I Salute You- Ms. I-Have-Nothing-Better-To-Do-So-I'll-Become-The-Office-Nazi-Administrative-Manager

I know my plight isn't unique, but I am constantly amused at how easy it is for me to set this woman ablaze. Whether it's because I'm too prodigal w/ the office supplies, or I've moved the color-coded chair away from its color-coded table-mate, I continually receive stern words, long sighs, and other unpleasantries quite often as if I somehow didn't manage to graduate kindergarten.

Below is some advice on how NOT to be targeted by your local Office Nazi. Not all have been experienced at my current company nor am I describing one individual in particular.

1. DO NOT for any reason move, rearrange or post any furniture or signs w/o first clearing it w/ said Office Nazi.

2. If you fail #1, and an item shows up on a board or a chair is not back in its proper spot, an APB will be sent out in attempts to find the guilty culprit and the emails will become more severe in nature and downright threatening if you do not confess.

3. DO NOT remove the signs that say "DO NOT MOVE FURNITURE" off work tables when meeting with clients in order to make it look more "professional" because you will fail to put the sign back and THEN #2 happens.

4. DO NOT hire the "Flying Pancake Man" to come in and throw Pancakes at your co-workers for breakfast. While this helps boost office morale, Pancake Man must bring a propane tank into the premises and that violates all kinds of code which will send Office Nazi into such a tailspin, her head might fall off. Furthermore, she will reduce the guilty party for hiring said Pancake Man to tears for being so ludicrous to believe this would actually be permissible.

5. If you dismiss #4, then by all means, DO NOT allow syrup to fall on the floor and stain new carpet.

6. Despite rows of parking spaces, DO NOT allow anyone to enter through the side door. This is an "exit only" door. It doesn't matter if there's a tornado or blizzard outside, if you're foolish enough to park on the side of the building, you must walk around instead of having a co-worker let you in. DO NOT take mercy on the poor souls outside, because if you are caught opening the door, you will be verbally reprimanded by Office Nazi and a nasty email will be sent to your director.

7. DO NOT allow your associates to wear jeans despite 2 feet of snow outside unless it has been cleared by Corporate HR. Failure to do so will result in Office Nazi making the call for you at which point you must revoke the privilege because "Not every business unit has the ability to make such allowances."

8. DO NOT place files, folders, trophies, memorabilia etc on top of workstations. The Night Crew needs to be able to dust this area and it needs to remain clear.-- The only allowable item is the inch of dust that has accrued because the Night Crew has never cleaned up there.

9. DO NOT switch chairs with a coworker unless the color scheme of their workstation matches yours. At no time is office furniture to be "mismatched."

Also, DO NOT misplace, break, steal, or otherwise dispose of coordinating soap dispensers from bathrooms. There must be 4 at all times and these have been purchased with sensitivity and care. Treat them as if you are lucky to have soap.

10. DO NOT accidentally flush your ID badge down the toilet. Otherwise, you will have to alert Office Nazi and she will send an email to corporate security beginning with, " Erin M--- Employee #### has DESTROYED her ID badge...."

11. IT IS IRRELEVANT that Office Nazi has no bearing on your performance, promotability, or earning potential-- she can make your life hell just the same.

One Trump Card Down, 742 Remain

Yes, this pertains to the "Trump Card Theory" I so eloquently spelled out in the beginning of this blog. Oddly enough, this theory has manifested itself in many ways since that entry, and for the most part, it has worked in my favor.

For those of you who know me, I have issues asking for things. Whether it be for help, advice, a material object, whatever. I hate to be a burden to anyone and also don't like being told "no" or "I can't," so unless it's absolutely necessary, I'm pretty much handle things on my own.

Several weeks ago, I began searching for a condo. I'm not sure why as I'm perfectly happy where I am, but something in the back of my mind told me to investigate. I wasn't searching for anything crazy; 2 bedrooms, a garage, and a kitchen that I could actually cook in were top on my priority list.

One weekend, I found a condo that suited my needs and more. It was a little out of my price range, but I kept coming back to it. I met with a mortgage broker, sat down and priced it out and was pretty much ready to move forward-- Except for one thing; I needed my mom. This was the biggest step, most responsibility, highest risk decision I have ever made, and I didn't want to tread lightly. I tend to live life between the lines... consistent, steady, always stable and prepared if the bottom should ever drop out. Boring?- Perhaps, but for those of you who know me, my life is ANYTHING but boring.

So that Saturday afternoon, I called my mother... I strategically prepped her; attempting to detect her mood, her sense of adventure, and utilizing her new-found spontaneity since the passing of my father. I caught her at a great time as she had just spent the afternoon giggling through stores and errands with one of her best friends.

I dropped the bomb and requested she come down for the day on Sunday and head back on Sunday night- A 2 hr trip each way, no church, and no time to plan for Monday's school lessons. She quickly dismissed this saying she had too much to do, that she had NO experience in purchasing homes, and that since our tastes were similar, of course she would love it.

Instead of listing the reasons why I would like her present. I went straight for jugular, laying out the mac daddy of all trump cards. Though I will tell you I softened the blow by warning her it was coming... It went like this:

"Now Mom, I understand this is short notice, and I know you don't like making the trip in one day, but I have one thing to say, and it's big..."
"What is it, Erin?"
"You do a day trip for your grandchildren all the time, (for their b-days, baptisms, etc.) why won't you do it for me?"

----SILENCE, crickets chirping-----

Soon came laughter and then "OH YOU CREEP!" (An expression typically saved for my brother.) "You played the grand kid card!!!" More laughter came from my mother's mouth and I knew I had her convinced. She was coming.

The day actually worked out perfectly although I opted not to purchase this condo. Good friends of my mom were also in town that weekend and they met us up at the condo and went through it with me.

I currently am in contract in another condo community, but my mother has yet to see it. I made her promise though to help me pick out cabinets, flooring, and other features "at some point" this summer.....

Park the Car Ya Old Bag

It's funny, I'm the one in the family who has the reputation of being blunt, overly candid, and at times, inappropriately outspoken. The above statement however, did not come from my lips, but that of my sensitive, mild-mannered older brother, who is also the favorite. Who on earth would he say this to you ask? Why the Queen Supreme, Lady Margaret, aka my mother.

We took a family trip to Oglebay Park where we all reunited to celebrate my father by spreading his ashes where he grew up as a child. On the first night there, we decided to go up to the lodge and have the children burn up some energy in the indoor pool. My mother and sister drove separately while the kids, Matt, Julie and myself piled into the "Sport Van." (Keep in mind Sport Van = Mini Van.) As we pull into the parking lot, we see my mother's car up ahead stopped in the aisle, right across from the entrance. This is a PREMIUM parking spot. My brother, in his ultimate orneriness, sped up and crouched right up on my mom's bumper. We see this beautiful parking spot we assume my mother is trying to take. But she's not, she's just sitting there. After about 15 seconds, Matt rolls down the window and shouts, "Park the car you old bag!" Assuming my mom knew he was behind her. With that my mom sped off. I chastised my brother saying there's a special spot in hell for children who call their mothers old bags and make them pass up a good parking spots. He argued that wasn't what he was trying to do, and that Mags is just so kind-hearted, she realized that Matt has 3 kids, a slew of toys and gave up the parking spot out of consideration and love for her family.

Fast forward 3 hrs later. We have all had a round in the pool, the kids are tired, and it's time to head back to the cabin. My mother has sat on a chair holding Maggie and staring off into space at times and then staring straight ahead at this man from across the pool. She is not smiling. My mother is not a vain woman, but her Achilles heel is age. She will forever be perfectly coiffed, nails painted and immaculately dressed until her last breath. Never a grandma but "Nana" b/c it sounds less old. If you ever want to insult her just call her old and sit back and watch the rage.

So my brother while drying off, casually says to my mom, "Hey thanks for giving me that parking spot, I didn't mean to make you do that." With that, my mother's legs came uncrossed and she stood straight up and said, "That was you!?" She was incredulous, shocked and speechless. My brother, also surprised, asked, "Well who do you think it was? Didn't you see the red sport van w/ your smiling son and daughter sitting in the front seat?" We are all laughing now, as my mom said no, she didn't realize it was us and had been spending the entire evening thinking it was the man sitting on the other side of the pool. She was indignant that a stranger would say something like that to her especially at a place like Oglebay and pondered how he would've been able to see if she was "old" since she was in her car and shout came from behind her! It ruined her evening!

We continued to laugh and she explained the reason she sped off is because she overshot the parking space and was trying to reverse to get into it. Since my brother had come up so close behind her, she was unable to do so, and thus could not park the car.

We reassured my mother, advising her that she indeed was not, nor ever will be an old bag... But it does make you wonder how she didn't see her smiling children in the rear view mirror....

Crying Over Spilled Milk... Literally

I dedicate this post to my sister Tracy, as in her comments from my last posting inspired this topic.

The "Great Salad Debacle" of Memorial Day, 2008 was proceeded by the "Incident of the Spilled Milk" in the winter of 2004.

It was my first apartment by myself. I had lived with my brother after graduating and then with roommates. In the summer of 2003, I decided I wanted a place on my own. I had a good job and felt ready for this step. What I didn't account for was the numerous weddings, babies, bridal showers, bachlorette parties and baby showers I would become inundated with in late 2003 and into 2004. I choose to believe I went into debt due to the life events of my friends rather than because I bought too many Coach purses that year, but I'm sure it's a combination of both.

In early 2004 it was freezing. I couldn't keep my apt above 67 without it running constantly, so I had an electric blanket on my couch. I was struggling, but I never really let on how much. I made enough to cover my expenses, but was in a holding pattern when it came to paying down my debt. I knew down to the cent how much money I had to spend on groceries, car payment and bills and I lived very frugally in order to continue to pay down my consumer debt.

My brother often visited me at my apartment. I love him to death, but the boy is a human trash compacter when it comes to scarfing down food. He ravenous. On this particular day, he walked into my house, said hi, hugged me and announced he was hungry. I had 1/4 of a cup of milk left which I specifically reserved for the food I was preparing that week. Matt walked into my kitchen, grabbed a bowl proceeded to prepare a bowl of cereal. I asked him not to drink my milk--- that there wasn't enough for a bowl of cereal and that I needed the milk for the rest of the week. My brother thought I was kidding. I mean seriously, it was a 1/2 gallon container of milk... not something to break the bank. He ignored me, made his cereal, laughed when there wasn't enough milk, brushed past me, sat on my couch, turned on my TV, and ate his cereal!

Words cannot describe my rage in this scenario. I thought to myself, this son of a bitch strolls into MY house, Disregards MY wishes, eats MY food, on MY couch, watching MY TV!!! I felt disrespected and indignant that my sentiments could be brushed aside so easily. Without a word, I grabbed my keys and left, knowing if I stayed I would lose my control. I drove around and calmed myself down. Upon returning to my apartment, my brother realized that I didn't just take out the trash, I had left. Therefore, he left, too and was gone by the time I returned.

I received an angry phone call from him about leaving him in my apartment without saying anything. I laid into him... Tears streaming and all. I swear, my poor brother couldn't get past the part about arguing over milk. I kept saying, "Matt forget the milk. It's not the milk... It's what the milk REPRESENTS" So then he tried to determine what led up to this. Is it that time of the month, am I fighting with Mom, is everything OK at work? I got more and more upset, thinking "No, you idiot, I'm upset with YOU coming in to MY house and acting like YOU OWN IT..!

The fight eventually resolved. My brother came over the next week w/ a jug a milk to which I made wonderful tapioca pudding for us.

Now I'm more financially stable. I look forward to my brother's visits. I always keep a 12 pack of Diet Sunkist (I won't touch the stuff) for him as well as vitamin water and snackies. Hell, 2 days ago I gave him salad, a turkey bagel sandwich, 2 advil, vitamin water, AND sat through a 1/2 hour of BRAVEHEART.

I think i've grown.

Sammyisms

I'm dedicating this post to my middle niece- Sammy.

I have been told she acts alot like I did as a child and I can't believe this is possible. Mostly because she is so hilarious and adorable-- Traits I don't see in myself at all!

Notorious Sammy Quotes:

"Big Titty!" (referring to my cat- Sammy struggled awhile with the "K" sound.)

"Nana and Erin are taking us to the store to get some CRACK!" (My mother and I were going to the store w/ the girls to buy new CROCS.)

"Don't Spit, Daddy! Just Blow!" (Her advice on how to blow out b-day candles)

"Is Aunt Erin a Stupid head?" (She asked her mother this when she was mad at me)

"My sister." (when asked what she was most thankful for)

"She IS NOT MY SISTER!!! (When her daddy was tickling Miriam like crazy I told her to go save her sister.)

"My mommy has a big nose." (Sammy sang this to the tune of twinkle twinkle little star.)

"My heart is beeping really fast!"

" I don't want to be a princess- I'm Super Sammy!" (Comment she made to me when I called her a princess. )

I love this kid. She cracks me up on a continual basis. While Mir and I are buddies, there is a special spot in my heart for my sassy niece and I know she is going to give my brother and Julie fits!

2 Girls and their Dog.

As previously mentioned, I spent most of my weekend entertaining, spoiling and supervising my nieces this weekend. My mom came down as well and she brought the family dog, Max.

Max was a gift to Mir on her 2nd b-day. Sammy was only 6 months old and Max was just a puppy. I remember the day vividly when I first met Max. I walked into my brother's house to see the epitome of utter chaos. It was Halloween that night and in this one evening, the life insurance agent, trick-or-treaters, and a medic were coming by all within the hour. To make things worse, my sister in law was throwing together some resemblence of dinner before heading off to work. I walked into the house to hear Sammy wheezing like a 80 year old smoker, Mir prancing around in a princess dress and this giant puff of fur yapping in a little cage. My brother looked at me as if I was a gift from God, handed me both kids and the puppy and asked me to take them out of the house while he and Julie settled matters with the insurance agent prior to Julie leaving for work. We walked around the block, (stroller, puppy and princess) and when I came back, the medic was there dropping off the nebulizer for sammy's bronchitis. My brother looked at me again and said, "not yet." Another block. I came back this time and handed Matt the kids, stuck the dog out in the back and then proceeded to hand out candy while Matt finished getting the girls dressed. Julie was long gone off to work. Suddenly, there was a candy shortage, which is a BIG NO NO as my brother would never want to be the house that ran out of candy. I left to get some candy. Came back, Matt took the kids to a few houses and when they came back, it was time to initiate sammy to the nebulizer. TEARS. She looked like an elephant. I got Mir in the tub, Sammy quieted down and then I hear this "yip yip yip" from the garage. OH CRAP! The puppy!

I looked at my brother with incredulous eyes and uttered something about being a saddist. He just sat back and smiled and said, this is life, and I love every minute of it.

We decided to name the dog "Max" because Mir could say his name easily.

Fast forward 3 years. Max is a Big dog, weighing close to 90 lbs. He was great with the girls, but he didn't have enough room to play and run and get exercise.

We had a family meeting with me, my mom, matt, and Julie and even Julie's parents, and it was decided Max was going home to live with my mom and dad (nanna and pop-pop.) We presented this to the girls that Max needed to keep Pop-pop company and he could run and play. The girls were sad at first, but since they visited nanna's house often, they knew they'd get to see Max.

This weekend, when my mom brought Max down the girls wanted him back. You have to love the logic of children. We explained to them when we took Max away that he was going to Nanna and Pop-pop's house to play with Pop-pop. Pop-pop is now deceased, so it only makes sense to them that Max should come back to their house.

It appears Mir and Sammy have been talking about Max coming back for some time, because now the time line for Max's return is when "Nanna downsizes her house and moves to a condo." When my mom came into the house on Friday night, Mir hugged her, and very pointedly asked, "Nanna, when are you going to move so we can have our dog back?!?!?"

Last night, when I tucked the girls into bed, gave them kisses and wished them sweet dreams, they asked me to tell them 2 stories. I asked what they wanted to hear. They asked about how their mommy and daddy met (1st story) and to tell the story about how Max came into their life.

They giggled and squealed all the way through my stories and when I was done, we said our prayers. We didn't pray for anything else but Max. I even asked about praying for sick and sad children, mommy and daddy, etc.. the answer I got back was, "Nope, we just want to pray for Max. We don't want him to die before he comes back to us... Can we go to sleep now, Erin? We're very tired."

Oh Alright.

Gotta love kids. Their thought processes are so simple and pure.

Sorry guys- it's been awhile since my last blog. Been a little busy- and I still don't have much to say BUT, I've got the kids this weekend (as in my nieces- all three. ) I'm sure I'll have plenty to say on Monday. To be fair, I should say "we" as mags will also be present, but she treasures her "Nana" role and is not big on being an enforcer or disciplinarian. I get to be the bad cop. Good thing I grew that back bone mentioned in my last post!!!