Meetings

We had 462 meetings at work today. I mean, one after another. Meeting meeting meeting....lunch....meeting. I wanted to off myself all day. Or at least put on my eyepod. Damn conspicuous ear buds. So, my job is a 9-5...except for the times when I have to work for like 18 hours straight. Whatever. My last job was an 8-5 and I much prefer a 9-5. Today they changed our office hours. Now we have to be there from 8 AM until 5 PM. Why? Because I did something terribly terribly wrong in a past life. That's the only explanation I could come up with.

Also, random observation. My mother and I work for the same organization. We have the same job. We just work in different regions...so I only see my mother at work during these monthly meetings. Today I looked across the table at my mother and realized. My mother is the oldest coordinator at my organization...(possibly, if not probably, ever.) I am the youngest coordinator at my organization...ever. I have become my mother...and way sooner than I had ever imagined. That is so depressing.

Closing Ceremonies

So I don't think I've blogged about it, but I watched a lot of the winter olympics. And last night I watched the closing ceremonies. Which were ridiculous. And bizarre. Please, can someone explain to me why "YMCA" was played at the Olympics? And danced to, far too enthusiastically, by a bunch of Italians dressed as pilots? Also, what is it with these people and fire? They had people skating around with their heads on fire, and some other dudes who had spinning fireworks strapped to their backs. Bi-zarre.

Also strange, but also vaguely amusing, was the appearance of the mystery sloganeer. The guy who jumped out of the athlete section, grabbed the mic from some Olympic committee chairman guy (whose speech was boooring and bilingual), and proceeded to remind us of the host city's motto by screaming, "PASSION LIVES HERE!" into the mic. I guess he got in by wearing a jacket that made him look like he was from Germany and walking in with the athletes. Gutsy. Hella stupid, but gutsy.

Then they transferred the Olympic flag to the next host country...Canada. Woo Canada! Any nation that recognizes the greatness of Our Lady Peace is my kind of country. The mayor of Turin was supposed to hand the flag to the mayor of Vancouver. Apparently they were trying to find a way to get around this tradition since the mayor of Vancouver is wheelchair-bound. Instead, the mayor of Vancouver said that he wanted to have the flag handed to him so they outfitted his wheelchair with a flag-holder-thingie (yes, that is the technical name for it) so they could just slide it right in there and he'd get to wave it all around and everything. It was great. Yay Canada :) Also, is it just me or has Avril lost her edge? She's become very blonde and non-raccoon-eyed. Strange.

My final observation on this stupid, really rambly and random post has to do with the Olympic rings. According to some website which I'm too lazy to go back and find and link,

The Olympic rings represent the union of the areas - the Americas, Africa, Asia, Oceania and Europe and the meeting of athletes throughout the world at the Olympic Games.

Which just leaves me wondering, what about Antartica? It's a giant landmass. It has constant winter weather. Penguins would dominate at the winter Olympics. The only problem would be getting them to the games....that would be one long-ass march.

Wake-Up Test

I believe there are many ways to determine whether or not you should be awake. If it is physically painful to open your eyes, you probably need 30 more minutes. If you can't remember how to make coffee...30 more minutes. Things like that. Another good test?

If you think the toilet seat is down, making it safe to sit on while putting on your socks, and then discover it's not? You probably need thirty more minutes. If you discovered this by sitting down and briefly falling into the toilet, you probably need another hour.

I need another hour.

Phone Call

"Hey, this is Samantha. I need to get your fastest jet ASAP."
"Okay Samantha, where are we going?"
"St. Louis"
"Okay, we'll have it ready for you. Do you guys want breakfast?"
"That would be excellent. Thanks."

It's not even 7 AM. My job frikkin' rocks.

Deja Vu

I was just driving home from work...our donor's not going to go til the morning so they sent me home to get some sleep before I have to be in the OR. I have been very half-glass-full all day/night...because I'm usually that way. I like to look at the bright side. It's a happier place. Our donor had a bad med/social history...but I said "maybe it'll be okay anyway." And lo and behold, regardless of numerous bad habits, our donor is okay. So woo! Yay for multiple-organ donation.

But now I'm worried. I'm not superstitious, but dude. Driving home, and right across the middle of the road in front of me trots a black cat. Man. Oh well, I don't believe in that crap, it's fine. A block later, another black cat trots across the road. The cats look the same. I just watched "The Matrix" last night. So, either I'm going to have some crap luck or an Agent is nearby. Either way, bad news. Oh well....I'm going to bed...fingers crossed for good luck :)

That Guy

So the other night at work, one of my coworkers and I got completely hosed by another coworker. And by hosed, I mean screwed seven ways to Sunday. I didn't really mind, mainly because her absence provided me with a chance to step up and actually do stuff at the new job. My good coworker, on the other hand, was completely left without experienced help and was forced to walk me through everything while in the middle of a pretty important procedure. So, everything worked out okay in the end, but it was not a wholly unstressful experience for him. And he was angry with the coworker that hosed us. So so angry.

Today he comes into work, and he pulls me aside. "Sam, I was really angry the other night, and I thought it would get better the next day. Oddly enough, I actually got angrier the next day. Let me tell you a little secret about this organization. If there's something that has pissed you off, gone wrong, needs to be changed, whatever...but you're too afraid to say something about it? Tell *****. If you ever want something said but don't want to say it yourself, tell him. Because he'll go off and set it right."

So my coworker told ***** about our little experience the other night. Sure enough, this morning ***** goes marching into the office of the executive director and schedules an impromptu comin' to Jesus meeting. He gave him a complete dressing down. He said "Look, I know this isn't really my business, and this wasn't really my case, but it's just not right. And this shit's gonna have to stop. Blah blah blah." The point of this story being: This guy is a complete rock star. I want to be this guy. I want to be the person who's not afraid to tell anyone exactly what the problem is, what the solution is, and what they can shove where if they don't agree with me. Which is completely undiplomatic, but it's not often I get upset about things. So if I'm upset about something, odds are something's seriously rotten in Denmark.

I'm pretty sure I can't become that guy within my first few months of employment. Probably not even within my first year. And I'm only planning on being at this job for a year...which is too bad. Because I so want to be that guy. He's my hero. :)

Bob, Dismemberment, Sweatpants. You know you want to read this.

What to say about today? Life-changing? Not so much. Very nearly life-ending? That's closer. Holy frikkin' crap today was the longest day of my life. The longest, most suicidal-tendency-inducing, boring-to-the-point-of-tears day of my life. Because lo, today was orientation day for my shiny new job. And that sentence just made me take another swig of my beer. Because honestly, I've been drinking since I got home. At 5 PM. I just don't want to feel anymore.

The day began at 7:45 AM. That is enough to send me screaming over the edge right there, but I was dealing. Plus I got there late....so it's all good. I arrive to a very VERY perky welcome by Julie. The perky HR woman. And by perky, I mean I wanted to drive a nail through her forehead upon arrival. (wow. that sounded violent. i didn't really want to do that. i just wanted her to stop talking. and i figured that would do the trick.) Peeerky Julie. Fine. So, perky Julie keeps introducing us to more and more people that waste our time saying nothing. "Welcome to the organization, don't do drugs, try not to defraud medicare, blah blah blah." I'm pretty sure I would have figured out all of that stuff. (Or at least most of it...Medicare has it coming.) And then she introduces us to Bob.

That's right. Bob. The Corporate Compliance Officer. Or as he prefers to be called "Your Friendly Corporate Compliance Officer." Now, I don't know whether it was the amount of sugar coursing through my bloodstream (there was much chocolate and mountain dew through the course of the morning) or whether the dude was just creepy, but seriously? Dude was creepy. Probably in his 50's. Walks in. Grins at me. And directs his entire speech at me. It's entirely possible that I am an easy target (since I arrived late and was thus stuck right at the front), it's also entirely possible that I smiled at him and made him think that I found him amusing and/or attractive....because I swear to God I am an idiot and I smile at everyone. He could have been holding a switchblade to my throat and I would have smiled at him because such is my pathology. Anyway. I often have speakers make a lot of eye contact with me, because I am an active listener who smiles and nods and gives the illusion of paying attention (key word: illusion) and so I'm used to it. The problem is when the speech is taken straight from the Orwellian classic 1984. Corporate compliance involves a lot of compliance. Which is not my favorite word. I don't like to comply with things. It's just counterintuitive. So when Baron Von Crazy grins, says "Do you mind if I stand next to you?" and proceeds to look me in the eye and say "...And we all want to be compliant, don't we?" I start looking for the emergency exits. Hahaha...exits...I should have been so lucky. Made it through the speech without too much brainwashing, but if my supervisor asks me to make a false claim to the government, don't think I'm not calling Bob. Because that's what he wants me to do.

About halfway through Bob's speech, I realize that I am freezing. I'm not cold. I'm freezing. I'm shivering, my teeth are chattering, and wait, oh yes, I've lost contact with my pinky toe on the left side. Turns out the 4-inch-wide spaceheater that was supposed to be keeping the room toasty caused some sort of short, disruption, fire, explosion, hell I don't know. I just know that if it was plugged in, it stopped working. Which meant it got cold. Extremity-numbingly cold. (Bear in mind, I live in Alabama and snow flurries are enough to incite riots, and battery, bread, and milk shortages.) So my teeth kept me awake through much of the afternoon session.

I was sitting there, in my newly-purchased slacks and button down shirt. And my big long coat. And I was thinking about how cold I was. And how much jeans would have helped me be less cold. Because the stupid orientation packet specified "Business casual attire. No jeans." I went shopping last weekend and spent a bunch of money on clothing because everything I own is part of a set. A set of ____ and jeans. Jeans, jeans, jeans. I heart jeans. And I was completely devastated that I couldn't wear them today. Because honestly? Powerpoint cares not for slacks and button-downs. And I'm looking around the room. And I spot her. My hero and my nemesis. Because she's living something quite close to my dream. Chick is sitting in orientation. In sweatpants. SWEATPANTS PEOPLE. I couldn't wear jeans. But Shonda or Jeanie, or whatever her name is (I lovingly refer to her as "The Chick Who Keeps Asking Questions About Insuring Her Non-Existent Children") can kick it on into orientation wearing sweatpants. I hate her. And wish to emulate her. In jean form.

By lunchtime I'm planning my daring escape. And listening to my iPod. Because I don't want to meet people. I am waaaay too lazy to talk to people in orientation. I would rather just eat my veggie sandwich and channel an OLP concert in my head. After lunch, we moved on to insurance. Well, benefits, blah blah blah. Mainly insurance. And it made me want to go join the military. Like right then. Because my entire life I've had military insurance. Military insurance means that I go to the doctor...and I give them my ID card...and they say, "okay, have a nice day" and I wander off. With money in my pocket. Military insurance means I pick up a prescription, I show them my ID, and they wave me off. Military insurance means no co-pays, no HMO, no PPO, and no hassles. I miss military insurance. Because honestly? I don't want to pick an insurance plan. I don't want to choose a primary care physician, I don't want to pay for health insurance, dental insurance, and prescription drugs separately, and honestly I don't want to pay for them at all. Shocking huh? :-p I know. I am being a bum. But really? I have NO energy or interest in making these decisions today. Or tomorrow. Retirement? I am 22-frikkin'-years-old. I know, the earlier you start the better, but I don't care. I do not want to make decisions about my retirement today. Or tomorrow. I also don't want to discuss my accidental death or dismemberment. DISMEMBERMENT. Although, I will bear in mind that my life insurance pays out double in the case of accidental death. Don't think I'm not going to try to make it look accidental as hell when I die. :)

Which brings me to the end of this long, rambly post. Apparently, my employer pays out a death benefit in the event of my untimely end. A $5,000 check is cut straight from my employer to my beneficiary. The thing is, $5,000 is not that much money. And my parents, anticipating the possibility that I might turn up with the same chronic disease my father has, have already insured the living hell out of my life. So they're not going to need the $5,000 if I die. And I'm planning on only having this job for 1 year. Hopefully HOPEFULLY I will not die in the next year (I am rapping quite determinedly on my wooden desk.) And I can name anyone or any group of people as my beneficiaries for this little death benefit thingie. So, a contest...or even a game show. (And this could just be because my brain is fried and I'm a little bit buzzed, but it seems like a really good idea right now.)

WHO WANTS TO BE A BENEFICIARY UPON MY UNTIMELY DEATH?!?

(I would totally put a Who Wants to Be a Millionaire-esque logo here if I wasn't far too lazy to go to the trouble)

I have decided that if I am going to have an untimely death that doesn't involve me being old-as-hell, it had better be good. I mean, ball-of-flames while scuba-diving....I want my death to be tragic, oh-so-cool, and to have a Ripley's Believe-it-or-not component. So, the person who leaves the coolest death-scenario in the comments section will be named my death beneficiary for the company death benefit (not my life-insurance you greedy monkeys. hahaha.) Because I'm not paying into it and I certainly won't be able to use it.

Okay, Orientation: Day the Second tomorrow :) STAY TUNED!!

And the meme rolls on...

John tagged me....although my name is not actually "Chick from Alabama" So here goes:

Four Jobs I have Had
1. Survey Research Coordinator: Basically a telemarketer for science. Yes, I'm aware that doesn't make it right.
2. Student Research Assistant: Gave immunosuppressed mice cancer and radiation all day. Then cleaned up after them. Boy, that job was a winner.
3. Tissue Proc;urement Technician: Human tissue, surgery, many sleepless nights....good times.
4. Organ Transp.lant Coordinator: I start Monday. All I know is that it involves life, death, and helicopters. Let the good times roll! :-p

Four Movies I Can Watch Over and Over
1. I Heart Huckabees. My favorite movie. Hands down.
2. Braveheart. Used to be my favorite movie. Before Mel went all psycho-Taliban.
3. Almost any Disney movie...particularly The Little Mermaid and Aladdin.
4. 50 First Dates. Cause it's really super-cute and I'm a hopeless romantic dork.

Four Places I Have Lived
1. California
2. Hawaii
3. Chicago
4. Stupid Alabama

Four TV Shows I Love (or have loved)
1. Medium. Yes, I know the husband is whiny and never believes her. I don't care.
2. Jack and Bobby. I rue the day they cancelled it. Because I did so love that show.
3. Any incarnation of Law and Order. Especially SVU. That entire cast rocks my socks off.
4. THE SIMPSONS.

Four Places I Have Vacationed
1. Chicago
2. Washington, DC
3. Chicago
4. Wow....I take really lame-ass vacations.

Four of My Favorite Dishes (i'm going to change this to basic elements of dishes because I can't cook so really these things taste better before I turn them into "dishes".)
1. Squash
2. Spinach
3. Potatoes
4. I honestly don't care this much about food. I'm a vegetarian...in most cases, taste isn't a big deal.

Four Sites I Visit Daily (other than email, news, work, etc.)
1. Bloglines...because I'm subscribed to like 20 blogs.
2. Slate Magazine
3. Tom
4. Our Lady Peace fansite (yes, I am that obsessed.)

Four Places I Would Rather Be Right Now
1. Asleep. Stupid 6:30 AM phonecalls.
2. Boston. Even though I've never been there, it's definitely moved high on my list of places to visit.
3. Chicago. Because I miss it.
4. Anywhere other than Alabama.

Four (i mean, three) People I am Tagging
1. Daniel
2. Carolyn....get a blog for cripes sake!
3. I don't know anyone else who hasn't put this on their blog already. If you're reading this and you haven't done this, do it, put your name in the comments, and I'll tag you later :-p

From the Mouths of Babes

My youngest sister got an email account. Which means that I can now receive gems like this on a daily basis. Oh, and before you read, bear in mind that there were 46,000 emoticons in this email that I couldn't post because Blogger doesn't recognize them.

hey Sam! i saw a dog in mrs. Easter's yard that was a male and a female. but they were stuck to eachother daddy said that they were making love in the nieghbor hoodsick right,right....

well got to go study and take my bath well love you bye from JO...........LOVE YOU

Aspiring Artist

I kind of want to be an artist. Which sucks. Because in no way, shape, or form am I artistic at all. I have no medium in which I excel. I have no ideas for pieces. I just think that the artistic process is really cool. And I want to participate. I basically spent the whole weekend hanging out with my friend R (who is an artist.) He's currently doing an apprenticeship at a steel mill. So, he designs pieces that he'd like to create in wax...then he makes a sand mold using the wax model...then he pours MOLTEN IRON into the mold....and then it dries into an iron sculpture. I went and watched a pouring once. Glowing red liquid metal. Honestly people. Artistic talent. Why not me?