How (not) to leave a tip for your office cleaning staff!

I used to laugh at those stories about girls in the 1970s needing pliers to do up their jeans – not anymore! Turns out there’s a reason why fashion’s perennial pariah, pleats, were welcomed back as the prodigal pants of the 80s. The hippies thought they’d put an end to war too, but then along came 9/11 and the skinny jean trend, and we’re right back in the dark ages.

There I was, wedged into a cramped stall in our office washroom, enmeshed in an epic struggle with two stonewashed denim sausage casings – the kind of jeans you have to peel rather than pull. They’d been almost bearable when I’d ratcheted them on in the morning, but by our 4:27pm duel, my thighs had set stiff like a couple of cement filled foundation tubes. Ever been so claustrophobic you started fantasizing about jerry-rigging some primitive form of culotte out of old recycling bags and packing tape?

I’d just flushed (sorry TMI), and was jumping up and down, heaving on the waistband, when an odd thing happened. One quarter, one dime, and two pennies, popped free of my front pocket and dropped into the – still flushing – toilet. I watched the water swirl, then settle, leaving my small collection of coins adrift in the bottom of the bowl. I ask you this… What, pray tell, is the etiquette in this sort of situation?

I made an executive decision; I left a tip. I thought of sticking a post-it on the seat to explain, but what would I really say? That I my pants were too tight? That I think another woman’s dignity can be bought for a measly 37 cents? The office cleaning woman and I wear the clothes of different cultures, and now my jeans have driven another wedge between us. It’s no wonder the hippies were wrong about war – just think of all those stems and seeds they left for the rest of the world to clean up.

‘Kinky’ morning bus rides

Scene One: He was sitting a few rows ahead of me, legs splayed, owning his corner of the bus seat with the unchallenged authority of a business suit among jeans. The man fairly oozed masculine pride. His newspaper was spread as wide as his knees on the packed rush-hour bus. He turned the page, and I watched him try to shake a kink out of the main article. But in such a tight space, he only worsened the puckering.

Then it happened… Right in front of everyone, the man abandoned all pride (masculine or otherwise), ducked down his head, and poked out the kink with the tip of his nose. What can I say? My day was made~

Scene Two: The jam-packed bus pulled away from the curb. I grabbed hold of the only support within reach, a dangling, flimsy rubber hand-loop. As the blocks lurched by, I did my best to stay vertical. Putting the ol’ brain to work, I improved my stability by twisting/tangling my wrist up into the strap to limit slack, thereby reducing the egregious strains on my musculature. In theory, quite logical. In practice? Nothing like starting the day off hanging like some half-frozen pig carcass in an overloaded butcher’s trailer, swaying gently back and forth…

All well and good till you have to untangle yourself. “Excuse me,” I called out at my stop. The crowd pushed back to let me pass. Or rather, they pushed back to clear a stage for me to completely mortify myself! It took a full five agonizing seconds for me to extricate my arm. Go ahead, count five Mississippis. It’s a loooooong time. And you can bet it’s an infinity to any poor girl caught in an inadvertent S&M scene before breakfast! What can I say? Their day was made~

For the first time on my walk home from work… the gate by the tracks was open

.
So I went through…

7.2 minutes later: There I am, inching along a narrow mud-slicked ledge, fenced suburbia to my right, a perilous 20′ icy-cliff drop on my left – with only a paved off-ramp to catch me! One slip and I’m rush-hour roadkill. Clinging to the sparest of twigs, I creep forward, only one thought in my mind…

“This is so cool!”

There’s something ridiculously wonderful about getting lost in your own city, especially on your most familiar route. When was the last time you allowed yourself to explore? It’s spring isn’t it? What better time to dive sneaker-first down a rabbit hole?

Quick & Easy Chickpea Salad – Guaranteed to brighten any* Monday

Because pre-emptive-meal-prepping is your absolute favourite way to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon… because there’s nothing more relaxing than hacking away at veggies and scrubbing cutting boards while your hubby’s splayed out watching golf in the next room… because if you can’t cut a Monday with sarcasm, what do we have left?

Because nothing says sunshine like watered down apple juice...

Quick & Easy Chickpea Salad
2 cans chickpeas (rinsed)
1 can corn niblets (drained)
1 whole celery (roughly chopped)
1 handful parsley (roughly chopped)
1/2 red onion (finely chopped)
Lemon juice (generous squirt)
+Your fave Italian dressing
+1 head chopped iceberg lettuce

Toss everything together except Italian dressing and lettuce. To serve salad, line bowl with chopped lettuce (invaluable dressing drainage lesson gleaned from potted plants) and drizzle with Italian (or another favourite) dressing. Enjoy.

Ol’ golf watcher declined above deliciousness. “I don’t like chickpeas,” he reminded me, “except in hummus.”

“But hummus IS chickpeas,” I reminded him.

“Then why don’t you just make hummus?”

Thus, round and round we went…

*Discaimer: Some Mondays are beyond redemption. For these, one word… chocolate.

OK, so it was a bit of a rough morning…

When was the last time you had one of these mornings? You know, the kind where someone else sets the alarm for 5:30am when this is the one morning you don’t have to be up till 7:00am – the kind where that someone sleeps through 6 snooze alarms, then somehow expects to be cajoled gently into wakefulness by a sweetly saccharine wife.

Yes, t’was the kind of morning where you take the bus – rather than walking – to work because you know it would be cruel and inhumane to force anyone to spend 45 minutes trapped alone with such unabashed hostility, let alone your own self! T’was the kind where you make yourself even later by waiting in the lobby for the coast to clear, so you don’t have to share an elevator and risk an awful reaction to some poor hapless coworker’s “Good Morning.”

I thought I was doing quite a good job handling the situation in a mature and dignified manner. We all get into Grumps sometimes – no need to spread the toxicity. On the crowded bus, I kept my Klingon Death Stare fixed on a piece of black lint stuck to the fellow in front of me’s jacket, rather than on the twerp beside me – one of those lovely souls bereft of any concept of personal space. I didn’t avert my eyes from the (exactly 3.4mm diameter) fluff even when the bus lurched round a corner and I (lacking any extra footspace) had the uniquely excruciating experience of feeling my wrist bruising in real-time as one square inch of skin was crushed between my full weight and a metal pole.

I covered the few short blocks between the bus stop and my office with my brim pulled low down over my eyes. It was a public service, really, preventing my Medusa glare from laying waste to any number of unsuspecting commuters on the streets of downtown Calgary. But, on the last street corner, my conscientiousness backfired.

Out of nowhere, a trio of thin blue ribbons caught me around the neck. I was doing so well too, but when something tries to strangle you on the way to work (with or without warning!), some fine line of universal decency is crossed. I broke – my stride, my composure, at least one of the ribbons…

There I was, at 8am on a busy Calgary street corner, thrashing madly at three innocent helium balloons tethered to a “don’t you wish you lived here” folding sign. “AAAAAAARGH!” I let it all out. It was a brief, all too public, display of what it really means to be human. That, or just some crazy chick going psycho on modern marketing. I’m not proud of my little spectacle, and I can assure you there isn’t the least bit of satisfaction in railing on anything that’s essentially lighter than air, but I don’t regret it. Better three balloons than one alarm clock setter’s nose~wink.

Dear Fellow Writers: Has this ever happened to you?

I decided to sneak in a few more paragraphs of my current writing project while I was up at the front desk covering our receptionist’s lunch break today. Without intending to, I found myself slipping into THE ZONE. Even more unexpectedly, a full-on, entirely involuntary, facial meltdown hit me when I ran into the last few sentences of Chapter Four. The emotional drama of the scene was just too much – and this is someone who held out through almost the entire end-credits of Titanic. 

Tears weren’t just brimming, they were streaming down my cheeks. I blew my nose in tissue after tissue, to no avail. Even the briefest peek at the screen renewed the reaction, but I wasn’t about to back down – never when grammar’s at stake! Pretty soon my eyes were bloodshot and my face was unmistakably blotched and puffy. I was, inescapably, inexcusably, a girl crying at work.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood…

The tome in all its glory ~click through for a closer look~

Which would you choose? This tome was waiting for me in the middle of my desk one recent Monday morning. I’d already been offered the promotion, but the spiral bound beast of a book made it suddenly real. Robert Frost’s poem – along with my life – flashed before my eyes. Was I really going to become a geophysical technician?

Almost everyone I surveyed pushed for “Yes!” Huge pay increase, new skill-set, broader career options… how could I say no? Not to mention give up the unprecedented honour of being the first Printing Supervisor (aka Paper Roller) to ever be given the opportunity to start training up the geophysical food chain. Flattered? Yes. Tempted? Sure.

But…

There’s a reason why people say they “fell” into their jobs. Do I want a passive, accidental future? Do you? We live in an incredible era of choice. While it’s true that such freedom can be crippling – the studies have been done -  we may as well take advantage of our post-modern culture while we can. For the first time in human history, there is enough flexibility, in terms of our basic survival, for us to pursue our passions. There is a cost, of course. Once one takes an active roll in one’s future, there is that heavy, inescapable pressure of having to back up words with work – hard work. What to choose?

I said no.

What now? All I can do is keep listing to that little voice, the one that wants so badly. What’s yours whispering in your ear? Mine wants to write, to challenge, to design, to explore. I don’t know what happens from here, but I have faith in the future. And as long as I keep writing towards it, I’ll know I’m on the right road.

Note: Yes, that is Will Wheaton - aka Wesley Crusher from Star Trek TNG - straddling my office moisturizer. How does that intro go again? To boldly go where no one has gone before…  how apropos.

I know I shouldn’t blog about people at work, but…

It has come to my attention that four out of this company’s sixteen employees – a full 25% – are wearing glasses held together by quintessentially nerdist means. I know we are a geophysical data processing firm, but seriously! I mean really, could we get any more cliché:

Culprit 1: Scotch tape (keeping it simple with what’s at hand)

Culprit 2: Plastic shrink-wrap sleeve reinforced with Scotch tape (because I’m – yes, of course I’m on this list too – an all or nothing kind of gal, in my loves, in my dreams, and apparently in my DIY eyewear repairs)

Culprit 3: Electrical tape (for a more discreet look, because one can never sacrifice style)

Culprit 4: An ungainly silver ball of soldering (because one must have style before one can sacrifice it)

I don’t dare rank us in terms of nerdiness, but you’re welcome give it a try. Oh, and sorry #4, but look on the bright side; I’m sure your repair will outlast all of ours. And anyways, there’s something to be said for a touch of asymmetrical nerd bling – Jay-Z would be proud~wink.

A ‘Sign’ of our times…

A 'Sign' of our times - as seen on a Monday morning in Calgary

Our Albertan economy is finally feeling the pinch after decades of unchecked growth. Everyone knows someone who has lost a job, or worse. About a month ago on a rush hour city bus, I overheard a conversation between two well dressed business men. One was lamenting over how his high risk investments had virtually vanished.

“Why did you buy into them in the first place?” the other asked.

The man’s answer was spoken matter of fact, with an honesty not often heard on public transit, especially during rush hour…

“Greed.”

He shrugged his shoulders, and quickly changed the subject.

**********

The best way to stay motivated during this time of economic flux, is to push forward with our career plans using creativity to set ourselves apart. Make a list of all your soft skills (ie: social, organizational), to add to your more easily resuméd hard skills (ie: Microsoft Office, masonry). Try to make connections between both sets to expand your general skill set. You’ll be surprised to discover what services you can offer as a uniquely experienced human being, rather than simply a _______ graduate with x number of years working in _______ . Now is the time to market yourself creatively, as a whole person, as… You!

Speaking of marketing…

To my dear SavingCymbria readers, and to those of you just breezing by, I am now available for all your Creative Problem Solving needs. Freelance writing and design (fashion commissions, graphic design, & web applications) are my specialties, along with photography and general creativity consulting for both individuals and businesses. I’d love to hear your thoughts, and thank you all for dropping by!

It's time to get creative with our personal marketing!

Ideation to creation: Teaming up for the ultimate ‘co-worker just had a baby’ card

Path from ideation to creation

When a co-worker is having a baby, the customary grocery store cake just doesn’t cut it. Finding a sugar saturated, crumb-ling ruin in the office kitchen can be boost on a birthday, I suppose, but bringing a new life into this world demands celebration. The card above is the result of two artistic (and neurotically perfectionist) minds coming together, created (astonishingly) without either of those lives being taken from this wold by the other. This brain sketched out half a dozen concepts – only fluorescent pink will do for the most serious ideation – and illustrator Christina Nichols fleshed out what was “deemed” (tension, what tension?) the most promising.

The 'winning' concept sketch

Our receptionist’s hair is 100% true to life, and so is her handwriting. It’s amazing what you can produce when you open your eyes to the diverse, even under-the-radar, skills of the people you work with. True, the diplomacy has a time and energy cost, but teaming up is the only way to create an optimized skill set guaranteed to take your projects to the next level. Teamwork can make for a dandy card too, and it’s the only way I know to get your stork turned the right way round!

Ergonomic Task Management (for all us laypeople)

In its simplest definition, ergonomics is the study of how best to tailor our work to our selves. Detailed anthropometric data on our physical capabilities (ie: height, reach, length of thumbs) has helped designers improve the comfort and efficiency of everything from our workstations to our can openers. Our office chairs are adjustable, our keyboards curved; the screens on our ATMs are all a certain height. But you don’t need a degree to make your workstation more ergonomic. Any job/task can be modified to be made more efficient. And it’s not all about the height of your chair either; try incorporating your own behavioural patterns into task management, along with any quantitative measurements. The only thing you need to know is…

You.

Let me demonstrate by applying my industrial design training to basic data entry…

In the above example, my boss asked me to modify (and/or re-enter) dozens of lines of data that had been adjusted since their initial entry. The data consisted of numbers (no discernable pattern), and the lines to be changed were located randomly throughout the document. Keeping everything 100% accurate (and in proper order) was paramount.

What do I know about ‘me’?
1)  I naturally write at a slight angle to the page.
2)  I automatically press the backspace key when I make a mistake.
3)  I have the number pad memorized (wondering how?)
4)  I get motion sick very, very easily

How did I use this self-knowledge?
1)  Because my body positions itself naturally (and therefore most comfortably) at an slight angle to any print work, I taped the paper at the same angle – although it’s a bit hard to tell from the photo.

2)  Taping a visual cue over the backspace key was the only way I found to stop my finger from unconsciously pressing the button.

3)  Since I have the pad memorized, I kept my eyes on the paper and both hands on the keyboard. One hand worked the tab key to skip data sets, while the other ‘owned’ the number pad.

4)  I tend to get nauseous when I’m overloaded with visual stimuli or when my eyes switch focus too frequently. Yah, I’m a real treat to ride the bus with. I always try to nab the front seat in cars, and the same principle works for data entry – keeping everything front and center. I slid the cardstock (and scotch tape) frame down the page to isolate each data line. Similarly, the screen was shrunk to limit the lines shown, and was moved to the bottom of the monitor to be as close to the paper as possible (to reduce eye movement).

Note: My coworker, when faced with the same task, memorized the numbers on the page so she could keep her eyes on the number pad while typing (unlike myself, she didn’t have it memorized). She reorganized the setup of the task to cater to her individual strengths. Kudos.

Let me tell you a secret…
You already know all about ergonomic task management; you apply its principles every day. The key is to practice it consciously. There is an incredible amount of flexibility in even the most structured environments. You may only have space and permission for micro-adjustments, but even those can have a phenomenal impact on your comfort and efficiency. So next time you’re washing the dishes, or writing up a memo, take a blank-canvas look at the task in relation to you and your environment, and make it your own!

Elevators are treacherous in this economy

So… I happen to get in the elevator this morning with one of my office’s biggest oil company clients. I recognized her, despite red eyes and wild this-$34-a-barrel-is-killing-me hair, as Peggy-Ann, a charmer from the 17th floor. And I, as a dedicated and motivated employee, proceeded to make small talk. Groan - that’s when everything went so wrong…

“So I guess you’ve heard we’re moving,” I said.

Her eyes went wide with obvious shock and horror. “Matrix is moving????!”

This is where yours truly entered panic mode. Ah yes, the full-on arm flailing, the sheepish grinning, the hopelessly hole digging sputtering… and it all happened so fast - ”just down the street…we’ll still be super close…you didn’t hear it from me…” Ohhhhh the agony!!! Did I just give out a corporate secret? Did I just somehow sabotage our company’s biggest contract? What does one do in this type of calamity?

Well…one fesses up to one’s boss in the office kitchen while trying to look extra “dedicated and motivated” by rearranging the pop cans in the bottom of the fridge. End result? Life…somehow…goes on. Turns out it was no biggie. And, as a bonus, now all the logos on the pop cans are lined up.

The one thing I will not wait for…

I wait patiently for traffic lights to turn, for water to boil, for my hubby to take me play-by-play through his latest round of golf ; ) Yes, willingly, even joyfully, I twiddle my thumbs through it all. But there is one thing I refuse to wait for, even for a matter of seconds. I will not wait for Porta-potties to be unloaded from a construction site pickup truck while I stand freezing on a snowy downtown sidewalk on my way to work. I was caught in just such a situation recently – hence the descriptive detail lol. My fellow pedestrians were grumbling and kicking at the snow, when someone finally spoke up: “Are we really waiting for Porta-potties?” The closest construction worker nodded sheepishly.

Well forget that! I took off for the nearest building entrance and made my way up to the +15 (Calgary’s raised downtown walkway), where, promptly, I got lost.

Sigh. First time dignity’s ever made me late for work.

Heli-potty takes flight…a much better delivery method!

(Image source)

I’m so ashamed…

It’s finally happened. I thought growing up with a 13inch black and white, constantly snow screened, cableless TV would immunize me. No such luck. I thought only those poor souls black’buried’ under cellphones and laptops would be afflicted. Nope. I never felt the change – that’s the scariest part – of my brain and body slowly rewiring under constant sensory assault. I never felt it happening, only the horror of realizing it was too late. The damage is done. Our pace of life has been jacked up to max and our attention spans have petered out to mere milliseconds. Case in point?

It’s 8:02AM. Already late, I jump in the first elevator that opens (out of the bank of eight) in my office tower. I press ’29′, and my eyes immediately search out the in-ride plasma TV. But it’s blank! And I, truly, no joke, the kid who used to be able to play with a bag of buttons for hours, make a dash for the closing doors. Somehow, in that instant, thrusting my body between two giant slabs of squeezing metal (not to mention being that much more late for work) was preferable to the agony of being without sensory input for 30 seconds. Luckily, I clued in to my idiocy just in time and pulled back.

Was the ride boring? Not at all. I had a good solid 30 seconds to contemplate my insanity. Which, as you can imagine, was about all the time my attention span could afford lol. What’s usually on the elevator plasma? Prices for stocks I don’t own, news I don’t follow, reviews for movies I’ll never see, and a small logo in the lower left hand corner of the screen – Captive Entertainment…wooops, my mistake, Captivate Entertainment. Guess it’s time for some new contacts, cause I sure ain’t seeing what’s right in front of me. Or maybe I am… ; )

Feelin down? Try this today…(but please look both ways first)…

Working in gray downtown in gray November can get one feeling, well, a wee bit gray. If the symptoms are left untreated, they can progress quickly into the much more dangerous condition of cog-itis (inescapable sense of personal insignificance in the dull gray gearing of this capitalist machine, accompanied by frequent misfiring of tear ducts and a mild throaty cough). What’s the quickest way to regain one’s sense of personal power in this grand ol’ gray world? 

Try this quick remedy next time you’re standing at a crowded intersection, listlessly waiting for the “walk” light to come on: LOOK BOTH WAYS, then confidently stride out into the crosswalk with dignity and purpose – a good few seconds before the light changes. You will be shocked at how many other cog-ites blindly follow you off the curb. Now that’s power. Slightly stupid, maybe, depending on the traffic, but real power.

People follow purpose, and what’cha know, they’re following you!

(image source)