"Maybe you can help me....."

It's the worst part of my job....and I can't do a durn thing about. I have to answer the phones. Just in the morning, mind you. But I have to cover them if they don't get picked up or the office manager, who does the afternoons, is out.

I hate it.

I hate it cuz I have to stop what I'm doing to answer it. Usually I'm tracing something and need one hand on the mouse and one hand on my keyboard. I'll be almost around the object I'm tracing and the phone rings. I have to let go of one or the other and I watch the 'rubber band' outline snap short over what I was tracing, thus having to start all over again.

If that wasn't bad enough...the idiots that actually call me at work, make life even more miserable!

"Good morning. How may I direct your call?"

"I would like to talk to your general manager."

"I'm sorry...he's not in, but I can give you his voice mail."

"Well then maybe I could talk to your sales manager."

"I'm sorry, but he's in a sales meeting, but I can give you HIS voice mail."

"Well.....um....hmmmmm.......maybe YOU can help me."

Ok. Now here is where I start to turn green and grow out of my clothes. I want to reach through the phone and grab them by the neck and say, "Look....Einstein! You're asking for the two guys that run the joint. Do you really think that the person that answers the phone is going to have the answers that you seek? Say you're looking for....I don't know.... Buddha, but you run into the janitor for the monastery, do you think the janitor is going to answer your burning question, "What is Dhammapada?"

No...he's not. And ya know what...I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE HELL THAT IS EITHER!

But for some reason, folks that call think that I'm going to have all the answers! For all they know, I'm a high school kid with a nail file and a trashy novel, chewing gum and caring less.

And people...I know some names are tricky, but really...one employee's last name is Bishoff. I don't find that incredibly hard to pronounce. But this guy is called, Bishkoff, Fishoff, Fishkill, Bishtakoff, and my favorite, Bisquick.

Another gem is when they say, "Ya...I was talking to a guy there, but I don't know his name."

HOW CAN YOU NOT KNOW THEIR NAME?!?!? You just said YOU were talking to them! Then I have to do the Denny's waitress routine and go down my entire list of salad dress....er...sales guys to see if he recognizes the name. The AWESOME moment comes when this numb nut says, "Ya....none of them...do you have anyone else?"

Do I?? Ya...I got five guys on my left hand that are going to curl around you throat if I ever find you.

Then you got your old school callers that are scared to leave a voicemail...so I have the lucky job of jotting down their message and then delivering it! Ya...like that's a time saver to my day...when they say, "Listen...just take down my info and pass it on."

Oh sure...I'll stop MY job to do YOUR job that you're suppose to do on their voicemail. I'm sorry THAT is too much for you! To sit on your fat ass and move your chafe lips, from sucking on someones ass all day, up and down to make sound come out....NO...NO....I WOULD LOVE TO TAKE DICK-TATION FOR YOU AND MAYBE GET A CUP OF COFFEE AND A FOOT RUB!!!!

I think the next time they say it...I'm going to say back, "Maybe YOU can help ME....don't ask me any stupid questions!"

Ya...I know...then my job would get a lot easier.....cuz I wouldn't have one!

...at least you have a job.

Ah the silver lining. I'm getting sick and tired of it. It's really no consolation when you're worried you could lose your job at any minute. That's what my gal is going through right now.

I often make a joke that we married poorly, literally. I'm an artist that will never rise any higher in my pay scale and she's a journalist, who is awesome at her job, and works for a paper that has one of the better payouts, but in this day and age, is shaky at best.

So the artist and the writer started the year, that will be known as the "re-depression", with layoffs at the artist job and the newspaper industry crumbling at the writers job. I was forever worried that they would come for me first. They always fire the artist first. For some reason they think they can magically make designs appear in thin air.

As a VP once said about me, "What? She just pokes a button and the stuff comes out of the printer."

When they let an operations guy and our sales assistant go, after the boss told us no one would go, I spent a weepy lunch with my girl, scared that I would be jobless.

"Well...at least you have your job!" And the sinking sensation that any day I could be let go. Some comfort!

Lucky for me, the only thing that came of that lunch was my soggy tenders. I stayed put and we even got our sales asst back. And within weeks of doomsday, the big cheese had a tele-confrence saying we were over the worst of it.

EXcellent!

Then the papers started falling like a black and white print domino set. And while my girl had good things like her bonus still in the hand, they started merging departments, asking for a bigger ratio of ads over content and had meetings were the topics were: what are you doing for us, what more can you do and how can you do it all on line?

But at least she still has her job.

After making her case that she could increase her workload, take on another blog, start doing her own vlogging (with her flip video cam), and create a whole new beat to cover, the publisher announced that they would be asking them all to take 2 weeks unpaid.

Now she had to do all the additional work....with less time.

But at least she still had her job.

The same day this was announced papers around the country, fired hundreds of folks and kept just enough to keep their 'paper' going on line. Michigan's newspapers, for some reason, imploded in on themselves all at once.

And then, due to technical problems, the press didn't print on time this morning. The negative comments on the paper's website started piling up: "THE END IS COMING FOR THIS FISH RAP" "The web is better and nothing to recycle. Start looking for work, the end is near."

"On another note isn't a "pay cut" better than not having a job at all!"

Cuz......at least you have a job.....right?

And the dish ran away with my F'n creamer!!

So I was all ready to blog about my mortgage signing excitement last night. (98 pages, to be exact) Or going out to celebrate by seeing The Watchmen. (as I'm a big fan of the comic book movies)

But instead I'm going to BITCH!

So I go in the kitchen here at work to make my daily cup of tea. I enjoy the Tazo Energy tea. Nice caffeine kick to get going in the morning.

I drink it English style with cream and sugar, well....technically Splenda. Trying to get off that rat poison, aspartame, that Reagan ok'd for American markets. Fascinating reading...look it up some time.

I digress....cuz that's what I do.

A co-worker got a couple of us hooked on the flavored creamers, French Vanilla to be exact. And while the coffee drinkers in the office were hooked like crooks on the stuff, to the point that there were 5 bottles of it going at any particular time. I, as a tea drinker, avoided it, thinking that it wasn't a 'tea' thing.

Then I thought....why not!

So I got kinda use to the tasty sensation of a hint of vanilla in my tea. Not a bad thing. Our lil caffeine clutch would, not in an organized way, replenish the supply when needed. It worked. There was always flavor cream to spare. And if the occasion came up that there was none, the office fridge stocked a large container of those individual, just plain ol cream, shots.

We started a biggest loser contest here at work. I'm pretty sure I'm going to win the title as the biggest loser cuz I DON'T lose weight....there's that digressing thing again. The creamer ring leader swore off FVC! So now there is only the bottle I bought in the fridge, which was down to its last drop yesterday. I noticed that the lid would be open in the morning, leading me to believe the operations guys were in on the FVC as well.

This morning...I find MY creamer that I bought was GONE. I stood with my dark, steaming tea at the opening of the fridge. The light shinning on me like some dread spot light holding me there to stare at the spot my FVC was, and feel my blood pressure rise.

Then the true horror sunk in; There were NO CREAMER SHOTS EITHER!!

"Hey....Barb? Is the delivery from the coffee place late or something? There doesn't seem to be creamer in the fridge."

"I stopped ordering it. Some one was bringing in flavored stuff."

"Um...ya...well....I was one of them...but it doesn't do me any good if the work guys in the morning use it all and never use a crowbar to open their wallet and BUY MORE!"

"Oh....well...I just assumed no one liked the plain stuff."

Is it a sign of old age and crochetiness if creamer is a major turning point in your mood and ruins your entire day?

Iz gotz equity!

I come from parents who made their money in property. It really goes back further...my grandparents on my mom's side owned a real estate business.

Due to this 'wise investing' on my folks part, my two younger sisters and I have always been encouraged to buy property. We have suffered for years the scarlet letter of "P", for property, for our many years of NOT owning any.

The point that is always looked over is, very simply, it ain't as cheap NOW as when they stumbled into it, and ya just don't have the cash to do it. In a society where property prices are high and every household is a two income household, and usually a couple weekend jobs as well, how are you ever suppose to buy anything?

My folks had 5 or 6 rentals going at any one time. Mind you, it was great for someone like me, a high school kid not afraid of getting her hands dirty, for earning some extra dough helping clean them up. But there is also that: humans are pigs! The property damage some of these folks did to the houses were insane! The calls at midnight my dad would get when the toilet was doing an impression of Mt Vesuvius, or the one renter that turned the white bathtub black....was it worth it?

While I live in upstate NY now, where houses are a nickle each (if you don't mind not having a roof or windows), I still don't make enough to dive into home ownership. And I would be SCREWED if my renter left and I had to pony up the expenses for several months at a time on my own.

The opportunity came to re-finance the house we live in, which my girlfriend bought, and put my name on the deed in the process. All the glory of 'equity' without the hassle of the buying process.

Me Likey!

Today we sign our names on the dotted line and I will officially become a home owner. I have to say....there is excitement over that. Even if you can't catch the mysterious 'equity' and put it on a shelf, it's cool to know I'm in the game and one step closer to being an adult. Even if it is at 42 years of age.

snap crackle pop

I've been going to the chiropractor for sometime now. The round about way I got there is kinda funny. I went due to horrible back pains in the middle of the night. No....not back pain....


Searing fires of hell burning my bones out of my body!


Ya...like that.


I figure it's something I did playing tackle football on the California beaches. At the same time I'm having chronic tonsillitis and seeing a throat specialist. Per usual he couldn't do anything for the swollen baby potatoes in the back of my throat that constantly made me sound like Brando in the Godfather.


I was a skeptic of the chiro. Every ones heard the stories of strokes and injuries from snapping a neck in half. I was raised to think they weren't real doctors, unless your pronounced it "Witch Doctor".


But I went....and after my first adjustment, which sounded like the Chinese army marching over bags of Lays chips, I sat at my desk and felt my tonsils drain for the first time. The chiro sent me to my regular Dr. for a check up, cuz he noticed that the area of my spine that was out, was connected to my gallbladder....and lo....I had gallstones!


So with one chiro appt, I managed to clear up a number of ailments that I was living with.

I became a believer. I went faithfully every week. A ten minute session had my head turning at a 90 degree angle again, easing back pain and keeping me from getting colds through the flu season!


I have been spotty at best going, these days. Lately I've been a mess. I realized that my office chair seat was at a weird angle, throwing off my back a lil more every day I sat there. So I asked to get a new chair, first off. And man....does that make a difference! My back was happier already! But when my two index fingers went number, I figured I should still seem my friendly neighborhood chiropractor.


A trip to the movie theater and sitting in the front row, hitting my head, not once, but twice, low hanging pipes in the basement of the bar I work at, and the chair being off, all contributed to pinching a nerve that cut off the feeling to my fingers!

I either need to go to the chiro more often, or quit being such a clutz!


That being said, after my adjustment, I not only felt two inches taller, but my mood lifted so much! I had felt depressed and grumpy. When I got back to work a co-worker asked if I had been drinking, I was so chipper. Who would have thought...a spine aligned makes all the difference!

Seasonal Blah

For the most part I love Upstate NY. A lot of folks around here think I'm nuts, when they find out I'm a California girl. I've been here since '98 and it still amazes me when the seasons change.

But there is one time when I could move out of the area till Mother Nature gets spring in full swing.

It's that annoying season I call "Splush": it's not quite Spring and we still have slush, which could be left over snow or dreary, cold rain. Then add to that the time change, where it's dark when you get up in the morning.

Splush!

I don't get Seasonal Affect Disorder, which I should. We go 6 months without a good dose of vitamin D from good ol Sol. (who I use to have quite the personal relationship with in Cali) But Splush can just drag ya down. It's the grey, wet cold of it. Splush gets in your bones and chills your core. Your shoes are wet and your hair is damp and the sun is no where to be seen. Splush rains and it blows and it goes from 50 degrees to -4 wind chill at a moments notice.

I'm looking out the window right now and it looks like a scene from a post-apocalyptic movie. The only life is the flag across the street whipping on it's rusty pole. First one way, then the other, getting caught in the middle by the weight of it's wetness on the rough metal. Till finally a mighty gust rips it free and it starts over again.

So when I get so geeky excited about the green coming back in the grass, or the first crocus breaking the icy earth to peek a purple petal toward the sky, it's all due to Splush keeping me down and out.

Or....it could be that I'm just geeky excited about Mother Nature's work, once again, amazing me. And you sure can't get that on a beach in California.

Hardly Hardy

I've become obsessed. It's not hard to do, really. I find new and interesting things and I want to immerse myself in them. Learn all about them. I think that's an Aquarian tendency. I do it well.

At least 3 years ago I stumbled on some Converse high-tops decorated with vintage tattoo art. After I dug around a bit I found the art was from a guy named Sailor Jerry.

I was in love!

I don't know what it is...maybe it's the art of it, the vintage feel, the pin-up quality. All things I seem to be drawn too. Then I read a bit about "Jerry" and found out he was a WWII serviceman when he was stationed in Hawaii and got his first tattoo, like many servicemen of his time. But instead of getting his tat and a story to go with it, he decided to take up the art form and after the war, set up shop on the seedy side of the island and create the tattoos that started them all!

I'm not a tattoo freak. I have one that marked my passage into my 30's. I had designed it myself and carried it around for a few years quizzing folks on the best place to put it, what place would hurt less, and where to go to actually get it. Folks drowning in ink are not very attractive to me. While I've seen tattoos that were gorgeous art, I've seen more collections of cartoon characters and crossed out ex-lovers to say that a lot of the tatts are NOT great.

And while I'm usually ahead of the curve of what's hot, but usually not the one to pull it off, tattoo fashion exploded a short time later with a dude named Don Ed Hardy. Now I have to say I was sticking to my Jerry and felt Hardy was just exploiting Jerry. Then, like I do when I get a lil interested (re: obsessed) I started nosing around.

It seems that Hardy and two others were students of Jerry's. Hardy's specialty was adding the Asian influence to what Jerry had taught him. Then he sold his "flash" to Christian Audigier, who did what he did so well to Von Dutch, he EXPLODED the Hardy name on the scene by jacking up the price so high it was impossible and only giving out freebies to stars, like Madonna, Zack Efron and Mick Jagger.

So now, after I'm well past the tattoo fashion curve, I'm obsessed with finding Ed Hardy stuff at a price a lowly artist like myself can afford, of course. I consider it working with my new years resolution to try and expand my creativity through many forms of art...and if that's what I have to tell myself to justify my Ed Hardy neon clock....so be it.

New Years Crack Down!

It was only a couple days after the clock struck midnight, and the new year was upon us, that my company put a massive lock down on the internet use. (which I might just be violating now, but I figure if I can get on the website, it's mine to get on!)

The list, issued to us in the form of an email, was long. Two columns of dos and don'ts and must nots, that we kinda laughed at. You couldn't get on streaming radio sites. Which I could see...I mean if everyone was streaming, it slowed things up. Got it. Likewise YouTube was out. And time wasting sites were gone, like MySpace and Facebook. You could go to sites about ghosts and the paranormal, but don't even TRY to send an e-card. Yes to wedding sites. No to file sharing sites.

And on it went....

I've never been on drugs, but I gotta think that trying NOT to log into my MySpace to change the background and post funny lil glitter graphic, was a kin to kicking black tar heroin! The shakes only lasted a lil while. You still have to sell me on Facebook; navigating on that thing stinks and I swear if I meet the ass that invented 'little greenies' I'll kill him dead. But with it's suddenly gone - I kinda miss it.

Plus it kinda sucked cuz our artist community at work, finally got an organized Facebook page and then we couldn't use it. Being of the creative folk, you need stuff like that to reset or inspire your think time. It's amazing how something like a lil game of Bejeweled might get me into a different state of mind and the ideas that happen to pop up. (of course any type of Flash based games were zapped as well)

Don't get me started about online radio! I mean...all the different channels to put you into a certain mood to create. I have a subscription to XM and loved having all that available to me on line as well.

But fuggetaboudit!

The funny thing is you could still get on line to ebay, or shopping sites. So you could help the economy by spending money, but you couldn't get inspiration to help at your job to make you more money.

Did I waste time, sure. Did I put off some work for the ability to update my Myspace background by using my graphic powers for evil? Yes. But isn't that the process of creativity?

I'll say this much, at 2:30pm everyday my computer comes to a halt and I wait a snails pace to do a simple task like open an email. Don't even think about opening a 10mg or so of photoshop! The rage in me surging to the point I think I'm going to start Hulking-out and toss my computer through the huge plateglass windows in the front of the office.

So if we didn't save on time by limiting our ability to streaming audio, what the hell? I think a snails pace is better than me having a stroke any day.