Tag Archives: corporate

Welcome To Purgatory, This Is Your Captain Speaking…

24 Sep

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…In the event of an emergency, please hang out unobtrusively where you are, and someone might (or might not) be with your shortly.

In the meantime, please enjoy your free packet of peanuts. Unless you are allergic. In which case:

…Welcome to Hell, this is your Captain speaking…

***

I’ve gone dormant and underground.  For a couple of days.  I have found out that in this day and age of constant status and text updating, it really freaks people out.

…So this is to the freaking out people: don’t freak out. That’s my job.  I’m basically on retirement pension.  I’ve covered the whole field so well, they decided just to give it to me as a whole package deal. With stock options.  Like when a sports player leaves and they retire the jersey number.  That’s me.  I’m just that good.

Anyway, this is where I’ve been for these past days.  In purgatory.  Which is a lot like free-floating space, really.  No general direction or force to be pushed in, so you just “be.” Floating there.  Waiting.

Waiting.

…Which we all know that actors are totally awesome at, right?

…So…where (at the moment) I can recognize that I am in “purgatory”… in reality, it’s felt a lot like the other place, with hellfire damnation and anxiety episodes riding one right after the other.  Prob’ly because they have, and it is, and has been.

…And that was just to do with shit at the office.

Other decisions needed to be made, that really sucked, as well.

And none of this is really “finished,” per se.  I’m still floating here. Still waiting.

Every day at the office, this week, is a possible “last.” I’ve pulled myself from casting possiblities in a show I’ve been wanting to do for like…oh, a decade… and I had a MOTHER of an anxiety attack Sunday night, to show for it all.

Because I’m a human.

That’s all.

And I know that.

But, still.

It sucks.

And now, we have reached the halfway mark. 

…The cusp of Wednesday. 

…I’ve thrown my hat into a new casting ring, last minute, which will offer more role challenge bang-for-my-buck…I’ve got two MORE top-brass Corporate big-wigs arriving at the office tomorrow…I’m on day two, of minion training.  They tell me the warehouse inventory numbers are off by around $118,000…I’ve spent two days now, trying to divorce my mind from performance-based Scottish, to re-invigorated Irish dialect by tomorrow’s callback at 7:30, and no matter WHAT, I HAVE to get my shit together by Thursday, so I can…you know…go on stage and be “funny” for two hours each, across the next four days.

And I will.

Cuz I’m an “actor.”

…We are pretty fucking amazing when it comes to resilience and crap.

In “real” life, not so much, but on stage? Move over Baby Jane.

So for now, I’ll just keep my head low, hug the turf, position my pads accordingly, and get ready for the inevitable whistle blow, when they finally pop the ball and this shit starts getting real.  Until then…

…Until then, I’ll just wait here.

…Floating in the nothingness.

…Waiting for whatever the hell comes next, to just show up and finally fucking happen.

~D

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Sometimes No News Is Better

16 Sep

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It’s been several days since a real blog post, for good reason.  Not because I haven’t written them, but because one tires of the negative.

…I’ve been writing for a week, just to get it out. 

…Even though it feels like the never-ending-buffet-table of excessive “I won’t go away no matter what.”

…So my frustrations have accumulated and sit there, in the draft box, waiting for day-never.

You all certainly don’t deserve to have it show up in your inboxes.  Bills are bummer enough.  And as nothing seems to be going right at the moment, and everything from the office, to theatre, to finances is screamingly fucking frustrating beyond explanation, I have yet to find the spin on these matters wherein I can turn it into something I can make fun of.

Everything is just shit right now.  Period.

…What I’m walking into at the office tomorrow, god only knows.  I haven’t the faintest idea what to expect, which could equally be said with tomorrow’s rehearsal. 

I’ve yet to get approval from Corporate on the minion I picked, who after passing the drug test, still needs to give a two week notice to her current employer, which means she won’t even be here before I host the Corporate top-brass take-over, as well as do contracts on a fourth road show. Meanwhile I’ve already spent a week at a makeshift table by the trash can, in the warehouse, because the offices were three days behind on the fact lift by Monday. As of Friday, we were at eight days behind schedule, without even a toilet to pee in, let alone doors, or carpeting.

…We won’t even discuss the theatre fiasco, it would take too long and work me all up again.

…Meanwhile, I may (or may not) still be employed by next Friday, which means I may (or may not) even give a flying shit if I have an office door, OR a minion by then…but either way, at the moment, I’m mostly irritated because I’m home right now, after only a 3 hour cue-to-cue/tech, and can’t even toss back some whiskey so I can shut my head up from all this stress, and get some sleep tonight.

…I have this stupid personal rule about “not drinking when I’m depressed.”

And I have to tell you: the thought of being a teetotaler for the next foreseeable future is ALSO really pissing me off.

In short: I’ve got nothing amusing to share with you. Or positive. Not even a joke at someone elses expense, or a bitchy one-liner you can make a meme of, later, featuring cats in people clothes or Victorians talking about penises.

Out of a week’s worth of blogs, THIS is the least depressing one I have to give you.

…So it’s good I’ve moved onto other arenas besides “post-a-day” then, ain’t it?

It’s technically now Monday.

If I make it 24 hours without breaking something or sobbing in a bathroom, I’ll be very surprised.

Place your bets, now.

~D

Reportus Maximus

5 Apr

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Our newest contract seller is a paper-working Drama Queen. 

…At least twice per day, I am instigating report updates for their accounts at a Corporate level, which no one actually reads or ever even looks at.  That is, unless a customer gets pissed off for some reason, and then the entire fleet goes to work in a mass email-sending frenzy that would equal those in the final planning stages of D-Day, had all the generals in all the countries involved, shared a cloud network system.

…Everyone starts yelling, tagging everyone else, but no one reads what the others have responded, so you end up answering the same question ten times…the same question that would have been answered Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday as well, had any of them seen fit to read the multiple reports they are constantly forcing us to run, compute, and send in.

Why everyone in this company gets off on sheer fucking panic, is totally beyond me.

…They must though.  Otherwise, why in the hell do they insist on doing this to themselves?

One or two slight changes, actually OPENING original emails sent, answering questions the first time instead of the 26th…these are all simple, simple solutions that would make their lives infinitely easier. 

…But then, we are talking about Corporate here.  The people who sell something for two weeks on the main market before the final manufacturing blue prints have even been stamped, let ALONE, the product assembled for shipping in the warehouse. 

…These are the same people who have an Accounts Department for a National Company, which doesn’t actually DO “accounts” they just “facilitate” them…a word that no one seems to be able to define clearly, least of all, the Accounts Department.

…These are the same people who spend entire weeks in Vegas at a Corporate Convention, getting pissed out of their minds and trying to figure out how to write off a stripper on their expense account.

…The same people who will spend $10 to Fedex a single check on next-day Saturday delivery, for three weeks running, because the sorting office keeps putting it in the wrong branch’s fucking envelope, but will NOT allow you to purchase a Bic ballpoint pen from Staples, because it is a costly name-brand.

…I don’t understand these people, and have long since given up even trying to.

All I know is that it is Friday, the paychecks have just come in, and as I complete sorting them against the 18th report this week, and updating my 19th, all I can say is:

“You have me for five more hours, assholes. Only just five. So get those final last-minutes emails out of your systems now, so I can finish babysitting you for the week and get on to more important matters. Like reading, and buying new show underwear.”

~D

Ding, Dong…The Witch Is Dead!

20 Mar

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Can’t even begin to tell you how satisfying it was to dump my LAST email from the Accounts Corporate Manager back east, into the trash bin this morning. 

…So satisfying that I dumped it without even reading beyond the title header: “Thank you and farewell.”

…A blanket letter to all branches…looooong in the making.

She is at last leaving! 

Fucking PARTY AT MY HOUSE!!!!!

This woman has been the bane of my numbers-existence for the past three years, having graduated from just being a general pain-in-the-ass “specialist” before that.   She’s one of those people who would rather bicker and fight  over incidentals across a stream of 15 emails, than just look up information herself and get the shit DONE.

I can’t HANDLE people like that. 

It completely nuts me up.  

…She would rather SIT on 5 emails on separate accounts, across a full week, never really answering or resolving any of them, only coming up with 45 reasons as to why she hasn’t gotten around to finalizing them yet. I (being the exact opposite) HATE having shit in my inbox, and work my ass off to get that fucker cleared by 10 am each day.  Except I never really can.  Because all her outstanding follow-up account crap is always still there. Staring at me.  So I send her reminders AGAIN.  And get more excuses back. Our email conversations go something like:

She:  We don’t DO account calls here.  Or collections. 

Me: I’m sorry, but aren’t you the “accounts DEPARTMENT?”

She: We are merely the “facilitator.”

Me: Okay. I don’t understand what you need.

She: Collection letters.

Me: Okay. Go for it.  Do you need my authorization?  All the account names and contact info are lower in this stream.

She: We need the collection letters.

Me: Yes.  Okay.  Go for it.  Is there a form??? I don’t understand.

She: You need to send out collection letters.

Me: But you’re the “Account Department.”  Isn’t that what you do?

She:  No.  We “facilitate.”

Me: Again, I’m sorry, I don’t understand what that means. 

She: We watch the accounts and tell you when they are outstanding.

Me: I was the one who told you, six emails ago, that this needed collection.

She: We need collection letters…

OR

Me: “X” contractor has still not been paid for job “Y.” It was closed out correctly on “date” in batch number “Z”, and is not on the current Pay Report.

(two days later.)

Me: (resend of:) “X” contractor has still not been paid for job “Y.” It was closed out correctly on “date” in batch number “Z”, and is not on the current Pay Report.

She: What job is this for?

Me: “Y.”

She: Was it a contractor swap?

Me: No. Regular pay out. No changes.

She: When was it closed?

Me: On “date” in batch number “Z.”

She: Who needs to be paid?

Me: Again: Contractor “X.”

She: It’s not on the Pay Report.

Me: I know. That’s why I sent this to you.

She: Well, something got mixed up in batching then. Do you know the batch number you used?

Me: (OMFG!!) Yes. Batch “Z.”

She: Here it is. On “date.”

Me: I know. I just need to make sure it hits the paychecks this Friday.

(a day later.)

Me: Hi. I’m just making sure this job pay hits for tomorrow’s check run.

She: What job pay?

…Etc…

THIS has been my entire relationship with the woman since she first took over management. Thankfully her under-employees have their heads at least halfway out of their asses…enough to understand and read streams of information, and (most of the time) actually get some shit done.

…And now…the woman voted Most Likely To Be Punched In The Boob By Me is OUTTA HERE!

Gone!

Gone!

Gone!

…Off to make a living hell outta someone ELSES lives! That aren’t me!!

And I’m so happy, I could just pee.

Oop. I think I did.

I peed.

~D

Death By Chemicals

26 Nov

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Corporate is coming again on Wednesday. 

…Because I won’t be at the office tomorrow (due to a student matinee of the show), I had to fit in all my cleaning today. But then Boss decided it would be good to shampoo the carpets at the same time…and it’s cold out…so all the windows and doors are shut, and the heater is on. Between the bathroom, lobby, and my office, I’ve been accidentally snorfing a shit-ton of cooked chemicals for a little over three hours now, and I feel awful.

…My throat is rasping, I’ve caught this honking bronchial cough that started back in the shop-vac stage of cleanup and has gotten worse with the heated carpet chemical steam…my eyes are watering and I keep sneezing.

…In short: I am slowly being poisoned right now, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it but keep walking outside and hacking up my lungs.  Why EVERYTHING has to be feast or famine in this place just never makes sense to me.

…Hold on.  Gotta go outside again. Giant coughing fit.

***

(From the upper warehouse.)

All the dudes are gone for the day, and I’m huddled in the freezing warehouse under the clamp-light where the building schedule is posted.  Our army of a Corporate-prep  team has done wonders out here with the stacking and organizing…our new WHS kid is being broken in via baptism through fire, and I am 45 minutes from chemical freedom.

Home.

…Take a shower to get the gunk off and do a lot of deep steam-breathing to help clean out all m’wind pipes…then get ready for The BFF and Fella to pick me up for a Tapas night at the In-Laws. The last “hurrah” together, before The BFF sets sail back to movie-land…and I kick it into overdrive workin’ two shows at the same time, til we close one of ’em, end of next weekend.

Tis the season to work your tail off.

~D

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