New Job and Some Spam

Great news, dear readers! I am now gainfully employed. I was recently hired as an admissions counselor for a local college, and I could not be happier about it. Besides the prospect of regular paychecks, I'm super psyched to be working in academia. It's pretty much the best. I'm sure this new position will eventually yield great blog posts, but for now, I will just say that my coworkers are great, and I think this is going to work out well.

But just so that you don't leave empty-handed, here's some pretty good spam, left as a comment on this very blog.

The comment was posted by a "person" named WELCOME TO TEMPLE OF SOLUTION," and here's what "she" had to say:

Hello! my name is Miss fred philiph, I’m from uk. I want to share my testimony with all of you. priest omigodo gave me the possibility to start my new and happy life with jane. The commitment and Marriage spells worked beyond my imagination. 6th of June will be always in my memory as the start of our new life. We had the most beautiful wedding and I was in the seventh heaven from happiness. I am sure that this feeling will be with us during our whole life and it will never leave us. We’ll remain grateful forever. Please my friends if you need the help of this man just contact him on his email: templeofsolution@gmail.com or call priest omigodo on his phone number +2348079367204

So... I think what she's saying ("she" being "Miss Fred Philiph") is that a "priest" named "Omigodo" used some sort of magic (i.e. "commitment and Marriage spells") to help her secure a same-sex union with "Jane." Since I'm pretty sure same-sex marriage is legal in "uk," I can only assume that Jane was not consenting to this union and that Priest Omigodo used some sort of mind control to force Jane to marry Miss Fred Philiph. That's actually pretty impressive. I guess Temple of Solution really knows how to get things done. Thanks for the comment, Miss Fred!


ALSO! I did a Google search for Priest Omigodo and I found this gem on some random message board:

I work at a very big farm and have too many chickens and sheep to feed nad take care of by myself. I needed a helping hand so I contacted priest omigodo to see if he could cast a spell and get me an extra hand to help.priest omigodo make spell for sure but it no work out so good like I expect. priest omigodo make extra hand all right, but now I have three arms and hands and it is very hard to buy clothes.Thanks but no thanks priest omigodo

Thanks but no thanks!

"Have we considered the possibility that doctors don't know how to use umbrellas?"

DISCLAIMER: I have nothing against doctors. I appreciate what they do and am sure that most of them can use umbrellas without incident.

I have a couple of work anecdotes from yesterday.

The first involves the extremely tedious and time-consuming task I did for most of the morning. For those of you just joining us, I work for a promotional products company. We sell hats, cups, pens, shirts, etc. Pretty much anything our customers want their logo on, we can get it for them.

Well, we recently sold a bunch of umbrellas to some doctors. Some fancy gift or other. They were nice big umbrellas with a button that opens and closes them, but we had some complaints that the open/close buttons did not work. So, because we have good customer service, my boss took the umbrellas back to have someone (i.e. me) test them.

This was not a difficult task by any means, but after opening each umbrella, I had to repackage it in not one but two protective sleeves. I did about fifty umbrellas and it took me nearly three hours. And get this. They. All. Worked. We had two that were defective. Possibly the very two that caused the complaint in the first place. I have to hope that they tried more than two before claiming they were broken.

So I can't help but think, maybe they were doing it wrong? I don't know. Doesn't seem possible, but there's that old truth that sometimes the smartest people lack basic common sense. Or the ability to open and close an umbrella. With a button.


A functional umbrella 

Two protective sleeves


My other work anecdote for the day is about another sweet junk email one of my co-workers received. This one is not poetic by any means. It is a straight-up scam, but I love the way it was executed. Read for yourself:

ATTENTION: MADAM
Our Ref: 423/909 Date: 4th April 2011
RECONCILIATION / REMITTANCE COMMITTEE

I am assigned by the President, Federal republic of Nigeria , Dr. Goodluck Jonathan to look into the plight of foreigners who were dupe in the cause of retrieving their money from Nigeria . This action taking by His Excellency is born out of enormous complain from foreigner complaining that they were dupe out of their hard earn money by some unscrupulous Nigeria in pretends of helping them.
His Excellency decided to take action on the issue because of the embarrassing status that that has cost this country internationally.
It was on that note that I was drafting in to look into the issue and subsequent recommend further actions to the federal government, however, according to his Excellency, those who genuinely carry out authentic contracts in this country without being paid will be paid immediately. Those that their money was not release from the commercial Banks for one reason or another will also be release. Furthermore, I want to advice that, you get all the necessary documents ready as we will ask of it before any action could be taken.
Do sent your reply to me immediately for further action
Yours truly,
Mahmud Yayale Ahmed
Secretary to the Government
Federal Republic of Nigeria .

That was sent by the Secretary to the Government, so you know it's legit. I love that they think that by piggy-backing off the old Nigerian prince scam, they can trick people into being scammed in exactly the same way. The brilliance of it is that it only targets people who fell for the original scam and are, thus, exponentially more likely to fall for this one than someone who doesn't make a habit of sending all their financial information to strangers over the internet. Most people will see through it immediately, but you're always going to have people that go, "Yeah, I want my money back. President Goodluck is such a nice guy for doing that for me."

So if you or anyone you know lost some money in the Nigerian prince scam, you can contact mariotorres@interclan.net (<-- the address from which this email was sent). I'm sure he'll help you with that.


On an unrelated note, I really like this Adele CD. And I try not to hold it against her that she is only two months older than I and already has two Grammys.

Work Anecdote of the Day

Last night I came up with the best idea for a blog post. It was clever and funny, and I even came up with a few pithy turns of phrase before I fell asleep. And of course, I wrote none of it down, certain I would remember in the morning. Nope. It's gone. Oh well.

So instead you get an anecdote that isn't really an anecdote. It's more of a question. Today I was contemplating the keyboard at my computer, and I was wondering, can anyone tell me what this button is for?



In what possible way could this button make my keyboard become "turbo"? I'm a bit afraid to push it. Are flames going to come out? Or does it just make my typing super fast?

Best Work Email of the Day

Subject: Order VICODIN Online - Best Cheap Price!

Message: Buy Vicodin Online Without Prescription - Cheap VICODIN

Yes, that sounds like a really good deal for fine, upstanding citizens who are looking for safe, affordable pain management. Sign me up!

What is passion Gang?

Friends, welcome back. Sorry it's been so long. I've been off having adventures. A longer post will follow today or tomorrow, but I thought I'd bring you a little Wednesday amusement in the form of an email I received at my work address.

I have changed nothing. Here is the email in its entirety:

Subject: Hello, detective plentiful. Here is Elton

Message: Charge yourself for passion Gang. Murmured the proceedings of laughter ovodpkxg.

A what? Ponder that one as you make your way through the day.

(On the Way to) Work Anecdote of the Day

This is a short one, but I feel like sharing, and I have not had many anecdotes to report of late, so I think you deserve a little something, noble reader.

I have begun walking to work. Not a huge feat as I only live 1.25 miles away, which translates into a brisk 15 to 20-minute walk, though my friends, co-workers, and family have all appeared awestruck when I informed them of my decision. You see, in Florida 40-degree mornings are not considered the ideal setting for a stroll, but I need the exercise, and I know that some of my compatriots in the frozen North are doing the same, so I will stand (err, walk) firm with them.

This morning, however, the wind was a bit brutal, and my nose was running to high heaven. (Should have been running to work, if you ask me.) I was not yet warmed up enough to enjoy my walk, and I had just passed into some dreaded shade, when I was obligated to cross the street in front of a garbage truck that was waiting to pull out into traffic. Out of W&L-bred politeness, I absently waved at the garbage man, and his reaction brightened my day. Huge smile on his face, he enthusiasticly waved back. Surprised by this show of exhuberance, I too smiled and reinvigorated a formerly lackluster greeting. That garbage man's smile put a spring in my step, and the rest of the way, I boldly met the wind that tried to push me back.

'Tis the Christmas season, indeed, my friends, and I love it. This afternoon, I think I will drink some egg nog to celebrate. After a cold walk home, of course.


Also, though I am happy today, I have been known to get pretty mad on occasion. But let me just ask you this question:

Work Anecdote of the Day

Today a woman came into the office and handed me an envelope, which she said needed to go to 20C. I figured she was too lazy to walk over there herself or she just couldn't find it, and since our office is also the rental office for the whole plaza, I smiled and took the envelope, planning to deliver it to Suite 20C later.

As the morning went on, I came to a stopping point in my work and decided to pop over to that office. I found Suite 20 and then began reading the doors for room C. I found the correct door, but it didn't occur to me right away that the name looked oddly familiar. A receptionist was sitting in the lobby, but unsure which business she worked for, I awkwardly announced that I had come to bring this envelope to Joseph Brown. When she didn't offer any help other than a pointed "Ok", I asked if I should slip it under the door. She then informed me that she worked for him, at which point I smiled, said "Ok, great!" and walked toward her with my parcel. But as I handed her the envelope, it suddenly dawned on me: she was the same women I had seen in my office at 8:30 that morning.

Inside the envelope was their rent check. We are the rental office, after all. Thoroughly embarrassed, I made some awkward exclamation like "Oh that was FROM you TO us!" (with that emphasis). And since I had now proven to be a complete idiot, she wrote "Rent" on the outside of the envelope before handing it back to me.

Oh and that name on the door that looked so familiar? It was printed on the outside of the envelope. Good one, Kimber.



On an unrelated note, here is the fortune cookie my friend Joe got tonight at our local Yummy Buffet. And yes, that is the actual name of the Chinese restaurant.

In bed

The job I did take

Ok, twice now I've mentioned working for my parents without explaining what I do. I go in at 8 and work until noon, so I can use my afternoons for GRE study and grad school applications. Mostly I'm a receptionist. I answer phones, direct calls, and when applicable, take messages. It's a very glamorous life. My phone voice has gotten great. I also do things like file, send invoices, put stickers on things, and input quotes into our ordering system. None of it is terribly challenging, but I enjoy it. It's kind of peaceful, and I am learning important clerical things. Plus, every now and then amusing things happen that make good anecdotes.

Today's anecdote is about my computer.

My computer is the one in the office that doesn't specifically belong to anyone, the one that salespeople might use when they need to print things, or the one that you might give to the part-timer when she comes in for four hours in the morning. It's effectively mine now, but occasionally I still have to step aside and let someone else use it "real quick." And occasionally, my computer becomes possessed! One minute I'll be listening to Pandora, preparing to start a Word document, and the next, my cursor is moving on its own. My Pandora is paused! My Word doc is minimized! Yes! It is the g-g-ghooost of... Jason the CPA. About once a week he reconciles our books, and he hijacks my computer to do it, using Remote Control. I think he called one time to ask permission, but every time since he's just snatched control away from me. No warning, not even a "by your leave." He is a notorious hijacker who must be stopped! He could at least leave the Pandora running. He can turn off his speakers if it bothers him. It's just a bit creepy for me to sit in silence, watching programs open. I feel like a voyeur, peering into Jason's mind as he clicks the "Reconcile" button, then pauses to read the message box, then hovers over "Yes" before deciding to click "No." I feel like I could learn a lot about Jason by observing how he reconciles our books, and that just feels creepy. Oh, and then today, about five minutes after he logs out of my computer, he calls for Lisa our office manager, and of course, I answer. I wanted so much to say "Oh hi, Jason. Quit stealing my computer, you artless cut-purse!" Who cares if he gives it back? As far as I am concerned he is no better than a petty purse-snatcher, and he should be ashamed of himself. If he wants to borrow my computer, he could just ask.

The Art of Saying No (and Not Freaking Out About It)

So I promised in my About Me section, dear reader, that this year I would work on going outside my comfort zone and then reporting on it. Today I declined a job, and I thought it was going to make me throw up. Allow me to explain...

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine mentioned a holiday job opportunity at the clothing store where he has worked for the past four years or so. To be perfectly honest, the job itself didn't excite me, not least of all because this friend has been complaining to me about his job for almost the entire length of his employ there. What's more, the job involved selling, and I am too much of an introvert to be comfortable with that. Okay, I know what you might be thinking. You're either thinking, "You?! An introvert?", to which I would respond, yes, I just hide it well. Or you're thinking, "But you just said that you would try to go outside your comfort zone. What gives?" To this later query of yours, dear reader, I must admit you have a point. But I will say that turning down this job might have caused me more discomfort in two days than two months' worth of selling would have.

I have never been one to enjoy turning people down. I want people to be happy (unlike all you sadists reading my blog), so when my friend mentioned the job and told me how he sold me to his boss and talked about how much fun it would be to work there together I thought, well, at least he might not hate it so much if I'm there. You see the logical fallacy there? Two people hating a job together is unlikely to make either of them hate it very much less. Yet he was so enthusiastic, and he was practically guaranteeing me that I'd get the job, so I met with the manager and filled out an application. Then I waited a couple weeks.

This past Monday, the manager called me back, and I told him I'd like to sit down to talk about hours, duties, pay, etc. Very professional. We did, and I left the meeting with very mixed feelings. I haven't mentioned this except in passing, but I'm working mornings at my parents' promotional products company. My accepting this second job would mean that I'd be working a full 40 hours a week, which is all well and good, but let me explain how these hours would break down:

20 hours/week = Monday through Friday, 8 a.m. to noon, parents' office
Other 20 hours/week = a few days Monday through Friday + Sunday, 1 p.m. to 9:30 p.m. AND/OR Saturday starting at 9 a.m. AND Black Friday, Dec. 7, 14, and 26

Basically, I could set myself up to work 14 hours in one day, or give up my weekends, and definitely give up lots of free time during the holidays when my friends and family come visiting. Plus, I realized, I am currently trying to apply to grad school and study for a GRE Subject Test, but that's a topic for another post. You can probably see how this is not an ideal situation for me.

Ok, so I met with the guy on Monday, pretty much told him I was ready to start working, and made plans to come in Thursday or Friday to fill out the paperwork. On Wednesday, I realized I really really REALLY did not want the job, nor did I have to take it. This initial realization was quite a relief. Then came the nausea.

Telling Jerry the store manager was scary enough, but even scarier, I also had to tell the friend that had told me about the job, made a pretty big deal about us working together, and really influenced Jerry to hire me. I hated to let him down, and all through lunch that day my hands shook and my stomach ached, while I tried to play it cool and find a way to bring up the subject. You can probably imagine how this lunch went: nervous laughing, furtive looking away, and an acute distaste for the spinach and bacon salad staring up at me from an over-sized diner plate. The churning in the pit of my stomach wouldn't stop. I was sure that if I didn't throw up, I would just pass out. This may sound a bit hyperbolic, but it's true; such is my fear of letting people down.

After an hour of this madness, we finally got up to go. It was the moment of truth. As we were leaving the restaurant, my friend said, in an off-hand way, "I don't want to work." There was my chance. In one of the best transitions ever, I said, "Oh yeah, speaking of not wanting to work, I REALLY don't want to work at [insert name of men's store here]." Then I waited for the deluge, certain he'd be crushed or demand an explanation.

His response: "Haha, yeah, I don't blame you." And that was that. The relief was unbelievable.

Now all I had to do was drive over to that men's store and tell Jerry the manager. One problem: he wasn't there and wouldn't be in until the next morning, which, you can probably guess, meant another 24 hours of stress for me. I just had to keep telling myself over and over that I didn't care if Jerry's feelings were hurt. I didn't even know Jerry. If I let him down, so be it.

I spent the rest of that day rehearsing what I would say. It involved thanking him for offering me the job and being so kind as to sit down and talk with me about it, but after sleeping on it, I realized that it wouldn't be a good fit. I practiced this little speech constantly, making sure to add good excuses as to why I didn't want the extra stress. Then I rehearsed all the possible ways he could react and how I would respond to his reactions. Here is a partial list of what I expected could happen:
Crying
Begging
Trying to sell me on the job (he is a top salesman of men's suits, after all)
Intimidation/Threatening
Striking me <~ in the event of this one, I planned my escape from the store and chose which of the adjacent stores I would run to for help

These all seem like viable options, right? Well, to make a long story short (too late), I went to that store. He was there, thank goodness, but with a customer, so I waited for twenty minutes, anxiety mounting. I passed the time by doodling pictures of fruit and trying not to shake too much. I started to feel dizzy and feverish before he was finished but I took a few deep breaths and steadied myself. When he finally came over to me, I asked if we could go sit down, not wanting to make a scene in the middle of the store. It's like I was breaking up with him: "Jerry, it's not you, it's me." "I think we should see other regional sales managers." "You're suffocating me."

Anyway, I sat down and did the speech I had practiced. I performed it flawlessly, and Jerry reacted immediately.

He hit me.

No, no, I'm kidding. That would have made such a good story, though. No, actually, not only was he completely fine with it, but he also offered me a job for anytime in the future that I might decide I want it. The relief I've felt since that afternoon I can't quite describe without resorting to cliche.

But now, as I reach the end of my tale, I have to wonder why I spent so much time agonizing over this. Who did it benefit? Certainly not me. Jerry and Jesse definitely did spend so much time worrying about it. In the end, what did I achieve through anxiety? The truth is, stress gains you nothing, but as easy as it is to say that, in practice, you forget. It's like your body revolts and you have no choice but to be nauseated and shaky and sweaty until you confront the thing that's caused you all this pain.

I think it boils down to a theory I've been developing for myself in the past few months. As this story has illustrated, I tend to put other people's feelings (or what I perceive their feelings to be) before my own mental health. So my new personal philosophy is kind of a take on the Eleanor Roosevelt quote "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent": "You are not responsible for other people's emotions." Everyone has a right to their feelings. They have a right to react to things however they want. But that doesn't mean you should drive yourself crazy worrying about how they are going to feel. Sure, be understanding of those feelings, don't intentionally hurt people's feelings, help them feel better if you want, but don't take their emotions on yourself. You're not Jesus. You don't have to be the sacrificial lamb because you want everyone to be happy. Happiness comes from within, and nothing you do can make another person happy if they don't want to be. Similarly, and more pertinently, don't assume people are going to be mad at you for being honest, and if in the end they are, who cares? You did the best you could. You weren't trying to hurt their feelings, and when they're ready, they can build a bridge and get over it.