The PRM

Yesterday was the day of the dreaded Performance Review Meeting. The ominous face-to-face cross-examination starring my boss. I was immediately consumed by unpleasant visions of what was going to transpire – I’d sit there meekly looking holier than Jesus Himself while he picks me apart: you're always late, you chew with your mouth open and then burp loudly (btw that was ONE time), you definitely need to get some decent clothes and proper shoes and a new personality while you’re at it…in fact you are a disgrace to the respectable Sales profession, the only reason we keep you here is because you dad knows some people in some very high places…

He had scheduled half hour sessions the entire day to get through all of us. And I was first. Knowing my boss, there was no way he could tell me everything I'd done wrong in the last 6 months within the allotted 30 minutes. Plus throw in 5 extra minutes for the compulsory "encouraging words" like well, at least you do write neat. And I'd be like, thank you, you're much too kind.

As it happened, things were turning out exactly as I thought they would, 35 minutes had flown by and we were still stuck on item 1 of the 10-point PRM checklist. No other person this side of the milkyway can say so little with so many words. He just droned on and on and on… So...also...and…but...because...therefore... furthermore…When he’s done using up the world’s daily quota for the use of the word ‘furthermore’, he spices things up by throwing in an ‘additionally’. And when that’s been sufficiently abused, enter in ‘notwithstanding’. He is truly the personification of one endless sentence.

After a while I blocked it all out, nodding occasionally, trying hard not to stare at a huge flake of dandruff loosely hanging off a greying hair strand. Somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind I could faintly pick out some English words interspersed with what sounded like a cross between Gaelic and baby-speak: …blah blah bleur OBJECTIVES schmid schnum yakety yak GOALS blurg blub FURTHERMORE bloob hoob TOILET schmick schmuck schplick schmoon DEADLINES itsy bitsy moinch moinch ADDITIONALLY….

But then out of nowhere I distinctly hear the word PROMOTION. It takes a while to register, but suddenly my ears eagerly perk up. I realise the blurred smudge in front of me was actually my boss all along as his face snaps back into focus. I watch his mouth move, but this time I could actually hear the words as they came out. He is saying, "…we feel you deserve it, and you are one of the best I’ve worked with..."

Me?!?!
No. Freaking. Way.
This cannot be MY evaluation.
He just said he has confidence in me! That’s when I knew he has fallen off the deep end for sure. Yup, it’s official. My boss has gone stark raving mad.

I'm generally not one of those excitable types but I needed to keep my cool even though I was dying to hug him and place his face on my bosom while I knuckle-rub his head. But instead, I nodded calmly, cleared my throat and answered, "Oh, that’s nice. Thank you" in a kind of air that said, "damn straight I deserve it" but all the while thinking Holy Shit. Professional standards must have really dropped. In monetary terms, it doesn’t add up to much more, but still, the “Assistant” part of my job title has now been officially and permanently stricken off.
So there you have it. My first EVER promotion.
Weeeeeeeeeee!

**********************

Well, it’s 24 hours later.
The joy has worn off and I feel exactly the same as I did last week.
Nothing has changed. I still don’t think I’m cut out for this sales crap.
I was born a programmer.
Sooner or later, I’m going to have to face up to that fact.

Eye candy

This blog is so devoid of visual stimulation so... ta da!!!

ENJOY.

Don't ask me who these two are. Don't know, don't particularly care.
But me likes what they is do!

What do i need to do to find myself in similar circumstances?
I'm tired of living vicariously as others (YES YOU, not so much you) recount their sexual escapades.

Little kids read this:
Don't worry kiddies, its a game of Twister - new rules with elbows and knees - I swear! You just can't see the coloured spots from this angle...

Space

I moved out on Fri.
Since then i've been drowning with "friends" coming to "visit" who just wont fucking leave.
Like this dude camping out on my couch.
I mean it was great to have these guys around to drag in my furniture and stuff.
Thank you. Now go.
I've only had my crib for a couple hours but I already have crashers i cant get rid of.
Why am I so bloody nice??
Can't even masturbate in peace.
You know what..screw it.
I just need to go home now and tell him to get the fuck out of my house.

OUCH!!

So I woke up early this morning feeling sexy, feeling scorching HOTTT and wondering why everything smelt like roses on a warm spring day. Normally I would rummage through the pile of clothes on the floor in search of something that doesn’t smell like a putrefying corpse and complete the ensemble with my old but trusted pair of comfy sandals. As it happened, this morning I had a whole hour to prepare for work (1 whole freaking hour!) instead of the customary 20 minute desperate scramble because I over slept yet again.

I located my favourite short funky skirt, my only silk blouse and searched the pile of rubble under the bed for my sexiest piece of shoewear - the new lookatme! lookatme! brownish strappy stiletto I had purchased the other day. Spent more than two minutes on my hair, accessorised and dusted off my only lipstick and eyeliner before applying a generous quantity onto my neglected face. I looked absolutely stunning, if I dare say so myself. I felt stunning, and by gawd was I a sexy little thing and a half.

High-heeled shoes is something only a select few have ever seen on me, so yes, as expected, I did get a few raised eyebrows: "No I’m not seeing anyone. Nope, didn’t get laid recently either". From this promising start, I cannot tell you the precise moment I realised things were not quite working according to plan.

Could it have been the moment I found myself on all fours on the steps leading to my office? Or perhaps it was when broke the heel of one shoe stumbling over some rocks I swear were deliberately placed there to taunt me. Or possibly it was the moment I noticed my sexy gait had somehow transmogrified into a pain-induced stuttering limp.

Its only 11:30am and I'm on my way home to reconsider my footwear selection.

This one thing I know for sure: feeling sexy or not, I will never again be spotted within 5 miles anything above a 1-inch heel.

Spam

Is it just me or has blogger started getting copious amounts of spam these days? Its even more annoying because its a really bad attempt at sounding like a real post with their lame text...

"This is a really great site. Very enjoyable topic, good choice. I'll bookmark you and pop in once in a while. Please visit my website: instant credit approval".

Oh look, wow. He likes my topic. I think I'll go visit his site now. NOT.

Wishlist

Bear with me, but I have to play the poor miserable girl from Africa card. How else am I going to get what I want? So here goes:

I am a minority in at least a hundred different ways.
I'm possibly in a special subset of my own: I'm black, female, gay, agnostic (secular humanist) and a paraplegic geek. Ok, I’ll level with you; I’m not really paraplegic. I guess I should be grateful that I’m not handicapped physically or mentally, although my mental capacity is debatable. But with the all whining about unequal rights that goes around these days there MUST be something I could join the bitching posse and be outraged and up in arms about.

I should be walking around with a huge chip on my shoulder and I should be feeling marginalised, misrepresented, discriminated against, disempowered, disadvantaged, disenfranchised and a whole lot of dis-whathaveyous.

But I’ve been pretty fortunate in my life and I’ve had very little to complain about. I’ve never felt the sharp sting of rejection, never felt discriminated against because of the colour of my skin…I’ve accepted that in this part of the world queer folk will NEVER have the same rights as the heteros, or ANY rights for that matter, in fact we should feel really lucky if we are not shot on sight. So in that respect I don’t even feel discriminated against because it is a liberty I cannot even dare to dream about. There will always be things that about me that make my parents wonder where they went wrong. The universe will keep on bursting at the seams with people with tiny chicken brains with a limited scope of the world and its people.

Fortunately, I decided long ago [not to walk in anyone’s shadow…- Sorry, Whitney Houston moment there] that the only way for me to keep my sanity is to not let anything penetrate my tough exterior. So as it turns out I really don’t feel disadvantaged in any way. But for the sake of my wishlist, lets play pretend.

Lets pretend I have experienced some great social injustice.
Lets pretend I am deeply traumatised by the fact that I will never be allowed to get married, at least, not to another woman.
Lets pretend I’m outraged by the fact that I have to swear on a Bible I don't believe in if I ever have to testify.
Lets pretend that you care about any of this.

So I hereby present you with my wishlist - the worldly desires of a poor disadvantaged little girl woman from Africa. I can provide pictures of starving kids if that would help set the scene...
All I ask is that you empathize in cash or kind:
Cash

• Any amount you can spare, but I'm partial to bills. Big bills.

Kind

• Friends DVD - The One With All 10 Seasons
• L Word Season 1 and 2 DVDs – I have only ever seen one episode (the episode where Tina finds out that Bette cheated on her and they end up in some weird bitch fight/fucked up love session) and downloaded most of the teasers off sho.com.
• An all expense paid trip to watch Manchester United kick Chelsea’s ass in a premiership match.

See, I don’t ask for much.
I'm too lazy to go through the process of setting-up a paypal account.
It’s easy, but like I said I'm too lazy. But I'm still one step ahead of those with placards - I've got a Blog. Now, if that isn’t A for aeffort, I don’t know what is.
So if you want to donate let me know. It’s for a charitable cause...indoctrinating me in the exclusive world of dykes (thanks to the L Word DVDs you will graciously donate to my cause) and commiserating with me and my unique minority status.

Remember Karma - you reap what you sow (FYI - I believe Jesus may have said something similar).
(Breaking into song:)
So sow. Sow away.
And you'll reap great rewards one day.

3 things

This is not a me!me! It's a mini rant.

3 things that irritated me on the WWW today:

Crappy political blogs. Bush sucks. Yes. Now move on. I really don’t care what [insert dubious news source] said about [insert daft leftwing extremist], concerning the [insert exaggerated blown out of proportion something-gate 'scandal']. And since we're all retarded when you quote make sure it is indented, centred, italicised, wrapped in quotation marks and preceded by “And I quote:”, since that’s the only way we can tell it’s a quote.

The darn slow Internet. DHL will do a better job transporting my bytes around than my ISP.

The fact that I find celebrity gossip blogs like Go Fug Yourself extremely entertaining. Normally, I should tell them they need to stop being so mean and get on with their shallow lives, but I cant. Coz they are just too damn funny.

3 non-internet things that drove me up the wall:

My boss. With no warning he...I can't say it... *sob* *sniff* *puke in wastebasket*...he...he made us highlight all our personal calls when the phone bill came! I wouldn't have made so many non work-related international calls had I known he was going to go Boot Camp-y on us. Now I have this mega bill to pay that’s going to be deducted from my paycheck. Crap.

Someone please tell me why i drink black coffee? I hate it. I fucking hate it. It tastes like dissolved charcoal meets diesel fuel...um... I would imagine. I drink it strong and remain undeterred even when it's cold. Then I get up for a second cup. I do this religiously every morning. This pretty much sums up my life: I do stuff I don’t like. And I don't even know why. Like give that drooling jerkosaurus my phone number, or lend money when I know that as long as it's not raining Benjamins I will never see it again.

Harry Potter. Yet another person asked me if I’ve read the latest Harry installment. Harry who?? Holy Shit. People, please. Get out, get some air. Visit your local museum. Grow dandelions in your backyard, whatever, just please pick a new hobby.

3 things that made my day:

Nope. I racked my brain for ages, but I got nothin.

Home sweet home

I was out of my office for a ciggie break and some air (mutually exclusive?) when this mailman who had come in to drop a parcel proceeded to lecture me on the hazards of smoking. Smoking is bad for your health??? No kidding! This is news to me. He just kept spinning that same old scratched CD about how it’s affecting my ability to procreate and who will want to marry me then…

Dude. That’s rich coming from you. Pick your belly off the floor or at least buy a shirt big enough to cover it and wobble back to your undersized scooter. I will quit…one day. But let me worry about the kids I will never have. You are proud of your good health? I’m sorry to burst your bubble but those varicose veins aren’t going to get you past fifty either. Now lay off the beer, give your tiny scooter to your son and go save some other poor sod.

In other news...
Its been a long time coming but I'm FINALLY moving out from my Aunt's place this weekend (yay!!). I've been fixing up the apartment for the last week and spending my time browsing the web for interior decoration tips, devouring articles with titles like "how to make a small apartment feel like home". Everyone is avoiding me these days coz right now I'm all about couches, paint and curtains. From talking about dog food I guarantee we will end up discussing just how shabby "shabby-chic" is or the most effective techniques to create an illusion of space. I can't count the number of times i have stopped in mid sentence because I noticed something that gave me an interesting decorating idea, or taking a moment to feel the fabric on the couch.
A little while ago my aunt's hubby walked in after work with a book he had seen and immediately thought of me: "How to choose a colour scheme". As soon as he dangled it infront of my face tantalisingly, I yelped with joy and nearly pissed my pants in anticpation.

Clearly, I just can't wait to pick up that stick with my little bundle of clothes attached to the end, throw it over my shoulder and head out into the sunset.
Goodbye squeaking bunkbed!
Away with the mould-ridden suitcase I've been living out of.
Away with the cute but extremely annoying little monsters cousins.
My space. My room. My TV remote.
My orgy(-ies) on MY couch. And you're all invited.

Free advice (donations always welcome though): After that debacle with a certain bathroom cabinet i was trying to assemble but thanks to my wayward hammering right now all I have to show for it is pile of unusable plywood, take it from me: DIY is waaay overrated.