Wednesday, July 30, 2008

My New Goal in Life:

Stay-at-home Motherhood.

I'm not lying.

Don't get me wrong. Office work is fine. And I know that being a stay-at-home mom is extremely difficult; and you begin to miss adult conversation; and you sometimes question what it is you're doing with your life; and your self-esteem can sometimes plummet; and you begin to wonder if you'd ever be able to get back into the working world because life seems to be passing you by...

But here's my conundrum: I spend most of my time at the office feeling inadequate; questioning my self-esteem; wondering if this job will be eliminated with the corporate downsizing that seems to have taken America by storm; stressing out because I've potentially done something wrong; etc.

Given that I'm anxious and worried at the office anyway, I think I'd rather be anxious and worried at home. It's just that simple.

This will not be happening any time soon, considering I'm our family's sole source of income. But this whole "working" thing... I just don't know if I'm cut out for it. I'm really good at hanging out. Like really good. And I'm good at playing with babies. And doing errands. And paying bills. And drinking coffee. And exercising. And the things I'm not good at--cooking, laundry, cleaning--I feel I can learn how to do them better. Especially if I'm trying to be better for my family.

Trying to be better for my family... Is there anything more noble?

My mission is clear:
  1. Help Chris finish his PhD
  2. Get pregnant
  3. Go on maternity leave
  4. Never come back

Potential timeline for new life goal:

  1. PhD = December 2010
  2. Pregnancy = January 2011
  3. Maternity leave = July 2011

That means I have 3 more years in the office.

3 more years.

Dammit.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Summer Hours? Ha.

Publishing offers very few perks. The pay is abysmal. The work is constant. The stress is high. The recognition is almost non-existent. But, we get free books from time to time, and of course, there's the summer schedule. Most publishing houses slow down during summer--and if their employees work an extra hour or so during each day of the week, they can take a half day on Friday.

This is, seriously, so wonderful.

When I came to my new company, I was told about a new schedule that is being tried out by many of the departments here. Employees work an extra hour or so during the day, and then, they make arrangements with their coworkers and take every other Friday off.

Every. Other. Friday.

That's, like, 26 more vacation days a year.

And when your company considers "sick days" and "vacation days" the same thing (in this case, both are considered Paid Time Off), those 26 extra Fridays become very, very important.

Naturally, my department is not participating in this program.

"It's a customer service issue," says my supervisor. "We have to be available."
"But, wouldn't we still be available? We could stack the days so that someone is always here," I plead.
"No."

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

Thursday, July 24, 2008

A bad decision

Remember that episode of The Office when Jim decides he wants to ride his bike to work and he shows up, sweaty, tired, and disgusting? Or maybe you'll better remember the office 5K when everybody runs in order to find a cure for Rabies? You know, when Kevin forgets his running clothes, Michael almost passes out, and Andy's nipples start bleeding?

Well, bring to your mind the image of a sweaty office worker.

And then, picture my face.

For some ungodly reason, I decided it would be fun to go for a 3 mile run at lunch today. It's actually not a bad idea in theory. The weather's beautiful; I'm training for a marathon; I'm not doing much at work because my boss is on vacation. Etc.

These are all valid reasons why an extra long lunch was a good idea.

But the aftermath of a 3 mile run in 80 degree weather is a messy affair. And when you discover that the office "shower" your HR person told you about is nothing but a janky, scary, dirty dorm shower at best, you come to immediately regret your decision. As well as curse the name of the HR person who seems to have deliberately led you astray.

(Upon showing me the ladies room on my first day:
"Oh, so do a lot of people shower here?" I ask.
"Yes, actually. There's a group of ladies who walks twice a week. And they use the facilities after their exercise. It's fairly common," he lied.
I've come to find out that no one actually does this. In fact, there isn't even a walking club.
Awesome.)

"So Jessie--what did you do?" you ask.

I sat at my desk until my heart stopped pounding and my body stopped pouring buckets of sweat out of every orifice. I tried to think cool thoughts and drank an impossible amount of water. And, after about an hour, I changed back into my office clothes. My hair is a greasy, greasy mop.

What. a. day.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Something incredibly rude

My aunt's wedding reception was a huge success. There was dancing; there was drinking; there was debauchery; and there was family I hadn't seen in at least 15 years. All of Oma's living brothers and sisters made the trip with their spouses and kids. It was pretty incredible to have all those Dutch people in one room.

And you know what they say about us Dutch: "If you're not Dutch, you're not much."

The toast went all right, too. Although, there was some kind of a/v miscommunication, and so a slide show of Oma started going while I was in the middle of the speech. And then, the birthday cake was brought out prematurely. Not wanting to take up anymore time, I wrapped up early. It was never about me in the first place--I just wanted to make sure that Oma felt honored. And she did. So, yay.

But, literally, I had the most ridiculous interaction ever in my life right after the toast. This random woman approached me, and here, verbatim, is our conversation:

Woman: "Can I just say, you are so DUTCH!"
Me: "Oh gosh, thanks?"
Woman: "You have the blonde hair and the curves."
Me: "Haha. Thank you."
Woman: "And you also have the ankles."
Me: "I'm sorry. What?"
Woman: "I was looking at you and said to myself! 'Yep! She's got the big ankles, just like the rest of us!' Don't worry, honey. Everyone in this room has them. I've got them, too."

(At this point, she picks up her leg and shows me her enormous cankle.)

Me: "Haha, yeah. I guess it's just our Dutch curse."

Never before have I wanted to hit someone so badly. For the first time, I wished my life was a movie simply so I could have a dream sequence in which I'm pummeling another human being to the ground--and enjoying it.

Why, in the name of all that is holy, would one woman say something like that to another? I mean, seriously. Now that a couple of days have gone by, I can recognize how freaking hilarious this is. (Which is why I'm sharing it with all of you.) But if I read it in an essay or saw it in a movie, I would have dismissed it as completely unbelievable.

Well, I'll be the first to admit I was wrong. Once again, truth is stranger than fiction. Literally, I couldn't make this shit up.




Friday, July 18, 2008

A toast to Oma

My aunt is having her wedding reception tomorrow (she and her husband got married in December at City Hall, but they've planned the big blow out party for this weekend). Like any reception, this will have toasts. Only, I've been asked to toast Oma, instead of the bride and groom, as she's decided to make the trip down.

Seeing as how this is an experimental writing forum, I figured I'd post what I'm planning to say. And if any of you have any advice about how to improve this little piece, I will be forever grateful.

With no further ado:

It's not every day that you're asked to write a little speech that encapsulates the importance of a person so dearly loved. And truly, Oma--Jo--Mom, is just that. Her courage and faith are the cornerstones of our family. And the fact that she's here celebrating with us tonight is a miracle unto itself. She's already defeated two types of cancer and survived the German invasion of Holland during World War II. Tough as nails and with a true spirit of adventure, she spent her honeymoon immigrating to America as she knew there was no future for her family in Holland. And, on top of that, she raised 7 happy, well-adjusted children and mentored 5 adoring grandchildren who will always love and support her. She's strong-willed, independent, and fearless, to say the least. And because of this, the Vermeulen brood is a force to be reckoned with. (Just ask anyone who's married in.)

In addition to her remarkable character, Oma possesses a faith that is so real and deep, it's contagious. And her commitment to loving service is inspiring. We see this demonstrated in her decades long relationship with Meals on Wheels, an organization that delivers food to needy families; her steadfast church attendance; and the 3 x 5 note cards with uplifting (and challenging) sayings that she sporadically sends to friends and family. Some of my personal favorites are:

  • The goal of faith is not for us to get into heaven, but rather for heaven to get into us.
  • If you judge people, you have no time to love them.
  • [Add more]

But Oma is nothing, if not a party animal and her presence this evening confirms this. I can safely say that I've never known another person battling bone cancer to travel the lengths that she did to get here.

So, to you, Oma--Jo--Mom, we raise our glasses. You are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the youngest 80-year-old I know. And with each day, you teach us more about life and love. Here's to you.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

This might be on THE OFFICE next season

I just walked into the break room to find my friend painting a miniature pony. This was a task she was assigned to do. For her job. She's getting paid to do this.

Stunned, I walked up to her and said, "Um, wow. What are you doing?"

"I have to paint this pony for the catalog. They want to take a picture of this kit we're promoting. I got to paint a dragon a few months ago," she said while brushing.

"That's amazing," I offered. "I just compiled a spreadsheet," I said, slightly deflated.

Eyes focused on her task and her brows ever-so-coolly raised, she replied. "Oh, I know. That was me yesterday. Sometimes I feel like my life is one big Excel document."

But you're painting a pony right now, I thought to myself. How is your life anything like an Excel document?!

Instead I responded, "Yeah. I know what you mean."


Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Hello, again

Sorry for the delay. I've gotten some nudges about my lack of postings lately. And I do apologize. But, like every writer, I have an excuse: I was on vacation!

I spent a week with Oma in Oregon; that was life-changing to say the least. She told me stories about her past I'd never heard (the details of which I'll post about later). And I got to tell her how much I love her--and how I wish she could live forever. As the words were coming out of my mouth, I couldn't help but think to myself: "Damn, I'm lucky. Isn't this the conversation people always wish they could have had?"

Last but not least, I also got to spend some quality time with Chris at Stanford. Good food, good friends, good times.

I'm back now and have started the new job. This place can only be described as Initech. You know, the fictional corporation from Office Space? I literally deal with TPS reports and Excel spreadsheets all day every day. (A friend of mine suggested I get a red Swingline stapler. I think this is a must.) And, after my first day, I can safely say I had a nervous breakdown.

At least now I know the warning signs: the tightness in the chest; the overwhelming urge to cry; the feeling of utter helplessness; nausea; etc.

A positive side effect of this breakdown, however, was the stunning revelation that I'm no longer emotionally invested in my work. I will pass my days at this place. I will learn the tasks well. I will participate in office gossip. I will arrive and leave on time. And I will hopefully make some friends.

But really, I've officially stepped out of a career and into job.

Here's a highlight from day 2:
I'm sitting at my cube, waiting to get instructions about what to do. I decide I should catch up on my celebrity gossip, even though my computer screen faces the hallway and everyone walking by can see it. I see what perezhilton is up to, but when I try to visit the site, an error message appears saying that [my username] was trying to access pornography.

What?!

I immediately close the page, whip my head to see if anyone saw, and vow before God that I will never try to read celebrity gossip (unless it's found in the LA Times, New York Times, or CNN) ever again.

This is an excellent exercise if one is trying to increase their heart rate.