hi i’m a fucking secretary

So for some reason, I was looking back through some old things I’ve made for work, and I came across my folder full of drafts of an email invitation to our “welcome back to school” party at the beginning of the year. It was…a little depressing.

These were the things I had saved in the folder for ideas or inspiration or to Photoshop together or whatever. (Presumably I was given an assignment like: “Make an invitation to the ‘welcome back’ party. Let’s make it something fun!”)

(We’re, um, a women’s studies department.)

(I’m…not sure what the mole-man with the big human feet has to do with that, I guess.)

And so I made my first draft, and I passed it along to whoever needed to approve it, and I genuinely don’t remember the exact feedback I got there, or what exactly happened at that point, but…this is the invitation that ended up going out:

So.

So here is me SCANDLOUSLY and DANGEROUSLY fucking off at 9:30am. It’s Friday of my this college’s Spring Break. When I say that I’m the only one here, it’s ludicrously true. Because of construction in our usual building, four offices including mine were moved to the chem lab. The other three people who work in the chem lab with me are out of town for the week. Beyond that, even of the people who work in a different building from me, the really really giant portion of them are gone.

Yay, says everyone – Jessica gets to listen to music out loud and read the Onion slowly and get lots of work done and work ahead so that she’s less busy starting next week, when SUDDENLY EVERYTHING EXPLODES – one show opens, five out-of-state visitors are coming for two-day job interviews, then there’s a dance show, then there’s commencement, then everybody else is moving out of the other building as well, then there’s summer theatre. I know this doesn’t sound as insane at it really is, but trust me – this is BAD NEWS. I am not going to be doing well for about three months.

Anyway. This was supposed to be my nice little eye before the storm, when I get to work ahead and also relax. Instead, things blew up early! And I was the only one here to deal with them! Fine. I dealt with them. But I dealt with them for the FIRST FOUR DAYS of this week, and this Friday was supposed to be my day to do EVERYTHING ELSE I had planned on doing this week but couldn’t. And now it’s re-blowing up! Damnit, do you have any idea how utterly impossible it is to get a ten professors-slash-theatre people, one job candidate who is a professional writer/director/artist, four different groups of students, and a couple of high-level academic administrators, all together in one room (that you also have to find and rent) at one time? You know what? No. No, I cannot factor in more break time because it’s a long day. I don’t care. And no, I cannot change the reception from 3 to 4pm because 4pm is a more traditional tea time. And no, I cannot change your hotel reservation ONE MORE TIME. I am CERTAINLY not going to get you a visa right now. And the politics are insane! If the MFA students are only available for lunch, and the professors are only available for breakfast, then damnit, those are the meals you are getting and I don’t care if lunch is more prestigious and you don’t want the students to steal it from you.

Though honestly, I’m not really complaining. It’s kind of fun, like a crossword puzzle, trying to fit all this together. And I really, really, really love that I got to work alone all week. I would have gone CRAZY trying to do this with people around. And since it WILL get done, and I did do it all alone, people are going to think I did an awesome job, and as it turns out, I’m a huge brown-noser at work. (I don’t mean to be – but I keep realizing that I am.)

Also today I have to show two prospective students around campus, since no one else is here to do it. I have no idea what I’m supposed to tell these people. I don’t know the answers to any of their questions. Also, you know what’s the worst thing in the world? That I’ve never once, ever, had a student call me to ask if they can set up a tour or a meeting with a prof or if they can sit in on a class. It’s always, always, invariably, their parents. That’s such a terrible impression to make, it makes me wish I had some say in the deciding process. I would totally give demerits for that shit.

But! I do have exciting posts to make about the treasures I’ve been finding while cleaning out closets in preparation for the move! Very exciting stuff.

Okay, more work now. Just had to take a bitching break.

So it is possible that not all of you have heard, but I recently (er – sort of) got a promotion at work!  I’m too paranoid to actually type out my old and new titles, for fear of being googled, but my new title contains the word “publicity” and the word “manager!” That’s right, bitches. I manage. But it’s the publicity part that’s totally fun.  I get to make FUCKING AWESOME shit like this!

Luv itttt! Also, it hasn’t been vetted yet, so it’s entirely probably that they won’t let me use it, so I had to show SOMEBODY. They’re, like, some kind of avant-guard performance group. So this kind of has, like, nothing to do with their actual show. As far as I know, anyway. I ain’t seen it. (Nobody will ever find that image in a google search, right? Because it’s just a picture? Very paranoid. Not entirely sure why.)

Yay not being a secretary anymore!

So, uh, in case you hadn’t heard yet, I did finally get a job. So there’s that. That’s good news. Just wanted to add to that rant this photo, which was taken in the women’s room. So, you’ve heard what I think of my boss. This photo will explain to you pretty much every single thing you need to know about the other women I work with.

I applied for a second part-time job today. As a library clerk!! Omg, dudes, wish me so much fucking luck please.

I am filled with a blind fucking rage. Do you know what I can do? I can write about what a clueless son of a fucking shit my boss is, because he doesn’t know what the internetz are and he has no idea of what these newfangled “blogs” are. He didn’t know until I told him that you can check your email from more than your one work computer. Once, when I downloaded some files for him to read, he told me that I should put them back on the internet after he was done with them because someone might need them later. Also, I was fucking hired under the impression that this was a full time job. It’s not. It’s three-quarters time. And I’m a ‘temp.’ That means no benefits (even though he talked about the benefits that I would be getting in the fucking interview) and less pay and an hourly pay instead of salaried. Who can I yell at for this? My boss is such a sad little bumbling benign fool that i can’t yell at him. And no one here seems to have any fucking clue what anyone else is doing, so I can’t yell at HR. They don’t know why I was hired or when or by whom. And I can’t yell at the head of the department because he doesn’t have any idea of who I am, though somehow it seems that he’s the one who has decided that, legally, they can’t change me from ‘temp’ to ‘actual’ without re-posting the job and re-interviewing for it. And now I’m getting sat down to have a little talk to see whether I’m really in this for the long haul and I’m really going to stay here and not leave like all of the past temps have! And since it took me two fucking months to get a job I can’t just say, “No, fuckholes, no, I’m not in this for the long haul! I hate you, you make me want to cut you, sometimes I am physically incapable of looking you in the face because it makes my stomach hurt!” And you know what else? The department I work in is charged with the task of making sure that medical students in a super-fancy Ivy League school pass all of their tests whether they should or not. We give them extra time, we give them free tutoring, we give them separate testing rooms, we give them free medical testing for things like ADHD and neurological crap and if the doctors say, “No, they don’t have ADHD,” we send them to another doctor. In other words, if you’re not sick, just fucking stupid, come to our med school – we’ll pass you anyway! And then you can be a fucking doctor. You know what? If you’re so stupid or, heck, so sick let’s say! Even if you have a real and true and legitimate medical condition that hinders your abilities! But if, for whatever reason, you can’t pass a written test in the alloted time, sitting in a room with other students all quietly taking the test, then maybe you won’t be able to correctly figure out the amount of medicine to give dying gunshot victims in emergency rooms. Maybe you’re too stupid to be a fucking doctor. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you and if I ever get a fucking job I’m giving you zero seconds’ notice and you won’t be able to call me on the phone to check on me anyway because you have no idea that such a thing as a “search button” exists on the intarnetz and then I’m going to sue this fucking school for lying to me about the job they were going to give me but didn’t.

Attention Repulsive Secretaries:

Following is a handy guide to leaving early. Please read carefully and follow these guidelines, or else I will totally secretly not grant you your requested vacation days out of petty revenge.

CORRECT: “I have to leave early. My son is sick and I have to pick him up from school.”

INCORRECT: “I have to leave early. Jim is soooooo constipated. I’m potty training him right now, and he’s been doing really well, but now he refuses to wear diapers. So the doctor says sometimes they get afraid to go number two. So he’s been holding it in a lot, and it used to be that he would just go in his sleep, and that was a whole other problem – I’d have to wake up in the middle of the night and clean him up and change the bed. But now he’s been holding it since Thursday! He hasn’t pooped at all in five days! And he’s dancing and dancing, you can tell it hurts him. I gave him a suppository yesterday, but nothing! So I guess now I’m going to take him to the doctor. Hopefully he’ll have some sort of prescription-strength suppository, or some kind of laxative, anyway. And I hope he’ll have something to make it soft! Last time this happened, when he finally went, it hurt him! And I don’t want him to associate pooping with so much pain! I’d rather clean up the bed every night! And then I’m going to go on and on and on and on and on and use the word ‘suppository’ like seven more times because I’m fucking DISGUSTING and I assume everyone wants to be able to vividly imagine my young son’s asshole and the waste that he excretes through it, thank you very much, so I’ll just be going at 12:30, then.”

Thank you for your prompt attention to this matter.

Sincerely,

Jessica

Here’s a good idea I had:

I think that I should start mailing back all of the paperclips that people send to me at work. Just send them back a little envelope with one or two paperclips in it and a little note that says, “Here are your paperclips back. -Jessica”