moar funny pictures

I’m going to send this out to the following people:

• The employee that I’ve laid off twice. Both times he’s been instructed that terms of his severance package are completely confidential and should not be discussed with anyone. He then goes to several people to tell them exactly what his severance package entails and what the law says about notification to employees. Apparently he has no fuckin’ brain -or- he’s trying to piss me off. (I’m guessing piss me off)
• The project manager who takes up 20 minutes of my time at 5 p.m. on Friday to discuss several issues. When I hang up, after answering his questions, I believe that we’ve resolved all of the problems. No emails come in from him on Saturday, Sunday, Monday or Tuesday. This morning, I discover that he called my employee last night to ask him the same damn questions. Apparently, he has no fuckin’ brain -or- he’s trying to piss me off. (I’m guessing no fuckin’ brain.)

—- I want to scratch their eyes out. But the first guy? I want to rip his balls off and shove them down his throat as well. Because he’s even more stupid for trying to piss me off. —-

Dear Fucking-Head-Of-Building-Security,

Explain to me why you:

1. Watched me bring my son in through the back door (i.e. nearest my office) of the building,
2. Recorded our actions (carrying 3 boxes, 1 bag and 3 wall frames) as we walked back and forth through the security gate (using my badge to record all comings and goings),
3. Had one of your minions watch as we loaded the goods into the back of an old beat-up pickup truck,
4. Sauntered through the cubicle farm outside of my office with your little lackey swinging your keys around while I was buying my son lunch,
5. Sauntered BACK through the same cubicle farm while I was sitting in my office eating lunch,
6. and never said a word.

But!!!

Felt the need to - an hour later - come bursting into my office, stuttering, “Are you the Hotfessional?” When I replied, “Yes”, with my winning smile, you felt the need to interrogate me on “What, exactly, are you removing from XYZ Company’s premises? What was in the boxes that we have you, on tape, taking out of here?”

Oh, you shithead. Do you know what being accused of theft does to me? Especially when I know that you sat there and watched everything and taped it? When all you had to fucking do was get off your be-hind and ask to take a peek in that bag or that box. (Because, y’know, my Ben Wallace bobblehead? May contain company secrets. So, gawd only knows, I would refuse.)

What do you mean you couldn’t figure out what was happening? Couldn’t figure it out? Because we were being so furtive and sneaky? Oh, yea.

The books that my son was complaining were so danged heavy? The ones that were in boxes WITHOUT LIDS that took him a good 5 minutes to walk to the door? Then, don’t forget, he had to put them on the floor, go through the security exit, pick them up, and carry them out to the truck? You couldn’t figure out what was going on?

Oh, and that form that I filled out? That form was signed by XYZ Company’s Operations Manager, the highest-ranking-official-on-site (well, except for me, but I don’t work for XYZ) and given to the Security Office. It was the one your staff told me was the proper form for removal of equipment. So, maybe, AssMunch, you should ask your staff to make sure that they a) have people fill out the correct form and b) tell you that that person that you’re watching on tape who is obviously trying to hide the fact that she’s taking that picture of her kid and some books out has, indeed, filled out the form. And had it signed. And turned it in.

So, now, Mr. Head-of-Building-Security, I feel compelled to notify your Facilities Manager, (y’know, the one that signs your contract?) that even though my staff and I have filled out the forms and completed this divestiture project ON TIME and UNDER BUDGET, we are being, um, harassed while we’re moving.

I know that you would much prefer me to have to carry those boxes around to the front of the building and out to a parking space a football field away (where that ice? heaven knows, may cause a trip and fall incident, but you would be following procedures) so that you can look at the extra toothbrush, toothpaste and tampons I’ve decided to take home now instead of next week.

Thank you for reminding me that I’ve just shredded 15 years of my career and have whittled my rise to the executive level of a global financial institution down into three boxes and an Olive Garden bag.

I wish you all continued success in your own endeavors. Because, gawd only knows, we need more pricks with a tin badge making sure that NO ONE takes a white board marker that doesn’t belong to them!

Bite my ass. Sincerely.

The Hotfessional

—- Y’all? This is a true account of my life today between 11:30 and 1:30 p.m. I’ll be drinking tonight. —-

When I started this blog, the plan was to focus on what life was like as a female executive in a man’s world.

It’s become so much more - a true online journal - a way of marking my life as a mother, a wife, and a business woman. My career has morphed - beginning with the sale of my clients to a competitor (bad enough) and then the sale of my employer (my 10th buyout…do not get into financial services without knowing this!) to a much larger competitor. I no longer have the desire to reach for the tippy top - I don’t want to be President. I don’t want to be CEO. I love what I do, but what I do isn’t going to be done anymore. At least not here and now.

I’m finally getting to be okay with that. I’m pretty damned proud of myself.

So writing has become a way of finding out who The Hotfessional is going to become. (Um, wasn’t I supposed to find myself way earlier? Like 25 years ago?) Am I an artist? Can I teach? Is there something that I love to do so much that I would jump out of bed (rather than drag my sorry ass from under the blankets) and rush to the shower in order to greet the day? (Look, I’m 44.83 years old, and I’ve never liked getting out from under cozy blankies….so unless it involves wine or more sleeping …I doubt that anything is going to do that!)

My greatest strength is my ability to adapt. Roll with the punches. Embrace change. Throw in any other cliche about it you’d like. I’m there. (Except the fucking change of life - I’m not doing so well at accepting it because it just sucks.)

I still want to tell women, though, that they CAN DO IT. Whatever IT is. I plan on continuing that mentoring role - regardless of whatever else life throws at me brings.

When Andrea told me about WomenRule! and asked me to join in making sure that women knew about this Leadership Training program contest, you know I jumped all over it. Hey, it’s the C word. Contest! Go check it out. Pass it along.

And more importantly, don’t be afraid to apply for the training if you’ve got the next great idea. (Oooh, then you could hire me! Wouldn’t that be fun?)

—- What IS your dream for changing the world? —-

Cleaning my office,
Fifteen years of memories
So much to be purged.

Will keep Shortman’s art,
Awards and certificates,
Vendor trinkets, too.

Family photos,
Pictures from events long ago,
Also packed away.

Expense report forms
with receipts fading away.
Holland. India.

Performance reviews
for employees who have left
must be shredded small.

This era has passed,
the next one is starting soon -
Home office? Tiny!

—- The artwork from preschool? About killed me. And I’m keeping the hotel receipts from India. So what if I’m a pack rat? Memories and momentos are important. —-

I know!  I promised to be back after the drinking last night, but I just couldn’t get creative.  Even after the vodka and the wine.  But tonight!  Tequila.  I’ll either be dead or funny.  Let’s hope for the latter, eh?

Thinking about a post topic today though is hurting my brain today.  I have a lot on my mind, but the thought of boring y’all myself to death curbs my enthusiasm when it comes to spewing the thoughts out of my brain and through my fingers to the keyboard. But let’s share a couple of things, eh?

Remember The Question? I updated that post to tell everyone that I’ve been asked to stick around for another few months to help out with some operational issues that could “use my expertise”. Which is wonderful. Apparently, someone thinks my snark and bitching knowledge and insight will benefit the company. That’s a good thing. Because even if this doesn’t turn into a “long-term” position, the continued employment and severance will allow me to have a paycheck through Shortman’s graduation date - and possibly open the job market or housing market in the Ann Arbor area. Plus, that someone who thought that 25 years in the financial services industry may have taught me something? Could possibly write me a glowing reference in the future. (Rationalize much?)

I love the work that I do. Contrary to my opinions about how fucked up things are things sometimes get done, my greatest joy is making things work better. Seeing the end result. Buying shoes. Hearing the thank yous for a job well done. Helping my staff succeed. (By the way? That staff? Laid them all off last week. Like Kristabella, the survivor’s guilt is so rampant, I’ve only told my lead project manager that I’ll be here until Fall.)

So why do I whine so much about this? The staying around? Why am I on this fence about whether I’m happy or not? It’s the right thing to do for my family. It’s the right thing to do for me! I don’t want to jump ship without a lifeboat underneath to catch me - and this gives me even more experience that I can market to someone willing to pay me big bucks for sitting on my ass blogging a potential employer.

Well, my darlings. Remember her? Um, she’s who I’ll be working for. They’ve asked me to run an operations group of about 60 employees because she has no operations experience. (Fuck, neither do I and it’s no secret - so again? Why is she in charge?)

—- Hey! Blog fodder! I apologize in advance for what the next few months may bring. Please don’t leave, I’m sure it will be entertaining. (Possibly in the train wreck sense of the word.) —-

In more news, Bossy has a lake in her backyard - Ricky Lake. I have one too. I can’t come up with a clever name for mine though.

And this is between our house and the next-door neighbor:

I live uphill from him. That water used to be in my yard.

—- The geese will probably land any day now. —-

After I went to DressBarn and got my fabulous new wardrobe and shoes (which, may I add, I’ve been successful at walking on without breaking my ankle for 2 entire days!) - and spent way too much money - this came in the mail. Mr. Hot thought that it would be really funny to snap a picture of it and send it to me. After (did I mention that) I went shopping on Monday and this came in the mail Tuesday (the day after [did I mention that?] Monday).

Twenty percent off AND a free tote and makeup bag. Guess I will be going back to get that pretty pink bracelet-cuff blazer that I passed up.

—- Oh mah holy hell y’all. The man will not learn that he should just throw.these.things.away. —-