January 20, 2000
Karmic Bitch Slap


Yeah ... I was cranky yesterday. Sorry about that.

Even worse, I was snooty and high-handed and full of myselves. Sorry about that, too.

(What can I tell you? It was low blood sugar talking.)

The good thing about these periodic episodes of cranky/snooty/high-handed full-of-myselfedness is that they never last for very long. All I have to do is start bragging about how smart I am, or how "technically competent" I am, or how much better MY fabulous life/job/boyfriend/AOL profile is than YOURS, and wham! ... karma will bitch-slap me right back to normal.

In this particular instance, all I had to do was make a bunch of noise about what an *Internet whiz* I am ... and the next morning I swagger into the office, only to discover that I've accidentally sent out a company-wide e-mail loaded with more bugs than a kindergarten classroom.

(Never mind that *I* didn't invent the virus. It came from outside, from a fellow Executive Ass in D.C., I think. But I'm the one who inadvertently spread it around the office. And *I'm* the one who winds up looking like a techno-dork in the eyes of my co-workers.)

I've spent the entire day de-bugging, de-fragging, and de-fending myself. It's been quite humbling. And karmically healthy, no doubt.

The really good news -- if there IS any really good news -- is that in my zeal to clean up my hard drive today, I accidentally wiped out the entire Totem Pole Company newsletter for this month. Now I'll have to recreate the whole thing from scratch.

Why is this *good* news, you ask?

Because in the original version of the January 2000 Totem Pole Tattler, the scintillating front page story concerned changes to the company dental plan.
Zzzzzzzzzz.  And  --  way more importantly  --  because I've learned from experience that people tend to leave me the heck alone when I'm working on the newsletter.  It's sort of cute, actually. They'll stop at my open office door ... see me sitting at my desk busily typity-type-type-typing ... start to say hello, or ask to borrow my stapler, or serenade me with a chorus of "You Are My Sunshine" ... and suddenly they'll realize what's going on. You can see it in their eyes. 

Oh my god. She's working on THE NEWSLETTER.

And right about then they'll suddenly remember that they're needed in the Supply Closet, stat.

I gain a lot of quality *Alone Time* this way. It's better than leprosy. NOBODY wants to be drafted into helping with the newsletter ... and everybody is just so damn glad that they don't have to do the frigging thing, they're willing to give me lots and lots of space in order to get it done in a timely fashion. Which is fine with me.  At the risk of sounding like a total dork, I actually kinda-sorta enjoy working on it.

Besides. I'll let you in on a little secret.

Sometimes ... I'm not even really working on the newsletter.

I just sort of spread all the newsletter-related *stuff* around, on top of my desk ... bring up the template on my computer monitor ... and then sit there reading "Executive Ass Magazine" instead. Or else I stare out the window at David's building, ten blocks away, and daydream about his shoulders. Or else I take a nap with my eyes open. (Try it! It really works!)  Anybody walking by my door sees me surrounded by all of this newsletterly flotsam and jetsam ... and they just keep walking.

It's a win-win situation. I'm either doing something I love  --  writing and creating and playing with words  --  or else I'm doing something ELSE that I love  -- revelling in a little of that precious *Alone Time* I'm constantly yammering on and on about.

Which might be just as well, today ... since I'm still the Techno-Idiot who sneezed on everybody and "infected" the system today.

[Somebody say ghesundheit ... please?]

I have nothing else to report today, basically. (Unless you want to hear about the changes to the company dental plan ... ?)

It's been a slow news day everywhere.

I did hear back from the Waiter.com guy, though ... precisely as predicted:

"Hi Terri, [he says ... still cheerfully]:

"I'm very sorry for the problem with your order. Our part of the loop is to get the order to the restaurant quickly and accurately. Nevertheless, I share your frustration when there is bad service on the restaurant end. We faxed your order to Togo's and even called them to confirm that everything is in order. They failed to notify us of any problems, including the pick up time. We are committed to customer service and have credited your account with 5,000 WaiterPoints" [whut? no cookie?] " for your trouble. We will forward your message to the manager of the restaurant in hopes that they can better your situation and prevent this from ever happening again. We have thousands of satisfied users order from us daily and we hope to add you to that group. If there is anything else we can do, please feel free to email us back. Thank you for using Waiter.com."

Ahhh ... the persuasive power of the complaint letter.

More tomorrow.

special *howdy* to: my little pal mo, at inventicize.com in washington, d.c.
thanks for the electronic dose of *humble* today. i needed that.

a year ago

here's where i'll ask a *relevant* question:
so whut exactly can i buy for 5,000 WaiterPoints, anyway?
5,000 after-dinner mints, maybe?

amazingly profound thought of the day: "Success always occurs in private, and failure in full view." ~ Unknown ~