I’m A Professional.

So, I have a job that pays me moneys. In fact, and I know this is going to be almost impossible to believe, I am the boss of people. The boss of people.

Let that sink in.

On a recent conference call, I had a client say this:

“It’s like this, our platform is pushing into Facebook from behind and then their platform is pulling out on top of Facebook.”

And then I had to mute the line because I was laughing so hard.

I am a professional who is the boss of people. But, I’m still me.


What’s The Protocol For This?

Cat Fart

Picture it: You’re sitting in a moderately full meeting room in the middle of a very long and discussion heavy meeting. Every one in that room needs to be there. The man sitting next to you (a man in a very prominent position) is passing gas like it is going to produce vast amounts of money. His flatulence smells like what you image zombie’s decaying flesh to smell like only slightly more hellacious. What do you do?

I’ll tell you what I did. I sat through that entire 3 hour meeting and didn’t say a thing even though I was almost gagging by the end of it. It was one of the most uncomfortable things I’ve ever had to sit through. Usually, when someone is farting up a storm, you can leave the room or roll down a window or something, but when you’re in a meeting? What’s a girl with a very strong sense of smell to do?  I mean, he should have excused himself, right? Or should I have offered him some pepto bismol and acknowledged his nasty farting problem? Listen, everyone farts, even Oprah, and that doesn’t really bother me but if you’re passing the silent but deadly variety in a closed space, I think you should at least try everything you can to remedy the problem. I realize calling attention to it would have embarrassed him, which is why I didn’t say anything, but it seems like there should have been some solution other than me choking on his fart smell.

I don’t know. You guys tell me, what’s the protocol on something like this?

I’m Probably Going To Get A Promotion.

Thumbs Up

I had a smashing day at work yesterday. Literally. I actually got smashed by the front door of the office. It was a very proud moment for me. I mean, I wasn’t even trying to get smashed- it was like fate knew how incredibly stellar I would look to everyone at the front desk when I couldn’t even manage to get through the front door without making a fool of myself- so fate took over and made the wind blow really hard just as I was about to step through the door and the door just couldn’t resist the wind so it slammed shut and wedged me between the door and the door jam. And of course, to make me look extra super good, fate made the wind continue to blow so I had a very difficult time pushing the door off of me and just sort of wiggled around until I finally managed to free myself. Classic. So incredibly proud of how professional and competent I looked.

Oh, but wait. Fate wasn’t done making me look incredibly awesome.

I  ran into the CEO of my client’s company in the kitchen while I was making tea. He started chatting with me and asking me about some new programs. I was so distracted I filled my cup too full and then twisted the lid on. Scalding water started pouring out of one side of the cup, down my hand and arm, and on my shirt. Hoping to play it off I just twisted the cup a bit so that the side that wasn’t spilling was facing him and just acted like nothing out of the ordinary was going on. Sure, it burned. It burned badly, but did I let a little thing like burning skin stop me from finishing my conversation with my client? No way. I’m a professional. And sure, on retrospect, I realize he probably  knew I was spilling hot tea all over myself, but I can’t help but think he was mighty impressed with how I didn’t let that distract me from the conversation. Or you know, maybe he just thinks I’m a spaz.

Thank you fate/bad luck/bad juju/whatever the kids are calling you these days. You really helped me look competent to hold employment between the getting stuck in the door incident and the scalding hot tea spilling incident. Quality work, my friend. I’m probably going to get a promotion.

(This is when I need a sarcasm tag)