Superduper Perky HR lady calls and leaves message on home phone in her best ex-cheerleader voice: “Hi this is XXX from HR and I wanted to ask if you could box up your computer and all of your other equipment and ship it back to us, insured, via UPS with signature. Give me a call and we’ll figure out some way to reimburse you after you ship it.” I check to see that final paycheck with vacation and severance are waiting for ACH deposit tomorrow, and indeed, they are. So we move on to possible responses to perkypants: 1. Good news! The items are already boxed up and ready to go. Feel free to bid on them on their auctions on ebay. Shipping’s included in the final auction price, so that should not be an issue! I’ll forward the links to their auction listings. 2. I’d be happy to to
Called Comcast to get rid of one HD box we don’t really use, SHO, HBO, STARZ and the phone. Learned that doing that would RAISE my bill by $35 a month. Confused, I then called AT&T to disconnect the iPad’s cell service and learned that it would not do anything to my bill at all. Baffled, I walked through the house and disconnected all electrical appliances not in use and turned heat down to 65. Probably, my PECO bill will now triple. Read 2 James Patterson novels and Evanovich’s Notorious Nineteen. Contemplated writing my own novel because if these two can produce best-sellers anyone can and with minimal effort. Shopped at Bottom Dollar in KoP for the first time, and while I did not get everything I needed, I got a lot of the kid food even cheaper than Walmart or Wegman’s. Brand names, not expired, and good produce in
Applied for unemployment and learned that with some part-time teaching and some contract work I’ve already arranged to do, we can live pretty normally and probably even spend the first half of the summer at the beach while I look for a job with people who at least try to seem sane and do not operate out of an entirely imaginary office for a client who does not pay them. Played 2 hours of Wii Sports with the kidlet, am now aching all over and am relatively sure that home-schooling would result in a homicide. Good to know as I think through where he’s going to be next year. Successfully ducked Neldon, Tamara and Heather – all recruiters – who believe they have found the perfect job for me. I am fairly certain they have not. I am not moving to Utah. I am not working at clown college. BTDT.
I have a wonderful colleague who thought that she’d gone into (a bit early) labor around noon with her first baby. We had a conference call about the disastrous, hopelessly behind, never-ending, constantly stressful project we are assigned to at 1:30. Her boss, an Indian woman with the social skills of a rabid raccoon, starts call with “Well, at least she AHEAD with something she’s doing…” And yeah…deafening silence ensued. I work with the classiest people. I really do. Facebook Comments
From the files of you can’t make this s**t up: Evil Sorta Indian Woman Boss gets note from client that key member of approval team has had major surgery and cannot approve documents until next week. She instructs one of her minions to write to the client and tell them we are sending their (unapproved, unreviewed) documents to production without the agreed-upon approvals. No “sorry you fell ill” (likely due to stress of this project). No “get well soon”. Brilliant minion writes “Per Evil Woman, we will…” Kudos to her for having some sense about how to deal with the client who does not pay us and basically hates us. I consider just being quiet but my sense of the absurd gets the better of me. Email to utterly stupid, “shoot from the hip then clean up the bodies” boss: “I hate to get involved here. I mean, I really,
My boss and co-workers are meeting with our clients this week, and being the team player I always am, I declined to travel and offered to “man the fort” (read hold down my sofa) for them while they were away. Text from boss: “I wish you were here in this hotel room with me to <insert graphic imagery ala “Fifty Shades of Grey here>”. Me (after due consideration given to throwing phone in garbage disposal): “I am not your boyfriend.” Boss: “Oh, right. I have taken so much oxycontin today to zone out of these meetings I forgot.” An hour passes. Boss: “Are you there?” Me: “Yeah, I was just searching for the number for HR.” Boss: “When you find it, ask them why I haven’t gotten my tax forms yet for me?” True story. Sigh. I really need some Girl Scout cookies. And Nyquil. Facebook Comments
Some of you know that the University of Utah in Salt Lake City has been pulling out all the stops trying to recruit me to a VP job there doing assessment. Flattering, of course, to be so wanted, but I’ve been ignoring them for 10 days. I mean, I turned down MIT in December because they would not move to Florida or let me work remotely 6 months of the year. So, this morning, I talked to their guy, Neldon (yeah, Neldon) about the job. He went on and on about the job and did the hard sales pitch about Utah’s many wonders. And the whole moving package. And the $185K a year. Wow, really? I could live like a rock star for that kind of bank in Utah. But then… Me: “What about some sister wives? I think I’d like two.” Silence. Nervous laughter. More silence. Deafening silence. Neldon:
My boss called me this afternoon from the recovery room of a hospital where she’d just had 5 hours of surgery to “strategize” for a few minutes while her boyfriend went to get her ice chips (cause he’d kill her if he knew she was working). True story. No words. I work in Crazypantsland. Facebook Comments
In PA, you cannot get an I-9 notarized. It’s a law. I explained this in September and all was well until two days ago when an HR assistant to an assistant to an unpaid intern from some college in Boston who can’t understand English got involved and suggested this morning that I drive around to banks all day to find one that would do it. My response? “If you would prefer that instead of doing my job today or tomorrow, I drive around to local banks to see if I can have it notarized, please let Rucha and Cindy know that HR is requiring this of me and that our project will be put off schedule while I attempt to do this, and know that it will likely be fruitless and you still will not have a notarized copy. I assume mileage for this escapade will be reimbursed?” Now they’ve
Dear Job That Sounded So Promising: No, I am not working this weekend. Yes, I realize that there are 174 emails in my inbox at this moment; I did look briefly this morning. My favorite one — I peeked at it — said, “I know you are probably busy doing family things and holiday stuff, but this is important…” When I said on Friday that I was both done, and done in, I meant it. No more 10 hours a day, 7 days a week. It’s thankless. I don’t even think you realize that I’m doing it, or worse, you expect it. I doubt I’ll even get a Christmas card from my boss let alone a gift or a holiday bonus, and there will be no boozy Christmas parties with bad holiday sweaters and frenemies seemingly like all is well for me because I’m remote. Some of us enjoy that.