Thursday, October 29, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
- Has clear expectations and responsibilities for her assistants
- Rewards hard work with opportunities to grow (and a trip to Paris!)
- Expects her staff to dress for success and uphold the corporate image
- Teaches her staff about the industry (the infamous "cerulean rant")
- Doesn't yell (once you've worked for a yeller, you'll never do it again)
Sure, her expectations are sort of bonkers, the hours are long, saying "that's all" instead of "thank you" is pretty obnoxious, and the stress is extreme. But...raise of hands...who thinks being a personal assistant for a famous, high-level person in a high-pressure industry is going to be a 9 to 5 cakewalk with plenty of Gawker breaks? Nobody? Ok, then. Point made.
What cracked me up about Andy (played by Anne Hathaway in the movie) is that she really expected her first job to be sunshine and ponies, that she thought it would be OK to make fun of the people issuing her paychecks, and that she was somehow better than people who had toiled for years to get where they are. Pretty standard recent-grad behavior. Of course (disclaimer alert!), not everyone behaves that way, but enough do that the stereotype of the entitled entry-level worker holds some weight.
Of course, the job turns out to be a poor fit, and Andy resigns, which is OK. We've all taken jobs that we've regretted. Of course, it's not ever OK to quit by tossing your work-issued Blackberry into a fountain, and depart without giving notice. But, by that point, I was just ready for Andy to sack up and stop whining.
In the comments, tell me who you sympathize with more: Miranda or Andrea. Or tell me this post is about three years overdue.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Hey, a little venom makes the world go ‘round. And a lot of it knocks it off its axis, spinning us into the nether regions of the galaxy. And we all know how we feel about nether regions. So, without any further ado/lifting of the interstellar petticoats, here are my Top Home Decor Pet Peeves:
Inspirational wall decals. Whether it’s a single word, like, “Family,” or a sentiment consisting of treacle-flavored barf, such as “Family is Really Nice and Stuff,” it just comes across as a clutter of unimaginative hokum. Inspirational wall decals are for people too cheap to collect Precious Moments figurines.
Accent Walls. It just looks like the decorator got bored and moved on to something else. It's trendy, it's not all that cool...kind of like naming your child Madison and then claiming you came up with it first.
The West Elm Catalog. Who doesn’t like to flip through the West Elm catalog and imagine themselves in a world of sterile Bohemia? Who doesn’t want funny-shaped headboards and decorative octopi? Until you start reading the testimonials, which come from sanctimonious twits like the Surfer Skier who enjoys parachuting, the poor, and his girlfriend. My vision of hell is spending all eternity at a dry, no-dance Baptist wedding with the West Elm Catalog People.
Sage Green. Overdone. Annoying. I can’t decide whether it’s the Harvest Gold or Avocado Green of our generation.
Lucite Furniture. No, decorators, it does NOT make a room look airier. It makes my knees look bruisier from all the times I bang into your goofy invisible furniture.
Overly Arty Book Arrangements. Why would I cover all of my books in matching paper? Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of, say, deciding which of my books I'd like to read? The people who do this are also probably the same ones who have those $300 stand mixers that never get used.
Black Leather Furniture. Why is it that virtually every man, once he starts making a little money, runs right out and buys a black leather couch? Forget, "I'll call you," the black leather sofa is the ultimate mystery of the Y chromosome.
Decorative Antlers. Unless you shot it, killed it, ate it, stuffed it, and danced on its carcass, you don't need antlers over the loveseat.
In the comments, tell me what sort of decor makes you cringe. Also, the image above is from Dictator Style, which is seriously the funniest book in the whole entire universe. It even has Saddam Hussein's collection of disturbing topless sci-fi art!
Friday, October 16, 2009
Hammer imagines I'd watch Hee-Haw with his grandma, which not only rhymes, but might be one of the sweetest things anyone's said to me in a while:
You know, I don't let just anybody get in MAH TRUK, much less insist they do so, but Shannon settled right in like my old Ford was custom-built for her. The hound dogs took to her immediately, and the fact that she's on the petite side just means we get to haul an extra cooler of beer up front. You don't need to have dropped out of the management certificate program at NOVA Community College to know that what you got right there is a win-win, I tell you whut.
When she wasn't telling us young 'uns to simmer down so she could watch Hee-Haw in peace, my grandma was always fond of saying, "Now Hammer, you make sure you surround yourself with good people." Although she never met Shannon, I'm sure she'd approve of our association. Grandma wouldn't know a blog from a bag of Fritos, but she knows that your 500th anything is a pretty big deal. I can see it now... "Good day!" she'd exclaim, listening patiently to Shannon try to explain what the hell a blog was and why a person would write one for so long - under their real name no less - and then she'd start to drift a bit, perk back up after a while, and say, "Shannon, do you think there are any stations showing Hee Haw tonight?"
And you know what? Even though there ain't nobody showing Hee Haw anymore except The Playaz, Shannon would actually make an honest effort to scroll through the listings and check. You never know, stranger things have happened. In fact, stranger things do happen. To Shannon. All the time. And because she writes every bit as well as she improvises, we're able to share in these experiences and exploits from the comfort of our own homes and offices.
It's not as fun as hanging out with her in person, but your odds of ending up on an episode of C.O.P.S. are a hell of a lot lower.
Meanwhile, J credits me with e-pimpage:
Shannon's blog is filled with things I'd like to say, but didn't think of first. But more importantly, it's a focal point for discussion. And a segue to socialization.When you read DSJ, you come face-to-face with so many of life's absurdities and strange coincidences. And incompetent Krispy Kreme clerks.When you meet DSJ, you find that there is an amazing ball of charm who will always look out for you, throws fantastic parties, and shares stories of goulash at gas stations on the Croatian-Hungarian border. Last but not not least, she's also the finest e-pimp DC has to offer :)
Thursday, October 15, 2009
I met the DSJ a long, long, looooong time ago. Back in the day when the Interwebs flowed over copper wires, you had to dial into the campus’ server and when a professor asking, “Does anyone know what the World Wide Web is?” was a legitimate question. In all honesty, when my Geo 15 “The Dynamic Earth” aka “Rocks for Jocks” prof asked this question, I had no idea what the hell the Web was. (Seriously, there were a large number of young men in the class who, while they could have had a glandular problem, were most likely football players.)
Anyway, getting back on topic, the DSJ and I met after a showing of The Professional at the end of our freshman year in Chapel Hill and have been friends since. Through much of the time after graduation, though, something came between us. No, really, there was: a lot of miles. Soon after she helped me move into my first post-college, roach-infested $190 a month apartment in a town I’d promised myself I’d never return to, the DSJ herself moved on from the Southern Part of Heaven. [ed: Foggy didn't actually let me move boxes or carry anything...either from gentlemanliness or the fact that I was mostly invited along as comic relief.]
With each new job and every move we literally got further apart. Now I may not get the sequence exactly right, but it went something like this: Jacksonville, N.C. (me); Washington, D.C. (her); Indianapolis, Ind. (me); Texas (me again); Bogota, Colombia (not me); another town in Texas (sigh, me); Sarajevo (definitely not me); Washington, D.C. (FINALLY! Me); Washington, D.C. (Hey, cool! We have the same first digit in our ZIP code. Root beer for all!)
I should point out all of those moves took place between October 1998 and April 2006. Personally, I think I was about one move away from a free U-Haul rental.
Sometime in 2002, I got an e-mail saying something along the lines of “the DSJ has posted new material.” It’s been so long I can’t even remember what this space was called way back then [ed: The Diplomat's Wife], but I clicked over and liked what I read (she may have been making fun of the Camdens) and, from that point forward, kept an eye out for any new postings. I thought, “Hey, this is a pretty good way for DSJ to keep everyone up to date on what’s going on,” because, that being 2002 and all, we were all still limited to phone calls and email, none of them fancy schmancy do-dads you kids got today to keep in touch.
Her early posts set the tone then and her snark’s as fresh today as it was the day she started this joint. Hmmm, that sounds a bit…obscene, doesn’t it?
Neither here nor there, where were we? Oh, yes. Like Inigo said just before they stormed the castle gates, let me sum up since there’s too much to ‘splain. Seven years, 500-plus posts, I’ve read them all (including the 20 or so she’s taken down, so I don’t know if they should actually count), been mentioned in a couple and am continually impressed that no matter how stupid the people she writes about are (the baby stroller door stop anyone?), there’s always someone dumber out there to inspire another post.
We’ll just have to keep on reading to see if Darwin was right.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Disaffected Scanner Jockey is solely responsible for my last breakup. Well, no, that's a lie. But this blog is a large part of the reason I sought out the last person I dated. Let me explain...Shannon is obviously not an anonymous blogger. Nor does she go through great pains to avoid describing herself physically. Through the blog alone one could glean that she is a tiny redhead/brunette, depending on the month.
Thursday, October 08, 2009
Wednesday, October 07, 2009
Friday, October 02, 2009
In the comments, tell me what makes you happy.