Title: I am a good drone
All Hail the Company:
We had a rah-rah meeting at DotCom today, the kind where the founder and CTO gets up in the front of the room and gives a big PowerPoint slide show about how much we rule and how we're going to take over the known world. It was actually one of the more productive meetings I've been to since I've been working in the industry. We got to see the big picture (CEO-speak) and learn what we're actually pushing out to market. It's really easy to get buried in the little details of your particular corner of the company and not remember how it relates to what the company is ultimately trying to do. Anyway, it was a lot of fun; I'm glad I went. I think we're really going to be huge in a few years. This is the kind of product where we can take a niche that needs to be filled and be the pioneer of our segment of the industry. If all goes like I think it will, I'm going to be really glad I got stock options when I joined the company.
This whole dot-com gold rush may pay off for me yet. Yow.
In other news, I am once again turning over a new leaf at work. Since I'm apparently the biggest slacker ever to live, my boss called me into his office yesterday and reamed me up one side and down the other -- very politely and quietly, but I still left with a nether orifice I'd never had before. Unga. His basic complaint was that I was not producing as I should and he expected me to "pick up the ball and run with it". Translated: "You're not doing your job. Fix it or else."
I can't even bitch about this, cause, well, he's right. I have been out of the loop for about a month and a half at work. It's nobody's fault; I let it happen. Although it probably doesn't help that I've been selling the house and am about to file divorce papers in the next week. Even so.
So I went home and cried on Cynthia's shoulder a bit, and complained and moaned about how much I suck. After listening to me whinge a bit, she wiped my tears and went into HR mode to help me fix my problems. Basically, I'm an artist trying to do a computer job, and none of it comes easy. It doesn't help that I hang around with naturally talented computers nerds, and ninety percent of the time I end up feeling like the retarded step-child in my circle of friends. Who knew. Cynthia helped me work through some of the shit that's been building up and causing me to go into avoidance mode at work, and she had quite a few good suggestions on rectifying the mistakes I've let myself make over the last couple of months.
Today was the most productive day at work I've had in a while. I didn't get everything done that I needed to, but I did confront some of the things I fear most (#1: talking to people) and I think I'll be okay once I force myself to get out and about and interact with people. You'd think me being such an attention whore that I'd have no problem getting into with the developers. But I dislike talking to people. Oh well. I'm getting better.
Rise and Glower:
My poor girl. She has to be at work at eight in the morning in south downtown, which means she has to leave the house at 6:30 to catch a bus. Which also means she gets up at five-fucking-thirty in the damn morning. My work shift has changed to 9 AM now, and since I need to be up for a while before going into work if I'm going to be any good whatsoever, I've started getting up with her.
You have no idea how painful this is.
I am a total nocturnal creature. I hit my stride around eight at night. If I had my choice, I'd go to bed at 3 AM and get up around noon. If I ever have my own business where I can work from home, I will never get up before 11 AM. This adjustment is painful, y'all. The things I do for my job.
I am going home now; there's a Facts of Life marathon on Nickelodeon all this week, and I am so there. Yes, I am an 80's sitcom whore. My next project is a Web site proving that Blair and Jo had the hots for each other. Watch the sizzling sexual tension between them some time. It's only increased by those private school uniforms they had to wear, with Jo's tie rakishly askew and her sleeves rolled up, and Blair with every stitch in place. I'm telling you people. You just don't know.
-- marcie