hell yeah

Your 80s Heartthrob Is

Jason Bateman

Who's" Your 80's Heartthrob?

Perils of Office Work

It occured to me that this magazine internship I'm doing marks the first time I have worked in an office, a rite of passage surely (though usually for people older than myself). Judging by the scenes of office frustration and carnage found in the morning comics, it's also a staple of life for Middle America, and also outer and inner America (we live in outer America in western Washington, correct?)

Anyway, a few weeks ago I told Liz about our then new orange cubicles and she mentioned having romanticized cubicles. Some might consider it alarming to harbor views on office furnishings that could be described as "romantic." However, one of the benefits of having unusual friends is that you have odd things in common. I, too, romanticized cubicles. Having the unenviable trait of becoming nostalgic about, well, almost everything in my past, and rosy-eyed and dreamy about possible ideal situations in my future (but downright pessimistic about the present), I had of course given some fleeting thought to the perfectly charming way to organize an office cubicle: a vase of color-coordinated flowers here, perhaps bright yellow daffodils (or even a single sunflower); a tasteful wall hanging there, photographs of friends and loved ones, a little sanctum in office life that would, as a whole, resemble the kind of unforced camaraderie and mutual teasing - even in the face of adversity - that is to be found in the better sitcoms. Office cubicles aren't the only idealized visions of the future I have had, but this is not the time to go into the others. Suffice it to say that only one - of a very large amount - involves Jason Bateman. Better not to ask re: notanasshole Mr. Darcy (sigh). (No, I tell a lie! It just occured to me, there are two for Jason - in one vision, I am his wife. In the other, I am on his, alas now-defunct, show's screenwriting staff. Oh, btw, conversation between me and Greg:
Me: "We should write some material for the 15-minute intermission that the two ladies are supposed to be talking through; and personalize it for EEP."
Him: "Yeah, we could do that. But who do we have that's a good writer?"
Tobias-like falsetto: DOUCHE-CHILL!)

But back to the topic of hand, the refreshingly fascinating subject of cubicles. Here's the rundown:

• Decorations in my cubicle = 0
• Number of people who have gotten sick in the office lately, probably resulting from disgusting orange cubicle color = at least 4
• Crumbs on my cubicle desk resulting from daily peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich = Innumerable

So, you see, I have been brought crashingly down to earth re: cubicles. After all, how do you color-coordinate with bright orange? (That's a question that is better left unanswered). But I have been adjusting to the other norms of office life.

1. If one has a question for one's superior, it is perfectly normal to email them about it, even if they are in an office only five feet from your cubicle. Walking into their office every five minutes is unnecessary and even unadviseable. However, to communicate with the rest of the drones on the "shop floor," you just talk.
2. Employees of city magazines refer to each other by their first names only.
3. When anyone mentions deadlines, laugh and roll your eyes to the ceiling.
4. When anyone mentions Seattle magazine, go "chuh!," give a tight half-smile, and roll your eyes to the ceiling: disguising deep murderous feelings with ironic facial expressions.
5. When anyone mentions Steve, senior editor and resident gay person, giggle and roll your eyes, but not to the ceiling. Steve operates an office "call center," where he will dial random extensions on speakerphone and ask the victim random questions such as "Would you like us to deliver you a free copy of Seattle Metropolitan magazine? WE PUT THE CITY IN YOUR HANDS!! (insert random cackling in the background, indicating the possibility of more than one male person in Steve's office). (Random employee responses to this practice: (a) "Steve, what do we pay you for? Do some work." (b) Excessive, uncontrollable laughter, possibly flirtatious except that Steve is gay. (c) Hang up on Steve. (d) "Sure, send me free stuff!" One of the above responses was mine. Hint: It was (d).)
6. Keep several internet windows open at once: one or two work-related, and another for email/blogs/random fun. Keep your mouse on the "minimize" tab at all times as you never know when the art director - by which, of course, I mean "Stephen" - will stick his head over your shoulder and ask whether you're particularly busy or whether you could possibly spare some time to italicize every description in a list of 256 significant people in Seattle history. "It'll be fun!"
7. "It'll be fun!" is Seattle Metropolitan-speak for "It's complete drudgery of course, but that's how journalism goes, sucker!" "Fun, huh?" asked by another intern whilst you are fact-checking, is code-speak for "You've been spending the past two months working on the history issue while I've been being hung up on by immigrant teenagers working in mini marts when I try to ask them whether or not they sell produce, thus ascertaining whether they should be included in the real estate issue's list of grocery-stores-by-neighborhood. Well, welcome to the wonderful world of fact-checking, sucker!!" Incidentally, the correct response does not involve complaints. Overall, Seattle Metropolitan employees appear incapable of using the word "fun" in anything other than an ironic context, and its use should be met with trepidation. (If the sentence also includes "Microsoft Excel" - sheer terror).
8. Conversations between editors and their guests on the "shop floor" do not concern you, so don't appear to be eavesdropping. Eyes forward.
9. If you call someone with a silly-seeming question - "Excuse me, Executive Director/Representative/Esteemed Academic/President of the United States, but I was wondering in what year you were born"; or "I'm trying to find out the total number of acres in Kirkland city parks!" (Response: "Oh my God.") - it's best to be excessively perky and polite. Key phrases: "Oh, thank you so much!" "Ooh, thank you for calling me back!" "How are you?" "Well, I really appreciate your help!"
10. It's good to be on the phone every so often, as it makes you look assertive and busy.

Remarkable.

So I guess I should update my blog

I saw a burly soldier today nonchalantly sipping a Strawberries and Cream frappucino. It made me happy, although I admit it's not the most breathtaking or original of poetic images. But if there's one thing I appreciate, it's a man with a frothy pink drink. No, that's not true. There are lots of things I appreciate more than a man in a frothy pink... no, with a frothy pink drink, but I am really tired right now. Or not so much tired as confused and lethargic. Although I wouldn't say no to curling up into bed with a mug of hot chocolate and something really fluffy to read. Ohhhhhh, I'm making myself tired. Aaaaaagh.

At the magazine last Thursday, the editor (in chief), Katherine, came up behind me and started talking about the publisher, Nicole, who btw has terrible taste imho with her freaking ORANGE, but anyway, Katherine said Nicole loves the history issue, layout, readability, and "especially the photos," which I worked on a lot. I was all "Yay! A kudo!" Also, I got an assignment today to write a real article. Huzzah for me. The other two interns are bonding over their shared young adult experiences, though, and I'm just like uhhhh? The only thing we all have in common is (a) our hatred for the orange cubicles and (b) lovins for Arrested Development. It's weird how with some people, you just click and always seem to find stuff to talk about. Like the weather or anything, and there's comfortable banter. And with others, you're trying to fill this gaping hole of silence and you say something about the weather and the other person's like "Yeaaaaaaah, The Weather." And it's all awkward. It's like non-sexual chemistry. God, I'm not making much sense, huh? But we've (me + other interns) exhausted the conversational possibilities of the orange hate, so I'm thinking of moving on to point (b), Arrested Development, and coming up behind one of them, massaging their shoulders and doing the "Heeeeeeeeey, co worker!" in the Buster voice. But that would suck if they didn't get it. I'd be an eternal pariah and people would always glance over their shoulders when I entered a room. Ironically like Buster. Poor guy!! In other office stuff, my mom was just telling me how she hates work parties and birthday parties at work, and I was thinking Well, I love that idea! I wish I worked in a place where people would sing and give me cake and Kelly (receptionist and by that I mean Office Manager) just sent an email today asking for birthday dates so we could have little cake get togethers, and I was all, yaaaay! But I may not be there on the 21st. I'll have to wait to stop for the summer until the 22nd, or something. They'll probably figure that one out.

Speaking of boring stuff like offices and school, isn't it weird that I should choose some super obscure topic for my thesis - legal pluralism in Egypt, namely - then find another girl in the 13-person group is doing the same thing? I nearly jumped out of my skin when I opened the file and saw "Legal Pluralism in Egypt" as her title. So she was the person I just requested five books from online. Hmmm.

I saw on a Harry Potter news site the other day (oh, quiet, you) that JK Rowling had updated her website with stuff about skinny celebrities and Pink's Stupid Girls song, and also about how hard it was to find normal lined paper in Edinburgh. Well, I'm on the treadmill at the Y and what should I see but a CNN broadcast about "The Skinny from Rowling" or some such thing. And this morning in the paper there was an item about how she can't find paper in Edinburgh. Wow, that woman has clout. Clout, such a nice word. Like a big club in a Gary Larsen cartoon. With lumps and thorns. Bring it down on somebodys head. Your enemy's head. CLOUT.

Okaaaaay I think I'm gonna zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz