The Workless Work Week
I’m tired. I’m sporting numerous moving aches and pains, along with a sore shoulder thanks to an uncooperative tent. The other aches and pains are making me suspect Lyme disease. Given that the deer from the park live in our backyard more than their own, it’s almost a sure bet. Three weeks ago, I picked yet another deer tick off me.
This is not the week for needing to get work done, either. Thanks to the original G Dub and his gangstas back in 1776, I won’t reach any of my necessary interview contacts this week. So, while I wait for return calls that just aren’t coming, I decided to make a list of peeves. Please join me:
I can’t stand:
1. People who type “hee hee.” I mean, really. Do you honestly giggle like that? It’s goofy to the point of sounding moronic. Try “LOL” instead. Or nothing. How about nothing? Make your words express the emotion. Leave the giggling to four year olds.
2. Clients who take offense. Look, we’re professionals. Supposedly, so are you. If we ask for something you’re not expecting, the proper response is not to get huffy or express your hurt. Hear the request. Respond to it based on whether you can accommodate or not. Keep your emotions out of it. There’s no room for emotions in business.
3. People who walk through a doorway or reach the top of the escalator and stop to decide which way to go. Hey! Don’t be so oblivious! Believe it or not, other people exist and are piling up behind you. Step to one side and make up your mind on your own time.
4. Bureacracy. I loathe the “I can’t because it’s not our policy” answer. It’s a bullshit answer designed to insult customers and clients everywhere. Thanks very much to a certain college in Massachusetts that has yet to send my kid any notice of acceptance/rejection for her November 2006 application. And thanks for “investigating” when I asked for a refund of our application fee and concluding that it was our fault. If you received her application, which was mailed in the same envelope with the transcripts, how could you not have received them? Know what? I’m glad she’s not going there now. I can’t imagine having to work with a school that bureaucratic in its response to a complaint.
5. Promises that aren’t kept. I’m still waiting for the weatherstripping for my then-new 1983 Chevy Chevette. The dealer said it would be in within six weeks. It’s now a different millenium. I’m guessing they forgot to call. Oh, and thanks to the folks and my kid’s college orientation for that fabulous continental breakfast provided to the parents. Only, you didn’t tell me on which continent I could find that for I never found even a hint of a donut or a whiff of coffee. Perhaps Juan Valdez was hosting?
6. Repair people who show up somewhere between 8 a.m. and 5 p.m. Okay, could you narrow that down just a little? I mean, I know the minute I close that bathroom door, you’re showing up. I know if I dash to the bank, you’re pulling up as I pull away. I know the minute I’m on the phone with a client, that door bell is ringing. Please. You know when you’ll be here. It’s not a great unsolved mystery. I’ll gladly accommodate you if you can give me a smaller window. I can’t hold it for eight hours. I just can’t.
7. Hershey moving its chocolate plant to Mexico. The only reason I buy it is because it’s made here at home. If it goes elsewhere, no thanks.
What’s bugging you lately?
Uh, oh… I’m guilty of the “hee hee” tagline. Never having been a fan of “LOL”, I couldn’t think of anything more creative. Hey, let’s invent something new! How about gfaw or NLM (nose leaking milk)?
To answer your wonderful post, the things bugging me are:
1) People who act “impressed” that you freelance write, then turn around and expect you to drop everything for them because you “can work anytime.” (Tell that to my damn muse who has been taking vacations without asking me first!)
2) Turning 35 and realizing that, as a female in our western society, you’re never likely to be considered “sexy” again. No matter what, your wrinkles will be a dead giveaway that you’re aging. Guys become “distinguished”; gals become “hags.”
3) Parents who assume that because you have a child, you won’t mind watching their hell-raisers (gratis, of course.) I mean, come on… I love my son. He’s awesome. But that doesn’t mean I want to babysit the preschool equivalent of Jack the Ripper.
Thanks for letting me rant! Back to writing!
Angelique
Angelique, you could not possibly be a hag at only 35! Despite feeling crappy today, I feel fabulous at (mumble harumph)!