The Vacant Desk

a return to the Desk

2012-01-02T17:33:00.000-08:00

Greetings, fellow minions.

It's been a shameful length of time since this blog was updated, but we won't apologize - after all, it's our blog and we'll update it whenever we damned well want to. However, we're sorry for the lack of interesting and fun updates. As the interwebs are a large place, we're sure you've found other things to occupy your time. *cough* *p0rn*

Since last we spoke, we've changed our Desk again. It's another desk in another building, but we're not working for The Man any longer - it's back to the private sector for us. Go team!

A desk by any other name remains the same, if it's not really your desk - the one owned by you, dusted (or not) by you, crowded (or not) by your bills. As long as it's a desk in someone else's space, it will truly never be our desk.

Without going into gory detail (unless you'd like us to), we'll succinctly recap the last several months:

slaved away for The Man
got caught in the quagmire of a regular paycheck with good benefits and decent retirement plan
had a life-flashing-before-our-eyes type of encounter (long story, and we signed a non-disclosure agreement so we won't be discussing that any further)
found alternate employment
didn't let the door hit us on the way out

We're still not doing what we'd like, but at least it's less dungeon-y and slightly more civilized. Our colleagues are interesting (not in a make-a-giant-rubber-band-ball kind of way, either). The environment has a certain je ne sais quoi, less institution and more place of business feel to it.

We make less money, but we really don't give a shit.

Still, the capacity for stupid in an educated and intelligent human being continues to amaze and astound us. Regularly. Daily. Like the printer running out of ink in our 4 day absence and not one person checking the drawers of the shelf under the printer. Without hanging replacement cartridges from the ceiling, we thought the drawer right below the printer would be obvious enough. Apparently not.

It still comes down to a lack of leadership and personal awareness - which money, sad to say, just can't buy. So, despite our move into the slightly less mind-numbing private sector, we remain overeduated and underemployed. Shocking.

Sometimes we think we're just rats in a large, earth-shaped cage, providing entertainment for whatever is beyond the cosmos; because if we're the most intelligent life in the universe, we're so fucked.

~ Paige

gone, but not forgotten. damn.

2010-04-27T18:49:00.000-07:00

It happened yesterday. We've been waiting for it to happen since early last week; we're pretty surprised that it took six days, actually. And since yesterday it's happened four times. Four. Shit.

It's the 'employee-didn't-leave-the-company-just-moved-to-another-job-so-we-can-still-ask-them-questions-about-their-old-job' bullshit.

Considering we work for The Man, we shouldn't be surprised that this crap is going on. If we'd left the organization to start a cult in Poland, this wouldn't happen. Does anyone start cults in Poland? Likely not. It gets pretty damn cold there.

Since it's beyond the faking-our-own-death stage, we thought it might be helpful to share with others our unique insight and perspective on this matter. (Okay, fine - this is just a forum for us to vent and rant and we don't give a shit what you think. It makes us feel better to share, so we're going to.)

(email sample #1)
Hi Paige. Just doing a coding block to get this invoice paid and I don't know where you kept the old ones. When you get a minute, could you let me know? Super thanks!
Reply: Have you looked in the filing cabinet or in the electronic filing? Gotta run - we're in training here. Good luck.

(email sample #2)
Hi Paige. About that coding block, thanks! I didn't even think to look in the cabinet. D'uh! Anyways, where do you keep your accounting binder? You know, the one with all the codes we need to use? Super thanks!
Reply: Have you looked on the desk? There's only one binder on the desk. That should be it. We really have to go. Best of luck sorting it out. PS: did you read the note we left? It should explain where everything is.

(email sample #3)
Hi Paige! Hope your training is going well. Yeah, I got the binder - I didn't think it was the right one because it had alphabetical tabs in it. But now that I think about it, that makes sense - way easier to find stuff. Thanks! Oh, by the way, that guy called back and wanted to know what to do about the burnt out light in the hallway. Super thanks!
Reply: Seriously? Change the fucking bulb.

(email sample #4)
Hey, Paige...that was kinda harsh. Is everything alright? I know it must be tough to have to learn all that new stuff and everything. If you need to talk to someone, let me know.
Reply: We're currently out of the office, return date as yet unknown. Our email is not being forwarded in our absence.

~ Paige

thirty seconds in the file room

2010-04-13T15:19:00.000-07:00

(inane office dialogue on a rainy Tuesday afternoon)

Colleague: So, like, we only get sick days and vacation days? Don't we get, like appointment days?

Us: What do you mean?

Colleague: Like, days off for appointments and stuff?

Us: Pretty sure you won't get an entire day off for an appointment.

Colleague: Really?

Us: Yep. Maybe you should look at the employee manual.

Colleague: What's that?

Us: The thing you got when you were hired.

Colleague: Oh. I gave all that stuff to my mom.

Us: Why?

Colleague: She does that stuff for me.

Us: What stuff?

Colleague: You know, look after the stuff I need to know.

Us: But it's your job, not hers. Right?

Colleague: Yeah, well, whatever.

Us: So, if you have a question about your job, you'll call your mom?

Colleague: No. I'll just ask you.

Us: Uh, no you won't.

Colleague: Why not?

Us: 'Cause we're not your mom. What the hell do you think you're getting paid for? Wake up, darlin. No one gives a shit about you here.

automate this

2010-04-06T10:27:00.000-07:00

Where the hell are the Jetsons when you need them?

Okay, seriously. Back in the day - when we were knee-high to a grasshopper and the world still held joy and wonder - we were told that we'd have flying machines to get to work, dishes would wash themselves and we'd have nothing to do but shop and look pretty.

Maybe that isn't your idea of fun, but we're sure as shit that we'd be pretty happy not having to come to this drudgery everyday until someone out there recognizes our magnificent linguistic prowess and gives us a three-book-deal. (in reality, we'll take a one book deal, but let's not get ahead of ourselves here)

Maybe we wouldn't be all Judy Jetson, shopping with George's credit card and sending the kids off to school. In fact, there's little chance anything like that would happen. But she did have the cutest little outfits, didn't she?

The point here is that we were sold a promise - albeit slightly unspoken - in our five-year-old suggestive state that we'd have more things automated by now, including jobs like ours. And that would leave us with more time to, well, who knows what we'd do with all that time on our hands. We've been working for eons.

According to loose promises of shows like the Jetsons, here are three things that we think should be automated. Like now.

mail
We know there are nifty little machines that fold letters, stuff them in envelopes, seal said envelopes and affix sufficient postage. We've seen them. Why pay us $X.xx/hr to stuff envelopes? If ever there was an overpaid task, this would be it. We might not make a ton of cash, but we're pretty sure there's a better way to spend our paid time than stuffing paper into envelopes and licking postage stamps. Get on it and bring automated mail to the masses.

phone
How many times have we told you that answering the phone is so 70's? We won't bug you about the fax machine (now there's a peach ripe for the pickin') if you will get off your ass and get an adequate, functioning and friendly automated telephone tree. Pony up, big britches. Besides - it'll give us a chance to test out that Christopher Walken voice-message thing.

filing
With the scanning, the email and the virtual office shit you've got going on, it's excrutiating to realize that you still have us doing filing - not to mention that you expect us to use an alphabetizer. Archaic. Get rid of the paper, save a rain forest in Brazil and join the twenty-first century before you go the way of the dodo bird.

Once you get cracking on these babies, you'll be amazed at how truly efficient we can be. The maybe - just maybe - you'll see that we are more than the envelope-stuffing, telephone-answering, file-alphabetizing eye candy you seem to think we are.

~ Paige

leave it at the door, please

2010-03-31T14:39:00.000-07:00

We know that you like to bring “all of you” to work. Not leaving parts of our own self at the door is a major component in our work life happiness, too (we can be happy at work, eventually). And yes, we know there’s more to you than the suit in front of us – we recognize that better than anyone else you work with. It goes both ways, but we’ll leave that reminder for another time.

But really, what does bringing all of you to work actually mean? Do we get to see your bunny slippers, batman pyjamas or cat-of-nine tails when we pass your open office door?

We hope not.

There are some things that should remain outside the work door if we’re going to have a relatively successful relationship with you. You know it, we know it, and now we’re going to say it.

Your new, re-discovered or recently converted to religion

Whether or not we a) believe there’s something out there other than the universe, b) subscribe to a similar religious structure or c) think the whole thing’s just a whack of hooey, the workplace isn't the best spot to delve into this discussion. Countries have warred over these topics for centuries; we usually have an hour at lunch. It ain’t the place, honey.

A proclivity for unusual bedroom activities

When it’s time for the ‘get to know your co-workers’ storytelling, we’re pretty sure the makers of that game didn’t anticipate you disclosing your love of buttless leather chaps. Not that there’s anything wrong with buttless leather chaps; it’s just that we don’t think that visual has a place around our water cooler. Keep it in your bedroom – or motel room, or apartment elevator, or other non-work-place.

Your federal / regional / municipal vote

Bleeding heart socialist or cutthroat conservative; it doesn’t matter. Aside from religion, this hot-button topic is responsible for more dissention, death and discord than the lip-sync-on-live-television debate. Cast your vote. You get one. Be happy with that.

Breeding (otherwise known as the choice to procreate and raise offspring)

Just because a woman has a uterus and a man has a penis does not mean that they will a) want to do things to each other with these parts or b) if they do mess with each others’ parts, want to have seed land in womb. You want kids? Go nuts. Leave those alone who don’t want the ‘little blessings’. Please.

Negotiating the treacherous waters of the office environment is nerve-wracking enough as it is. Don’t make us get out our unmarked van and balaclava for an intervention, deprogramming or political action. Because we will. And you’ll lose.

If you discuss any of the above no-no items, there will be consequences. Imagine how you’ll look, waking up at the family planning clinic in your buttless chaps and clutching your copy of The Watchtower. We can arrange it.

~ Paige

the three-penny-tip

2010-03-15T18:01:00.000-07:00

We’re resigning.

We saw the writing on the wall from the moment our “new hire package” was lost in the mail enroute to Regional. And we warned you that it wasn’t the right fit for us right from the get-go, but you didn’t listen.

We've reached our expiration date; hell, we’re way past it. While we look upon you and your office domain with disdain, we’re quite practical: we need to eat and we need a nice (enough) place to live. Everyone knows we’re in this for the paycheque until someone pays us for our fabulous tell-all office memoir.

After spending years perfecting our resignation letter, you get the glossy product that all other supervisors / managers / executive-types didn’t get. Some of our former resignation letters had nuggets of gold, but mainly they were just gilded crap. There’s a difference between gilded crap, generic crap and stick-it-to-you-so-hard-that-you-don’t-even-notice-we’re-sticking-it-to-you. This one's the latter, and it's golden.

We know you have difficulty with big words and that the subtlety of good writing is something that eludes you. We’ll make it easy: we’ll translate.

To Whom It May Concern, (notice how we don’t even use your name?)

Please consider this letter as our resignation from our position of administrative professional with your organization, as we have accepted a position with another branch.
You think of us as dispensable, interchangeable and lesser-than, so we’re going somewhere that might not happen. Oh, but it’s still in the same large organization – that means there are people out there who we’d rather work for, which you can’t possibly imagine.

We understand the acceptable window of notification is two weeks. Therefore, we are providing you with two week’s notice. Our last day of employment with your organization will be Wednesday March 31 2010.
If we gave a rat’s ass about you, we’d want to negotiate a transition date – considering it’s the same overarching employer. But we don’t give a rat’s ass about you. You’ll get what we give you and you’ll take it, just like we have for the past eon or so. You’re lucky we’re giving any notice at all.

We’d like to thank you for providing us with such interesting learning opportunities.
The shit we had to deal with here is unmentionable, so we won’t mention it. But we do need to acknowledge that our resiliency and mental agility was significantly increased by your lack of leadership. We had to survive, and we did. Thank you for being a f*ck up so we could learn how to deal with that.

Sincerely,

Paige Simcoe

Think of it like being in the hospitality industry – which we’re sure you never worked in because you have zero customer service skills. If you were a server, would a bigger insult be a) having someone leave you no tip or b) leaving you three pennies?

The no-tipper was dissatisfied enough to just leave without thinking about you. The three-penny-tipper thought about your horrible service so much that they chose to leave three measly pennies in spite.

We’re a three-penny-tipper on this one. Sadly, we don’t think you’ll clue in, because you never did.

~ Paige

resignation letter language - translated

2010-03-10T21:53:00.000-08:00

We want a bitch-o-meter.

We're thinking it's the best way to find out what the executive weather is like around you without risking life or limb in the process. Oh, come on. You know what we're talking about: the days of closed office doors, three cups of coffee before 9am and the telltale smoke that drifts out of your ears. You've had those days.

The only thing that helps us survive your bitch days is thinking about the various ways we can tell you off in a resignation letter. We're more subtle than you, so you might not pick up on some of the nuances. We'll translate, just to be sure you're following along.

We'd like to take this opportunity to thank you for helping us realize we can adapt to any situation.
Your mood swings can generate more g-force than a stealth jet.

We realize not everyone gets the chance to work with someone like you. Thank you for the unique and interesting experience.
There's a good chance your leadership style will take you the way of the dinosaur: extinction.

Thank you for the direction and guidance you have provided.
We've learned how not to be an executive / manager / person by watching you completely f*ck it up.

It's been an incredible learning opportunity.
We couldn't make this shit up if we tried.

Our post today is short, sweet and to the point. Kind of like how we envision our resignation letter would be on those days.

Want to avoid reading one of these lines in a resignation letter from your soon-to-be ex-employee? Easy: don't be a bitch.

~Paige

5 pits of doom to avoid in getting sh*t done

2010-03-01T15:58:00.000-08:00

It doesn’t take snooping around in a large organization to find inefficiencies, poor practice and policies that are just plain stupid. We’ve worked in lots of businesses; we get around. Big or small, private or public – it doesn’t really matter. There’s one common denominator we found while working our ass off in the trenches: dumb doesn’t discriminate.

From under-estimating to over-compensating, people seem to have a hard time hitting the nail anywhere near the head. No amount of fudging the numbers will help you get sh*t done when you’ve started out of the wrong gate, in the wrong shoes or with the wrong team.

You might be thinking “oh, but my organization knows what it’s doing”. Sorry, big gal/guy – chances are you’re way off base and your staff are either too a) afraid b) useless or c) busy with their own plans to overthrow your inefficient ass to tell you what’s wrong.

We care. We always have. We're here to help, believe it or not. It’s why you hired us, remember? We’re more than just a pretty face that can tie a tie (actually, we can’t tie a tie – we just keep the same one looped in a loose knot, hanging behind your closet and you’ve never noticed).

Don’t panic. Now that you know your project/assignment/whatever isn’t going to finish ahead of schedule, in the black or ever really be finished, we won’t leave you hanging. It's going to take some gonads to get the sh*t done, so if you’re not ready for that then please proceed along as ineffectually as usual – just don’t come crying to us when you’re the last one on the sinking ship. It’s likely we’ll have high-tailed it out of there before that anyway.

For those ready to take the plunge, roll up your sleeves. This could get messy.

Management malfunction

Someone, somewhere in a position of authority and decision-making is asleep at the wheel, not what they appear to be or cowering in the corner. If it’s not you, then it’s someone on your management team – or the team itself. It’s happened before: groupthink gone freakishly wrong.

One of the best ways to ferret out the f*ck up is to let people know you’re open to bribery or ass-kissing. For your efforts, by the end of the first week you should see an increase in expensive booze on your desk or a series of just-thought-you-should-know-what-a-terrific-job-you’re-doing emails. Now you fire the slug, bask in the glow of the hollow praise via email and drink that 12+ year old Scotch.

Pathetic planning

Too much can strangle, and too little can let the horses out of the barn before you want to set them free. So the horse and barn is a bad analogy – you don’t pay us enough to be that creative. Regardless of the barn, if you’ve not done your due diligence and accounted for the unexpected, you’re going to be up the creek without the proverbial canoe. Oh, you thought we were going to say paddle, right? Wrong. Without thinking about what you’re going to try to accomplish and who you’re going to accomplish it for and with, you’re not going to have a paddle or a canoe.

Preparation involves including all stakeholders in the process. All of them – even the ones you don’t think will count, the ones you don’t like and the ones you have never spoken to before (especially them). Want to streamline customer service? Try calling your own organization and see how easy it is to even get customer service, good or bad. Need to redesign a mail delivery system? Get on the cart and touch that mail, from the sorting to the delivering. Get involved, and get others involved – or get the hell out of the way of the people who can get sh*t done.

Dead weight

Just because someone was an excellent subject matter expert doesn’t mean that they’re a) still relevant b) cut out for management or c) someone that anyone gives a crap about outside of the throne they’ve constructed in their own mind. (oh come on – everyone’s done it)

There comes a time when something in the forest must die. This is how new plantings grow. We’re not telling you to arrive at the office with a machete and clean house – although it’s likely there’s at least one video game to help you with that fantasy if you’re so inclined. We suggest you take a good look at the forest and decide what, if anything, needs thinning. Then fire up that hypothetical chainsaw and make room for the people who really want to work.

Cover up

By this point in your career you’ve either covered your own ass or you’ve covered someone else’s ass. Not much happens by ass-covering, other than spreading sh*t around instead of getting it done and cleaning it up.

If someone is spending too much time covering their or someone else’s ass, chances are they’re not spending enough time doing the work they’re supposed to be doing. That includes you. If you’re an executive, you don’t have time for that crap – you probably don’t have time to chew your own food some days. And no, we’re not offering that so don’t get your hopes up. Lesson here is to make sure there aren’t any blankets around. It takes more effort to cover your ass and get your work done than it does to get your work done and deal with the sh*t if and when it hits the fan.

MacGyver syndrome

You’re not in a television show. Don’t expect someone to be able to design a ground-breaking widget with a pack of gum and a paperclip. If they say they can, shove them out the door because there’s only one Richard Dean Anderson and we’re pretty sure they aren't him.

We’re willing to bet (heavily) that you don’t have a scientist bomb-disposal technician on your team who is also a secret agent. If you do, kudos. Otherwise, don’t let anyone tell you they can do it all – unless they’ve proven they can. Remember that subject matter expert thing in the dead weight section? Well, this is why executives invented “contractors”. Hire the right person for the right job. Sounds easy, but you’d be amazed at how many people really f*ck this one up. Then you’ll never get your sh*t done.

We didn’t say we’d sugar coat it. And sometimes it takes strong language to get across a strong message – and sometimes we just don’t give a damn. But you’re used to that from us by now, right? Right.

Go pour yourself a drink. You’ll need it. We do, and it’s not our ass that’s on the line here.

~ Paige

rebranding the work week: goodbye hump day

2010-02-26T16:16:00.000-08:00

Working gets a bad rap. We didn't say it was always undeserved. Sure, there are times when the office is a place of inspiration. But mainly we find it a place of soul-sucking, personality-draining, addiction-inducing blandness. How do you think places like Winners survive? It's not all soccer moms that shop there, you know. Besides - usually soccer moms can afford full retail on those designer handbags.

Okay, okay - enough with the stereotyping and retail-bashing. For this post, anyway. And we apologize to any soccer moms we may have offended. Many of you are stellar, truly. Having kids and doing the yummy mummy thing must be difficult. We applaud your efforts at side-stepping the cougar world for a few more years. Well done.

Where were we? Oh, right. The black hole that is the office. We're not sure that it's entirely the fault of the workplace that it gets a bad rap; some blame rests with the days themselves. How can we expect to have a spectacular day when the world tells us that Monday's are supposed to suck lizard tails? We're doomed from the moment we put our sensible shoes in the bottom drawer and pull out those three-inch heels.

It's all about branding. So let's re-brand the work week. We're not talking about dismissing the Monday to Friday thing; we'd like that, but that's a pretty big apple to take a bite out of. No, we'd like to re-brand the expectations we have of weekdays. So here's our first kick at the can. Please add as you see fit.

Monday
Instead of bemoaning the onset of Monday, how about we celebrate its innocence? Monday is like that field of snow before the first footprint, the pristine sand left behind when the tide goes out, the quicksand before you sink. It's not the day itself that sucks - just what usually happens around it that does.

Tuesday
Often overshadowed by older sibling Monday and usurped by middle child Wednesday, Tuesday has sunk into a slump. But Tuesday has its own value to add. Isn't Tuesday traditionally the day of the two-for deal? Let's make Tuesday an all-day two-for. Everything in doubles. That would make pub night way more fun.

Wednesday
Yes, Wednesday goes by the nickname "hump day". We're pretty sure a dude made that one up because it's so predictable. Maybe Wednesday wants to be more subtle. Perhaps straddle day...

Thursday
If there's a day that nothing happens, it's usually Thursday. Almost the weekend but not quite, and it's just after you straddled the week. You're tired, likely sore from the straddling, and you're looking forward to an adult beverage. We like to think of Thursday as Thirsty Thursday. Gets the motor going for the weekend.

Friday
You've been there: in the office, twiddling your thumbs or trying to look busy for the last two hours of a Friday, keeping under the radar...and then the shit hits the fan. Friday isn't the cakewalk everyone makes it out to be. It's a fraud. There's a word we can think of for Friday, and it rhymes with pucked. Figure it out.

So now that it's pucked Friday, go have yourself a drink. Unless you were one of the cheese-asses that left early. If so, you get to order the first - no, first and second - round at the pub.

~Paige

leadership by iconic - or, at least, memorable - figures

2010-02-02T12:29:00.000-08:00

Despite what the woman with the great legs said (the awesome Tina Turner), we do need antoher hero. We're just not sure the leadership hero can be succinctly packaged into one human body. It's too much good stuff crammed into one tiny space.

But we think you can learn from those who have walked before you. Consider this the Cole's Notes version of Leadership 101. And you know how effective those little books were, don't you.

One of the common denominators I have found is that expectations rise above that which is expected.
~George W. Bush
If you can't dazzle them with your brilliance, by all means baffle them with bullshit. It seemed to work as a good strategy for a certain elected official, and for more than one term. The increased use of multi-syllabic words can confound, and can often instil that intrinsic sense of leadership your minions should come to expect of you.

Next time you go out for dinner, have a look around the table and if everyone is on your payroll, the chances are you have become a jerk.
~Bono
Sometimes we don't have the heart to tell you, and maybe you wouldn't listen if we tried. So take Bono's advice. Lots of people have. Besides, he makes zillions of dollars so he's gotta be sort of smart, right?

As for that VP talk all the time, I'll tell you, I still can't answer that question until somebody answers for me what it is exactly that the VP does every day?
~Sarah Palin
We'd like to think that if you're a) running for the job or b) applying for the job, that you either a) know what the hell you're doing or b) can snow us well enough that we can't see the difference when you don't. Maybe we should hire Oscar winning actors. We thought Morgan Freeman made a good elected official. And anything he says just sounds smart.

I don't remember anybody's name. How do you think the 'dahling' thing got started?
~Zsa Zsa Gabor
So maybe Zsa Zsa came about before the whole equitable workplace thing and the anti-sexual harassment training. But she's awesome and has a cute accent. If you can get away with viewing your employees as monochromatic fodder - but make it sound adorable - we say go ahead and try.

I mean, there's no arguing. There is no anything. There is no beating around the bush. 'Your're fired' is a very strong term.
~Donald Trump
We're not sure what things transpired, but it seemed to work for the Donald. And in front of millins of witnesses, too.

Having hit a wall, the next logical step is to not bang our heads against it.
~Stephen Harper
Pointing out the obvious is always an indicator of strong leadership. We might suggest you reference the first example and add a few bigger words to give yourself some big word cred.

This doesn't happen when they use guns.
~Charlton Heston
We couldn't say it any better than the NRA lovin' dude himself.

~ Paige

guide to surviving workplace zombies

2010-02-01T18:53:00.000-08:00

Let's get this out in the open right now: no, we haven't watched Zombieland or read Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. We did read Pride and Prejudice, so we've got a wee bit of a crush on Mr. Darcy. But who doesn't?

The zombie has been around for as long as we've had corporate head offices, lunch room shenanigans and office politics. Probably longer, but now that they've found an orchard full of ripe fruit, they're digging in their heels and getting themselves planted. It's scary out there.

For those of you trying to stave off the office zombie attack, and who can't ditch the nine-to-fiver just yet, we offer this handy survival guide. We haven't read any others - it's just stuff we've stumbled upon ourselves while trying to maintain our own non-zombieness. It ain't easy being flesh when you're surrounded by the undead. We know. We've been there. Hell, we're there right now. So listen close.

A zombie doesn't drink
If you find yourself about to be zombified, invite the zombie to a "let's get to know each other better" lunch. Discretely slip an ounce of booze into her/his glass. Nothing will happen - immediately. You'll have about ten minutes to get to the safety zone before the zombie's head explodes. It's wicked cool when it does. Just make sure you didn't let the zombie drive you to lunch, or you'll be thumbing a ride back to the office.

The zombie dislikes informative radio
Most office zombies listen to whatever Canadian or Americal Idol crap is playing. We're not saying these television shows are ridiculous piles of shit - we're sure there are some awesome singers or performers that join up with this tripe. That's too bad. But if you find a zombie lingering around your workstation, it's likely that you have some sort of popular garbage playing which they find apppealing. Save yourself and tune into NPR or the CBC. Trust us. Not only will you not become a zombie, you might just learn some shit at the same time. Cool.

Zombies can't live without attention
Ignoring them yourself won't make them go away. We've tried that, and we almost became one of the bastards, too. No, zombies need to be ignored en masse. That's right - identify (to a trusted few) that the person is in fact a zombie, and get some colleagues to collectively ignore her/his attempts at contact. Those bad boys will wither up and die. Makes a hell of a mess for the janitorial staff, but they don't mind. We've asked. They'd rather sweep up an ashy pile of zombie bits than have the day shift become zombies.

A zombie is unable to take criticism
We're not suggesting you just attack anyone who you think might be a zombie, running rampant around the office and undermining work at large. It's fun, but it won't help you fight the zombie. What you should do is carefully and thoroughly criticize the zombie's suggestions and work. Eventually, the zombie will have the equivalent of what we call "a crisis of conscience". Since they don't have a conscience, you're not doing any harm, really. Like the attention thing, the zombie will collapse into a pile of ash. Sweep away.

The zombie can't confront another zombie about his/her zombieness
This one's trickier, but the pay out is worth the effort. Get two zombies in a room - with other non-zombie types as a distraction - and guide the conversation so that the two zombies are pitched in battle, defending their viewpoint, idea, whatever. Like in the booze example, you might want to stand back for this one. It'll get ugly. We can't describe it, but it's something everyone has to see at least once.

Zombies can't skate
Easy enough. Get a zombie on a patch of ice and watch them fall. Their hand-eye coordination sucks, so they'll tumble almost immediately. And because of this sucking of hand-eye coordination, the zombie won't have the foresight or ability to block their fall, leaving the vulnerable head available for splattering on the hard surface. Again, this can be messy. Stand back.

Now that you know a bit about surviving zombies in the workplace, go find yourself a zombie and practice. Don't worry about hurting them or their feelings. They don't feel pain like we do, and they have no feelings.

That's why they're zombies, silly.

~Paige

we're sorry, the number you've reached is out of service

2010-01-25T17:03:00.000-08:00

We have nothing particularly insightful to say today. Are you disappointed? You should be.

Yes, we promised to titillate you with tales and bring you deep inside the dark, dirty caverns of the administrative world. Well, we're not doing that today.

In fact, we're going to tell you a whole lot of what we're not doing. Starting now.

We aren't going to cry if you leave.
Things happen, people move on. That's the way the cookie crumbles, and unless we're the cookie monster and you're our crumbling cookie, your departure won't affect us negatively in the slightest.

We're not about to collect money for a lottery pool.
Why would we want to do that? Unless we can bring in a cricket mallet and threaten to break kneecaps when you don't cough up the two bucks a week, we're not in for that particularly tedious task. Go buy your own tickets.

We resign our post as coffee fund monitor.
You drink coffee. You buy coffee. It's a fairly straightforward transaction, yes? No? Well tough shit. We're not collecting for that, either. See reason noted above regarding kneecaps and the breaking of.

We're done with the dish debate.
Who's turn is it to wash the dishes? Who left the dirty dishes in the sink? We don't care. And if left up to us, we'd eat with our fingers, off our lap, and screw the dish crap entirely. The next round of dirty anything will end up in the trash. Oh, was that plate from your aunt Martha? If it was so damn important, why did it sit in the sink for three weeks and grow crusty science experiments all over it? Yeah, thought so.

We will no longer take phone messages.
There are these lovely things called voice mail messaging systems. People will use them, or people will not. Either way, we're done with the 1950's secretary bullshit. Those skirts make our thighs look fat.

We're done being your dayplanner.
Sure, we'll still plan your day. It's part of the job. But we organize it in this neat little electronic device called a calendar. You can even access it from your Blackberry / iPhone / technology thingy. Stop calling us every six minutes to find out when your next appointment is, and start using that little shiny rectangle before we confiscate it and download tons of porn for the IT department to nail you with.

Now stop interrupting us and let us get back to the things we're supposed to do. Like save your ass from being chewed out by the Board, rewrite the strategic plan, organize the annual retreat and update your membership at every club in town.

And if we hear one more call from your office asking us when your next appointment is, well...let's just say that Mike from IT owes us a favour. Or two.

~ Paige

pigeon hole this

2010-01-22T11:06:00.000-08:00

The pigeon hole. The stereotype. Oh, the unspoken expectations.

They're all around us, all the time. And we can't avoid them, despite our best efforts. We try. We've hung our degree in conspicuous places; we talk about our weekend adventures and travels to far-off places. You don't listen. Or if you do, you don't care.

Whatever the reason, we're stuck in a slot somewhere between receptionist, fire fighter, strategist and gopher. Have you ever stopped to think about the knowledge we bring with us? The skills and critical thinking abilities that allow us to circumnavigate the mine field that awaits us each day? Likely not.

There's a good chance you wouldn't listen to us if we told you, so we're not going to. But if you're going to pigeon hole us, at least let us pick the hole.

Here's a list to help you understand just how deep - and dark - those pigeon holes can be.

The Cutie
Bright, bubbly and outgoing, the Cutie disarms those who approach and makes everyone feel welcome. What you don't realize is that there's a flesh-eating dragon buried beneath those dimples. You're being plotted against from the moment you lower your defenses. The Cutie is one of our deadliest assets. We'll get you while you sleep.

The Wiz
Need something fixed? Call on the Wiz. Got a noodle-scratcher and can't find your way out of that paper bag? The Wiz is there, ready and willing to lend a helping hand. You draw us close, leaning on us more heavily as each day passes. Eventually you don't even try to hide how much you rely on us. You start bragging to your colleagues. That's when we shop ourselves around for a better offer; that's when we can bring you to your knees. By then, it's too late. Ante up.

The Caregiver
Caterer bailed at the last minute? The Caregiver shows up with dozens of baked goods, saving your designer-covered ass. Maybe you had a rough day and need to debrief; we'll let you cry - or vent - on our shoulder. We're the best friend that you've taken advantage of for years, the person you cheated off during ninth-grade finals. The Caregiver provides you with whatever sustenance you need. We can also take it away at a very opportune moment - for us, that is. Remember who packs your parachute.

The Bulldozer
You've been screening your calls, when suddenly the Bulldozer appears. We dismiss the pest with one skilled flick of our sharp tongue. Maybe we delivered the bad news you've been avoiding, and now you're unbelievably grateful. Whatever the problem, we've ploughed your safe passage time and again. So often, in fact, that you've ceased looking into the surrounding jungle for danger. That's when we pounce - or threaten to let nature take its course. Better keep us around, just in case.

The Dodger
Always artful, the Dodger has an uncanny ability to tuck you away from danger at the last moment - appearing to save the day, but really just skirting the issue. In fact, we're so effective that we deflect the would-be assault and redirect it to your competitors...internal or external. Doesn't matter. What matters is that the Dodger has become your shifty defense, and you don't know how to protect yourself without us. That's fine. Just know that whatever we deflect might one day boomerang right back at you. Unless, of course, we're compenstated appropriately.

We're none of these, yet we've been slotted as each at one time or another. When we're firm, we're a Bulldozer. One the days we're happy, we're the Cutie. Perhaps you caught us side-stepping an ugly inter-office political shit storm, and you called us a Dodger. It's not important.

Ask yourself one question: could you, in all truth, do any of these things - and all of these things - every day? At any time? We can. Now give us a raise or we'll leave your pigeon hole empty. You'll be amazed at what nasty little creatures gravitate to those deep, dark holes once they're vacated.

Maybe it's better to keep us here.

Yes, that's right. Pick up the phone and call Personnel. Show us the money, honey.

~ Paige

putting the ship in leadership

2010-01-12T19:16:00.000-08:00

We know you've waited for this for a long, long time. Well, at least since September 2009 when we started this blog. Then we hit a hiccup and didn't blog for a while (check the archives). Finally we were ticked off enough to start blogging again. So here we are. What the hell were we saying? Right. The thing you waited for.

It's what you were waiting for before you even knew you were waiting for it. Another blog on leadership. But this isn't just any leadership, see. It's leadership in a language you can understand.

You have a hard time with big words sometimes. We understand. Un-der-stand. So we took a long, hard look at what some of our common denominators were to better communicate with you. The list was short. It was either blockbuster movies of the 90's (because who could avoid them - then, or now on repeat over public broadcasting stations) or Twinkies.

We're sure there's a deep Twinkie philosophy buried in there somewhere, but we thought it might be a bit elevated for your vocabulary. Vo-cab-u-lary. The words you know. Yeah, that's it. Good for you!

That left us with movies from the 90's. There were a number of movies that could fit the bill, but only one stood out. It had everything: guns, tough guys, gals in tight black pleather and awesome visual effects (pretty pictures). And a hero that said "woah".

Welcome to Leadership: Matrix Style.

We took some of the more memorable one-liners and broke them down for the leadership gems that we know they are - in some cases, we made them a bit more leadership adaptable. A-dapt-able. And of course you already know all of these things - you're very smart. Just consider this a bit of a refresher course. Re-fre...oh, nevermind. Just read.

What happened, happened, and it couldn't have happened any other way.
Some may call this circular reasoning, but we call it making the ends justify the means. It's how you explain things not going according to the five year plan. You did a five year plan, right?

How do I know? I know because I'm supposed to know. It's my purpose.
This is a little like those pesky mathematicians when they're asked to define something really, really hard. Their answer: by definition. Since that was taken, we decided this line would be an acceptable substitute.

Not everyone believes what I believe. My beliefs don't require them to.
There's something in here about making the rules of the game fit your style of play, we're sure of it. But we're not sports-game people so we can't write a good sports metaphor for it. Met-a-phor. Go local sporting team.

Why am I here? Same reason as you. I love candy.
When in need of a solid deflection, this one's a good one. It asks the questioner to think about their own reason for being where they are. But not too closely, or they might find a level of discontent. Candy is the well-placed distraction. Have a bowl handy, just in case.

We're only what we're meant to do.
This is one of our favourites. Initially, it could be taken as an uplifting message for someone who might be a bit down on not getting a task completed, or not making it off off Broadway. However, if you look closely, you'll find that it's a nice little limiting phrase. They'll walk away scratching their noodle, for sure. Cookie?

There are only two possible explanations: either no one told me, or no one knows.
If there was ever take-charge kind of statement, this is it. Obviously, you know everything that goes on in your organization. Of course. If not, well, see the explanation above. Circular reasoning, welcome back.

There are levels of survival we are prepared to accept.
Think you know your bottom line? Truly? How low is your bottom line? Oh, come on - you can go lower than that. We know you can. We saw you do that trick at the retreat. You know, the one with the pool cue, toilet seat cover and the dixie cups? Lester had the incident with the hairball after that...

Choice; the problem is choice.
Indecision is a kill joy. Nothing interrupts a good strategic plan like choice. Then you have to consult, and talk to people - maybe even do some revising. Who has time for that? You have a company to run. We recognize that. And so, when all else fails, blame choice. What is choice, anyway? It's neither one or the other. Can't even make up its mind. Huh. Don't you hate that?

Time is always against us. Please, take a seat there.
Enough said.

~ Paige

10 reasons our office will be more fun than yours when we're a big cheese

2010-01-07T14:48:00.000-08:00

Everyone says they'd have a better office culture, be more fun or spend more freely when and if they get into a coveted position of power. Yeah, right. Chances are they've been so beaten down along the way that by the time they get into any management position they're hankering to make someone their bitch-slave.

It's unfortunate, but it happens. And we understand it even if we don't condone it.

But not us. If our literary empire becomes vast enough to employ more than a) ourselves and b) one other person to do the stuff we don't like and pay them really well to do it, then we're committing to having the anti-office that beats all offices.

We like top ten lists. It's a nice, even number. So here it is.

1. We will have a pet armadillo.
The armadillo is undervalued. No one knows what it really does, outside of the assignment we did in the sixth grade involving limited information in the Encyclopedia Britannica. You remember those. If you don’t, then you were born in the 80’s and shouldn’t be jaded enough to be reading our blog.

2. You can work pantless.
This one might require some negotiation, and we might end up leaving this one to offices with no windows and closed doors, or working from home. The key here is that you will have the right to come to work however you choose. If you like a suit, fill your boots. Or dress shoes, because boots don’t really work with a suit.

3. Wine will be available at lunch. Every day.
If you don’t drink, you might not want to work at our office – because we do. And we will. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with enjoying a glass of wine at lunch. Unless you’re in law enforcement, are a paramedic or doctor-something, or maybe working with children. Oh, wait; if you work with kids you might want more than one glass.

4. There will be a piñata at every staff meeting. Filled with little bottles of booze and those chalky candies that only come out at Halloween, Rockets.
Everybody loves a piñata. Meetings are boring, and no one pays attention. Tie engagement to a piñata and everyone’s a winner.

5. Personalizing your office will be a catered, week-long event.
Sure, you can include the framed diploma or degree. We’ve got one – but we don’t think our current work environment deserves to be graced with the degree that set us back over $17,000. But our office will embrace your personal touch. Bondage equipment is negotiable, depending on the current insurance policy.

6. The telephones will be answered by Christopher Walken.*
Who wouldn’t want to come to work and hear Christopher Walken on the telephone? We’ll have him record all voice mail messages, too. Anything he says sounds scary, or dirty.

7. Anyone can take as much vacation time as they can justify taking, while getting work done.
Why should those of us who work hard be rewarded with the same amount of paid time off as those of you who do SFA? If you don’t know what SFA is...well, enough said. You’re likely doing it.

8. When we have one, the annual retreat will involve passports.
We work hard – or at least most of us do. When we’re offered time away on the company dime, we think we deserve something a bit more than Bob’s Lost Moose Lodge and mosquito repellent. Picture white, sandy beaches. Azure water. A pool guy with serious abs to cater to our every whim and wish. Now that’s a retreat.

9. The office will hold monthly belt sander races. At a dingy pub. In a small town. And it will be counted as community development.
If this isn’t enough description, then you’ve never been to a belt sander race. Go to one and get back to us. You’ll want in.

10. Every afternoon will include a round of shooters.
Most of us hit a lull somewhere between two and three o’clock every afternoon. We’re writing this at 2:42pm during a workday. Yeah. But we wouldn’t if we were corralled into the lunch room where we put on some crazy music, dimmed the lights and did a shooter with our colleagues while shouting “Viva la revolution!” at the top of our lungs. It’s just a theory, but we’re willing to bet it’s a sound one.

And that’s just the first ten things to strike us on a Thursday afternoon while listening to the CBC and avoiding cataloguing two months worth of mileage on fleet cars. Just imagine what we can think of when we get our thinking cap on.

Maybe it’s time to come up with “10 things our office will ban when we become the big cheese”. We’ll start with banning drip coffee (in favour of employing an in-house barista).

Time for a shooter. The Jello must be firm by now.

~ Paige

* Okay, so we might not get Christopher Walken. But we're sure there are some very good impersonators out there. Who's to say, though, that Christopher won't want to be a part of our fabulous group?

office language: an interpretive guide

2010-01-04T15:47:00.000-08:00

Language can be a slippery eel: hard to catch, and sometimes shocking when you do grab hold of it.

Most of us know a few basic phrases in another tongue, such as “where’s the restroom”, “may I have the bill” or “two beers, please”. We won’t translate those here for you – if you don’t know them by now that means you’ve done your business on the side of the road, skipped out on a meal and don’t drink beer. We’re not writing this for you. Well, maybe we are. We understand extenuating circumstances.

Every office has a unique language. Some standard office-isms apply fairly universally to all office cultures. But there are subtle nuances that make each office unique. We can often discern what type of office you’ve worked in based on the lingo you’re using.

It takes months, sometimes years to assimilate into a new office environment. Temporary staff has a tough time, and it’s for the temps of the world that we share this knowledge. You are our unsung heroes. We take you for granted and give you the crap jobs. We know it.

But we do it anyway. We can’t help it. And it's usually because you don’t know how to speak within our discourse community. It’s our distinctive neighbourhood slang, not yours. Somehow, though, the expectation is that you are the one who can and will fit in seamlessly. It’s a pretty high bar that’s set, considering we expect most of our executive team to regularly have absolutely no clue what we're talking about.

To dispel some of the mystery around a few of the more common office sub-culture lingo, we’ve compiled a list of translations from our own days of bobbing around in the auxiliary pool.

Flex day
The day taken in lieu when staff work extra hours, usually within a two-week pay period. However, these extra hours are often not worked, hence the loose translation of “I screwed the employer day”.

Increase brand recognition
Refers to the gain in popularity and/or acknowledgement of one’s 'brand' or marketable item(s). Easily confused with “Spend more time on Twitter”.

Community development
Time and effort spent working with partners or like organizations within one’s geographical or virtual community. Can also be “Go to the pub and buy local beer/wine”.

Integrated case practice
The working together of all parties or individuals affected or having impact on the success or outcome of one person/event. Has also been known as “Getting together for a big piss-up”.

Fair market evaluation
Assessment of an asset in the current economic climate, usually in competition with like assets. Could be mistaken as “Checking out guys/gals at the hotel lounge after work”.

Social media consultant/consulting
The hiring of an individual or firm to assist with better market penetration through the use of new media tools. Often misinterpreted as “Drinking in public with a recording device”.

This list is by all means not exhaustive - it only touches the tip of the proverbial iceberg. There are, however, many times that the executive (or other big cheese you are providing temporary support for) will use one or more of the office-isms above and expect you to know the real meaning behind them.

Consider yourself not only warned, but now armed.

~ Paige

we resolve to be resolute

2009-12-30T22:32:00.000-08:00

Tonight is not quite the last evening of the last day of the year, but it's close. Close enough to make us think about things old, new and cliche. Our beloved Internet is full of the Top Twenty, Best of 2009 lists and resolution stuffs. It's nauseating.

There is no highlight reel for our past year, but if there were we would want it narrated by Christopher Walken. He can make anything sound dirty, angry or scary. We like that.

If we must look back on the past year, it's going to be through the distorted perspective of a glass of wine. Yes, it makes things better and no, we don't need an intervention. What we do need is stock options in a local winery. If someone can arrange that, please let us know.

We won't get melancholy and introspective here about how our professional life is slipping off the edge and into the Pit of Doom. There is some control left over our life, we know that. And we could walk away tomorrow if we wanted to. But this McJob is like that really comfortable pair of pants you've had for ten years: there's a bunch of *holes in inappropriate places, but you deal because you know where all the *holes are.

While we won't make you sift through a best of 2009 list, we will torment you with what we think are resolutions everyone should make for the coming year. We didn't say they would be easy; we just said everyone should make them.

Only say 'thank-you' when you really, really mean it.

Maybe someone donated a liver and you were on a wait-list. That deserves a heartfelt thanks. But if you say the same thing to the clerk at the video rental that you would say to the person who just gave you an organ, it sucks the meaning out of it. Let's start a new trend. We'll keep 'thank-you' for the big things and 'sweet' will work for the everyday stuff. It means you might hear way more 'sweet' at the office, but you'll sound way more hip.

Help someone get blind-stinking-fall-down drunk.

This can be anyone - someone you know, a total stranger or Clyde from Shipping. It doesn't matter. There's someone out there that needs to get a good drunk on, and you could be the person to do it. We think it would be way more fun if you get them drunk at work, too. In fact, you can start by helping us get drunk at work. Sweet.

Remove yourself from a 'social media' list.

Facebook. Myspace. Twitter. Whateversville. Who the hell cares what you're thinking or doing, anyway? We don't. Well, we do - as long as you're reading our blog, that is. Otherwise, stop cluttering up the social media networks with your updates of "I heart u2!" and other meaningless crap. We don't care about your new dog, your new handbag or that you're on team Edward or team Jacob. Well, Jacob was significantly more hot in the chest/abdomen area for that last movie, but that's beside the point. Contribute something significant to the social media sites or get the hell out.

Skim a little bit off the top.

This doesn't have to be in cash, although off-shore banks do like to deal in hard currency. If you work in a book store, take the odd best-seller home using the five-finger discount. Maybe you could pour yourself an extra latte at the coffee house. We'll try to do some creative accounting at work. Okay, so that's not much different than what we already do. But we'll up the ante.

Stop being a tool.

We like this one. It could be interpreted so many ways. Maybe your organization is using you as a tool to do work you find unpleasant, or maybe you're just being a dolt. Either way, stop it. We're working for The Man, but we're like a secret agent, eroding the very foundation of the big house. Try it. It's fun.

Listen to the smart people you hire, or stop hiring smart people.

Not sure how much more defined we need to be on this one. You hired us for a reason - and hopefully it's not just because we have a nice rack or you like the way our butt looked in those pants. Well, maybe it was. We've got a brain. You might want to listen to us occasionally. It's in your best interest. Usually.

We will celebrate the coming year by drinking overpriced bubbly in plastic cups, blowing on noisemakers and probably throwing up in the neighbour's hedge. Then, we'll be hung over. After that we'll start working on those resolutions. But not without a cocktail.

~ Paige

the big cheese: what kind are you?

2009-12-27T11:23:00.000-08:00

Now that we've outlined a few of the different office cultures it's time we identified another of our big challenges. You. The executive, vice-president, top banana, head-honcho.

Whatever you or your organization calls it, there's likely a big cheese floating around at the top of the heap. We're the ones who work most closely with the big cheeses, and we've discovered that cheese comes in a variety of flavours.

Now it's time to play a little game. It's called "Spot Your Cheese". We're going to list a number of types of cheese. See if you can spot your flavour among the varieties.

Cheese #1: The Aromatic Cheese

These cheeses can be pungent, usually having been heavily influenced by other strong flavours. Spending time with overpowering oaks and other loud flavours, this cheese barely retains any aroma of its original intention, instead relying on the branding of others to carry it along. Sometimes strong aromas are employed to distract us from the true flavour of the cheese, which can be very, very nauseating.

Cheese #2: The Middle-Aged Cheese

There's a time to eat an aged cheese - and that's before it becomes crumbly, bitter and grainy. You know what we're talking about. A strong, aged cheese is delicious and pairs wonderfully with a bold, full wine. But there's only a small window of opportunity when the aged cheese is at its peak. Often this cheese is kept a bit too long on the shelf, resulting in significantly unmet expectations upon consumption. When it comes time for this cheese to take centre stage and shine, we're left with nothing but crumbs and an acidic aftertaste.

Cheese #3: The Hip New Blended Cheese

We're all for experimentation, trying new things and taking a less travelled path - heck, we're even known for blazing a few of our own trails. But we can spot a hipster a mile off. Some of the new cheeses are great: dynamic, full of rich flavour and groundbreaking - for a cheese. With innovation comes imitation, and for every great new unique cheese invariably follow dozens of hipster imitators. These cheeses have usually spent a bit of time around some of the more successful blended cheeses; enough time to acquire the initial flavour, but not enough for it to sink into the core. The diversity we expect rests only on the surface. Beneath that could be just about anything, and usually is. Except, of course, for what it presents itself to be.

Cheese #4: The Cottage Cheese

Many people think they can become a great cheese - or make a great cheese. This is almost true. Without the critical elements present to make great cheese we're left with rubbery, insincere and unsubstantial cheese. And it takes more than just the right ingredients to make a good cheese. Those ingredients need to be blended in just the right mixture, aged for just the right amount of time and exposed to just the right amount of external elements to provide the perfect balance of texture, flavour and structure. If you've ever had a bad cottage cheese experience, you know just what we're talking about.

Cheese #5: The Soft Cheese

When we buy cheese, we want to know that we've bought cheese. Good or bad, we need to know it's an actual cheese. No hiding as a cream cheese, either. That's just not fair. You're either a cheese, or you're not. Make up your mind.

There are many other cheeses out there, so beware. These are only a few we've encountered at our Desk. And the cheeses above can be sneaky, pretending to be one kind when in fact they're another. Don't rely on the packaging alone. Cheese can be marketed and branded just like any other commodity.

Once you're stuck with an overpriced or misrepresented cheese, it's difficult to return. In fact, there aren't any places we can think of that will take a cheese back if you've made a poor choice. Best to just plug your nose and dive in.

After all, it's just a cheese. Life will go on after it's gone. And trust us - if it's a bad cheese, it will eventually be gone, one way or another.

~Paige

the slippery slope of suburbia

2009-12-23T09:27:00.000-08:00

From big city centres to remote rural offices and the many variations that lay between, we've worked the gamut. As you can see, dear reader, not all administrative worlds are made of the same cloth. And as an administrative professional we need to be flexible enough to roll with the punches (sometimes literally) without losing that bit of us that remains hopefully untouched by whatever cesspool surrounding us.

There is no administrative world as slippery as that which lives in the suburbs. Some of our favourite authors have written extensively on the suburbs, describing them as soul-sucking demons, draining the flavour of the people who inhabit them and assimilating us into the Borg. Yes, we just made a Star Trek reference. Get over it.

The office in the suburbs is a master of stealth, a deadly quicksand in which we often find ourselves trapped. It sneaks up on us while we're busily distracted, wrapped up in keeping our unique urban identity and the pre-packaged individualism that we're desperate to hang on to, despite our move to the B-list.

Because that's what the suburbs are: the B-list of the urban empires. We mean no disrespect. In fact, we're very impressed by the resiliency of the suburbs. Many of them have become little urban hubs of their own, transcending the civic class structure.

Our time in the suburban office was surprisingly long: we hung out there for just over three years, with a brief escape of four months before voluntarily returning to the slow death. We now shudder at that realization; we came close that time.

It all begins nicely, pleasantly and encouraging. We're offered more money than we were making in the urban centre and there's ample parking. Ah yes, parking. Public transportation in the 'burbs still isn't as good as it is in the urban centre, so it's easier for us to get around by car. Increase that carbon footprint.

People seem happy and are welcoming. We have our own cubicle in the maze and we're encouraged to personalize our 'space'. Our cube-mates have visible tattoos so we're not as reserved about showing our own. There are a few young hipsters with facial piercings, too. Edgy.

After a few months we're comfortable and we let our guard down an inch or so at a time. We start to enjoy the extra money we're making and we look into purchasing our first home. Well, our first apartment, anyway. Colleagues are more than happy to talk to us about mortgage rates, lines of credit and using our RRSP for a down payment. Our partner is happy that we seem happy, so we stop asking ourselves if we are happy.

We get to work one day and notice discord among the cube-mates. Actually, we realize it's been there all along, we just didn't see it. The current runs deep beneath the surface, flowing steadily and eroding the foundation of everyone around us. But the surface is still, calm - until our guard is down long enough to notice the faint ripple on the surface that never disappears.

People start to complain about long hours and an even longer commute. We join in, having purchased a condominium in the nether lands of a new suburb outside of these suburbs. We're tired, away from our home for over 12 or 13 hours a day. We used to walk to work.

We can't remember the last time we met our best friend for coffee on The Drive or the last exhibit we saw at the Art Gallery. But we know exactly when we bought the designer handbag at Winners, because it was a hell of a deal according to the director of finance.

Suddenly we know more ways to save on designer goods than we know downtown art studios. The person who looks at us in the mirror has had hair foils and got their eyebrows waxed. We can afford these things now because it's all cheaper in the 'burbs, and we're making more money.

Somehow, despite all of this, we're broke. Emotionally, spiritually and deep within our very being. The thing that made us feisty, unique and fun is almost gone. We look around at our cube-mates and realize that the guy with the lip ring is listening to Coldplay. We wonder how we didn't notice that before.

After a quick call to the cyborg in human resources, we're done. We've given our notice and we're taking the rest of the day off - to find another job. It doesn't take long. We're good.

Then we go home. We take all of our Winners purchases and outlet mall finds and we list them on eBay, feeling the cleanse wash over us. It's like a salve for our spirit. We feel something twisting for freedom inside us, happy to be given room to move again after spending the last three years so tightly bound.

Our partner looks at us and sees the light return to our eyes. He tells us he's proud of us. We're happy again. Okay, so we're still stuck in the condo in the suburb of the suburb, but it's appreciating in value everyday so it's more like a big savings account we can live and cook in.

On our last day in the suburban office our colleagues throw us a big going-away party. There's cake, carbonated beverages and our boss sneaks us out to Aqua Riva for lunch. We share a bottle of wine and get half-tanked before going back to the office, late, where we retire to his cubicle and he tells us how much he wishes he could just walk away from it all. Like us.

We smile, thank him for a lovely lunch and the reference letter.

Then we leave. It was close. We can hear the quicksand sucking air behind us as our shoe lifts from the carpet one last time before we step out the door and into the afternoon sun.

~ Paige

administrative world #2: the rural wasteland

2009-12-18T09:22:00.000-08:00

All offices are not created equal. That's a fundamental rule, one which is learned through experience, hard knocks and the occasional stab wound in the back.

When thinking of an office, most people conjure up images of cubicles, high-rise buildings and a bustling urban core. What do you think happens in rural communities? Everyone goes to the barn to milk the cows? Okay, some people actually do that. And we're not knocking the cow milking - we eat diary products. It's a good source of calcium.

Most rural communities have little mini-urban hubs where low-rise buildings have the same stature as those high-rises in urban centres do. In a rural community, many young people dream of movin' on up to the big time, settling into one of those 1960's sparkly-rock stuccoed boxes and pulling up their non-ergonomic chair to a faux wood grain desk. Doesn't that sound glam?

Maybe some rural areas have been updated to include fake marble, but most still have that government office feel from 1967 - complete with macrame plant hangers and round vinyl seating. Not the cool kind of round vinyl seating, either.

This is the administrative world in the rural community, and it's as rife with gossip, back-stabbing and stereotypes as their urban counterparts. Perhaps it's even more apparent in these small microcosms, simply because of the lack of filler - the acres of sub-middle management that can exist in urban offices but can't be justified in smaller rural ones.

We've worked in these little cesspools of conflict, and it isn't a pretty picture. Sure, on the outside one might see the happy, smiling 'secretary' (rural offices have a difficult time embracing the term 'administrative professional' - likely too many syllables). But around that happy, smiling secretary is a secret world of betrayal, unmet expectations, skeletons and ugly, ugly dirt.

We'd like to share some suggestions and insights with those rural office dwellers, if they would be so kind as to listen to some of our recommendations.

To the rural office professional:

Just because you worked here for fifteen years doesn't mean that you're slated as next in line for whatever management job comes up; if you want to move ahead, get off your ass and get some education like we did.
Take down the macrame planters - no one will take you seriously with a macrame planter hanging over your desk, regardless of how many diplomas you might have.
Trash the typewriter; we've had computers for a while, and they're not going anywhere. Carbon copies are prehistoric, and make you look that way, too.
Don't laugh when the office products salesman stops in and calls you 'hon'. It undermines our hard work. Tell him to address you by your actual name or get the hell out.
Stop making the coffee. Someone else can. They've got hands. And while you're at it, stop cleaning the dirty dishes. You're not their mother. Okay, maybe you are (if it's a small town), but that's even more reason not to.

So we came from the 'big city' and are full of 'big city' ideas. Who cares? Take these ideas. Claim them as your own. We really don't care. But this advice is for your own good. The longer you remain the dithering secretary, the harder it is for administrative professionals everywhere to become more than the coffee-getter.

If you're working in an office in a small town and can't see yourself taking any of the recommendations we make, that's fine. We understand. But know that we're here. And at the first sign of weakness we'll pounce. Consider yourself warned.

There is another option. If you've been at this rural office gig for a while, maybe it's time you started thinking about retirement. We'll even break our own rules and throw you one hell of a retirement party, complete with paper streamers, one-time-use cutlery and bad singing.

But, for the love of all that's right and good, pick it up or get the hell out of the way.

~ Paige

administrative world #1: nirvana is not an oasis

2009-12-12T09:38:00.000-08:00

Before we get started we need to clarify two things. One: the nirvana we mention here has nothing to do with the grunge-rock Seattle band, Nirvana (although we did and still do love to rock out to their albums). No, we refer to the nirvana which is akin to a perfect peace; a tranquil state of mind. Two: the oasis we mention here has nothing to do with the rock band, Oasis, from England (although we like to rock out to their albums, too). No, we refer to the oasis which is a refuge, a place preserved from surrounding unpleasantness.

Now that we've got the nirvana oasis thing down, let's continue.

A long time ago, in a land far, far away - well, actually only about 4.5 hours from where we live now - we once worked in an office that protested it was the nirvana of administration, the oasis of human resources. We were suckered in, like the rest, and we took a job with their HR department as an executive assistant to their Director.

We were wooed, bought flowers and given pre-loaded Starbucks cards. For the first week we were repeatedly told how happy the 'team' was to have us, and how our broad skill-set and talents beyond an administrative capacity would be challenged and appreciated in the wonderful cornucopia of talent that surrounded us.

It was shan-gri-la, a nirvana among HR teams, and a fertile oasis.

For about five working days.

That pre-loaded Starbucks card? Sure, we could use it for our own coffee-time beverages occasionally...just as long as we remembered to bring the Lord and Master an extra-hot-non-fat-no-whip-white-chocolate mocha. Every morning. In a reusable cup that we had to wash, digging the crud off the bottom from yesterday's mocha madness.

The lovely flowers? We had to process the payment of them when the credit card statement arrived; and we had to reimburse their cost to the boss from the meagre coffers of our 'staff employee appreciation fund'. Needless to say, we weren't very popular after that was discovered at the next discussion of the balance sheet.

And what of our skills that were beyond the traditional administrative capacity? Were we challenged and asked to participate in the broader team perspective? Maybe - if one accounts contributing to be doing the work of others without getting credit.

Our friends congratulated us on landing the sweet gig they thought we landed. For a few moments we thought we had landed it, too. But after the veneer peeled back and the stained, ugly surface revealed itself, we realized that no matter the pretty package, the oasis might just end up a mirage.

It sounds trite, but it's apt: if it sounds too good to be true, it usually is. We're still learning that.

We left that job and we haven't looked back. Except, of course, when we gaze upon the lovely (and rare) orchid that we liberated from the boss' office on our last day. We were the only ones taking care of it anyway. We don't think they miss it at all. Besides, it's doing much better with us.

Oh, but we miss the corporate credit card. That last charge of Starbucks gift cards? Well, we gave out $25 cards to the whole administrative support team before we left. And not just the HR team - the entire corporate team. At eighteen junior VP's, six senior VP's, three senior executives and the CEO's office...well, you do the math. We knew you would want us to thank our colleagues for their hard work on making you look smart, efficient and organized. You're welcome.

The admin who can survive in that environment - the one of the misguided nirvana - is one that we don't mess with. They're tough cookies. The rest of us bail as soon as we can, keeping an eye on our backside as we exit stage left.

Reportedly, our desk didn't stay vacant very long. There were a long line of admin professionals waiting to join the nirvana. We hope they left relatively unscathed.

~ Paige

the many worlds of administration

2009-12-10T10:24:00.000-08:00

Just because someone works in an admin capacity in an office near you doesn’t mean that they will have the same experiences we’ve had. On the surface, the administrative world might appear fairly cookie-cutter: phones, filing and philandering. Okay, maybe not the philandering (depending on the office you attend, of course). We just wanted to use the word. Philandering. It’s phonetically pleasing. Just say it.

But it’s true, the admin thing – not all offices are created equally, and the heartsof offices in all areas don’t necessarily follow the same drum beat. We’ve had the opportunity to work in offices small and large, near and far – urban and rural. And yes, we’ve encountered differences between them that are as vast as the Grand Canyon. From different office cultures to different office clothing, the administrative world is as varied as can be.

We at The Vacant Desk have a few days to fill before we start bemoaning about our pixie-gift-fate, regaling you with tales of unpalatable discount store presents and covert attempts at hiding our identity from those we are the pixie-gifter for. So, in order to give you a wee bit of information on the collective We of office administration are, we thought we’d talk a bit about the differences in the admin world.

We’ll lump people together, make broad assumptions and give generalizations. We’ll sweep the stage with one brush. Somewhere along the way we may offend or inspire you. All outcomes are yours – you own them, not us. We take no responsibility for the discomfort or disappointment that may ensue.

Stay. Read. Be entertained, offended, titillated or whatever else suits your fancy. But, above all else, be warned. It ain’t always pretty – it’s a facade. It’s what we’re paid to do, after all: make things look and sound pretty. And we’re pretty good at it.

~ Paige

office gift-giving scam

2009-12-07T20:08:00.000-08:00

Whoever came up with the idea that we need to give our colleagues a holiday gift should, well, be forced to use each and every one of their own lame gifts they give others.

We're not talking about the good bottles of 12-year-old scotch or fabulous Bordeaux that the executives get and give one another; no, we're talking about the dollar-store-on-your-lunch-break gifts. The under-$10-gifts. Or less.

In all the years of office bad-gifting, we've seen the good, the bad and the very ugly. There have been a few good: like the mixed CD that someone burned for us which helped us pick some new bands to listen to (made by the uber-music geek that had a crush on us, but still). The bad have been more prevalent: coffee mugs, ten-year-old ornaments and bargain-basement chocolates (ripped off from the brand name and filled with horrid innards).

Ultimately, though, there have been a few very ugly gifts. We once received an expired gift certificate. Yeah, that was awkward. And there have even been some over-the-top religious gifts, too - like the scary angel tree-topper who had eyes that followed us around the room until we hid her in the garbage can.

The ultimate in bad office-gifting is the invention of "pixie days". This is when (oh joy) we have the opportunity to be a secret 'Santa' for an entire week, sneaking around and ducking in and out of offices when those around us least expect it. The combination of five days of cheap/tacky gifts bought for someone we barely know while trying to maintain anonymity is incredibly stressful.

This year, dear followers, your Vacant Desk is the participant in another round of pixie days. Of course, the gifts our receiver will get will totally rock. And we'll share with you the slightly sad display of gifts we are bound to receive.

Our suggestion for next year is this: give yourself an awesome gift and to hell with the rest of them. We'll happily lead that conga line.

~ Paige

twit, tweet

2009-12-06T21:59:00.001-08:00

The Vacant Desk is now on Twitter! Yes, we will become significantly more active. Promise.

Watch the blog and twitter for water cooler stories and zippy one-liners. We'll be dishing the office dirt like nobody's business.

From double-dippers at the office pot-luck lunch (eeeewww), to who's hoarding the pencils and even the odd confession (like how we once used the office printer to dash off a copy of our friend's 400 page manuscript - well, three copies...okay, eight copies), The Vacant Desk will be baring it all.

Stay. Share. Tell your friends. Or we will.

~ Paige

the newbie

2009-09-12T16:47:00.000-07:00

It began as an ordinary enough day. Someone had left the shredder bag full, thus making it impossible for the next person to use it without emptying it first. There was also a sink full of dirty dishes that had been piling up since Monday. Today was now Thursday. You get the picture.

Somewhere along the timeline of a relatively ordinary put-me-out-of-my-misery-where-are-the-zombies-when-you-need-them day, someone did something to reach an entirely new level of ridiculous. That particular bar is fairly high in the world of a government office. Ridiculous goes on everyday, all day, all the time. But this was special.

I was sitting at my desk, scanning through a binder full of accounting codes in search of the one combination that would be appropriate for the item I needed to, well, account for. To give a visual representation of the type of hell I was in, let me put it this way: imagine a yourself in a large room filled with filing cabinets. Your task is:

Step one: find the right cabinet.
Step two: find the right drawer.
Step three: find the right file within that right drawer, which is within the right cabinet.
Step four: make sure you found the right cabinet.

And so, I was sitting at my desk, pouring over the various combinations of accounting codes that could represent this one invoice I needed to process. The binder is a three-inch, three-ring job that has seen better days. And it's full. Of accounting codes. Yep.

While hunched over the desk with terrible posture, I heard a cell phone ring. Our office has what are called 'pooled' cell phones; that is, no one person gets her or his own, but takes one with them if needed upon leaving the office on work-related business. Personal cell phones are rare with this lot of employees, so the sound of one generally means that it's a work phone ringing.

The soft-porn ring tone (who chooses these things?) interrupted me in my daze of numbers. I looked up to see one of our new, fresh out of university employees. She stood in front of me, held the phone out as if for me to take it, and she said the most astounding thing.

"It's ringing. What should I do?"

Ladies and gentlemen, I promise you that I'm not making this up.

I bent my head back down over my binder and replied to her in my most serious voice.

"I don't know. Maybe you should answer it?"

"Do you think so?", she asked.

"I'm not sure", I replied. "I honestly don't use those for my job."

Somewhere inside of me, a little bit of niceness wanted to lay down and die at that very moment. It was briefly taken over by a cynical, bitter old thought that wanted desperately to plant itself in the fertile soil of my generally optimistic mind.

Later that evening, I shoved the bitter thought aside and rejuvenated the optimism with a glass of wine. I thought about that young employee and what she was experiencing in this, her first professional job. At the tender age of 26. Yes. Her first actual job. How she must be so intimidated by all the trappings of office life: the copier, the fax machine...and those complicated cell phones.

I tried not to think of how I, at the age of 26, had been living on my own for eight years. I had been manager of a large retail centre with over a dozen employees. I had paid my own rent, phone and electric bills. I had cooked and cleaned for myself, with no one to do the dishes I left in the sink at night. No one but me.

Yes, it may be difficult to enter the strange world of professional work in one's late twenties. But it's also difficult for the rest of us to put up with their belated growing pains as we wait to vacate our desks in pursuit of what we truly want to do.

Somehow, we have to find a happy neutral place to work in the meantime. Perhaps the young ones, first time at the job, could do a bit more research on what it means to be a professional in an office.

I, on the other hand, will spend more time drinking wine and reviving the optimist in me. It's going to be tough, but it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.

~ Paige

The Vacant Desk: an introduction

2009-09-03T17:58:00.000-07:00

Greetings to our educated masses; most of whom are my friends and the rest, well, I'm sure we'll meet over a pint or a glass of vino one day in the near future.

It's the end of another day of working for The Man. Regardless of where you work, or who you work for, those of you who have a job that's biding time until something else comes along - or you publish that winning novel - will be able to relate to working for The Man. Others may know friends or family who work for The Man. Perhaps you are currently working for The Man, but are in the denial phase. The denial phase comes right after the disaffected wanderer phase and slightly before the crestfallen idealist phase. Please check your status, and then return to reading this post.

I'm a writer. At least, that's what I tell myself. I'm happily struggling through my first novel - a fictional bit that is a little Canadiana and a little murder mystery. It's sort of like a "where's Waldo", but instead of looking for a funny fellow in a striped shirt, readers can play spot-the-Canadianism. Or they can just read a fun read. Whichever.

However, happily struggling through a first novel doesn't make a good fit should one wish to engage in regular mortgage payments and keep a balanced Canada Food Guide diet. So, I hold a job in an office. A government office at that. What an unusual world that is.

Few jobs are as transferable as that in office administration. I don't mean Administration - where people wear expensive suits, hold conferences (not meetings) and receive significantly higher salaries. No, I don't mean that - although doesn't it sound nice some days. I mean answer-the-phone-and-process-the-mail-and-sometimes-maybe-format-a-letter administration. Organization of the company paperwork, if one will. Management of rows of letters and words on reams of paper. Filing. Stationary ordering. Jane & Jack of all trades stuff.

I know there are many others like me out there, labouring in jobs taken temporarily until something better comes along or that one thing is finished/published/written/painted/sold. Maybe, like me, some of you have even had a few of these jobs, moving along the company ladder instead of up it. Just enough change in title, telephone extension and cubicle to keep you engaged for another few months, but not enough to keep you from updating your resume every week and checking out the help wanted section over your microwaved Lean Cuisine lunch.

This will be a record of our collective, ongoing, silent plight. It will capture the tales we tell to one another over coffee in environmentally friendly reusable mugs. Mugs that we have collected through years of office gifts for Administrative Professionals Week. Mugs that have happy, funny little sayings like "you don't have to be crazy to work here, but it helps", or "so freakin' happy I can just scream".

Here, among the hallowed pages of the Internet (and likely owned in some way, shape or form by Google), we will share our frustrations about those who don't empty the communal shredder. We will rail against those who politely inform us that the copier needs a refill, and who then walk away. We will sneer at the person who, repeatedly, leaves the jammed stapler in the file room.

It is here that we will laugh at incorrectly addressed envelopes, gossip about someones tendency to hoard stationary and complain about the unwashed dishes left in the lunch room sink. We will find many, many other stories to share which reflect how desperately and quietly our hope, creativity & ambitions are being slowly eroded.

Think that's all The Vacant Desk will do? Please. My sense of self and stinging, wry wit hasn't completely withered up. Yet.

The Vacant Desk will be a beacon of light and hope for those working for The Man. It will help us shore up our crumbling inner self. Through the telling of tales we will remind ourselves - and each other - that we are valuable, educated and worthy of much more than a novelty mug.

Once in a while, we might be able to see that, despite the price we are paying in the interim, there is a door at the end of this long hallway. We will reach that door, turn the handle and enter the world we are meant to enter after transcending this temporary space.

We will leave behind a vacant desk, and nothing more.

~ Paige