When The Husband Is Home…

21 10 2008

A new experience to chalk into my working from home file!

My husband woke with a bad migraine yesterday morning, so he decided to call in sick to work.  So for most of the day I was up working alone while he slept, but at a certain point he was feeling better and got up and it was sort of weird sitting here working with him wandering around the house.

On one hand, don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t want my husband hanging around.  But it’s certainly a new experience to be working and have my husband to consider, looking at what I’m doing, and my subconscious need to take care of him, in that I’m making sure he has lunch and is fed, that kind of thing.

I was able to remember to have lunch at a reasonable time though since I offered to make him a sandwich as well, so that was a plus.  But I admit that I also didn’t get as much work done since I was sidetracked having another person wandering around the house while I was working.  It’s strange to go from being used to an office full of people, to being used to being home alone so quickly!





People Watching at Panera Bread

17 10 2008

So with the benefit of a sunny Friday and free wifi, I decided to come to my local Panera Bread for the afternoon to work.  I’ve had cabin fever at home this week, so I thought I’d be a nice change of pace to go out into the world and work somewhere other than my dining room.

I’ve been here for a couple hours now, and noticed some fellow business people working away on their laptops as well.  I’ve also noticed a curious phenomenon that I never really had a reason to think about before now.  Thrice now this afternoon I’ve seen my fellow mobile businesspeople sit and work, then be joined by another party or parties, then conduct a business meeting.

Of course!  It makes perfect sense to hold a meeting somewhere like Panera Bread when you otherwise work at home.  You might not be entirely comfortable with inviting clients into your home, whether it’s because of your choice of decor, state of cleanliness, or just a desire to separate the personal from the professional.  It’s a neutral territory with ample meeting space.  And most of the Panera Bread’s I’ve been to are relatively quiet and nowhere near as busy and loud as a Starbucks, save for the occasional family that brings children in.

I’m glad I came down here to work for the afternoon, and I’m definitely going to keep this business tidbit in mind on having meetings here when I need to entertain clients and they don’t have a space to go to either!





A rebirth of Beach Front Office

15 10 2008

Some of you have no idea what Beach Front Office is.

Well, neither did I.  Let me take you through the progression.

I guess I started this just to rant about lame things going on in my office – rant in a public way so I could get some comiseration going and know I’m not alone, but also not rant on my marketing blog and keep that on topic.  Then I sorta was using it as a personal blog, as you can see by the last two blog entries if you care to even bother looking.  So after that, I decided that it wasn’t on topic either.

Now, I have a better idea.  I recently started working from home, which has been interesting.  And I’ve been feeling like writing about it as it goes down, almost as a diary chronicalling my first experience working from home.  So that’s where this is going.  I hope to do some regular updates, and once again, this is in an effort to keep my marketing blog on track – so I don’t clutter it up with this work at home junk.

Beware now – some of this may be NSFW (not safe for work).  I’m not going to really censor myself much here since this is more of a stream of consciousness about working from home.

Hold on to your butts.





Crazy Ass Ho Coverage – Nope

21 04 2008

I’ll preface this by saying that this is probably the most ghetto thing that’s happened to me in the last year.  At LEAST so far in 2008.  Also, it’s buried, so you’ll have to hear the back story first.

Wednesday night we were supposed to go to our first game of the season.  By we, I refer to Rachel, Lorenza, Katie & I.  It was a giveaway night and there was a Warrior’s game the same night (apparently the last of the season).  So my trying to find parking in the BART parking lot was ridiculous.  Being 6:30p there wasn’t much parking…people trying to find spots for the A’s game, Warrior’s game, and of course people who actually needed to use the BART system lol.  Also, lots of commuters are still parked there and getting off on their way home from work.  So I have to circle the parking lot for 10 minutes until I finally see someone heading to their car and wait for them to leave.  I was hoping to get their ASAP since there was a free giveaway.

Well low & behold I finally get parked and walk through the station & over the ramp to the stadium to find Lorenza and Katie still in line to buy tickets.  They’d been waiting for 45 minutes.  I already had my ticket that I bought online for the bleachers and by the time they got to the window, they were all sold out of the bleachers, AND plaza level outfield, AND plaza level infield.  This left the cheapest ticket for the game at $24, more than Katie & Lorenza really wanted to pay.  And they were already out of the giveaway.  So we decided to sell my ticket to someone standing around, call Rachel & let her know to not bother coming down, & go to a sports bar or something to watch the game.

Here comes the ghetto.  Get ready.

As we walk back to my car through the parking lot, there are still plenty of people driving around still looking for spots.  This chick driving way too fast in a crowded parking lot nearly hits us crossing the road and I say, at a medium volume, “uh bitch”.  It’s not like I yelled it at her, or was even looking at her when I said it.  Said sort of to myself, ya know?  Anyway, we get down the aisle to cross over to my car and apparently this, well, bitch had turned around and came back at us and came at Lorenza (who was lagging behind on her cell) and parked as if to block in the car Lorenza was standing next to (i.e. what they probably thought was her car).  The driver jumps out and starts getting loud about “who called me a bitch!”.  I couldn’t hear cause Katie & I were already in my car but according to Lorenza the dialog went something like this:

Bitch jumped out & said something while Lorenza’s on the phone.
Lorenza: excuse me?
Bitch: someone call me a bitch?
Lorenza: no one said anything.
Bitchy Passenger: oh no, it was the driver that said it (pointing over to me, while Katie & I are successfully acting oblivious).
Lorenza: No, no one called you anything.

The bitch said something else, Lorenza said she was on the phone or something and walked over to our car.  Of course, this is a second hand retelling of the conversation since I couldn’t hear from the car & several days later I may be forgetting something.

So as Lorenza gets into the car and as she does the bitch gets back into hers and takes the fuck off as if to come around the aisle & block me in for further ghettoness.  Luckily in the direction she was coming around the aisle end there were 3-4 other cars blocking the path in the process of parking, looking for spots, etc. so I backed out and took off in the opposite direction ourselves.

As I get the fuck out of there Lorenza & Katie start pondering what would have happened had she rammed into my car.  I said I don’t know, but I sure didn’t want to find out.  I don’t think my insurance covers crazy ass hoes.

GHETTO.  Luckily the bar we went to to watch the game had AWESOME service and totally made up for the disappointment of not seeing the game.  But I’ll leave that for a separate blog.





Empty Pages

14 04 2008

3 or 4 times a week, I open up the familiar MySpace blog editor to post a new blog.  Most of the time I maybe get as far as a Subject, but other times I just end up staring at an empty editing box.

No words come to mind.  But they’re there.  Hiding in the shadows.

I often think to myself, “What went wrong?  How did the girl that wanted to write plays & stories end up staring at a blank box unable to write a blog that expresses something as mundane what’s going on lately in her life or how she feels about things or even the simplest topic ever – what’s annoying her?”  What happened to the creativity that I thought was endless, that seemed to express itself in every project I did, professional or personal.  What happened to the crafty girl that embroidered and sewed  & made stuff instead of buying it because it was more personal?

Maybe that creativity had a shelf life.  Good for 22 years.

Maybe that creativity is reserved for single women who put their frustration at not having a mate into the creativity.  Marriage is the kiss of death.

Most likely, I’ve decided, adulthood sucks creativity into it’s grasp and holds it hostage.  Priorities go from taking photos & writing stories to taking out the trash & writing checks for the bills.  I wake up in the morning and start getting ready for work, thinking about what I have to remember to do that day instead of brainstorming characters, plots, and scenes I dreamt about.

It’s not gone, by any means.  It’s just locked away in a small box.  A million things are piled on top of it, like bills, and debts, and annoying coworkers, and car problems that need fixed.  Brainstorming isn’t about writing, it’s about how to get new customers at work.  It’s about what to make for dinner that will make the husband happy, not about where I’ll hang my latest cross stitch project.

This is where nostalgia kicks in.  We sit around and say we long for the days where we just went to class and turned in assignments and at the end of the semester you moved on with a clean break from the stress of that term with a fresh outlook on the next.  What we really miss is the creativity that flowed those days and the pleasure of having so little weighing you down that you had the energy and brain space to let the creativity out of the box and play.

Is this why retirees find creative outlets again in painting and photography and the leisurely articles of Reader’s Digest?  The weight of work and children and 20-50 something angst is gone from their shoulders.  Fewer things clutter their brain, and just when they thought it was gone… they find a little locked box.  They can’t remember what’s in it, so they look around for the key and finally open it.  Out pours decades of creativity that’s been torturously kept hidden… pours into words on a page, paint on a canvas, colors on film.  It’s been so long since they knew they had creativity that retirees aren’t even sure what to call it…so they say they’ve taken up writing to keep themselves busy now that they don’t work.  And it takes awhile for them to switch out of the busy work mode into the gentle creativity mode.

When was the last time you heard a retiree long for the days of college & the ease of it?  I can’t think of a time I’ve ever heard this.

There are those that are creative in everything they do and at every age.  I want to know their secret.  Is it “doing what you love” for a living?  Those “creative types” that are the envy of every 9-5 desk jockey… the “creative type” that I always wanted to be instead of this desk jockey that I never wanted.  I’m not unhappy with my job per se.  I guess it’s more of a general dissatisfaction.  Don’t get me wrong, of all the places I could be or careers I could have at the moment, I really am digging this affiliate, or performance, marketing thing.  And in my own way it is creative and working hard at it is reaching closer and closer to that goal of being more “creative type” and less desk jockey… but sometimes it’s hard to see that shining sphere of light at the end of a long, dark, mildewy tunnel.





Work Quotes: Robert F. Kennedy

29 03 2008

“Few will have the greatness to bend history itself; but each of us can work to change a small portion of events, and in the total of all these acts will be written the history of this generation.”

-Robert F. Kennedy





Work Quotes: Thomas Jefferson

27 03 2008

“I’m a great believer in luck, and I find the harder I work, the more I have of it.”

-President Thomas Jefferson








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