I’m a woman, which means I’ve been groomed from birth to believe that my two primary functions in society are (1) to please others and (2) to be pleasing to others. So it’s basically a miracle that every work email I send is not a helter-skelter concatenation of apologies, exclamation points, lols, and smiley faces.
As I age, though, I’m trying harder and harder not to apologize just for (1) existing and (2) completing the functions outlined in my job description. But it’s hard to overwrite years of psychological conditioning. So now I’m at a point where I review each message carefully before I send it, and I usually end up editing out (and then re-adding, and then cutting again, and then sometimes compromising on) about five apologies a week. Based on my hourly rate, I would estimate that my company pays me nearly $200 every week to carefully consider my usage of the phrase “I’m sorry” via email.
This is a pretty short list, but it’s actually a prequel to a longer post I have in the works. So, please read this and know that it’s part of my larger manifesto on passive-aggressive emailing at work. (Trust me: I’ve spent the past eleven years of my life embedded in cubicle culture, like Jane Goodall amongst the chimps, and I can sling mud via Outlook with the bitchiest of primates.) Continue reading
I’m still honoring my work anniversary (in the U.S., this is traditionally a week-long celebration, like Kwanzaa or Kristen Stewart’s birthday). I know this comes across like so much sarcasm, but I’m now at a place in my career where I’m able to spend entire days dicking around on the Internet and writing posts for my personal blog — and my boss still thanks me for doing a great job!
Basically, I am the Peyton Manning of working in offices, but with 30% less forehead. Today, I’m going to share some words of wisdom that have helped me attain this lofty peak of mediocrity. Continue reading
My work anniversary is this week, and it’s the most melancholy of all anniversaries. It raises so many big questions: What am I still doing here? What am I doing with MY LIFE? Are these fuckers just going to give me a raise already, or are they seriously going to make me beg?
And speaking of “big questions,” which do you think is more pathetic: (a) buying lottery tickets with the sincere hope/desperate wish that you might one day manage to win your way out of this cubicle-dotted hellscape, or (b) finally giving up on that hope? JUST ASKING FOR A FRIEND. Continue reading