badness, humor, work

Haiku distraction: Theater = masturbation

If I wasn’t able to write Bitter Haikus during boring meetings, I would go a little crazy.  Unleashing my intolerance for time-wasting, self-congratulating, fat-cat council meetings is all that keeps me from misbehaving just to see what would happen.

I had a 12-hour day at Office Job starting at 830am this week, and ending at a meeting where the dean of the school of theater spoke.  She brought an undergraduate student from her school with her.  They were just so pleased with their school and its purpose.

ah, theater. I have so much to learn from you.

The dean seems to say,
“Without theater, we would
all just die.” Huh. ‘Kay.

She started off her lecture by showing a video about what the school does, and how it’s just the best.  Naturally, every dean believes their school is the best, and that all students should take at least one of their school’s classes.  This got under my skin because theater is… how you say?… ridiculous.  I’ve seen one of their productions, and I was not impressed.  She and her student kept emphasizing how, in the theater school, students could “discover themselves,” as if the school of philosophy wouldn’t offer similar self-realization with the added benefit of a degree with some academic merit.  Poppycock!  Poppycock, I say!

“Being an actor
makes you a smarter person.”
Or… just go to class.

That is a direct quote from the theater student.  He said that researching how to play different roles gave him a wide range of knowledge about all kinds of people, as if he couldn’t get that exact education with greater accuracy and depth by taking any non-theater class.  He used playing a doctor as an example.  I scoffed aloud as I clamped down on the urge to throw my hand up and ask if he thought taking pre-med classes would have made him even “smarter” than his preparation for the role.  What a load.

Holy shit, he just
almost cried.  Be a bigger
stereotype, kid.

Yep, he got choked up talking about how great the theater program is.  Then he made fun of himself for it, and called himself a stereotype.  And he was right.

Don’t let the timer
meant for members go off while
the dean speaks, genius.

The presidents of the council for which the meeting was held have decided to bribe the committees to keep their presentations short by timing them (somehow the presidents themselves escaped this indignity).  While the dean spoke, the timer went off, and continued beeping obnoxiously in the co-presidents bag right in front of the podium for a solid minute before they figured out what it was.

Don’t ask the actor
if he wants to talk.  He does.
He will.  Always.  Talk.

The dean finished answering questions, and she asked her student if had anything to add.  Sheesh.  What kind of question is that to ask an actor?  Of course he wants to add something!  “What’s that?  A microphone and a captive audience?  Why yes!  I do have something to add!”

The dean also said something that ruffled my feathers: “What we know about ancient civilizations, we know through their theater.”  Now, I double majored in Art History and Philosophy, so imagine how rewarding it feels to listen to someone at the university where I got my degrees tell me that I owe every piece of knowledge I learned at a non-theater school to the theater school.  What an ego.  And it’s weird because I like this woman.  She’s very grounded and smart, but apparently when she’s selling her school, she goes balls-to-the-wall crazy.

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goodness, humor, work

Haiku surprise!

Remember this post when described how I discovered first-hand that all-day meetings do, in fact, exist?  I just found the haikus I wrote during the last meeting that day.  I’m pretty pleased with them:

I write haikus to
keep myself awake sometimes.
This is one of them.

I needed to demonstrate to my new coworkers that I was creative, playful, and overall the kind of person they’d look forward to working with.  I had told them about this haiku entertainment strategy, so I needed something to ease them into it.  After that it just snowballed into a poetic storm of sass and topical comedy. (names changed for the sake of my precious anonymity)

Hey, Elizabeth.
Guess what I’ll do after this.
That’s right: ICE CREAM, BITCH.

if only they were all this adorable

At UCC, the
kids can major in drinking.
Drinky, drinky, drink.

The issue at hand was obviously the kids drinking habits.  College kids.  And the parents are apparently appalled at the amount they’re drinking and how easily they can get a drink.  This discussion continued for about five minutes before I felt the need to point out that the best way to keep your kids from blacking out every Thursday night was to make them feel so good about themselves while sober that they didn’t feel the need to get drunk to feel good.  I pointed out that this was the responsibility of the parents.  The reception to that comment was… mixed.

I just feel so sharp
in my little white sweater
and silver bull studs.

I wore the most “professional” clothing I owned that day so I would represent the office well at all the meetings.  I looked like quite the little executive.

"we just want our kids to grow up into their own happy, well-balanced, totally terrifying adult basking sharks."

The power couple
could sell me a live gator,
and call it a purse.

The head of this parents group at the time was this married couple who had more energy and enthusiasm about this group in their left pinkie toe than I have in my entire body about most things.  They’re a tough act to follow, and hypnotizing to watch.  Like a shark attack.

The purple lady
is inconsolable.  Pull
yourself together.

I don’t recall what it was about, but it must have been great to warrant it’s very own commemorative haiku.  Wait, is a haiku commemorative if it’s written as something happens instead of afterwards?  Crap.

Basketball event
basket ideas: tattoos,
botox, lip piercing.

This basketball event required baskets of donations to raffle off and make some money for the parents group.  Wine, sweets and sports memorabilia were popular items.  Not very exciting.  The event went off without a hitch though, and everyone loved their baskets.  But seriously, imagine how fast the botox basket would have reached its top value.

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humor, work

Arbeit

My first encounter with the concept of all-day meetings was when I was a kid, and my dad couldn’t pick us up from school because he would “be in meetings all day.” Little did I know he meant this literally.

I recently got a new part-time job at a great place with nice people and great benefits. The pay is good, the office is nice, I have my own desk and all the plants a girl could want to decorate it with. Overall, things are great there. Last month, my boss mentioned a few meetings she needed me to go to, one right after the other, which would last anywhere from around 1pm to around 9pm. A small part of me died. All-day meetings were very real, and I was about to experience them. Fuck.

What I’ve learned from all-day meetings:

Bring something to entertain your self with– It has to be something you can abandon immediately and often, something that will allow you to listen to what’s being said while you do it, basically something you can enjoy without looking like you’re not paying attention. Bringing a book is an instant fail (its mere presence implies anticipated boredom). Bringing a folded-up newspaper with the crossword on the outside is an instant fail. Cut that shit out of the newspaper and hide it with the rest of your crap.

If you forget your entertainment, remember: Your brain is amazing– I’ve never been caught in a situation where I was so bored out of my mind that I prayed for sweet death to end my suffering, mostly because I’ve always found some way to entertain myself. This usually involves writing haikus about the people in the room, or about how boredom might be a silent killer. I have the ability to have fun wherever I am, usually in total silence. It’s the kind of ability sociopaths and schizophrenics have, and it’s invaluable at all-day meetings.

Choose your seat carefully– Don’t sit in front of, or next to your boss. The ideal location for a boss to sit during one of these meetings is in front of you. That way they feel close enough to supervise you so they leave you alone, when really what’s happened is you’ve lulled them into a seat of false supervision that allows you to keep an eye on them so you know when to look alert. If they sit behind you, they’ll be watching every number you put down on that Sudoku puzzle you snuck in.
You also have to be careful which coworker you sit next to. Don’t sit next to Chatty Kathy; she’ll draw attention to you and make you seem like a slacker by association, even if you’re not engaging with her. Try to sit next to someone quiet but trustworthy; you don’t want to have to mow them down in the parking lot for ratting you out to the boss for drawing a unibrow on the founder’s face on that stupid brochure. You weren’t even paying attention when you did it, your hand acted on it’s own!

Take notes– Your boss will ask you what you thought of Ms. Ladypants’ idea about Scooty-blah. It doesn’t matter what you think, but you have to demonstrate that you were paying attention. Every time a slide changes, or a new speaker stands up, pay attention for a minute and write down some tidbit of information. Better yet, raise your hand and say something pertinent. It’ll help you stay awake, remember the topic, and frankly it’ll make the whole meeting more interesting.

Having said that, here are my notes from the last bout of meetings:
-“The next person to touch my back is going to pull back a bloody stump.” (the direct result of being two decades younger than everyone else in the room is that everyone feels like my mom or dad, or hits on me. The result of all of this is someone laying a hand on my shoulder or back when they pass by me or stop to talk. It’s gross. I pull away.)
-“I always feel weird saying “Gesuntheit’ to Jewish people.” (my Jewish coworker sneezed during the meeting. I felt awkward, and showed her this note. She laughed)

I don’t find all-day meetings to be all that much of a chore, to be honest. All you do is sit there and listen to people chat about… stuff. I can think of worse things to be roped into [see picture].

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