This week I’ve been plagued by some crazy nightmares. Not the kind that involve monsters or death, but the kind that to me are infinitely more frightening: the kind that are based in reality and involve a total brainfart on my part.
For example, last night’s nightmare featured me blogging about how I’ve only had six vacation days this year – followed by a scene in which my boss tells me I’ve incorrectly tracked my days and have actually taken 24 days of vacation – PLUS the five I’m out on now – and as a result I need to pay the company back for my excessive absence. My favorite part was when I said, “Hold on. You mean you track this in a SPREADSHEET?” like it was the craziest thing an employer could do, and she asked how I tracked my days and I started to demonstrate by counting on my fingers.
At least, I’m pretty sure that didn’t actually happen. Yet.
So my post yesterday was about a real, live negotiation that I thought went rather poorly because I had a fifty year old woman screaming at me for 45 minutes. Apparently the universe wanted to help me put it in perspective, because today I got to witness a REAL difference of opinion. At the library, nonetheless.
Today is Day One of my Staycation.
(Long story short, I’ve only taken six days off this year and my stress level is through the roof, so I decided to take four days off to recharge my batteries. Alas, having bought, furnished and decorated a place over the last three months, I’m not exactly rolling in cash for a vacation, so I decided to keep it local and do my favorite things. All at once. Like I’m a one-man-vacation-band of sorts.)
"You might be a more effective negotiator if you didn't use the 'f' word so frequently."
I can’t provide too much back-story here without compromising the anonymity of the other party (and no, it’s not Alan!), so I’m just going to offer some seemingly obvious bits of advice that occurred to me in the midst of an unfortunate exchange with another person today:
When negotiating, it is generally best to NOT let the other party know they have nothing left to lose before you’ve arrived at what it is you’re seeking.
Try not to shriek – unless you would like to perpetuate the notion that women are too emotional to be trusted in Corporate America.
When I’m in the middle of summarizing my understanding of the situation and on my way to proposing a solution, don’t interrupt me unless you don’t want a solution.
Don’t say “legally” unless you have a J.D. or – barring that – can pronounce “fiduciary” without sounding like you’re hooked on phonics.
If you DO say “legally” and I know you don’t have a leg to stand on, don’t act insulted when I ask if you have a law degree or suggest that you conference in your counsel so that we can get a valid interpretation of the contract.
If you have to state (repeatedly) that, “We are all adults here. We are MATURE adults here. We are grown-ups. We behave like grown-ups,” then you probably aren’t. Act it, don’t say it.
And if you find yourself saying, “I’m not trying to be unprofessional by yelling at you,” then guess what? You’re not only trying, you’re succeeding!
For whatever reason, I haven’t felt compelled to write on my blog lately. It’s certainly not lack of material – I’ve had a lot going on, including Liz’s farewell party, my e-staff housewarming party, an upcoming visit from my parents, etc. I just haven’t felt much like writing about any of it.
Instead, I’ve spent my time cracking up at the dumb stuff that’s already floating around online. So I thought tonight I’d share a few of the gems that have crossed my path in recent days…
First: The “girl takes watermelon in the face” video, which is a clip from The Amazing Race:
I used to love watching The Amazing Race because it was fun to speculate how I would perform the challenges in comparison to the people on the show. I’ll give this girl credit: I can’t imagine doing anything but crying after getting pelted in the face with a watermelon. Had it been me, when the friend pushes her to finish the task, I would have looked straight at the camera and exited the show with a big “Eff you” the friend.
The Amazing Race clip reminded of another video that is something of a classic – the Grape Smashing Reporter:
I can’t watch that clip without laughing so hard I cry. In fact, just searching to find the link for this blog entry had me giggling. While the fall is unfortunate, there are two things about it that make me laugh: first, the fact that she started smashing them in double-time after telling the other person to stop, and second, the god-awful noises she makes when she’s rolling around on the ground.
What is it about people hurting themselves that is funny?
It reminds me of a time in college when, walking across campus on my way to class, I saw a guy fall off his bike and bite the pavement pretty hard. I walked over to him to ask if he was all right, but for whatever reason, the words that came out of my mouth were, “How’s it going?” which struck me as so ludicrous – given that he was sprawled out on his back – that I got the giggles and ended up doubled over dying of laughter. I felt horrible even as I was doing it, but I couldn’t get it together.
Speaking of giggles, while the clearly uncooperative dog in this clip is funny, what really got me going was the contagious laughter of the girl filming it. Well, that and the fact that the dog is so opposed to walking that he would rather play dead.
Liz and Holly came over Wednesday for a major milestone: OUR LAST WINE NIGHT.
No, we’re not all suddenly jumping on the wagon (though that might not be a bad idea)… rather, Liz is moving to Atlanta on Tuesday.
Gasp! I know, right? We’ve had almost a decade of regular late nights, swilling and sharing stories.
I first met Liz in 1999, when I moved into her group house on N Street NW in DC. One of my favorite memories of our time living there together is when she came home from a night out and remembered that she was supposed to make brownies to take to work the next day.
Tired (and probably a little drunk), she mixed up a batch, put them in the oven, and — fell asleep on the couch, only to awake hours later in a smoke-filled living room! Never a quitter, she turned the contents of that pan out into our yard, and made another batch for her co-workers. When we moved out months later, that black brick of brownies was still in our yard. Not even the rats could eat it.
Shortly after we vacated the N Street house, Liz moved to London for a six month assignment with Accenture. It was at her going away party (at The Big Hunt? Lucky Bar?) that I met Holly. While Liz was in London, Holly and I started hanging out regularly, and when Liz returned (in 2001), we had our first three-person wine night and a tradition was formed.
During the past decade we’ve witnessed a lot: there have been boyfriends and break-ups, new jobs and promotions, long distance relationships, sisters moving and marrying, shared vacations, law school, a proposal, a wedding, a pregnancy and a baby.
I’m definitely going to miss Liz and miss wine nights. But I have to remind myself: had she not moved to London, we wouldn’t have even had wine nights. So maybe her move to Atlanta, instead of marking the end to a tradition, is only the beginning of a new one.
This week I’ve been plagued by some crazy nightmares. Not the kind that involve monsters or death, but the kind that to me are infinitely more frightening: the kind that are based in reality and involve a total brainfart on my part.
pithypants 