Since the day My Partner in Crime overheard Sophia and I talking about past skinny dipping experiences, any mention of public nudity in the production managers meeting immediately turns to me.
Do they really think that I am naive enough to believe that I am the only person in that room who has ever swam naked with other people?? I think not.
Tommy Lee had started the meeting off today by showing everyone the new tattoo he had received last weekend. So, as we sit there, staring at the shirtless back of Tommy Lee, Mr. Brownstar had asked if the tattoo still hurt.
"It's a little tender, but not bad. It hurt worse just sitting there for the 2 hours while they worked on it, my back muscles are killing me. The tattoo needle sticking my back was a piece of cake," everyone was looking intently at Tommy Lee's untoned back and the dream catcher tattoo he had gotten in tribute to the death of his father last month.
"Can you imagine someone sticking their ass up in the air that long?" Allison started to laugh, her missing front tooth grossed me out.
"Yeah, Phoebe, how does that feel?" My partner in Crime smiled at me, a devilish gleam in his eye.
"What do you mean 'Yeah, Phoebe', I don't have any tattoos," I glared at him from across the conference table.
If you haven't guessed it already, this would be the reason why I call this production manager My Partner in Crime. Of all the production managers, this particular one has the ability to bring out the worst in me.
"Oh, yah.... Prove it!" the devilish glint had taken over his entire face, he was up to no good. With every eye upon me, I couldn't help but laugh, if they knew what I looked like naked, I'm sure they wouldn't be asking me to get naked. After all, I've had 2 kids, the whole having a baby thing was not kind to me.
"The only way I'm proving anything is if we all prove it," we were laughing way too hard. I'm certain you could hear laughter coming from inside the conference room. I'm very surprised, actually, that Crazy Office Supply Jody and her barely clad bosoms didn't come bursting in to tell me that they could hear me laughing in the front office.
Crazy Office Supply Jody does not like me. You may think I jest, but the above events did actually happen one day as we sat in the production managers meeting.
"Sounds like we'll be needing to do an off site managers conference then, to get down to the bottom of the whole tattoo situation. Let's just make sure it's after I get back from Florida," Mr. Brownstar is pretending to pencil in an action item.
I can't even begin to imagine what upper management would think if they new the topics and discussions that go on in the production managers meetings.
What they don't know won't kill them.
The New Guy didn't show up for work today. His first day with the company was on September 18th, and he's already missed 5 days.
Not off to a good start.
GQ has been totally avoiding me today. Sophia and I are certain something is up. We also have suspicions that The New Guy may be involved in whatever the heck has caused the engineers to act so strangely around us.
As Sophia had pointed out, it wasn't until after The New Guy started hanging out by us that the odd behavior began taking place. If you think about it, he has the perfect vantage point being The New Guy. He can hang out under the guise of training and spy on every last thing we do, say, or think. How do we really know that every little tidbit of information isn't being passed on to people who really do not need to know this information, and, that said, how do we know these little tidbits of information aren't being taken out of context or twisted into something completely different from the original meaning?
We don't know.
I do know one thing, from now on, Sophia and I are going to be keenly aware of every last thought, phrase, and aspect of conversation we carry with or around The New Guy.
Monday, October 30, 2006
Friday, October 27, 2006
The Prankster King
Fridays on the production floor are always a buzz with action. Today is no exception.
Scott, one of Mr. Brownstar's employees, pulled a prank today that has crowned him prankster king. Never before have I seen a prank so ingenious and masterfully done! It will take a miracle for anyone to dethrone Scott.
The unsuspecting Mr. Brownstar had been approached by a frazzled Scott rambling about a dog on the production floor making a mess this morning. Nosey by nature, Mr. Brownstar immediately wanted to know what in the heck Scotty was going on about.
"Ok, ok, ok..... Just wait a minute [Scott]. So, what's going on here?" Mr. Brownstar is looking at Scott, his curiosity piqued.
"I don't know how it happened. There had to have been a dog in here last night," Scott is playing it serious. "You've gotta see this," leading Mr. Brownstar over to his work station, he points under the table.
"What is that?" Mr. Brownstar is bent over, staring in disbelief at what looks to be a pile of dog shit sitting on a static bag below Scott's work station.
"Oh, good God," Mr. Brownstar's eyes were the size of saucers. Playing it up for all it was worth, Scott bends down and slides the static bag out from under the table. Kneeling down on the floor, Scott picks up the static bag and stares down at the contents sitting on top of it, waiting for Mr. Brownstar to lean closer. As Mr. Brownstar leans closer, Scott takes the static bag and lifts it to his nose, smelling deeply. Mr. Brownstar is staring down, assuredly wondering what the heck Scott is doing.
At this point in the story, I feel I must tell you what the true origin of the dog turd is. In actuality, it is an over cooked croissant from Scott's dinner the night before. In appearance, it looks exactly like a piece of shit.
Without hesitation, Scott picks up the contents from the top of the static bag and takes a big bite from it. Mr. Brownstar freaked out, his face instantly a deep and solid crimson. Horrified at what he has just witnessed, he became instantly pissed that it was all a big joke, and of all things, a joke played upon him.
Without doubt, Scotty definitely deserves a trophy for this one.
Scott, one of Mr. Brownstar's employees, pulled a prank today that has crowned him prankster king. Never before have I seen a prank so ingenious and masterfully done! It will take a miracle for anyone to dethrone Scott.
The unsuspecting Mr. Brownstar had been approached by a frazzled Scott rambling about a dog on the production floor making a mess this morning. Nosey by nature, Mr. Brownstar immediately wanted to know what in the heck Scotty was going on about.
"Ok, ok, ok..... Just wait a minute [Scott]. So, what's going on here?" Mr. Brownstar is looking at Scott, his curiosity piqued.
"I don't know how it happened. There had to have been a dog in here last night," Scott is playing it serious. "You've gotta see this," leading Mr. Brownstar over to his work station, he points under the table.
"What is that?" Mr. Brownstar is bent over, staring in disbelief at what looks to be a pile of dog shit sitting on a static bag below Scott's work station.
"Oh, good God," Mr. Brownstar's eyes were the size of saucers. Playing it up for all it was worth, Scott bends down and slides the static bag out from under the table. Kneeling down on the floor, Scott picks up the static bag and stares down at the contents sitting on top of it, waiting for Mr. Brownstar to lean closer. As Mr. Brownstar leans closer, Scott takes the static bag and lifts it to his nose, smelling deeply. Mr. Brownstar is staring down, assuredly wondering what the heck Scott is doing.
At this point in the story, I feel I must tell you what the true origin of the dog turd is. In actuality, it is an over cooked croissant from Scott's dinner the night before. In appearance, it looks exactly like a piece of shit.
Without hesitation, Scott picks up the contents from the top of the static bag and takes a big bite from it. Mr. Brownstar freaked out, his face instantly a deep and solid crimson. Horrified at what he has just witnessed, he became instantly pissed that it was all a big joke, and of all things, a joke played upon him.
Without doubt, Scotty definitely deserves a trophy for this one.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Oddities of Late
As a member of management certain things are just par for the course. A production manager will always have at least one work place nemesis who wants to see them fail. A production manager will always have at least one disgruntled worker who will do everything in their power to get your job. A production manager will always have at least one enemy who hates you for no reason whatsoever.
My enemy happens to work right outside my area within a neighboring production cell. All day I see her over there, glaring in my direction as I pass by her. Purposely, from time to time, I find myself dismissing her very existence, I know this absolutely infuriates her, which makes me smile.
My enemy hasn't always been an enemy to me, for a long time, I didn't even know she existed. Then, one fateful day, the radio incident occurred, and from that day forward, she has been my enemy. She has hated me from the depths of her soul, hated me to the point that she flattened 2 of my tires on my vehicle, hated me to the point where, when she discovered that she has recently started using the same daycare that I use, she began probing my daycare lady for information on me.
In this all I have remained as I always have, aloof to the situation, acting as if her actions and behavior are beneath me.
Today, however, my enemy has been going out of her way to be pleasant and friendly to me. She has initiated conversation with me on 2 occasions throughout the day and actually smiled in my direction.
Something is up!
Sophia and I have been noticing a difference in her behavior, among others within the production floor as well. It's almost as if we've been plucked from our normal, production floor existence, and dropped into a Twilight Zone alternate existence where everyone likes us. An engineer had stopped by to visit with us for a few today, and, in the midst of the conversation, he had asked if, in any way, had he ever slighted or ignored any of the needs or requirements of my areas, or if he had ever left us out to dry. I was surprised by his comment, and responded that no, I felt he was fairly alert to our issues and that when we had needed help in the past he had always come through.
I have to say, it has left me wondering about the sudden abnormal behaviors.
My enemy happens to work right outside my area within a neighboring production cell. All day I see her over there, glaring in my direction as I pass by her. Purposely, from time to time, I find myself dismissing her very existence, I know this absolutely infuriates her, which makes me smile.
My enemy hasn't always been an enemy to me, for a long time, I didn't even know she existed. Then, one fateful day, the radio incident occurred, and from that day forward, she has been my enemy. She has hated me from the depths of her soul, hated me to the point that she flattened 2 of my tires on my vehicle, hated me to the point where, when she discovered that she has recently started using the same daycare that I use, she began probing my daycare lady for information on me.
In this all I have remained as I always have, aloof to the situation, acting as if her actions and behavior are beneath me.
Today, however, my enemy has been going out of her way to be pleasant and friendly to me. She has initiated conversation with me on 2 occasions throughout the day and actually smiled in my direction.
Something is up!
Sophia and I have been noticing a difference in her behavior, among others within the production floor as well. It's almost as if we've been plucked from our normal, production floor existence, and dropped into a Twilight Zone alternate existence where everyone likes us. An engineer had stopped by to visit with us for a few today, and, in the midst of the conversation, he had asked if, in any way, had he ever slighted or ignored any of the needs or requirements of my areas, or if he had ever left us out to dry. I was surprised by his comment, and responded that no, I felt he was fairly alert to our issues and that when we had needed help in the past he had always come through.
I have to say, it has left me wondering about the sudden abnormal behaviors.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Wanted: One Jet Black Panther
Independent consultants have been hired to come in and view our facility processes for the next few days.
This means best behavior and impromptu audit hell.
So far this morning, I've given my presentation to the 'entourage' that was escorting a very large man with sweat beads all over his face and a woman who was walking around with our HR manager. I feel the beginnings of a stress head ache creeping up the back of my neck.
If that weren't enough, my morning was absolutely crazy. One thing you quickly grow to understand when you work on the production floor is the purchasing department, on any given day, would need a pry bar to pull their heads far enough out of their asses just to see daylight.
This is hell on my departments, pure and simple. At any given moment a receiver will have 4 or 5 emails requesting hot parts to be received, a planner at their desk with a tracking number for an item that is supposed to be arriving, a phone receiver stuck to their ear as they explain to the purchasing department the parts they bought are wrong, and a production cell screaming they are line down.
This makes for some very unhappy employees, which, in turn, makes for one very unhappy production manager.
This morning happened to be like every other morning on the production floor, all hell had broken loose and it was up to me to reign it back in. Somehow The New Guy had gotten himself involved with one of the many complications that plague my day, pissing me off YET again!
How dare a new guy, someone who hasn't even been with the company long enough to establish a single solitary friend, tell me, a 10 year veteran, how to do my job! Then, when I'm good and pissed, tell me not to get defensive!
I'm telling you, the world would operate just fine minus one know-it-all New Guy. He would make excellent panther food.
Sophia and I have finally found a silver lining to the entire situation, however. I'm not certain why it hadn't crossed my mind before, but when Crazy Office Supply Jody came cruising back here with her high heels clicking and her barely clad bosom bouncing all over the place it hit us.
Crazy Office Supply Jody is just what The New Guy needs!
She's desperate, absolutely, unequivocally, obvious to the point that she shows up for work half naked, desperate. You may be thinking, what the hell?? How can any woman who shows up for work half naked be desperate??
Let me tell you.
Crazy Office Supply Jody is the type of woman who you would find hanging out in the bushes outside your front door playing a harmonica. Crazy Office Supply Jody is the type of woman who you would find in your kitchen one day boiling your child's pet bunny. Crazy Office Supply Jody is the type of woman who should be on medication for her nine million personalities to get along with each other.
She's just perfect for The New Guy!
This means best behavior and impromptu audit hell.
So far this morning, I've given my presentation to the 'entourage' that was escorting a very large man with sweat beads all over his face and a woman who was walking around with our HR manager. I feel the beginnings of a stress head ache creeping up the back of my neck.
If that weren't enough, my morning was absolutely crazy. One thing you quickly grow to understand when you work on the production floor is the purchasing department, on any given day, would need a pry bar to pull their heads far enough out of their asses just to see daylight.
This is hell on my departments, pure and simple. At any given moment a receiver will have 4 or 5 emails requesting hot parts to be received, a planner at their desk with a tracking number for an item that is supposed to be arriving, a phone receiver stuck to their ear as they explain to the purchasing department the parts they bought are wrong, and a production cell screaming they are line down.
This makes for some very unhappy employees, which, in turn, makes for one very unhappy production manager.
This morning happened to be like every other morning on the production floor, all hell had broken loose and it was up to me to reign it back in. Somehow The New Guy had gotten himself involved with one of the many complications that plague my day, pissing me off YET again!
How dare a new guy, someone who hasn't even been with the company long enough to establish a single solitary friend, tell me, a 10 year veteran, how to do my job! Then, when I'm good and pissed, tell me not to get defensive!
I'm telling you, the world would operate just fine minus one know-it-all New Guy. He would make excellent panther food.
Sophia and I have finally found a silver lining to the entire situation, however. I'm not certain why it hadn't crossed my mind before, but when Crazy Office Supply Jody came cruising back here with her high heels clicking and her barely clad bosom bouncing all over the place it hit us.
Crazy Office Supply Jody is just what The New Guy needs!
She's desperate, absolutely, unequivocally, obvious to the point that she shows up for work half naked, desperate. You may be thinking, what the hell?? How can any woman who shows up for work half naked be desperate??
Let me tell you.
Crazy Office Supply Jody is the type of woman who you would find hanging out in the bushes outside your front door playing a harmonica. Crazy Office Supply Jody is the type of woman who you would find in your kitchen one day boiling your child's pet bunny. Crazy Office Supply Jody is the type of woman who should be on medication for her nine million personalities to get along with each other.
She's just perfect for The New Guy!
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Just another day on the production floor.....
The New Guy totally pissed me off last night after the girls had left for the evening. Sometimes I could just choke people, in fact, if it were not illegal to do such acts, I'm pretty sure the world overcrowding problem would be eliminated.
So, The New Guy shows up at my desk last night with a 'phantom' problem that he has been tasked to research. It was a result of this research that I discovered I will NEVER be able to work with The New Guy on any actual work related issues. He is a complete ass. Words can not describe just how infuriated I got last night as he was commenting about me not knowing my job among other things.
By the end, I had pulled out the Complete Bitch Card. Here I was, the only person on the entire production floor who actually treated him like a human, taking shit from a giant oaf with purple lips and bad hair.
Not gonna happen!
I ended up telling him to leave. The last thing I wanted was to spend even 1 more second with this moron, the situation was very close to becoming postal. I could almost envision the scene that would play on the 6:00 news.....
What a hell of a way to end the day!
So, deciding to brave the ridicule and harassment, I showed up for the production managers meeting this morning. Relief washed over me as I entered the room and found The New Guy was nowhere to be found. At last! Things would be back normal!
Our normal conversations of hand bags full of dirty diapers and Italian engineers who reek of cheap cologne and booze resumed without a hitch. My day was running just as it should be.
Then he showed up at my desk. Yes, that's correct, The New Guy shows up at my desk and acts like the events of the night before never even existed.
I almost died!
Before I knew it he was droning on and on about his ridiculous antiques and how much investigation he puts into it and how much money the stuff he has is worth and how he is saving some of his antiques for retirement. It's funny how your mind wanders when you have absolutely no desire in the conversation you are having. Everything from shopping lists to TV programs were running through my mind until finally it rested on one subject I could not ignore.
I had to pee!
And, not just one of those moments where you say to yourself, I'd better hit the bathroom the next time I walk past it.
I mean NOW!
So, in mid sentence, with cramps in my stomach and almost literally crossing my legs, I exclaim "I'm really sorry, but, I've got to pee!" and I took off walking toward the bathroom.
From behind me I could here him reply "Oh, ok, hope it all comes out ok." What kind of a moron says stuff like that??? I didn't even acknowledge the comment. I have to admit, though, even though my opinion of The New Guy is not all that high, I was completely embarrassed of the scene that had played out.
Oh, well, life goes on I suppose.
On another note, Betty was a complete basket case all day yesterday, literally balling her eyes out all morning. I have become numb to such displays, so when she showed up at my desk to tell me that she may not be spending the entire day at work because she was absolutely certain her husband was having a stroke, I didn't think twice. In cases like Betty, you never can tell what's real and what is an over dramatization of a scene she has played out in her head and decided was reality.
People from all over the production floor had come to visit with her, offering support, generally feeding all of her emotional insecurities.
Amazing, however, today her husband seems to be completely back to normal. Just yesterday he was paralyzed on his left side, and now, miraculously, he's just fine. No paralyses, no weird glazed look in his eyes, nothing.
Yeah.....
I suppose there is something good that can come out of working for a place like I work, it's never a dull moment on the production floor.
So, The New Guy shows up at my desk last night with a 'phantom' problem that he has been tasked to research. It was a result of this research that I discovered I will NEVER be able to work with The New Guy on any actual work related issues. He is a complete ass. Words can not describe just how infuriated I got last night as he was commenting about me not knowing my job among other things.
By the end, I had pulled out the Complete Bitch Card. Here I was, the only person on the entire production floor who actually treated him like a human, taking shit from a giant oaf with purple lips and bad hair.
Not gonna happen!
I ended up telling him to leave. The last thing I wanted was to spend even 1 more second with this moron, the situation was very close to becoming postal. I could almost envision the scene that would play on the 6:00 news.....
What a hell of a way to end the day!
So, deciding to brave the ridicule and harassment, I showed up for the production managers meeting this morning. Relief washed over me as I entered the room and found The New Guy was nowhere to be found. At last! Things would be back normal!
Our normal conversations of hand bags full of dirty diapers and Italian engineers who reek of cheap cologne and booze resumed without a hitch. My day was running just as it should be.
Then he showed up at my desk. Yes, that's correct, The New Guy shows up at my desk and acts like the events of the night before never even existed.
I almost died!
Before I knew it he was droning on and on about his ridiculous antiques and how much investigation he puts into it and how much money the stuff he has is worth and how he is saving some of his antiques for retirement. It's funny how your mind wanders when you have absolutely no desire in the conversation you are having. Everything from shopping lists to TV programs were running through my mind until finally it rested on one subject I could not ignore.
I had to pee!
And, not just one of those moments where you say to yourself, I'd better hit the bathroom the next time I walk past it.
I mean NOW!
So, in mid sentence, with cramps in my stomach and almost literally crossing my legs, I exclaim "I'm really sorry, but, I've got to pee!" and I took off walking toward the bathroom.
From behind me I could here him reply "Oh, ok, hope it all comes out ok." What kind of a moron says stuff like that??? I didn't even acknowledge the comment. I have to admit, though, even though my opinion of The New Guy is not all that high, I was completely embarrassed of the scene that had played out.
Oh, well, life goes on I suppose.
On another note, Betty was a complete basket case all day yesterday, literally balling her eyes out all morning. I have become numb to such displays, so when she showed up at my desk to tell me that she may not be spending the entire day at work because she was absolutely certain her husband was having a stroke, I didn't think twice. In cases like Betty, you never can tell what's real and what is an over dramatization of a scene she has played out in her head and decided was reality.
People from all over the production floor had come to visit with her, offering support, generally feeding all of her emotional insecurities.
Amazing, however, today her husband seems to be completely back to normal. Just yesterday he was paralyzed on his left side, and now, miraculously, he's just fine. No paralyses, no weird glazed look in his eyes, nothing.
Yeah.....
I suppose there is something good that can come out of working for a place like I work, it's never a dull moment on the production floor.
Monday, October 23, 2006
The 50/50 Drawing
For as long as Hedda Hopper has been working for me, she has had a leak in her gas tank. Now, you would think that, in the past year, she would have set some cash aside to ultimately fix the gas tank.
Not Hedda.
Nope.... Hedda has been spending her money on trips to see The Banjo Picker and flea market hats from clearance bins and thrift stores. She has been sending money to her son who is in prison because he broke into another man's house and nearly beat him to death. She has been paying her daughter's child support because she was declared unfit and the state took away her kids. The list goes on.....
But, the one thing she hasn't been spending money on is the maintenance of her car or the upkeep of her house, a house that should be condemned.
I am infuriated at times by people. Hedda chooses to live that way, why do people feel sorry for her? Worse yet, she's a greedy mooch.
Case in point. All day Friday Hedda was pretty quiet. Every once in a while she would look over, humbled, like the weight of the world was resting on her shoulders. She was up in arms because the gas tank leak had been discovered by our HR safety representative and he had told Hedda she would have to either get the leak fixed or not drive her car to work. Naturally, Hedda had taken the situation for everything it was worth, throwing out the poverty card, and, pretty much, playing on everyone's emotions banking on the fact that someone would feel sorry for her and make sure she got a new gas tank.
Which, they did.
It was decided that they would do a 50/50 drawing to raise money for Hedda's gas tank. People who wanted to participate could purchase tickets that would be entered in the drawing. 50% of the money would go to Hedda for her unfortunate situation, the other 50% of the money would go to the lucky owner of the ticket that was drawn.
All in all, Hedda ended up with $120 for her gas tank. Her one point of concern? Where did the rest of the money go that she didn't get.
Where did it go??? The greedy old bag should be thankful she got anything at all.
So this morning I show up for work and sit down at my desk. Like most every day, Sophia and I start to talk about the weekend and what we had done. Hedda turns, butts into the middle of my conversation, and states "Did you see my car?"
"No, did you get a new one?" I have no idea what in the heck she's talking about.
"I got my gas tank. My son hooked it up on Friday. I had just about enough money to cover the whole thing, too bad I didn't get just a little more," Hedda is beaming from ear to ear.
To be honest, I was repulsed. She should have been lucky just to get what she did get. Some people just assume that it is up to everyone else to see that their needs are met.
Not Hedda.
Nope.... Hedda has been spending her money on trips to see The Banjo Picker and flea market hats from clearance bins and thrift stores. She has been sending money to her son who is in prison because he broke into another man's house and nearly beat him to death. She has been paying her daughter's child support because she was declared unfit and the state took away her kids. The list goes on.....
But, the one thing she hasn't been spending money on is the maintenance of her car or the upkeep of her house, a house that should be condemned.
I am infuriated at times by people. Hedda chooses to live that way, why do people feel sorry for her? Worse yet, she's a greedy mooch.
Case in point. All day Friday Hedda was pretty quiet. Every once in a while she would look over, humbled, like the weight of the world was resting on her shoulders. She was up in arms because the gas tank leak had been discovered by our HR safety representative and he had told Hedda she would have to either get the leak fixed or not drive her car to work. Naturally, Hedda had taken the situation for everything it was worth, throwing out the poverty card, and, pretty much, playing on everyone's emotions banking on the fact that someone would feel sorry for her and make sure she got a new gas tank.
Which, they did.
It was decided that they would do a 50/50 drawing to raise money for Hedda's gas tank. People who wanted to participate could purchase tickets that would be entered in the drawing. 50% of the money would go to Hedda for her unfortunate situation, the other 50% of the money would go to the lucky owner of the ticket that was drawn.
All in all, Hedda ended up with $120 for her gas tank. Her one point of concern? Where did the rest of the money go that she didn't get.
Where did it go??? The greedy old bag should be thankful she got anything at all.
So this morning I show up for work and sit down at my desk. Like most every day, Sophia and I start to talk about the weekend and what we had done. Hedda turns, butts into the middle of my conversation, and states "Did you see my car?"
"No, did you get a new one?" I have no idea what in the heck she's talking about.
"I got my gas tank. My son hooked it up on Friday. I had just about enough money to cover the whole thing, too bad I didn't get just a little more," Hedda is beaming from ear to ear.
To be honest, I was repulsed. She should have been lucky just to get what she did get. Some people just assume that it is up to everyone else to see that their needs are met.
Friday, October 20, 2006
The Lunch of Death
The New Guy was already at my desk when I arrived at work this morning. He and Sophia were chatting away so I stopped to chat for a bit in the receiving area, hoping like hell he would give up waiting for me and leave.
It didn't work.
Dread filled me as I headed toward my desk. I knew exactly what this meant, The New Guy would be hanging out until it was time for the meeting, then follow me like a lost puppy dog into the conference room. My uncertain doom was sealed, I would most likely, from this day forward, be exiled just like him.
Naturally, everyone in the room began making comments the minute we entered. Some of the comments were about the meeting supposedly only being on Wednesdays. Some of the comments were about the meeting now starting 15 minutes later than what it had always traditionally started at. All ridiculous and obvious comments said to make The New Guy feel unwanted and uncomfortable. The comments ended up making me feel bad as well. I don't think I will be attending any more production managers meetings.
After the meeting I had emailed My Partner in Crime and asked point blank what the dates and start times of the meetings would be. Although he did reply back with the correct time, his response was sarcastic and mainly teased me about my "lover boy".
I'm so pissed off about this whole New Guy situation. He looks to me as a friend and confidant, I just can't be heartless enough to give him the cold shoulder like everyone else on the production floor already has. I would give anything to be a mean hearted bitch, but I'm not.
Which is the exact reason why I ended up having lunch with The New Guy when he asked if he could talk to me about a few things.
Oh My Fucking God I had lunch with The New Guy and everybody seen us leave together.
We ended up eating at the Chinese place, and he ended up spilling his guts about everything that has happened to him since the first day of employment on the production floor. He's looking to me for help in attaining acceptance from our peers, little does he know he has pretty much ruined my acceptance with them as well.
It didn't work.
Dread filled me as I headed toward my desk. I knew exactly what this meant, The New Guy would be hanging out until it was time for the meeting, then follow me like a lost puppy dog into the conference room. My uncertain doom was sealed, I would most likely, from this day forward, be exiled just like him.
Naturally, everyone in the room began making comments the minute we entered. Some of the comments were about the meeting supposedly only being on Wednesdays. Some of the comments were about the meeting now starting 15 minutes later than what it had always traditionally started at. All ridiculous and obvious comments said to make The New Guy feel unwanted and uncomfortable. The comments ended up making me feel bad as well. I don't think I will be attending any more production managers meetings.
After the meeting I had emailed My Partner in Crime and asked point blank what the dates and start times of the meetings would be. Although he did reply back with the correct time, his response was sarcastic and mainly teased me about my "lover boy".
I'm so pissed off about this whole New Guy situation. He looks to me as a friend and confidant, I just can't be heartless enough to give him the cold shoulder like everyone else on the production floor already has. I would give anything to be a mean hearted bitch, but I'm not.
Which is the exact reason why I ended up having lunch with The New Guy when he asked if he could talk to me about a few things.
Oh My Fucking God I had lunch with The New Guy and everybody seen us leave together.
We ended up eating at the Chinese place, and he ended up spilling his guts about everything that has happened to him since the first day of employment on the production floor. He's looking to me for help in attaining acceptance from our peers, little does he know he has pretty much ruined my acceptance with them as well.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
If looks could kill......
The New Guy would have been a goner this morning.
Mr. Brownstar has become increasingly deft since The New Guy has started stealing his seat in the production managers meetings. On the mornings he can't show up early, he will enter the room, pull out his normal chair, and leave his notebook to save his place. While it had taken care of the problem for the first few days, The New Guy was not to be discouraged.
Now, you may recall in a past post how I had mentioned that Ted becomes absolutely insane when people are not sitting in their normal seats. You can't even begin to imagine what happened today when, upon entering the room, he found The New Guy sitting in HIS chair, the chair of Ted, the obsessive compulsive production manager.
Please be advised, from the minute he pulled out the chair, The New Guy was warned to NOT sit in Ted's chair. One of the production managers had literally told him he lacked respect just continuing to sit there.
The New Guy sat unphased. I had inquired as to whether or not Ted was in today, hoping for Ted's sake, that he was out. No such luck, for, only moments after asking if Ted were there, Ted came strolling through the conference room door, immediately noticing the trespasser who had parked his ass in his seat.
Because Ted is completely anal, he walked behind The New Guy and stood for several moments, staring angrily down at him, fully expecting The New Guy to vacate his seat. The New Guy didn't move a muscle. As Ted was headed down to the other side of Jim, I couldn't help myself and glanced up in his direction.
I had to look away! His beat red face was a mask of pure anger, daggers shooting from his eyes in the direction of The New Guy. Never before in my life had I seen something like this occur, especially from Ted. Ted remained silent through the remainder of the meeting.
As you can imagine, an action such as this can not go unpunished. Someone who had attended the production managers meeting had gone to HR and requested the HR manager speak with The New Guy and request that he only frequent the big production meeting we have on Wednesdays.
Whoever this person was is obviously still learning the ropes for skillful behind the scenes exclusion, because, they hadn't managed to cover every base. I was unaware of this activity, so when asked by The New Guy, I had told him I didn't know a thing about the production managers meetings being canceled. Immediately calling My Partner in Crime, I then found out just what exactly transpired and that I should be 'hush, hush' on the subject.
Oh, the tangled webs we weave!
The New Guy is, I'm certain, completely aware that he has been officially excommunicated from the meeting but I have my doubts that he even cares. In fact, I wouldn't be a bit surprised to see him at tomorrows meeting even though, for all intents and purposes, he thinks we won't be having them anymore.
Mr. Brownstar has become increasingly deft since The New Guy has started stealing his seat in the production managers meetings. On the mornings he can't show up early, he will enter the room, pull out his normal chair, and leave his notebook to save his place. While it had taken care of the problem for the first few days, The New Guy was not to be discouraged.
Now, you may recall in a past post how I had mentioned that Ted becomes absolutely insane when people are not sitting in their normal seats. You can't even begin to imagine what happened today when, upon entering the room, he found The New Guy sitting in HIS chair, the chair of Ted, the obsessive compulsive production manager.
Please be advised, from the minute he pulled out the chair, The New Guy was warned to NOT sit in Ted's chair. One of the production managers had literally told him he lacked respect just continuing to sit there.
The New Guy sat unphased. I had inquired as to whether or not Ted was in today, hoping for Ted's sake, that he was out. No such luck, for, only moments after asking if Ted were there, Ted came strolling through the conference room door, immediately noticing the trespasser who had parked his ass in his seat.
Because Ted is completely anal, he walked behind The New Guy and stood for several moments, staring angrily down at him, fully expecting The New Guy to vacate his seat. The New Guy didn't move a muscle. As Ted was headed down to the other side of Jim, I couldn't help myself and glanced up in his direction.
I had to look away! His beat red face was a mask of pure anger, daggers shooting from his eyes in the direction of The New Guy. Never before in my life had I seen something like this occur, especially from Ted. Ted remained silent through the remainder of the meeting.
As you can imagine, an action such as this can not go unpunished. Someone who had attended the production managers meeting had gone to HR and requested the HR manager speak with The New Guy and request that he only frequent the big production meeting we have on Wednesdays.
Whoever this person was is obviously still learning the ropes for skillful behind the scenes exclusion, because, they hadn't managed to cover every base. I was unaware of this activity, so when asked by The New Guy, I had told him I didn't know a thing about the production managers meetings being canceled. Immediately calling My Partner in Crime, I then found out just what exactly transpired and that I should be 'hush, hush' on the subject.
Oh, the tangled webs we weave!
The New Guy is, I'm certain, completely aware that he has been officially excommunicated from the meeting but I have my doubts that he even cares. In fact, I wouldn't be a bit surprised to see him at tomorrows meeting even though, for all intents and purposes, he thinks we won't be having them anymore.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
When you are in it up to your ears, keep your mouth shut.
With a shit eating grin, Betty deposits herself on Sophia's table and begins to tell us the component engineer, the one who has been brought in house to help sort through consignment inventory, lives in a castle. He apparently had shown her all of his photos and told her all about it.
For Betty, this is the type of thing that makes her day. She is one of those people that will hang on to every last shred of information just to make herself more important than you. Sure, she will piece meal you along just enough to keep you intrigued, but don't ever expect to get the whole story, it will never happen.
It burns me up, actually. Not quite sure why I would let something so stupid get under my skin like that, but it does.
While Betty was basking in the light of her new found attention, I happened to glance over at The New Guy and discovered he had gotten his hair cut on lunch again today. If I were a better person, I would tell him he needs to find a new barber, but I'm not a better person. I look at his hair and it makes me cringe. I'm not certain, but I think he may be trying for a flat top or something. It just isn't working. For starters, it's just a bit too long, and he has a huge thinning spot starting on the back of his head. If that weren't bad enough, this most recent hair cut resembles the beginning of a mohawk, complete with a scab on the right side of his head.
Sophia has to be absolutely beside herself when she looks at it. If it's one thing Sophia knows, it's hair. Regardless of where she is working, or what she is doing, Sophia has kept up a beauticians license over the many years, and she really does know her stuff.
For the life of me I can't understand how someone could purposely cut his hair like that. Someone needs to strip that person of their license, they have been inflicting the world with cruel and unusual punishment.
Speaking of punishment, GQ was pretty scarce today, since the incident. He's ticked off at me and taking it out on the world. Typical high strung gay man, all the way. I've never met anyone so moody! When he finally did appear on the production floor, we treated him like a spoiled child, coddling him and preening his ego, eventually he forgave me and managed to make time to chit chat with us.
That is until Sophia commented about spreading her legs in bed. His face turned about 6 shades of red, he laughed uncontrollably, then disappeared into the distance. I couldn't help but crack up myself about the whole thing.
For Betty, this is the type of thing that makes her day. She is one of those people that will hang on to every last shred of information just to make herself more important than you. Sure, she will piece meal you along just enough to keep you intrigued, but don't ever expect to get the whole story, it will never happen.
It burns me up, actually. Not quite sure why I would let something so stupid get under my skin like that, but it does.
While Betty was basking in the light of her new found attention, I happened to glance over at The New Guy and discovered he had gotten his hair cut on lunch again today. If I were a better person, I would tell him he needs to find a new barber, but I'm not a better person. I look at his hair and it makes me cringe. I'm not certain, but I think he may be trying for a flat top or something. It just isn't working. For starters, it's just a bit too long, and he has a huge thinning spot starting on the back of his head. If that weren't bad enough, this most recent hair cut resembles the beginning of a mohawk, complete with a scab on the right side of his head.
Sophia has to be absolutely beside herself when she looks at it. If it's one thing Sophia knows, it's hair. Regardless of where she is working, or what she is doing, Sophia has kept up a beauticians license over the many years, and she really does know her stuff.
For the life of me I can't understand how someone could purposely cut his hair like that. Someone needs to strip that person of their license, they have been inflicting the world with cruel and unusual punishment.
Speaking of punishment, GQ was pretty scarce today, since the incident. He's ticked off at me and taking it out on the world. Typical high strung gay man, all the way. I've never met anyone so moody! When he finally did appear on the production floor, we treated him like a spoiled child, coddling him and preening his ego, eventually he forgave me and managed to make time to chit chat with us.
That is until Sophia commented about spreading her legs in bed. His face turned about 6 shades of red, he laughed uncontrollably, then disappeared into the distance. I couldn't help but crack up myself about the whole thing.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
And it was just another ordinary day on the production floor.....
I started my day this morning by coming face to face with the last of the worlds cro-magnun men. Staring in awe at how absolutely hairy a balding man can be, I couldn't pull my eyes away from him, much like a gawker staring on as emergency crews clean up after a car crash. The thick black monobrow beckoned me, calling out my name begging me to stare in horror at their furrowed bushiness.
Tearing myself away, I manage to make it to my desk, to the lunch room for a Mt. Dew, then off to the production managers meeting for my daily dose of comedy. It has become quite the topic of conversation between Sophia and myself about who gets the honor of being able to sit next to me in the production managers meeting. I have to wonder if The New Guy and Mr. Brownstar realize just how ridiculous this whole situation has become. Today it was Mr. Brownstar who happened to enter first. Without a missed step he had crossed the room and sat down directly to my left, trying to steal my pen in the process. It was an oddly comforting feeling for myself, actually, to have him to my left. Even Ted was feeling good about it, not once did I see him wiping a sweaty palm on his pant leg. The New Guy, however, was visibly disappointed he had lost his seat.
"I see you took your seat back," The New Guy comment as he passed by Mr. Brownstar.
"Yeah, it's been calling out to me, telling me to come on home," Mr. Brownstar rubbed it right in.
Throughout the remainder of the meeting, Mr. Brownstar would continue to taunt The New Guy, egging him on, perhaps trying to keep the anomosity fresh between the two. As of yet, nobody has openly stated anything about the exchanges, I'm curious to see how long this goes on before someone speaks up.
The remainder of the morning had gone along pretty smoothly, not much action, but quite a bit of work was able to be done.
Then came GQ's meeting. Now, GQ and I have been tasked to review a work instruction and ensure that the process and production floor are in sync with each other. Not a daunting task, but one that requires a little work and research to get it going.
A task that GQ has done neither for.
Everyone that had been listed as a required attendee had shown up for the meeting except GQ, cardinal sin. GQ was the meeting organizer! I had no choice but to have the meeting without him. God knows I've been the only one putting any work into the project at all to begin with. 25 minutes into the meeting, after every topic had been discussed and all parties had agreed to what we needed to be doing, GQ shows up, laughing at his silly mistake because he had taken lunch at the same time he had scheduled the meeting.
GQ was the only person in the room who had actually felt humor in the situation.
Trying to save face, GQ asks everyone if they want to just have the meeting after break, now that he was there and available. Like anyone is going to want to cover the same information twice! Naturally the consensus was no, they had already covered it with me, I could give him the notes.
GQ was pissed. I had stolen his thunder and taken the wind out from his sails.
A moment or two of reflection and quiet tension pass while he takes the notes I had gleaned from the meeting and we part ways. A little ticked off and ready to spill my guts, I begin telling Sophia about the crime scene of a meeting when I look up and see The New Guy chit chatting with Sophia and Hedda hopper.
Stopping in mid sentence, I comment about how I didn't realize he would be back in the area. A tad bit offended, he asked if he was suddenly not allowed to be back there. Unable to contain myself, I just blurt out the whole story about GQ and the botched meeting, then explained I don't normally talk about people like that, but I had to get it off my chest.
I'm certain The New Guy has developed a crush on me, which can be a very bad thing. Although, I admit, it's nice to feel the adoration and attention of men and the opposite sex, it's a bad thing in regards to the production floor. 9 out of every 10 work place romances end in tragedy. Someone is scorned, someone loses a job, someone just plain becomes a stalker.
I couldn't believe my eyes when The New Guy showed back up today after the last bell rang and the girls were getting ready to leave. I would be left alone, unsupervised, with The New Guy and his mad crush on me.
I broke out in hives.
The conversation had turned uncomfortable when he began to tell me about the different woman who had wanted to date him and how he had met a few women on the internet. I could feel the conversation was leading up to something I just didn't want to think about. Several times I had steered him onto a different path, first talking about how I talk entirely too much, then talking about a woman who was missing a front tooth. Never fail, he always managed to turn the conversation back to 'relationships'.
Almost as if God had seen my plight, he sent me an angel in the form of The Bearded Woman. When I heard that familiar gruff masculine voice say "Hey Boss!" I could have jumped out of my seat and hugged her. It was only a matter of seconds before The New Guy had vanished from the scene, and I was thanking God the situation was past.
I don't know what I'm going to do if he comes back again tomorrow. He knows I'm married, yet, I think he may believe that he can somehow 'steal' me away from my husband.
His only prerequisite in a woman is that she weigh less then he does, everything else is inconsequential.
Tearing myself away, I manage to make it to my desk, to the lunch room for a Mt. Dew, then off to the production managers meeting for my daily dose of comedy. It has become quite the topic of conversation between Sophia and myself about who gets the honor of being able to sit next to me in the production managers meeting. I have to wonder if The New Guy and Mr. Brownstar realize just how ridiculous this whole situation has become. Today it was Mr. Brownstar who happened to enter first. Without a missed step he had crossed the room and sat down directly to my left, trying to steal my pen in the process. It was an oddly comforting feeling for myself, actually, to have him to my left. Even Ted was feeling good about it, not once did I see him wiping a sweaty palm on his pant leg. The New Guy, however, was visibly disappointed he had lost his seat.
"I see you took your seat back," The New Guy comment as he passed by Mr. Brownstar.
"Yeah, it's been calling out to me, telling me to come on home," Mr. Brownstar rubbed it right in.
Throughout the remainder of the meeting, Mr. Brownstar would continue to taunt The New Guy, egging him on, perhaps trying to keep the anomosity fresh between the two. As of yet, nobody has openly stated anything about the exchanges, I'm curious to see how long this goes on before someone speaks up.
The remainder of the morning had gone along pretty smoothly, not much action, but quite a bit of work was able to be done.
Then came GQ's meeting. Now, GQ and I have been tasked to review a work instruction and ensure that the process and production floor are in sync with each other. Not a daunting task, but one that requires a little work and research to get it going.
A task that GQ has done neither for.
Everyone that had been listed as a required attendee had shown up for the meeting except GQ, cardinal sin. GQ was the meeting organizer! I had no choice but to have the meeting without him. God knows I've been the only one putting any work into the project at all to begin with. 25 minutes into the meeting, after every topic had been discussed and all parties had agreed to what we needed to be doing, GQ shows up, laughing at his silly mistake because he had taken lunch at the same time he had scheduled the meeting.
GQ was the only person in the room who had actually felt humor in the situation.
Trying to save face, GQ asks everyone if they want to just have the meeting after break, now that he was there and available. Like anyone is going to want to cover the same information twice! Naturally the consensus was no, they had already covered it with me, I could give him the notes.
GQ was pissed. I had stolen his thunder and taken the wind out from his sails.
A moment or two of reflection and quiet tension pass while he takes the notes I had gleaned from the meeting and we part ways. A little ticked off and ready to spill my guts, I begin telling Sophia about the crime scene of a meeting when I look up and see The New Guy chit chatting with Sophia and Hedda hopper.
Stopping in mid sentence, I comment about how I didn't realize he would be back in the area. A tad bit offended, he asked if he was suddenly not allowed to be back there. Unable to contain myself, I just blurt out the whole story about GQ and the botched meeting, then explained I don't normally talk about people like that, but I had to get it off my chest.
I'm certain The New Guy has developed a crush on me, which can be a very bad thing. Although, I admit, it's nice to feel the adoration and attention of men and the opposite sex, it's a bad thing in regards to the production floor. 9 out of every 10 work place romances end in tragedy. Someone is scorned, someone loses a job, someone just plain becomes a stalker.
I couldn't believe my eyes when The New Guy showed back up today after the last bell rang and the girls were getting ready to leave. I would be left alone, unsupervised, with The New Guy and his mad crush on me.
I broke out in hives.
The conversation had turned uncomfortable when he began to tell me about the different woman who had wanted to date him and how he had met a few women on the internet. I could feel the conversation was leading up to something I just didn't want to think about. Several times I had steered him onto a different path, first talking about how I talk entirely too much, then talking about a woman who was missing a front tooth. Never fail, he always managed to turn the conversation back to 'relationships'.
Almost as if God had seen my plight, he sent me an angel in the form of The Bearded Woman. When I heard that familiar gruff masculine voice say "Hey Boss!" I could have jumped out of my seat and hugged her. It was only a matter of seconds before The New Guy had vanished from the scene, and I was thanking God the situation was past.
I don't know what I'm going to do if he comes back again tomorrow. He knows I'm married, yet, I think he may believe that he can somehow 'steal' me away from my husband.
His only prerequisite in a woman is that she weigh less then he does, everything else is inconsequential.
Monday, October 16, 2006
The Microwave Confrontation
In the midst of the production floor, a day does not go by where a scandal or altercation does not occur. It doesn't matter who the people involved are, or how closely they work together, what does matter is that someone, anyone, will invariably be upset with anything that you do.
For days Sophia and I have been talking about a mini microwave that Sophia had had in her garage, one that she felt would be perfect for the area. I had felt it was a kind gesture, and, in this line of business, a kind gesture is always accompanied by a slap in the face.
This would be no exception.
Trying to be as low key and tactful as possible, Sophia waited until lunch time to sneak in the microwave. The last thing an area needs is to be viewed as 'better then' or 'above' the rest of the production floor. Any area that feels themselves to be of this status is systematically degraded until they are once again just as low as the rest.
Unfortunately, the sneak and heat plan of attack went down in a blazing mess of controversy. No sooner had Sophia left her vehicle then a member of the receiving team unceremoniously hopped out of her car, hand on hip, demanding Sophia fill her in on how she was able to talk her way into a microwave in the area.
Stopped in her tracks, every eye in the parking lot planted upon the scene, Sophia merely confronts the receiving girl, telling her she was authorized to bring in the microwave. Conversation ended, Sophia enters the plant and deposits the microwave in our area, then heads to the restroom.
Now, if you think that was the end of the story, you definitely haven't gotten the full gist of what it is like to work on the production floor.
Ding Ding Ding - Round 2
Sophia is in the restroom when confrontation number two takes place. The receiving girl has following Sophia into the bathroom to, yet again, request why she is so special that she gets a microwave.
Without missing a step Sophia counters the receiving girl asking her just how exactly she became so special that she was told she could keep a coffee maker in the receiving area. Moments of awkward silence pass, then the two part ways.
I have to say, the truly artful thing about the work force confrontation is how skillfully the aggressor, only a few short hours later, will suddenly pretend that nothing has happened and the two of you have been long lost friends from the 1st grade.
"Why, Sophia, these caramel apple bars are just fabulous! You must give me your recipe!"
"I just love the way you've done your hair today!"
"Do you have anything that needs to go to shipping??"
I am repulsed and fascinated by this behavior at the same time. I am repulsed that someone could treat a fellow coworker in such a way, yet, I'm fascinated they feel absolutely no remorse after such actions have taken place.
Michael Moore could do a documentary on such behavior, I would watch it. I would love for him to climb down deep inside the head of one of the floor associates and define just exactly what it is inside there that has twisted them into such cynical and scheming individuals.
My theory, alien abduction and lead poisoning.
For days Sophia and I have been talking about a mini microwave that Sophia had had in her garage, one that she felt would be perfect for the area. I had felt it was a kind gesture, and, in this line of business, a kind gesture is always accompanied by a slap in the face.
This would be no exception.
Trying to be as low key and tactful as possible, Sophia waited until lunch time to sneak in the microwave. The last thing an area needs is to be viewed as 'better then' or 'above' the rest of the production floor. Any area that feels themselves to be of this status is systematically degraded until they are once again just as low as the rest.
Unfortunately, the sneak and heat plan of attack went down in a blazing mess of controversy. No sooner had Sophia left her vehicle then a member of the receiving team unceremoniously hopped out of her car, hand on hip, demanding Sophia fill her in on how she was able to talk her way into a microwave in the area.
Stopped in her tracks, every eye in the parking lot planted upon the scene, Sophia merely confronts the receiving girl, telling her she was authorized to bring in the microwave. Conversation ended, Sophia enters the plant and deposits the microwave in our area, then heads to the restroom.
Now, if you think that was the end of the story, you definitely haven't gotten the full gist of what it is like to work on the production floor.
Ding Ding Ding - Round 2
Sophia is in the restroom when confrontation number two takes place. The receiving girl has following Sophia into the bathroom to, yet again, request why she is so special that she gets a microwave.
Without missing a step Sophia counters the receiving girl asking her just how exactly she became so special that she was told she could keep a coffee maker in the receiving area. Moments of awkward silence pass, then the two part ways.
I have to say, the truly artful thing about the work force confrontation is how skillfully the aggressor, only a few short hours later, will suddenly pretend that nothing has happened and the two of you have been long lost friends from the 1st grade.
"Why, Sophia, these caramel apple bars are just fabulous! You must give me your recipe!"
"I just love the way you've done your hair today!"
"Do you have anything that needs to go to shipping??"
I am repulsed and fascinated by this behavior at the same time. I am repulsed that someone could treat a fellow coworker in such a way, yet, I'm fascinated they feel absolutely no remorse after such actions have taken place.
Michael Moore could do a documentary on such behavior, I would watch it. I would love for him to climb down deep inside the head of one of the floor associates and define just exactly what it is inside there that has twisted them into such cynical and scheming individuals.
My theory, alien abduction and lead poisoning.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
The Production Managers Meeting
While I'm certain most manufacturing plants have the ritual of the 'Production Managers Meeting', I have my sincere doubts that any other manufacturing plant would allow the types of meetings that take place within my own manufacturing plant.
Much like Vegas, the topics and conversations that take place within those 4 walls of that conference room stay within those 4 walls of that conference room. To be found guilty of leaking any information to the production floor, a cardinal sin to production managers around the world, could mean excommunication from the meeting, and thereby, the end of the best 45 minutes of your entire work day.
It is in the Production Managers Meeting that you truly learn what your fellow coworkers are really like. This is where you learn that Ted, the obsessive compulsive stick by the documentation and follow every rule stick in the mud, has no qualms about using the word cunt or demonstrating with his Air Force hat exactly why they call those slice hats military men wear a Cunt Cap. This is also where you learn that Mr. Brownstar, a 50 something man whose pathetically dyed comb over begins at the back of his neck and wraps around from side to side like a Roman head accessory, spent his misguided youth, growing up in the inner city, beating dead dogs found in the alley with golf clubs and smelling his drunk uncles' breath on Sunday mornings when they would all meet up after church.
As with any other 'elite group', there are certain measures that must first take place before the induction of anyone new to the group. Are they trustworthy? Will we be able to discuss the topics we tend to discuss on a daily basis without the risk of finding ourselves in HR, or, much worse, without a job? Will they, in turn, spill their guts like the rest of us?
A process of evaluation takes place whenever a new member joins the Production Managers meeting. It begins with surveillance. We watch, observe from a distance, listen, look for any visible signs that our trusted bond has been broken.
While The New Guy has managed to stir up controversy and generally caused an up rise in the meeting, it has yet been determined if his stories and contributions would make him a worth while member of the group. The latter being the most crucial step in becoming a member of 'the group'. If, after the process of evaluation has taken place, it is decided The New Guy is either too boring or untrustworthy, 'the group' will systematically begin to inch him out. So subtle at first, he would have no clue as to what was actually transpiring. It would first be suggested that he wasn't really needed at the meetings, he is such a busy man, everyone would completely understand if he decided not to attend regularly. Soon the day would come where he begun to be accidentally left out of the impromptu meetings that occur randomly throughout the day. Eventually, his presence would simply disappear, inched out over the course of a few weeks of premeditated seclusion.
When that day comes, he will have had no idea he was ever part of 'the group'.
After today, however, I'm not so sure how easy the transition of phasing out The New Guy will be. I feel as though he has been permanently fused to my hip.
Out of nowhere, he appeared at my desk this morning to talk about last night's episode of 'Desperate Housewives'. Before I knew it, it was time to leave for the production managers meeting and he was still clutching on to me like I was the last human on earth.
"I've gotta get a pop before the meeting," I mention, thinking possibly I could ditch him at the conference room and head to the lunch room alone. No such luck, The New Guy decides he needs a pop as well, and heads down to the lunch room with me.
We arrive at the lunch room only to find GQ exiting the lunch room, staring right in our direction. With a skeptical look on his face, he says to me "What are you doing here, aren't you supposed to be in your meeting?" His eyes moved shiftily back and forth between The New Guy and myself.
"Yeah, I've gotta get a pop before I go," I replied, hurrying into the lunch room hoping to ditch my hitch hiker.
I have come to the secret conclusion that GQ has developed a crush on The New Guy. In the past, I have always gotten along well with GQ, but lately, he has been temperamental and moody, shooting scathing looks and completely dismissing those individuals who happen to be occupying The New Guy's attention.
Myself included.
The New Guy, however, was not to be ditched. Again I found myself walking into the conference room and sitting directly to the right of the new guy, much to Mr. Brownstar's disappointment.
In the words of The New Guy as Mr. Brownstar had commented on his choice of seating, "You snooze, you loose."
Much like Vegas, the topics and conversations that take place within those 4 walls of that conference room stay within those 4 walls of that conference room. To be found guilty of leaking any information to the production floor, a cardinal sin to production managers around the world, could mean excommunication from the meeting, and thereby, the end of the best 45 minutes of your entire work day.
It is in the Production Managers Meeting that you truly learn what your fellow coworkers are really like. This is where you learn that Ted, the obsessive compulsive stick by the documentation and follow every rule stick in the mud, has no qualms about using the word cunt or demonstrating with his Air Force hat exactly why they call those slice hats military men wear a Cunt Cap. This is also where you learn that Mr. Brownstar, a 50 something man whose pathetically dyed comb over begins at the back of his neck and wraps around from side to side like a Roman head accessory, spent his misguided youth, growing up in the inner city, beating dead dogs found in the alley with golf clubs and smelling his drunk uncles' breath on Sunday mornings when they would all meet up after church.
As with any other 'elite group', there are certain measures that must first take place before the induction of anyone new to the group. Are they trustworthy? Will we be able to discuss the topics we tend to discuss on a daily basis without the risk of finding ourselves in HR, or, much worse, without a job? Will they, in turn, spill their guts like the rest of us?
A process of evaluation takes place whenever a new member joins the Production Managers meeting. It begins with surveillance. We watch, observe from a distance, listen, look for any visible signs that our trusted bond has been broken.
While The New Guy has managed to stir up controversy and generally caused an up rise in the meeting, it has yet been determined if his stories and contributions would make him a worth while member of the group. The latter being the most crucial step in becoming a member of 'the group'. If, after the process of evaluation has taken place, it is decided The New Guy is either too boring or untrustworthy, 'the group' will systematically begin to inch him out. So subtle at first, he would have no clue as to what was actually transpiring. It would first be suggested that he wasn't really needed at the meetings, he is such a busy man, everyone would completely understand if he decided not to attend regularly. Soon the day would come where he begun to be accidentally left out of the impromptu meetings that occur randomly throughout the day. Eventually, his presence would simply disappear, inched out over the course of a few weeks of premeditated seclusion.
When that day comes, he will have had no idea he was ever part of 'the group'.
After today, however, I'm not so sure how easy the transition of phasing out The New Guy will be. I feel as though he has been permanently fused to my hip.
Out of nowhere, he appeared at my desk this morning to talk about last night's episode of 'Desperate Housewives'. Before I knew it, it was time to leave for the production managers meeting and he was still clutching on to me like I was the last human on earth.
"I've gotta get a pop before the meeting," I mention, thinking possibly I could ditch him at the conference room and head to the lunch room alone. No such luck, The New Guy decides he needs a pop as well, and heads down to the lunch room with me.
We arrive at the lunch room only to find GQ exiting the lunch room, staring right in our direction. With a skeptical look on his face, he says to me "What are you doing here, aren't you supposed to be in your meeting?" His eyes moved shiftily back and forth between The New Guy and myself.
"Yeah, I've gotta get a pop before I go," I replied, hurrying into the lunch room hoping to ditch my hitch hiker.
I have come to the secret conclusion that GQ has developed a crush on The New Guy. In the past, I have always gotten along well with GQ, but lately, he has been temperamental and moody, shooting scathing looks and completely dismissing those individuals who happen to be occupying The New Guy's attention.
Myself included.
The New Guy, however, was not to be ditched. Again I found myself walking into the conference room and sitting directly to the right of the new guy, much to Mr. Brownstar's disappointment.
In the words of The New Guy as Mr. Brownstar had commented on his choice of seating, "You snooze, you loose."
Friday, October 13, 2006
The Art of Watching Your Back
I have grown to realize, in the 10 years I've been employed with The Manufacturing Plant, the single most important thing in the success of your career is how skillfully you are able to Watch Your Back.
On the production floor NOBODY is your friend. Even the person who has sat across from you at lunch time, sharing their snacks and goodies with you for the past 6 years, will toss you to the wolves if they serve to benefit from it. In my time I've seen families torn apart, husbands and wives bitterly divorced, arch enemies created from a single glance.
Survival of the fittest takes on new meaning.
I'm always amazed to see certain individuals in action. For some unknown reason, they believe themselves to be in stealth mode, when in actuality, they couldn't be more obvious if they were wearing a sign taped to their back that read "I'm up to no good."
Give me a little credit here people! Like I'm not going to notice that we have worked together for years without so much as a single word passed between us, and suddenly you act as if you are my new best friend?
Which brings me to the events of my day. Like most of the days since The New Guy has been hired, I was pulled aside by The New Guy to chit chat about his fascination with the Ebola virus and how New Mexico always has an outbreak of Bubonic Plague every year. Why does he think I am even remotely interested in this conversation? I have no clue. Yet, there I am, trapped within his evil grasp, hoping and praying someone will happen across us and save me. Naturally, I know this will not occur, he's The New Guy, NOBODY wants to be seen talking to the new guy. We will be avoided like the Bubonic Plague.
Today, however, I happen to see Sophia cruising by talking to one of the purchasers. Sliding me a somewhat quizzical glance, I know Sophia thinks something is up with the new found friendship with the purchaser. In 6 years, this woman hasn't so much as given her the time of day, and suddenly, they are long lost friends.
Something is up!
People have been popping out of the woodwork today, all of them suddenly friendly and helpful. Even Allison has been buddying up to me today, it makes my skin crawl. Any time Allison buddies up to anyone it means trouble, pure and simple. Her last friend found herself escorted out of the building with a white box in tow, never to be seen from again.
Nothing happens within this plant without a purpose, and as God is my witness, I will find out the truth behind Sophia's and my sudden popularity.
I mean, after all, wasn't it just last week that Sophia and I were NOT invited to the pizza party? The pizza party that had been kept a complete secret by all until 2 minutes before it took place? The pizza party where everyone suddenly discovered 'oh, you mean you weren't invited'?
Yeah.
Hope you all have a safe and happy weekend, I'll be seeing you Monday on The Production Floor.
On the production floor NOBODY is your friend. Even the person who has sat across from you at lunch time, sharing their snacks and goodies with you for the past 6 years, will toss you to the wolves if they serve to benefit from it. In my time I've seen families torn apart, husbands and wives bitterly divorced, arch enemies created from a single glance.
Survival of the fittest takes on new meaning.
I'm always amazed to see certain individuals in action. For some unknown reason, they believe themselves to be in stealth mode, when in actuality, they couldn't be more obvious if they were wearing a sign taped to their back that read "I'm up to no good."
Give me a little credit here people! Like I'm not going to notice that we have worked together for years without so much as a single word passed between us, and suddenly you act as if you are my new best friend?
Which brings me to the events of my day. Like most of the days since The New Guy has been hired, I was pulled aside by The New Guy to chit chat about his fascination with the Ebola virus and how New Mexico always has an outbreak of Bubonic Plague every year. Why does he think I am even remotely interested in this conversation? I have no clue. Yet, there I am, trapped within his evil grasp, hoping and praying someone will happen across us and save me. Naturally, I know this will not occur, he's The New Guy, NOBODY wants to be seen talking to the new guy. We will be avoided like the Bubonic Plague.
Today, however, I happen to see Sophia cruising by talking to one of the purchasers. Sliding me a somewhat quizzical glance, I know Sophia thinks something is up with the new found friendship with the purchaser. In 6 years, this woman hasn't so much as given her the time of day, and suddenly, they are long lost friends.
Something is up!
People have been popping out of the woodwork today, all of them suddenly friendly and helpful. Even Allison has been buddying up to me today, it makes my skin crawl. Any time Allison buddies up to anyone it means trouble, pure and simple. Her last friend found herself escorted out of the building with a white box in tow, never to be seen from again.
Nothing happens within this plant without a purpose, and as God is my witness, I will find out the truth behind Sophia's and my sudden popularity.
I mean, after all, wasn't it just last week that Sophia and I were NOT invited to the pizza party? The pizza party that had been kept a complete secret by all until 2 minutes before it took place? The pizza party where everyone suddenly discovered 'oh, you mean you weren't invited'?
Yeah.
Hope you all have a safe and happy weekend, I'll be seeing you Monday on The Production Floor.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
The New Guy
Being The New Guy in the manufacturing realm is instant ostracism.
The New Guy will find himself eating a solitary lunch in front of his computer for months to come, staring enviably at the retreating forms of the many individuals within his department who are headed out the door to meet for lunch at the choice spot of the day. Not one of them will turn to acknowledge his existence, much less, actually putting forth an invite for him to come. That could mean sudden death for the invitee. The only thing worse then being The New Guy is being the ONE who invited The New Guy along.
Disturbing as it may be, this practice has been followed since the beginning of manufacturing history. Wherever there has been a manufacturing plant, there has invariably been The New Guy.
Even the most hard core and gritty of New Guys find themselves in need of someone, anyone, whom they can call a friend, someone within the manufacturing plant they can cling on to with dear life and hope like hell that process of association will give them a foot into the door of their own click.
Unfortunately, I have found myself in the midst of a New Guy fly paper attack. No matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to get myself unstuck. In my situation, however, the new guy is single and "needs a woman bad".
I had been lucky, for the most part, for the first few weeks of his employment. Our interactions and conversations had primarily taken place at my desk, and thankfully for me, my desk is far enough and secluded enough from the production floor that only a few people knew he had any interaction with me at all.
That is, until the fateful day our HR Manager insisted The New Guy begin attending our daily production managers meetings.
As you will find in most manufacturing plants, there are always routines and habits that are adhered to in every situation. In meetings everyone will always sit in a certain seat. It's just an unwritten law.
An unwritten law that The New Guy will have no clue about.
That said, I shall continue on with 'that fateful day' the new guy attended his first production managers meeting.
Everyone had begun to gather around the conference table in their usual seats when The New Guy appeared and sat directly to my left. Because we are anal creatures of habit, all eyes were upon The New Guy, he had sat in the seat of one of the regulars.
"Are you supposed to be here?" Allison, as usual, wormed her way in, staring speculatively at him as he looked upon us.
"Yes," was his only response. He was unwavering.
"You're in the wrong spot, we all sit in a particular spot, and that's not yours," Ted, the obsessive compulsive one of the bunch, was smoothing his assuredly sweaty, anxiety ridden hands upon his jeans.
"I don't see any names on the seats," still unwavering, this man had balls.
"We just all sit in a certain spot everyday, otherwise, Ted will have a stroke. He's like that," I laughed, trying to ease the tension. I felt embarrassed for him, yet, at the same time, I really didn't want him sitting next to me any more then the rest.
It was at this specific moment in time that Steve came strolling through the door, 15 minutes late, as usual. Stopping in mid stance, he stared down at The New Guy.
"Hey there. Are you supposed to be here?" Steve stared quizzically at The New Guy.
"Yes, I am."
"Oh, well, that's my seat you know. I always sit next to her, I steal her pen, she catches me, it's our thing." Steve remained standing, fully expecting The New Guy to vacate his usual seat. The New Guy didn't move a muscle.
"Looks like you're gonna have to find a new seat," pulling a pen out of his notebook, he lays it on the table before him. "Here's a pen if you really need one that bad." The entire room is silent as Steve takes his seat next to The New Guy.
Fearing the worst, I sat in silence next to the scene as it unfolded. If I acknowledge and comment it could be disastrous for me, the association between myself and The New Guy would be set in stone, I would be ostracized right along with him.
I chose to be oblivious to the entire exchange, so far, I appear to have come through the scene unscathed.
Let's just hope my luck holds.
The New Guy will find himself eating a solitary lunch in front of his computer for months to come, staring enviably at the retreating forms of the many individuals within his department who are headed out the door to meet for lunch at the choice spot of the day. Not one of them will turn to acknowledge his existence, much less, actually putting forth an invite for him to come. That could mean sudden death for the invitee. The only thing worse then being The New Guy is being the ONE who invited The New Guy along.
Disturbing as it may be, this practice has been followed since the beginning of manufacturing history. Wherever there has been a manufacturing plant, there has invariably been The New Guy.
Even the most hard core and gritty of New Guys find themselves in need of someone, anyone, whom they can call a friend, someone within the manufacturing plant they can cling on to with dear life and hope like hell that process of association will give them a foot into the door of their own click.
Unfortunately, I have found myself in the midst of a New Guy fly paper attack. No matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to get myself unstuck. In my situation, however, the new guy is single and "needs a woman bad".
I had been lucky, for the most part, for the first few weeks of his employment. Our interactions and conversations had primarily taken place at my desk, and thankfully for me, my desk is far enough and secluded enough from the production floor that only a few people knew he had any interaction with me at all.
That is, until the fateful day our HR Manager insisted The New Guy begin attending our daily production managers meetings.
As you will find in most manufacturing plants, there are always routines and habits that are adhered to in every situation. In meetings everyone will always sit in a certain seat. It's just an unwritten law.
An unwritten law that The New Guy will have no clue about.
That said, I shall continue on with 'that fateful day' the new guy attended his first production managers meeting.
Everyone had begun to gather around the conference table in their usual seats when The New Guy appeared and sat directly to my left. Because we are anal creatures of habit, all eyes were upon The New Guy, he had sat in the seat of one of the regulars.
"Are you supposed to be here?" Allison, as usual, wormed her way in, staring speculatively at him as he looked upon us.
"Yes," was his only response. He was unwavering.
"You're in the wrong spot, we all sit in a particular spot, and that's not yours," Ted, the obsessive compulsive one of the bunch, was smoothing his assuredly sweaty, anxiety ridden hands upon his jeans.
"I don't see any names on the seats," still unwavering, this man had balls.
"We just all sit in a certain spot everyday, otherwise, Ted will have a stroke. He's like that," I laughed, trying to ease the tension. I felt embarrassed for him, yet, at the same time, I really didn't want him sitting next to me any more then the rest.
It was at this specific moment in time that Steve came strolling through the door, 15 minutes late, as usual. Stopping in mid stance, he stared down at The New Guy.
"Hey there. Are you supposed to be here?" Steve stared quizzically at The New Guy.
"Yes, I am."
"Oh, well, that's my seat you know. I always sit next to her, I steal her pen, she catches me, it's our thing." Steve remained standing, fully expecting The New Guy to vacate his usual seat. The New Guy didn't move a muscle.
"Looks like you're gonna have to find a new seat," pulling a pen out of his notebook, he lays it on the table before him. "Here's a pen if you really need one that bad." The entire room is silent as Steve takes his seat next to The New Guy.
Fearing the worst, I sat in silence next to the scene as it unfolded. If I acknowledge and comment it could be disastrous for me, the association between myself and The New Guy would be set in stone, I would be ostracized right along with him.
I chose to be oblivious to the entire exchange, so far, I appear to have come through the scene unscathed.
Let's just hope my luck holds.
A Day in the Life of a Production Manager
I feel it only fitting to start with an introduction to the life of a Production Manager.
To put it simply, it is the most un-respected, underpaid, overlooked, thankless job in the world. On any given day you are expected to jump through hoops for the planning department and upper management, all the while, coddling the production floor through bitter arguments over cheating men and dirty looks just to get 4 hours worth of work out of an 8 hour day.
The leading cause of heart attacks in the American workforce? Largely in part due to profession. What would that profession be? Why, Production Manager, of course.
This blog is dedicated to the insane reality I call my professional life and the situations and experiences it takes me through from day to day.
To put it simply, it is the most un-respected, underpaid, overlooked, thankless job in the world. On any given day you are expected to jump through hoops for the planning department and upper management, all the while, coddling the production floor through bitter arguments over cheating men and dirty looks just to get 4 hours worth of work out of an 8 hour day.
The leading cause of heart attacks in the American workforce? Largely in part due to profession. What would that profession be? Why, Production Manager, of course.
This blog is dedicated to the insane reality I call my professional life and the situations and experiences it takes me through from day to day.
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