one little fish.” So instead of calling the casting director right back like I felt I should to say, “Nevermind! I’ve cleared my schedule, and I’m ready for my close-up!”, I just went about my business of conference calls and spreadsheets. (And by that, I of course mean updating my blog and sniffing the Sharpies.)

I never actually watched the show, because naturally I wanted it to fail miserably. The worst possible situation would’ve been for me to not have appeared in it and for it to have become a huge hit. And since I never watched it, I have no idea what the mayor’s wife’s role actually was, but to this day, I swear in my mind that it was a major part with a huge amount of lines and extravagant costumes.

But now the show’s canceled. Just like the show I was actually in. Coincidence?

It’s Not Cool to Brag About Being a Drunk

Posted by plumpdumpling on May 13, 2009 – 10:29 am
Filed under all of my friends are prettier than i am, jobby jobby job job, par-tay
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My office had a going-away party recently for one of our co-workers who moved to one of our locations in Singapore mostly to have better access to prostitutes. Here are my favourite photos from the night, most of which involve us inexplicably sticking out our tongues:

The next day, people kept congratulating me on being a happy drunk, which I suppose is something worth congratulating someone on. My boyfriend was not one of these people, as he was the one receiving texts from me hours after I told him I’d be home that said things like, “i don kno if i can maeuke it!”

When he texted me back, worried and ready to come pick me up wherever I was, he found out that I was thirty feet from his apartment building. Hilarious to me. Not so much to him.

In case you missed them:
Would You Eat This? #1: Fish Balls
Thumbs Down for Thai Me Up

With Advanced Age Brings Advanced Baby-Lovin’

Posted by plumpdumpling on April 27, 2009 – 11:50 am
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I was complaining to Dr. Boyfriend last Thursday morning that being one of the very few women in my office meant that I was going to be expected to care about the annual Take Our Daughters And Sons To Work Day and all of the tiny visitors it would bring. (And by all of, I mean all of two, because no one in my office is an adult.)

As a woman, I’m supposed to automatically care about and want to interact with children. Which I don’t. When I used to work at the children’s science center during college, I was always so envious of the one old guy in my department who had a bunch of stock questions he’d ask kids: “What did you have for breakfast?”, “How many years before you get to go to kindergarten?”, “Which is your favourite animal at the zoo?”

I never had those questions ready, so I was always fumbling around for something to talk about and ended up asking things like, “Have you ever accidentally seen Daddy kissing someone else’s mommy?” I was never first on the list when annual raise time came, as you can imagine.

But for as much as I had prepared myself to totally ignore the kids in our office on Thursday, I hadn’t prepared myself for this:

Come on! Baby Owen in multi-pocketed shirt AND pants, playing with Tim’s BlackBerry pouch, that totally squeezable belly hanging out of them? It almost makes me want to take this back.

The Asshole at My Bus Stop is Helping Me Make Some Pocket Change

Posted by plumpdumpling on February 20, 2009 – 1:58 pm
Filed under bigtime celebrity, funner times on the bus, jobby jobby job job, living in new york is neat, narcissism
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My best friend, Tracey, recommended a couple of weeks ago that I apply to write for Examiner.com as one of their restaurant reviewers. I was dismayed to find that they weren’t hiring any more food types, but they were looking for articles about public transportation, which I ride every day in the city where it’s most necessary.

I didn’t know if my stories about kneeing old men in the groin to make sure I get into a crowded train were what they were looking for, but I gave it a go, and they actually liked me. Here’s the article I posted today:

Every bus stop has its own special asshole, but I think mine should get a crown for his assholiness.

Whenever there’s someone running from the very end of the waiting line to be first at the bus’s door . . .
Whenever there’s someone racing to get a seat on the bench to ensure some old lady can’t . . .
Whenever there’s someone rushing from the bench to the edge of the sidewalk the second the bus comes into view . . .

It’s him.

I sort of feel sorry for him. He’s a nondescript man of a nondescript age in a city where being descript is the only way to not get lost in the throng. He cuts his hair not to be stylish but to be practical. He wears modern shoes but pairs them with pleated pants rolled up at the hem. He’s not thirty but not fifty, not attractive but not deformed.

It seems that his only goal in life is to get one of the single seats that lines the driver’s side of any bus. And it’s widely recognized that those single seats are where it’s at–you can let your love handles spill off the side without anyone complaining, and you don’t have to deal with anyone else’s love handles spilling all over you. I don’t hate him for liking that.

What I DO hate him for is being audible about his disgust for the rest of us during the ride. After living here for a few years, I’m used to crazy people talking to themselves about pills and Jesus and the white man keeping them down, but I’m not used to people groaning about

• how annoying being stopped at a red light is.
• how they wish the bus driver would hit pedestrians in the crosswalk.
• how disabled people shouldn’t be allowed on the bus because they take too long to board.

There’s more to life for me than sitting by myself, so being polite to those waiting for the bus with me is worth it even if it means missing out on a single seat. Sometimes my waiting gets rewarded, though, and I end up with a single seat, anyway. Like this morning, when I struggled on with a huge bag and was delighted to see that I could slide right into the second single seat back.

I didn’t notice, but the jerk behind me had his foot stuck way out into the aisle, so of course I accidentally stepped on it. I immediately turned around with a genuine, “I’m sorry!”, and who was it but The Guy. He said, “Oh, God,” in his most perturbed voice, so I said mockingly, “Oh, Jesus, sweet Lord, she stepped on my unfashionable shoes, and I simply don’t know how I’m going to make it through the day!”

I sort of expected him to pull my hair or flick my ear or something, but no such luck. He just sat quietly throughout the remainder of our time together and then checked out my rack when I got up at my stop.

I get paid based on my number of views, so if you want to keep me fed in this harsh economic climate, please view this article

here

and my very first article

here.

I really appreciate your support, and I really recommend that you become an Examiner for your city so that we can link to each other and take over the world.

It should be noted that the HR guy who called me is also the one who’s keeping me from getting the raise I was promised in July.

Posted by plumpdumpling on December 11, 2008 – 10:28 pm
Filed under holidays don't suck for me, jobby jobby job job
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I was made to plan my company’s holiday party against my will.  Apparently having a holiday party at all is a rarity in NYC–New York magazine reported that 2/3 of them have been canceled–but having a holiday party after a huge layoff must be even rarer.  I wasn’t pumped to plan this bitch in the first place, but once my best work-friend, Sonya, lost her job and I lost my party-planning partner, I was done.

So I naturally hired someone else to do and told her just to make it all go down right there in the office.  The woman came in today with her $2500 worth of decorations with the intent of turning the reception desk into our open bar.  And then corporate HR called and told me that events held in the office can’t involve alcohol.

LIFE ONLY GETS BETTER BY THE MOMENT.

The Seat-Smearers Strike Again

Posted by plumpdumpling on November 19, 2008 – 11:27 am
Filed under jobby jobby job job, my uber-confrontational personality, too much information
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I think it’s pretty common to have a favourite stall in the bathroom, but I’m nearly obsessive about mine. I monitor who else is using it, which of the two toilet paper rolls is getting utilized more, what time of day it gets visited for the first time, and so on and so on. These things are especially important considering that I work next to an office of women who POOP ON TOILET SEATS.

It’s the perfect stall, too. The first one has the air vent in it, and while I appreciate a little noise while I’m doing my business, I can’t handle that there’s a huge space on the right side where everyone can look in and see you. The second one is too cramped. The third one is too spacious. The fifth one is handicapped, for God’s sake. And so I take the fourth. I used to try and play it cool and not use my special stall if someone was already in the third or fifth out of respect for their peeing privacy, but in my old age, I’ve come to care much more about my own comfort.

Anyway, the other day, I innocently went to my stall and found THE HUGEST PUBIC HAIR EVER CULTIVATED just lying there, sprawling across the whole seat. You can imagine my horror. And so I typed up the following sign in the biggest font possible:

TO SEE THE LARGEST PUBIC HAIR IN EXISTENCE,
PLEASE VISIT STALL #4

I thought about adding something about taking a Weedwhacker to a bush but thought better of it, being intensely concerned about my professionality and all.

When I came back after lunch, I followed a woman down the hall who stooped to pick up the sign, which had been tossed to the floor. I thought it very apropos that these seat-smearing women would take down the sign but not take the extra two seconds to throw it away. The woman–who doesn’t seem to speak a lot of English–looked at the paper as if she was confused by it, so I said, “What an awesome sign,” and she stuck it back on the door without a second thought.

And so my legacy lives on.

I Fired My Friends and Won an Australian!

Posted by plumpdumpling on November 14, 2008 – 5:01 pm
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I don’t have time to type anything, because I’ve been too busy HELPING TO END THE CAREERS of half of my company. Yay, economic downturn!

But in the process, I won a visit from Aaron!, who came allllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll the way from Australia just to see me. And to study abroad at Virginia Tech. Which he had no idea had had a big shooting incident until he started Google image searching his new home and saw that every single result had to do with people getting killed.

Many a picture will no doubt result from our impending weekend, all of them involving us with awkward fake smiles.

If I knew for sure it wasn’t illegal to post other people’s phone numbers in my blog, I would do it SO FAST right now.

Posted by plumpdumpling on October 28, 2008 – 4:53 pm
Filed under good times at everyone else's expense, jobby jobby job job, my uber-confrontational personality
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In my incredibly important role as an executive assistant, I have to talk to a lot of really retarded people (none of which is my boss, I’d like to emphasize, in case he ever reads this). But none of these is more retarded than the IT telemarketer. This is the guy who never EVER bothers to look up the name of the IT manager at your location but just calls and casually tells you–obviously on speakerphone, because his legs are kicked up on his desk and he’s busy practicing his old frat’s secret handshake–to connect him to whoever happens to be the head of your IT department. Having a superiority complex and an intense desire to lose my job over something stupid like being snotty to salesmen, I make absolutely no effort to mask the loathing in my voice from these cretins.

HOWEVER, I just received a call from one at an NYC company called Axispoint and was uncharacteristically nice to him, simply because I was coming off a delicious chicken meatball lunch and had really enjoyed IMing Dr. Boyfriend about being excited to “warm up my ‘balls” all morning long. But as soon as I uncharacteristically nicely told this guy that we don’t even keep an IT department at our location–particularly ironic since we’re a software company–he just went and HUNG UP ON ME.

Can you believe it? I am the one who hangs up on people. I am underpaid one who has to talk to retards all day. I have a singsong voice that demands telemarketers to stay on the line longer. But not this guy.

I checked my call log, and of course I have his number from my caller ID. So what should I do with it?

Happy Birthday to Me! and I’m Sorry About the Smell

Posted by plumpdumpling on October 9, 2008 – 2:17 pm
Filed under holidays don't suck for me, jobby jobby job job, narcissism, too much information
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My dear Dr. Boyfriend has a series of uplifting catchphrases, my favourites being “everything’s coming up Kamran” and “it’s your world, squirrel”. For my birthday today, he sent me this:

And while I have no idea who invited the guy in the cowboy hat to my party, I appreciate the sentiment.

But I’ll tell you what–it’s rough having a birthday when you’re lactose intolerant. As you may remember, I’ve been working on becoming lactose tolerant, and while I do believe I’m making strides, what’s coming out of my bum today smells nasty. I keep running out of the bathroom as soon as I’m finished, because I don’t want to hang around and have to explain to my co-workers who weren’t in New Orleans with me this week, “I’m lactose intolerant, but there was an ice cream bar at lunch yesterday, and what was I supposed to do?! It’s my goddamned birthday!”

I’m off to New Orleans!

Posted by plumpdumpling on October 6, 2008 – 9:05 am
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While there for the next three days in the Harrah’s Hotel and Casino, I plan to:

• not gamble

• not sightsee in any way

• not get drunk and show my boobs to anyone

• mostly lie about in my ridiculously-overpriced hotel room, devising ways to steal M&Ms from my minibar

Yaaaaay, work trips!