We Hold You In Our Hearts
Because I am such a good person, I am putting our current feud aside (momentarily) to wish her good luck today.
Even if you don’t like commenting on blogs, today would be a good day to make an exception and do the same!
I ♥ Lindsay no matter what the courts decide.
Update: As I suspected, Lindsay Bobindsay is a friggin’ genius and has successfully defeated all her exams!!!
She really beat the snot out of a couple of them. Yay!
***
Vespa liked to get to work before everyone else. As she sat at her desk with her hot cup of coffee in the quiet, early-morning calm, it was easier to forget that the office would soon be crawling with malcontent employees and racked with the incessant rancor of ringing phones. That persistent, angry buzz was one of very few things in her life now that brought back vivid memories of the socialist commune of the beehive. Vespa shuddered to remember.
Other than the unfortunate noise, Vespa pretty much liked everything about work. She was a productive, detail-oriented type of creature, and offices were generally in that constant state of rearrangement that appealed to her. She liked to carry warm, freshly printed, collated and stapled paper stacked as efficiently as honeycombs to and from the copy room. She liked clutching her coffee cup in her lap as she and Barnabus poured over the office supply budget. She liked answering phones. But she had to admit that this wasn’t her favorite of the administrative offices she had inhabited over the years. Here the air was heavy with a thick, sour tension, as if the build up of frustration and ill-will between employees had remained unscoured on the walls for years and had long since grown stale. The upper management treated their new employees like unwanted stepchildren, and their old employees like nagging, unavoidable spouses. They squabbled much like a dysfunctional family, not unlike the large one that she herself had come from.
Vespa frowned. She usually didn’t catch herself thinking of her childhood or the beehive twice in one morning, and could think of no reason she should be in such a melancholic mood. She looked around. A few other employees had started to drift into their cubicles, and they carried with them a sullen, negative energy that strained the air even more than usual. Then she remembered. Today was Sagan’s first day in the office as the official CEO, and the nervous agitation of the staff was already almost palpable. It would likely be this tense for the rest of the day, too, as they all tread on eggshells to avoid being the first to give Sagan reason to exercise his new powers.
Suddenly a rustle of whispers blew through the cubicles, “He’s here! He’s in the elevator!” Then the executive suite staff heard the ominous tone of the elevator arriving on their floor.
I am now in posession of an array of internet fun. See me for any time-wasting needs you may be dying to fulfill.
My favorite for today: Type “Unfortunately, _________” (your name there) into Google. Enjoy the ridiculous phrases that come up, assuming your twisted sense of humor parallels my own.
I am lucky here because Lindsay Lohan and I have that one thing in common: our name. So here are some of mine:
Unfortunately, Lindsay has spent much of her youth having to apologize to half of the world for her childish tantrums. (Okay so we have two things in common)
Unfortunately, Lindsay was in custody just two hours later.
Unfortunately, Lindsay has none of the professional goth rocker’s chops. (Obviously referring to Lohan here, not me.)
Unfortunately, Lindsay’s prose occasionally verges on the purple end of the spectrum. (… Kind of like this sentence?)
Unfortunately, Lindsay wasn’t wearing any underwear! (True most of the time– make that three things in common)
Unfortunately, Lindsay has as many curves as a 15 year old boy. (Not true for either of us)
Unfortunately, Lindsay didn’t take America’s advice since she has been seen going from club to club. (And not inviting LindsayBobindsay… thanks a lot)
Unfortunately, lindsay fell into this one on her own. (See above: tantrums)
Unfortunately, Lindsay didn’t get the Wayfarers and leather jacket memo. (The first person who submits a Wayfarers and leather jacket memo to me wins a prize.)
it’s true, i did get me some seriously sweet and old-school candy for Secretary’s Admin Prof Day.
Don’t try to tell me that the images below do not bring sweet, old-fashioned memories to your mind, and don’t try to tell me that you aren’t 50─60 years old:
Delicious candy relics. Thanks, boss!*
In other news, even though I have been suffering from moderate writer’s block, I still carried this blog on my back from almost a week all by myself, but apparently now I am the deadbeat parent? Who abandons our blog for days at a time, huh? Who? — And you’re even quitting your job!?
I didn’t tell you about my previous relationship with Natalie Dee because I didn’t think I needed to! Gah. Why do you always have to throw that in my face?
I bring entertainment; I bring news; I try to keep it current (candy relic exception) but it’s never enough for you.
I wish you wouldn’t fight like this in front of the blog.
.
.
for the amusement of classless lunchtime staffworkers everywhere
.
I’ll see you in TV Court.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
*We also got bagels.
(Yaaaaaaaaaaaay oh wait, no one we know besides us is trapped in a job where this applies. That’s okay, I celebrated by posting my resignation in today’s company newsletter– I quit.)
Benefits: Free treats– Kema got old-school candy and I got reminded about how last year they gave us a 100 Grand and a Pay Day but this year we have budget cuts. Candy relics and candy remembrances + being too poor to afford puns = priceless office job memories.
Downside: I can’t make a clever post that describes our feelings any where near as well as the gold that Natalie Dee has already penned. She replaces us in all ways (jerk), as seen below:
HAPPY ADMINISTRATIVE PROFESSIONALS DAY, READERS!!
(Professional Day greeting is my own addition)
In other news, Kema has abandoned our blog and is not paying me child support. She is probably dumping me for Natalie Dee and I intend to take both of them to TV Court, where my co-workers can watch us on their lunch hour while my replacement wishes someone — anyone– else liked Food Network or Turner Classic Movie Channel.
NatalieDee.com is like I have my own web comic. These pertain specifically to work, but there are even better ones.
Expect more links like this in the future as my friends are happy to feed me interesting/amusing/stupid things to look at. Next post: bunnies and rap music.
A few Believe-It-Or-Not facts that Ripley hasn’t yet televised, that make me sound like a whineypants, and that correspond to my day/readiness for the weekend.
1.) Contrary to popular belief, you don’t have to tell me what your voicemail is going to say before I dump you into it. (Subpoint: Preceding that pre-voicemail huddle with “I’m just going to let her know that…” doesn’t make for brevity, ‘just’ or not.)
2.) Including “ma’am” after every phrase doesn’t make you sound less foreign or less like a telemarketer. As a Southerner I also feel intruded upon.
3.) It may sound like the copy machine is about to take off into space, but it’s actually just the fuser module warming up (according to the informative sidepanel screen). Back to your everyday lives, citizens.
4.) If you hadn’t noticed by now, it’s a safe bet that any receptionist’s version of the OS, e-mail system, and telepathic messaging receptors are at least one version behind yours, and most likely are from another decade/inexistent.
5.) I don’t recognize your voice. I won’t later today either. Tomorrow I might, but will still ask your name on principle.
6.) Telling me my internet usage is being monitored does not in any way, shape, or form deter me from using every internet possibility for entertainment. (Subnote: neither does a lack of internet speed or tabbed browsing)
7.) We have not, in fact, moved past judgement based on appearances. But we have, in fact, moved past caring about those judgements.
Pictured above: Me busting myths in the most glorious fake mustache of all time, co-worker having mind blown. P.S. I hate the show MythBusters.
I’ve returned! Yes it’s true, I’m back from my blogging break imposed first by work and then by play. It seems I’ve been sorely missed; my inbox is verily overflowing with fanmail and– to be honest– I hardly have time to respond to it all. BUT I’ve selected a few queries that I thought merited not just my attention, but also the attention of our other receptionist readers:
Dear Better Reception,
None of my co-workers ever answer the phone unless it’s a personal call. It’s really frustrating! Why should I have to deal with these calls? And why can’t they talk to customers? And why do they have me here if they put everyone in voicemail??? I just don’t get it! What should I do?
Fran in Fresno
Dear Frustrated Fran,
Let me bestow upon you a few pearls of wisdom that I’ve gleaned from the hairy unshucked razor sharp oyster that is my job. While you might think, from your own observations, that your job is contingent on a company that sells things to other human beings, your job is actually contingent on selling yourself to the people who work at that company. Whether they talk to anyone outside the company or even know the meaning of the word ‘client’ is completely unrelated to you, which really is a good thing! You’re saved from the requirements of the marketplace and have only to compete with whatever image of The Perfect Receptionist that they may have conjured up most recently. With time, you’ll learn to coach them to match that image to whatever professionalism you’ve managed to assemble for the day.
Similarly, when you are struck by these random desires to work for a profitable business, you’ll learn by necessity to phrase the name and association of the person calling in ways that maximize the probability that they’ll take the call. This depends on the person you’re patching the call to, the alignment of the planets, and every menstrual cycle within a 100-foot radius of the office (you’ll catch on). Try to isolate and orchestrate key elements of your vocal timbre such as whiney-ness, sorrow, excitement, enthusiasm, brusqueness, factuality, perkiness, inquisitiveness, etc. Also feel free to add suffixes like “_____ calling for you” or “_________ calling back” or, a dead ringer every time: “_______ . Sounds urgent.”
I have full confidence that in no time, Franny, your frustration will have melted entirely, much like the butter I’ll dip my oyster of a job into right before I chew it up, spit it out, and remember how much I dislike oysters.
↨↨↨↨↨↨↨↨↨
If you have any questions about how to deal with a particular quandary in the workplace, please feel free to either comment here or drop us a line! Kathy in Brian Jacques’ office has been kind enough to offer her services in fielding these inquiries for us, and will forward the most resounding and pertinent questions to Kema “Landers” Wema and Lindsay “Van Buren” Bobindsay with appropriate haste. (Kathy, we’re certain that you’ll make a fine receptionist for what is sure to become the Hints from Heloise of the receptionist world.) You can write to Kathy — and us– at kathyfantastic@gmail.com
over the past week or so, my co-blogger lindsay bobindsay has been in texas visiting family and friends. to celebrate her return to the mother(fucker)land, i would like to recommend a few albums that i’ve been hitting repeatedly the last few weeks. Like us, both bands were born and bread in the north central texas area (Denton):
Baboon
“Baboon” (released 2006)
.
.
.
.
.
They’re kind of like if Weezer had more balls.
Also appeared in an episode of Walker, Texas Ranger.
.
.
“Bamnan and Slivercork” (2004)
“The Trials of Van Occupanther” (2006)
.
.
.
.
.
.
These guys are apparently difficult to categorize. Sometimes called lo-fi?
They’ve got a fantastic electronica sound.
.
Check ‘em out. It’s worth it. We’ll be back with more soon!
Malcolm opened his eyes, shivered involuntarily, and shoke his shaggy wings. Wednesday.
He shuffled groggily up the strand of grass to its tip, then splashed his face with the cool dew collecting there.
He sighed. Another day, another dollar, another dickhole manager. Would it ever end? A short hop —which for a moment resembled a lazy suicide attempt off the grass blade— sent him on a long glide towards the nearby apple orchard for a quick breakfast. He watched the other moths chatter and flutter and coddle the baby caterpillars as they crawled along the broad leaves lit by the morning sunlight. Malcolm sighed. He wasn’t hungry.
Damn. Why is it never good news? he thought glumly. And just when things were starting to get better. Salazar was practically nonexistent at the office these days. When he was there, he just remained motionless there under his heat lamp or on his big, cool rock in the corner. Legarto had been managing all the big accounts in his stead, and it had been that way for months. Legarto barely noticed Malcolm most of the time, and they both seemed content to ignore each other, which left Malcolm with the rising hope of a future without the belittling abuse he had suffered under Salazar.
Malcolm sighed again, a little harder. The memo had gone around yesterday.
Starting today, Sagan son of Salazar the Caiman was officially the new CEO of Lepidoptimal.
Say What?!