"Died and went to heaven"
People think bliss is 20 years old, White and blonde; or maybe that bliss is having beaucoup bucks, a fast car and a hot lover. While I wouldn't argue with the hot lover being a big plus, I beg to differ with any of that as a bliss definition. In fact, I would know, since I have recently died and gone to heaven.
I can give you a map reference for heaven, by the way. It's about half-a-football-field's distance from where I used to sit in the phone bank.
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"The Fried Egg Org Chart"I just can't. I mean, I look at org charts and my brain goes all white noise. On the first sheet of paper, you've got the top level - the Big Kahuna. Then you have the Mini Me Kahunas under him (it's usually a "him", let's be honest). And then you have at least three or four more sheets of paper with the people who report to the people who report to the people who report to the people! By the time you've gotten anywhere, you're already done. Or should I say I'm already done. I just can't use them to understand things, especially if everyone is listed as a title that I don't even understand! See, my new job is in the Learning Department. That's not the official name, but it'll do for now. And under that department are three other departments which relate to one another, but they are so closely intertwined, it's just impossible to "get it" in the three weeks I've been there! I gotta tell you, when I'm looking at this collection of departments, and people with all kinds of titles, and I don't know who they are yet and I don't yet know what they do...it's beyond daunting, it's laughable. But I've been keeping up by studying those damn org charts. At least, that's what I was doing until about three days ago. Every day for two weeks, I tried looking at the org chart, and matching the people up with my notes from meetings I've had with a lot of them. I was trying to put the puzzle pieces together. Bits and pieces started to fall into place, but I still felt like I was running along behind everyone like a dog behind a vanishing car. I had to do something. "Maybe it's the whining...!"Talking to Mrs. B was the closest thing I could imagine talking to my mother would be like, if she were still on the planet. Hilarious, Bronx accent, laughter. So much ahhhhhhhh. Imagine the Bronx accent - because there's really nothing better - as we talked about New York, and about my endless fascination with and adoration of all kinds of accents, but particularly New York accents. She now lives on Long Island, does Mrs. B - or LawngAI-lnd if you're pronouncing it correctly? - and she was hilarious talking about how people can't seem to connect there, but she forces the issue every single day. A woman after my own heart. Mrs. B: "We aw whacked out heah! So crazy!" Me: [laughing] Whacked? Mrs. B: "Oh yeah! We think we'ah so speshl! Nevah occurs to-wus thaat theah moyt be uthah ways t'live. Sew separated!" (All I can think of is Joey on Friends saying, "This is whack!"i) But it was accents we were on. |
AuthorWorking in Sales at a Call Center for one of the biggest stores in the country should come with hazard pay. Archives
December 2019
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