Woo Hoo and Thanks Y'all

The beginning of the weekend was full of pomp and circumstance and filled with words like processional, recessional, conferral, commencement, invocation and benediction. I’ve heard these words before but was never really part of anything so large.

The Gold Key Ceremony was last night. EN was working, so the girls and I attended with my parents. The gold key was not the Tiffany jewelry of my dreams, but it was pretty cool to be one of the elite. My GPA seems paltry in comparison with all the 4.0s that I heard about. Snorting Girl made the good point that I really don’t want to be part of anything that “ends in zero.” The faculty of the college spoke about many students that had overcome great odds, or done exceptionally well but the most emotional moment for me was being part of the recessional. We followed the faculty and once we entered the hallway, they stopped to either side and applauded the graduates. I nearly cried.

I tried to explain to the girls that I was getting a prize for getting really good grades. Sugar seemed to understand, but it was obvious that Spice did not. After the ceremony she told me that I walked across the stage better than anyone else. Not exactly the point of the evening, but I’ll take it.

Sadly, the girls had a hard time finding me in that crowd, so I realized that they’d never find me today. I noticed that another graduate had a decorated cap, so I realized I needed to do that too. After tucking the chicks in last night, I bedazzled my cap and texted a former classmate who was also graduating to see if she wanted to be bedazzled too. Thank God for all my scrapbooking tools, rhinestones and flowers.

After collecting our graduation cards and exchanging my black tassel for gold, I finally met up with my former classmate. It’s hard when taking online classes to bond with anyone. Patti and I shared a class a year ago and bonded over a comment I made about adopting soldiers. We’ve kept in touch here and there regarding other classes, jobs, and graduation. It’s thanks to Patti for reminding me that graduates needed to be at the venue an hour early today. I would have been late. Therefore, I owed her a bedazzled cap. We finally found each other after panicking a bit, we’re both short and the crowd was huge. We hugged and ran outside where I decorated her hat and we helped each other with our caps, robes, cords and shawl-thing. We were both pleased with the way we looked, our bangs were perfect and we marched off happily.

My bedazzled cap. 

Patti's cap. We weren't really playing with our phones
when we should have been paying attention. It only
appears that way. 

We came across some woman with a way-cool cap and we complimented her on it. She told us that with a little more work, we could have one like hers. I might have suggested beating her up and taking her hat. She told us that our caps were nicely decorated but were on wrong, she pushed our bangs around (damn it!) and fixed us up. We later realized this woman was the Senior Vice President of Student Affairs. I need to be more careful when I threaten to beat someone up.

Finally it was time and we walked into a packed arena. There’s an indescribable feeling that comes over you when you walk into a place with 8,000 people cheering. It takes your breath away. The music, prayers and speeches that followed were tremendous. And thing were even better because, in a crowd of 1,600 graduates, I had a friend sitting next to me. We laughed and joked and told each other more about ourselves. Had I not been with her, I would have been lonely in a crowd of nearly 10,000. Spending these hours together today has bonded us. When I think of this day, I will remember spending it with my dear friend Patti from Holland.

We collected our empty leather folders that we will use to display our degrees, listened to a few more people talk then took part in the recessional. I looked at my friend and said, “Well, I guess it really is over.” She said maybe we should go for our Masters degrees and I asked her when she wanted to start. We agree that we need to find employers to pay for our educations first.

It was a fun day and I was glad that I had a cap that made me easy to find. Every time I turned around to wave at my family, at least one person noticed and waved back. I may have been just one little fish in a sea of graduates today, but it felt damn good to see my name with three stars and to hear my name announced with summa cum laude after it.

An event that I am part of would not be complete without a little drama. I met up with my family at the front of the arena and of course my dad is wearing crankypants. He bitched about the price of parking, then gave attitude to anyone who dared walk in the path of his picture taking. Lets all be sunshiny and happy for just a few minutes, ok?

And so it ends. I find myself feeling a bit hungover as the adrenaline and excitement have left, but I look forward to the Next Big Thing, whatever that might be.


xoxo
Ice Princess

Sarah Smiles

I finished my classes in December and thought I felt done then. Tonight is the honors ceremony and tomorrow I will walk in the official graduation. I will collect my diploma in the place where we have gone to see hockey games and concerts. For the few seconds it takes to walk across the stage, I will be proud of me. I took on a challenge and I completed the task.

I started this journey by calling the school one random day and speaking with Sarah. I told her my background and said I wanted to take a few business classes to earn a second Associate’s Degree. She said, “Why not go for a Bachelors instead?” I tried to argue that it would take too long and she said, “What’s another year?” And so began my quest for the degree I always wanted, and my relationship with Sarah.

Sarah was my advisor. She was supposed to figure out what classes I needed to take and when. Basically, she was my tour guide on this crazy adventure I signed myself up for. However, our relationship quickly became more than just a student/advisor one and now I’m proud to call her my friend as well.

She says I didn’t, but I think I drove her crazy. I would email her to sign me up for classes rather than sign up for them myself. I would email and ask for recommendations about different professors. I would email to complain about shit assignments, group projects and hard classes. Through it all, she listened, offered advice and told me about tutoring sessions-the only way I made it through Statistics! My greatest complaint was about a terrible professor. I bitched endlessly and she encouraged me to try to stick with it. Professor Fok was an ass and I finally emailed her and said, “He’s a real fok. Remove me from the class.” I ended up taking the term off and taking the class with a man who would end up being one of my favorite professors.

Somehow, our emails started getting more personal. She told me about her life, I told her about mine. We shared a love of books and writing and words. We both hate the word “syllabi” and would type it in all capital letters when we had to use it. I complained about people in my classes that used words like thusly and irregardless in their posts. We are in college and those are not real words. Let’s try to sound educated here, folks.

She has introduced me to many authors I would never have read. She recommended classes that I tried to hate but ended up loving. But most of all, she laughed at my rants and kept me sane when I was about to go over the edge and quit. Without actually coming out and saying so, the message between the lines of her emails was always, “Suck it up, cupcake.” Her support kept me engaged and my ADD (self diagnosed, of course!) in check for well over two years.

My relationship with Sarah has been mostly electronic. We email daily and have spoken on the phone a few times. Last summer (or maybe the summer before? I’m getting old and time is all running together!) I asked her if we could meet for lunch and we planned a date. The first thing that struck me about Sarah is that she has a gorgeous smile. Now every time I hear the song “Sarah Smiles” I think of her. I realize it’s a love song, and that’s certainly not how I think of her, but I think of her smile lighting up her whole face.

The second thing that struck me was the way she gives a hug. She stops completely and gives a warm, heartfelt hug. It’s not a little pat-pat on the back, she hugs you like she means it. You feel, when you meet her, that she genuinely cares about you.

During lunch she shared with me that she was leaving her position as an Online Advisor, and would start working with regular students. I was devastated to have my tour guide leave, but as always there was an upside. We could now be friends on Facebook! Yay!

She was no longer my advisor, but that didn’t stop me from complaining to her about school. She never once said that she didn’t have to listen to me bitch anymore and continued to offer assistance when she could. She’s read many of my speeches and papers and encouraged me all along to start a blog.

As much as she was part of my journey, she invited me into her life as well. I heard about the many weddings she’s gone to, her trips, her family, the excitement of her sister getting married, the sadness of her mother-in-law’s recent diagnosis. What started off as a relationship based on my education has morphed into a relationship based on how much we enjoy hearing from one another.

And we both still hate the word syllabi, though I may never have to say or use it again. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

TV Dinners

You’ve got to be pretty old to know what TV Dinners are. They are now called Frozen Meals. My mother was a freak about family dinner (gee, I’ve never blogged that before). We’d eat every day at 5:30 and it would be homemade food. Nothing from a box or jar. Granted, we had easy stuff like tacos once a week, but there was never boxed mac and cheese, or spaghetti sauce from a jar. On special occasions, we were allowed to have TV Dinners. I can still hear her saying, “Do you know what kind of shit is in there?” But we adored those meals. And we'd burn our mouths on that dessert every time. 

Good old fashioned TV Dinner.
Who didn't eat the dessert first? 

Modern-day frozen meal. YAY

My personal favorite was a Morton’s Chicken Pot Pie. I remember taking that frozen rock out of the freezer and cooking it in the oven for an hour. But I never lasted that hour. I’d pull that sucker out early and dig in, the bottom was usually still cold. But oh, that pastry, the gravy, even the vegetables. I always put the meat aside for the dog though. Mostly because my mother had once worked in a factory that cut up the bits of chicken for canned soup and would tell us, “You know what kind of shit meat they use?” I avoid the meat in most processed foods just having heard that all my life.

My beloved Chicken Pot Pie. Notice they've changed the
wording on the packaging. 

I can remember my mother going away to visit her mother. My sister and I were left alone with my dad. We’d drop her off at the train station and hit the commissary. It felt like we wandered those aisles for hours and we bought all the things she wouldn’t let us eat: Spam, Tuna Helper, Hamburger Helper, Chef Boyardee, an entire BAG of individually wrapped pieces of grape-flavored Bubble Yum. Then we’d have serious discussions about what we were going to eat first. The only meal I remember specifically was the Tuna Helper. And it’s not the meal I remember, it’s the after-effects. I don’t know if there was something wrong with the way my dad cooked it, or if our delicate constitutions weren’t used to all those preservatives, but we all got sick. All three of us… living in military housing with only one bathroom. It wasn’t pretty. None of us have ever again eaten Tuna Helper. Nor have we gorged to that extent. I do however, invite my dad over for fish sticks when my mother is traveling. We weren’t ever allowed to have those either.

It’s surprising then, that I have decided to follow my doctor’s advice and rely on frozen meals (that’s what we call TV Dinners now!) so that I can better track my caloric intake. For the last week and a half, I’ve been having one of these meals for lunch and sometimes one for dinner too. Since I am the world’s pickiest eater, it’s slim pickins’ on food choices. I won’t eat anything considered meat, like the chicken or turkey, but Salisbury Steak and meatloaf are ok, because that’s shit meat ground up to be processed looking. If I were to open up a box of Chicken Pecan, I would expect a gourmetish meal with decent meat. Instead you get a rubber slab disguised with some kind of sauce. When I eat the meat loaf, my expectations are met.

Then there’s the other foods I won’t eat. I don’t eat cheese, so there goes 90% of the frozen meals right there. They put cheese on EVERRYTHING to fool people into believing the meal has taste. They put cheese on Butternut Ravioli and even salmon. I would never ever desecrate a piece of salmon with cheese. Just ain’t right. I don’t like many green vegetables either, but when you limit your caloric intake to this extent, you will be so hungry that you will chow down on those frozen-then-microwaved green beans like they are bon bons.

Stop reading now if you already think I’m a princess bitch and mean to EN, this will seal the deal for you. He still does the grocery shopping and I have added these meals to the weekly list. Because he is patient and kind, he will spend all kinds of time reading ingredients and trying to choose a variety of frozen meals for me. We text back and forth and he sends me different options and I’ll either give a thumbs up or “That’s fucking bogus. Do you really think I’d eat that?” I’m beginning to think he has a secret deal with the grocery store. He’s probably in the frozen food aisle, sitting in a lawn chair drinking beers while we do this.

But the news is good. I was down nearly four pounds last week and this week is looking good too. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

My Best Girl

My best girl is having surgery today. She’s been a friend for ¾ of my life, even though we have spent the bulk of our friendship 1000+ miles away from each other. Maybe the distance is what keeps us friends! I have been nervous and wondering all day, but her brother-in-law recently told me via Facebook that everything went well. I am so relieved.

I thought that I had blogged about Shannon many times, but can’t seem to find anything but details from her 40^th birthday party in December. Maybe I missed it, maybe I just wrote the post in my head and never posted it. Or maybe I’m going to say the same things all over again and bore you to death with the same details.

I met Shannon when we moved to Omaha near the end of 5^th grade. She was sitting right next to where the teacher had placed a chair for the new girl. Shannon was sweet and friendly and started to chat immediately. We’ve been friends since that day. I cannot remember ever having a serious fight with her that lasted more than a few minutes. We spent lots of time together, a sleepover with us never lasted one night. We’d spend days together, switching back and forth between our houses. My parents loved her and her parents loved me.

Our houses were quite different. I came from a family with a mom that either stayed at home or worked part time. Her mom worked full time. At my house, we’d have home-cooked dinners, her parents always took us out to eat. We always hung around at my house or at the pool in my neighborhood. At her house, we’d go boating and I once even went on vacation with them. We played Barbie’s long after it was cool to do so and we’d spend hours reading teen romance novels.

Neither one of us were the popular type, but we weren’t the bottom of the barrel either. Something that we discuss to this day is how she was treated when she got on the school bus every day. Her bus was one of the last stops and though there was plenty of space available, no one would ever let her sit with them. We discuss this often because it still bothers her that she was treated so badly. What bothers me is that I was on that bus. Why the hell did I never stand up for her? Why didn’t I ever push whoever was sitting with me out of the seat and let my girl sit with me? What’s most interesting, is that we both remember these incidents, they happened daily after all… she’s still angry about how she was treated and I’m sad that I never did anything for her. But she holds no grudge towards me, nor can she ever remember being angry that I didn’t offer her a seat. If I could go back all those years, I would certainly grow a backbone, if only so she’d have better memories of that time.

I moved after we had been friends for 3 ½ years. You would think that we wouldn’t have stayed in touch, especially knowing how different we were becoming. I was starting to dress like a “rocker chick” and hang out with the long hairs. She loved music also, but was part of the school band. It’s ok, you can think it out loud, she was a band geek. I remind her of that all the time.

Here we sit at 40. I attended both of her weddings, she attended both of mine. We gave birth to our second daughters within months of each other, something we probably dreamed of doing when we were little.

Since we live so far apart, we rely on husbands who are ok with us occasionally going on girls’ weekends together. We did this for the first time when we were 19 and both dating our first husbands. We went to the Bahamas for a week. The natives there called us “Blondie and Rosie” and I still bring up her getting stuck on the elevator and having to get pulled out. Every time I mention it, she tries to snap, “It wasn’t funny.” And I tell her, “You’re right! It was fucking hilarious!” Next came the get together’s for our weddings and things quieted down for a while between us as we adjusted to being old married ladies.

Suddenly I found myself going through a divorce within months of her having a baby. I figured it was a blissful time for her and why bother her with my news. She called me in February 1997 to say, “I might be getting divorced.” I said, “Holy shit! I’m definitely getting divorced.” However upbeat my friend sounded, I knew things were tough. She was living back at her parents’ with her infant son. I flew out to be with her the following week. As it always happens, being with her is like wearing a glove that fits perfectly. We talk, we laugh, we shop. Except this time, Shannon cried. Shannon doesn’t cry, EVER and I didn’t know what to do with her. Now we talk about that day and I say, “That one time you cried…”

Fast forward and we’re traveling to each other’s second weddings and introducing our new husbands to each other. The next few years are filled with many phone conversations but not a lot of visits. We finally got to see each other again in 2008 when we went to Nashville together. It was fate that the trip would go perfectly: we flew in from different areas, but our gates were right next to each other and our flights arrived within minutes of each other. We took off in our piece of shit rental car without a map, much to her husband’s horror. We found our way and had a blast. We spent one night in, the other night out. We went to the Wildhorse Saloon and saw a fun band. To Shannon’s horror, I told the singer he was smokin’ hot on our way out the door. I try her patience endlessly.

Shannon was born with an illness (or is it a disease or syndrome?) that gave her a bad heart. She’s frequently out of breath and tired, but I never hear her complain. She amazes me every day with her strength and beauty. She’s a great mom and such a hard worker. I’m amazed when I hear how bad things are with her health because she does so much. And seriously, I challenge anyone to shop with her. Bad heart or not, the girl kicks my ass every time.

So today, they replaced a valve and repaired her aorta. I tried to fly out to be with her, but she asked me not to… mostly because she didn’t want to “waste” a visit while recovering. Instead, I spent the morning worrying about her surgery and wondering what I should send her as a get well gift. Flowers are first on my mind, but won’t she get those from lots of people?

Finally, I hit on the perfect idea… I spent time on Amazon and found lots of our old favorite books. I ordered a bunch for her. I also headed to the local used book place and found some old Judy Blume and a Sweet Valley High. Included in her shipment is a copy of “Firefly Lane” by Kristin Hannah, because that is truly the greatest friendship book ever written.

The books will be sent to me and of course I’ll have to reread them quickly before sending them on. In my own defense, I need to refresh my memory, because I'm sure she's going to want to discuss these books like we did all those years ago! I’ll print off this blog post and send that too. Is there a better gift than a walk down memory lane and a love letter from a best friend?

Love you to bits, Shannie Annie!!! 

xoxo

Ice Princess

Girl's Night

On Saturday night, I went out with a couple of friends, without EN, without the girls. I can’t remember the last time I did this. It’s obvious that this doesn’t happen often because Sugar and Spice had something to say about it and bitched that they weren’t invited along. Even my mother bitched that I should have invited her along too. Step off my little cling-ons!

The relationship that I have with the ladies I went out with is interesting. I have known both of them for years, but I really don’t know them all that well on a personal level. I have been acquainted with Pinky since 2005 when Sugar started attending the daycare she teaches at. I met Heather in probably mid-2006 when we enrolled Spice at the same daycare. Heather also answers to “Payton’s mom.” So without really knowing these women, I have been bonded to them through my children for many years.

Normally, before I go out with “new people” for the first time, I’m really nervous. I stress about what I should say and I worry that I’ll say something stupid. I also worry that we’ll run out of things to talk about and the time will be filled with awkward silences. Oddly, this time I didn’t fret at all. The only reason I can come up with for not fretting is that the three of us have been in each other’s lives for years. I at least was genuinely curious about them and wanted to learn lots more about them. I assumed they would want to know more about me as well. If being nosey failed, I figured we could always fall back on our favorite email topic: BOOKS. The three of us, without a doubt, are huge book nerds. We’ve emailed different “good reads” many, many times. It’s great that we all have pretty similar tastes, but interesting that Pinky reads on a Kindle, Heather reads on a Nook and I read on an iPad!

Another twist is that they are both blog readers. Neither of them know me that well, but they know the blog. They know what I’m pissed about, what makes me laugh… an unfair advantage as I don’t know as much about them. And there’s also the super-duper-top-secret stuff that we talked about. I can’t be a blabbermouth and spread their stories on the Internet… because they’ll know I told!

We met at Applebees for drinks and dinner and really had a nice time. We talked a lot and laughed even more. It was great to spend time with these women without a kid (or twelve!) running around us. It was nice to have dinner out and not have to cut up anyone’s meat, though I would have if asked. I see now why Pinky looks so damn good. I order “fried and large,” she orders, “grilled and small.” I will confess now that I ordered fried and large because I really wanted the biggest bucket of popcorn at the movie, but KNEW that would kill the great dieting progress I made last week. We have to suffer to be beautiful.

After our dinner, we headed off to see “Water for Elephants.” Heather had recommended the book to us and we both gobbled it up. Actually, the first time Heather and I met up for a play date, she had that book in her purse and I knew she was dying to take it out and read it. Now that I’ve read it, I probably would have been just as twitchy as she was.

I’ll post about my love for books another time, but I have to say, “Water for Elephants” was amazing. I loved every bit of it and actually only allowed myself to read a few pages at a time. I wanted to stretch it out. When I was done, I took a few days off because I wanted the characters to live in my head just a little bit longer.

I’m pleased to report that the movie is as good as the book. That almost never happens, usually the movies are a disappointment or are so different than the book that you don’t recognize what you are seeing. I’m almost tempted to re-read the book, only so I can picture the main characters looking as they were cast in the movie.

Nice dinner and an excellent show. But even better than that, I got to spend time with two women that have been on the edge of my life for years. I look forward to holding them a little bit closer. You can never have too many girlfriends.

xoxo

Ice Princess

Drama-Free Sleepover Secret!

Since the last sleepover at our house was pretty disastrous, I put a little more thought into this one. It seems that if one chick has a sleepover, the other is in a snit and either doesn’t feel included or is accused of trying to steal the friend. My solution to this problem was to allow both girls to have a friend sleep over.

Sugar came home on the school bus and I shamed her into spending a half hour cleaning her room. She really didn’t need her friend to see what a slob she is. When she was done we headed off to pick up her friend and Spice and her buddy from daycare. Her friend was waiting at the door, anxious to be picked up. The two little ones seemed to have been on cloud nine over their impending date all day and everyone was glad to see those two leave. Four girls squealing in the car are far louder than I thought humanly possible. 

It was a beautiful day so we headed to McDonalds for dinner and outdoor play center. When I walked into McDonalds, the cashiers’ eyes bugged out of her head and she said, “That’s a lot of little girls.” We placed our orders and I was surprised that Sugar and her friend felt they were “too old” for Happy Meals. We headed off to a place to sit and I ended up sitting alone because the girls sat at different tables with two seats each. I was a little miffed that no one would sit with me until Payton’s mom said, “Enjoy the peace.” Duh, why didn’t I think of that?

The friends are good eaters, mine are not. I promised them lots of time at the playground and ice cream afterwards if they would just EAT! After goofing off forever, we finally finished and headed to the play area. It wasn’t open yet. What? It’s the middle of May and 70 degrees out. Little Payton just looked at me and said, “I told you it wasn’t open.” We headed off to a local park but didn’t stay too long. The bugs were bad and Spice had a bathroom emergency. After standing with her in a porta-potty last year while she pooped I was not in a hurry to do that again. The urgency subsided a bit and I was able to stop to get ice cream and chocolate sauce from the store on the way home.

The night was fairly easy. Sugar and her friend were in her bedroom, Spice and her friend were in the family room. Everyone played fairly nicely together. Spice had a fit about something ridiculous and started bitching and crying at her friend. As she ranted, stomped and screamed with her hair flying all over the place, her friend stood still and watched her with a blank, open-mouthed stare. Spice finished her tantrum, her friend didn’t say a word and then they went back to doing whatever it was they were doing before the fit started. They remind me of an old married couple more and more, every time I see them interact.

Sugar and her friend stayed busy with their iPods and DS’s. They made movies of each other and dressed Lola in a variety of outfits. The night was so peaceful that I had the opportunity to finish one book and start another. Bliss.

The littles settled in early and the bigs wanted to stay up as late as they could. I started fading around 11 and went upstairs. I told the big girls to go down to the family room and watch a movie quietly as the little ones were already sleeping there. Instead, they came into my room and sat on the bed and talked to me for an hour. Given the position I was sleeping in when I woke up around 1 am, I think I may have fallen asleep as they nattered on to me.

The morning was easy and the friends went home early. My solution to the sleepover drama was a perfect one. Everyone was entertained and happy and had someone to play with. Even the dogs were played with a lot. And the best part? Everyone was so tired that they all took naps on Saturday afternoon. BONUS!

xoxo

Ice Princess

Work Woes

I’m done whining (for now), so let’s move on to bitching. One of my first posts as a blogger was about job woes. I came back from vacation a week and a half ago with high hopes. I felt rested and relaxed and thought nothing could bother me. And nothing did… that first day back.

Then came Tuesday. I knew that we were having furniture delivered for a newly built conference room. I had been sending emails for months asking for assistance in moving the old furniture out. Before leaving on Monday, I sent one last reminder, thinking the conference room would be empty when I came in. I walked in to find the room still full of junk so I started moving it out on my own, wearing a skirt and flip flops.  A couple of engineers came out to help, then scurried back to their offices. I was left with the biggest pieces to move on my own.

By the time Fancypants came in, I was in tears. He looked at me trying to push a supply cabinet out the door and said, “What the hell are you doing?” I told him that the new furniture was being delivered and I needed to get the old shit out. Since he knew that another manager wanted to keep the old stuff, he asked where that guy was. Not sure, he never answered my emails. So Fancypants grabbed another guy and moved the remaining pieces out. He came by my office later and told me that I should ask him for help from now on. Seriously? This guy thinks filling out his own shipping label is beneath him and he’s suddenly willing to help? I guess it’s true, guys don’t like to see anyone crying.

A week and a half later, all the items that were moved out of the conference room are still littering the hallways. We have to walk around desks and chairs, cabinetry, etc. I have waited for things to be moved and nothing has happened. One would think that the manager that wanted all the shit saved would snap it up. I have continued to send emails and they continue to not respond at all. I’ve mentioned before, I think that’s the rudest behavior ever. Instead, I occasionally am able to corner someone and put them on the spot. No sorry, we aren’t helping you. First of all, it’s not “me” that needs to be helped. We all work here, don’t we want to make this a nice place to be? Unfortunately, no one cares. No one cleans up after themselves. Hell, they’ll even steal someone else’s lunch. Second, I was not the one that requested any of this construction work. The engineers did, and as soon as they got what they wanted, they left everything else to sit about and rot.

Because I can’t stand seeing this place look like this, I am working with the girl that managed the construction. She works in our Ottawa office and has never been here. Are you shaking your head, thinking that makes no sense? Yeah, that’s what I think too. She has hired some handyman who is supposed to come in and build out two offices and dispose of the rest of the junk, once the employees are allowed to take what they want (engineers love free shit). I get to go ahead and tag everything that needs to be moved out, but I can’t do this yet… as we still have not gotten a response saying it’s ok to go through with this plan.

That situation had me hating life already. Then last night at 7:30 I see a message come across my phone that my boss has hired a new Account Manager. Funny, no one told me! I knew an Account Manager had quit and I assumed he was gone because he stopped responding to emails. However, no one ever told me when his last day was. I knew my boss had interviewed one person, only because I saw it in his calendar, he never told me…

I spent today working on getting this guy who starts ON MONDAY, equipment, log in information, etc. Since I don’t know when the last guy left, I don’t know where his equipment was sent. I don’t know where the new guy lives, so I don’t know if he’ll need office space or if I need to fill out forms for him to have a home office setup. We used to have an easy, breezy way of sharing information around here and now no one speaks or even answers an email. How does it make sense that the person that needs to take care of all this is left completely in the dark?

I looked on monster.com to stop myself from sending vile emails to those that have annoyed me and found a couple of jobs that I applied for. They don’t sound interesting or fun, but I’m starting to feel desperate here. I need to get the hell out.

If anyone you know is looking to hire a bossy bitch, let me know.  

xoxo

Ice Princess