Tess McGill Moment

Day one of my new gig. Here’s the view from my office.

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I almost broke out into my favorite Carly Simon song, the one from “Working Girl”. The one I think about every time I see the Staten Island Ferry cause I’m a dork. Anyway all went well and I didn’t get fired. The commute wasn’t that bad and my family did just fine back home. 

On the other hand, I’m exhausted. So I’ll keep this short and sweet. Gotta get up tomorrow and do it again!

Please stay tuned.

oh hi. It’s me. Remember? Did ya even notice I wasn’t writing for a bit? Like a long bit?

I had some technical issues. Technically I decided to spend all my free time sleeping instead of writing this blog.

In defense of me, I have been sick.  Is it a cold? Allergies? Who knows, and I’m certainly not going to a doctor to find out.   To add to the fun, life has been a tailspin of activity.

But things are slowly unwinding. School is almost over. All major religious rights-of-passage celebrations have come to an end (for now).  Work is still insane, but lately it’s taken a turn for interesting, which makes me less likely to daydream about being a coal miner (seriously. have you ever thought about it? Aside from the life threatening aspect – it sounds perfect. Solitary. repetitive. One singular goal. No need to shower in the morning. That’s my kinda job).

May was a blur, but it’s June 1st. Time to get back on the blogging horse.  I can’t make any promises, I have to be honest. I’ve enjoyed sleeping.

Here’s some random pictures that could and should have been blog posts but I was in deep REM mode instead.

This post would have been titled: 17 years of marriage yo!  See, child brides do make it work sometimes.

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I would have called this post: I-know-you’re-obsessed-with-karate-and-doing-a-perfect-split-but-I’d-really-like-grandkids-someday-so-please-be-careful

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The below photo was taken by my girl at a concert that she’d  been waiting to go to for months. All her favorite bands were going to be there. It started at 1pm in an outdoor venue by the water. The day before the concert we found out that all the bands that she wanted to hear weren’t even coming on until 9pm. On a Sunday night. And the concert wouldn’t end until closer to 11:30pm. On a Sunday night. What happened next cleanly, swiftly and neatly explains how different my husband and I are, not just in parenting, but also down to our core.

When she told us her sad tale, my reaction was,” bummer. guess you’ll be missing all those bands since we’ll be picking you up at 7.”  My husband’s reaction was,” ok. So I’ll buy a ticket and go to the concert with you so you don’t have to miss those bands.”  WTF?

This post would have been called – Lucky Duck

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The Lunch Table

This picture is circa 2000.
I had just gotten a job at a Fortune 500 in NYC. After two years of being at home with my baby, I was back at work as an event planner and loving it. Technically I wasn’t a planner until a year later – in the beginning I was an admin.
An admin to an insane, crazy, brilliant woman who ran our group. The woman who gave me a 45 minute lecture on using colored folders instead of beige folders (the colors distracted her as she walked by my cube). The woman who called me from the Tarmac while boarding a flight to tell me she doesn’t like prop planes and why hadn’t I known that and I better fix it ASAP (I couldn’t because there were only prop planes flying to this part of Colorado. I had offered to book her a car the day before when I warned her about this but she hadn’t been listening, something about researching the perfect toilet – no joke).
But all those moments that would have driven me to quit turned into funny stories we shared. Funny war stories at the lunch table.
We worked really really hard. Almost 24/7. Weekends. Holidays. For no money. It was rough.
But every day, we had lunch together – the whole group. There are a few ladies missing from this pic but this was the core group. We also had a Swiss National and a Brit.
We bitched, we ranted, we raved, but most of all – we laughed.
This restaurant lunch was a rarity. Almost all lunches were either in the cafeteria or at a table on our floor.
No one from other groups ever joined – probably because they weren’t invited. This was anti-networking. This was cocooning.
The majority of the lunch was used to make fun of each other. And there was plenty of material. Marriages, weirdo eating habits, childhood traumas – all ripe for the picking. We left our egos in our cube. Belly laughter ensued.
Then we’d go back to working our asses off.
There were weddings, babies, break-ups, promotions, and more.
The crazy boss lady left. And shockingly, in hindsight, I would miss her. Aside from the batshit crazy episodes, I learned a lot from her. And from all those ladies.
It was and continues to be the best job I ever had.

(not sure why I have glasses on? contact lense malfunction that morning?)

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Beatings Will Continue Until Morale Improves

I love that quote. One of my favorite co-workers, friend, and contributor to WMEP has a mug on her desk with that saying. I spontaneously think of this quote several times a day.  It makes me smile and it keeps me from walking into traffic.

I won’t complain about work – because it’s so cliché and ridiculous. Yes it’s stressful. Yes it’s the opposite of efficient, collaborative and smart. But it’s just work.  Your job sucks too right? Don’t answer that.

(this is more like me thinking out loud than a post. but you knew that)

 

 

 

The green is always grasser

Back in 1991 when I started dating my husband, he wasn’t the chipper, happy-go-lucky guy he is today…haha

Forget glass half-full/half-empty.  He didn’t even have a glass.  “Suck it up” was and is his mantra, his motto.  That and “I hate people”.

For the most part, I’m pretty optimistic.  Next to him – I’m little miss sunshine.

When I graduated college I thought I’d instantly find the job of my dreams.  I had a degree with my spankin’ double majors – English and Religion – to lean on.  I’d done some really cool internships, worked in the alumni office since my Freshman year – and let’s not forget how beloved I was by all my professors.  I would find success.

I was wrong.  I ended up working several less than stellar jobs where I basically did the following:

  • got breakfast and lunch every day for the CEO of the company (it was a 2 person operation, me and him) – he wouldn’t even let me answer the phone.  I spent most days there filing papers in a drawer.  There wasn’t even a radio to keep me company.
  • worked at a big ad agency in a fancy building where they did let me answer the phone – and then yelled at me non-stop for answering it wrong
  • worked in the admissions office at a private nursery school in NY.  I spent my days weeding out applications from 3 year olds who didn’t make the cut – and then calling their stressed out parents and killing dreams. The kid cried. The parents cried. I cried.  Everyone was always crying.

I know, I know.  These are uptown problems (as Chris Rock would say).  I wasn’t mining coal or laying railroad tracks – but I was miserable.

After a few months of jumping from one job to another – and hating each one – I was done.  I was pissed.  I was convinced that every single person in the city was doing better than me. Where was my shiny career?

That’s when my man, the grumpiest person alive, sat me down for some words of wisdom and optimism. He said in his most non-growl voice, “the green is always grasser.”  I laughed.  He didn’t. He was completely serious. It was perfectly imperfect advice. I use it almost daily.  Almost.

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