Tag Archives: blogging

Elevator pitch

Among the Corporate hot topics of transparency and open concept design, is also my inability to keep a secret. I stepped onto the building elevator and saw a colleague from another glass floor having difficulty with her access badge. I just smiled, waited, helped and then told her it happens to all of us.

“You’re so patient and happy. Are you always like this when you go to work?”, she asked as the doors opened to my floor.

I laughed as I stepped off the elevator. I am usually one of the first to arrive, so despite not wanting anyone in my office to know, I looked back at her as the elevator started to close and yelled, “Actually, it’s my birthday today!”

Her surprised smile as the doors shut made my day. It also felt good to say out loud. I reached for my second access badge, opened the door and stepped into the work area. On this side of the tower is a bank management training program. To my chagrin, everyone was already there.

One of the young co-ed women looked at me with a clever smile and said, “Wow! It’s your birthday. Enjoy!”

This was followed by the two people in her group also chiming in to say, “Happy Birthday!”

I stopped in my tracks realizing I had unintentionally thrown my own party.

The rest of the group, about 30 in all, turned or swiveled in my direction and wished me a loud “Happy Birthday!” in unison. One guy even gave me a high five as I started to walk past the group. Others joined in as I thanked them all with an embarrassed laugh and continued to the other end of the floor.

I felt like I’d just won the biggest Corporate account or hit the winning basket for the company team. That moment was an embarrassingly fun way to jump start the day.

My own team wasn’t there yet, had no idea it was my birthday and didn’t see this happen. I signed onto my computer with a new secretly knowing grin on my face. With the open concept design, I was not only transparent, I had hit my own glass ceiling.

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Team Valor #Pokemon

I am finally at a point in my life where I go to the gym every day. I don’t just show up either. I battle it out for the best result. On the days I arrive later than usual, and the gym is already full, I at least visit for a moment and share my fruit with other gym members. I am the ideal team player.

My loyalty is to my team, regardless of the benefit to me. How can I not support ‘Redbeard’? My husband has a beard and loves redheads, so it makes sense that he’s a teammate. I also had a cousin, Sonny we used to call him, that died young. This is why I consider gym mate ‘Zombie Sonny’ to be family. Then there are gym members I feel obligated to take under my wing like ‘Apathetic Bill’. He will be charged up with motivation when I finish with him.

Stop by the gym. I may be red in the face but I am there with my buddy every day. If you too are red, Team Valor, help me to show great courage in the face of danger. If you are the Rapidash of another color, maybe we can still become friends. I may just give you a gift. Every day, I am loyal to a fault.

Part XLIV!

Catching your husband in the act is a gigantic smack in the face. Seeing him not want to let go of her embrace, is a sucker punch. I entered, almost willing to endure a threesome, and my husband just walked out of the room.

He left the two of us behind to battle it out. Richie, champion that he is, non-chalently went into the living room and turned on the TV. I wasted no time getting the bitch off my kitchen table.

“Alexa, off!”, I demanded.

Defending their behavior, I heard a distant, “Leave her alone.”

Still not understanding the madness, I walked to our threshold and reasonably stated, “You’re watching TV now, you don’t need her to play you love songs.”

Having an answer for his torrid behavior, Richie defended, “She was playing background music.”

I had killed the mood. This round was a knockout. I went back to my corner and my affair with Mr. Clean.

<Refer to the acceptance of our Alexa relationship here.>

Firm

Our daughter will be moving to a new apartment, so we went to furniture stores with her to check out locations, quality and price. One of the stops was a glass mattress store front. The locale seemed hokey versus some of the more upscale local shops she visited. Regardless, we went in, figuring our daughter would at least determine what type of mattress she liked.

Nobody was on the display floor when we entered the mattress graveyard. The oversized room was eerily quiet but also Tarah’s preference. She didn’t want anyone watching her reenact sleep habits.

We walked up and down the Madeline-esque rows and nobody greeted us – which was actually great. I hate being pounced on and our daughter was the customer, not us. Our shy Tarah finally got comfortable enough with the environment, sat on a mattress and out came Mr. Salesman. The mattresses either had doorbells under them or this guy was watching us through a peephole. I would have believed either based on his sudden interest in our family. I was subtle:

“Can you go back to wherever you came from?”

He tilted his head like our family dog, either wanting attention or to hear me better.

I explained that the process was a little awkward to us and asked for some time to figure out preferences.

The salesman said he completely understood, explained the store color coding for soft, medium, firm and returned to the back room.

My Goldilocks daughter roamed about, tried several mattresses and declared her just-right preference was “soft”.

Right on cue, Mr. Man appeared again.

“Did you not find something else to do?” I continued, “she is just starting to figure out the differences. Could you spend some time with Google instead and give us a few more minutes?”

He seemed to somewhat understand, showed us where to find the pricing charts and went back to his ease-dropping peephole.

We talked with our daughter about brands, budgeting and moving day as she bounced between her three favorite mattresses. When she declared which one she liked best, the Wizard of Odd came back out from behind the curtain.

“Can you make yourself scarce? We are discussing her game plan for moving and how this is all going to work.”

He was understanding enough but only after he explained delivery options, showed us his springs exhibit and told us about the 1-day ONLY free bedframe sale!

“Thanks but we are not going to buy something our first day out. Can you go to the desk for one moment and bring us your business card instead?”

He no longer understood. My fake purchase alternative was too formal and he explained, “I am always the only one here. Just call and ask for me (who else was answering?) and I’ll help you with financing.”

We all stood to leave. Tarah thanked him for letting us look and moved toward the door to continue her comparison shopping. I followed her out of the hokey location and wondered why I didn’t just ask the guy to get lost?!

Shutter Bug

My brother-in-law will tell you I end up in a lot of photos when we have family gatherings but it’s just coincidence that the lens is always nearby. My husband will say he has a special name for my participation during photographed events on his side of the family, endearingly I’m sure, called “the Donna show”. Both scenarios have nothing to do with the fact that I also enjoy being the product of a good photo bomb.

I recently entertained giving up the practice. I realize I have ruined some good prom photos, beautiful scenery and countless other special shots for people. I think I’m funny but that doesn’t mean others agree.

Yesterday, I walked out of a building that spills onto Boston City hall. The area is ripe for photos with a Faneuil Hall backdrop. I saw a family posing for pictures right in my path toward the train but rather than react on impulse and bomb them, I sped up my pace trying to get out of their way with a “Wait, wait, wait – let me hurry past.” My behavior didn’t seem normal. I chuckled to myself, knowing I was holding back. Then I laughed out loud when I heard, “That’s okay, we don’t mind. Join us!”

The tourist family did not have to ask me twice. I doubled-back, hugged the Mom on the end and spread my arms out wide for the photo. I am pretty sure they really snapped a picture. Hopefully, it wasn’t deleted and I end up in a family photo album on another continent.

A girl has to dream. The photo bomb bug is renewed. It only took a family gathering, a lens and a “Donna show”. I am alive and well.

Frosty did what?!

After an extremely long, cold, snowy winter…

– only briefly interrupted by a windy spring day of temperatures reaching 70 degrees …

– followed by a very wet 30 degree snowstorm of morning commute slush …

This evening our neighborhood men finally reached their winter weather breaking point! Their frustration is clearly visible along our property. The road looks like all the area snowmen threw up!