What Is a VP?

You've heard about it. You've seen it next to your boss's name, somebody else's boss's name, your boss's boss's boss's name...but what does VP really stand for?

Based on 13 years of time-intensive VP behavioral studies, I've discovered that VP can stand for one or all of the following:

• Very Pricey
• Varmint Production
• Victoria Principal
• Vacation President
• Vehement Padding
• Value Perception
• Vibrant Pension
• Veal Poop

I have more valid findings of VP in my back pocket, but I'll keep them safely tucked away. Nobody needs to know what I've really uncovered and concluded in my data collection. I'm not Very Positive today.

Gossiping About Gossip

Okay, so apparently I'm really into gossip this week -- the topic, anyway. I just had a flashback to a previous job in Cube City. I worked with a customer support person who had been married for maybe a year. Well, she would always talk about the fights she was having with her husband -- most of them pretty ordinary yet extraordinary since the two really hadn't been married very long. But one day, she really outdid herself.

She came into work and went about her day of fighting with customers and her husband...until she got THE CALL. Her best friend had been on Match.com looking for a date when she stumbled upon a familiar-looking guy with a photo, status of Single and Looking, and a complete write-up of what he was seeking in true love with a woman. DUMB ASS SCUM BUCKET ALERT! The customer support person ran to her computer, searched Match.com, and sure enough -- that was her husband's profile.

Strangely, she and her husband tried to patch things up, but of course they eventually got a divorce. Then she got involved with a womanizer at work who was married to a porn star named Y2Kayla. Y2Kayla reportedly rewarded him for his great work on her hot oil massages now and then by bringing three ladies in trenchcoats to the house. Why three? Why trenchcoats? Did the trenchcoats match? Were all three of them blondes? Real or fake (blondes, that is)? I don't know, and that's really where my interest in the gossip ends.

The Human Resources Whisperer

Why is it that people in Human Resources are the biggest gossips in the whole company? This has been my experience at...oh, I don't know...every job I've ever had.

Over the years, Human Resources personnel have shared the following information with me and others outside of their department:

• Salary information (the higher the pay, the more likely I was to hear about it)


• Performance review results (the looser the cannon, the more likely I was to hear about it)


• Terminations and layoffs to come (the who, what, where, when, and how -- dang)


• Who the CEO "did business with" on his desk last night (gross)


• Who's zooming who in the office, in general (okay, that is usually pretty juicy)

I think that gossip is a normal and acceptable part of working in Cube City, as long as you're not in Human Resources. I'm really conflicted about workplace gossip. It's like I want to know what's going on...but sometimes, once I hear it, I wish I didn't know about it.

What is your experience with Human Resources? Let the gossip begin!

My Safe Place

This is my safe place:

This is my unsafe place:

I'm thankful to be working from my safe place this morning.

A Total Beating

Yah-Yah-Yah! It's the Holiday Weekend Stakes, and there's a lot riding on this deadline.

I'm whipped...muddy...stretched to my limits...and thankful that the race to this week's finish line is near. Deadlines before a holiday weekend are a pain in the ass.

This Drives Me Crazy?

Working with other people can be a challenge? Especially when they have mannerisms that drive you crazy? Like people who speak with an "upward tone" so that their statements sound like questions? I listen to these people and want to yell "INSERT PERIOD HERE" when they're about to finish a statement with their upward tone?

But here's a real question: What mannerisms do your co-workers have that drive YOU crazy?

Cool Job

I used to work for a company that listed its open positions on a site called Cool Jobs. Both the company and the site are now defunct, but I have stumbled upon the true meaning of a cool job: Big Ass Fans.

At Big Ass Fans, they fight everything from science friction to breast cancer.

I'm sure it's not always a breeze to work at Big Ass Fans. There are probably some crazy deadlines and jackasses mucking everything up, but one thing is for certain: With all the blade running going on, it's bound to be cool there.

Cube Q&A

Q: Why project managers?
A: That is a rhetorical question.

If you have a question, I have an answer. Please send your cube question to me and you're bound to get the most enlightening answer EV-ER.

Going Green

How does one create a positive impact in Cube City? That's easy. Remove all cups from a kitchen in which you offer free drinks, and let 500 people figure out how to hydrate themselves. Good times.

Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures
I believe most of my co-workers know how to bring a plastic cup from home, but what if your plastic cup has no vacancy due to (1) a drink you don't want to waste, or (2) a fungus you cannot identify? And yet vodka slurpees are calling your name? What is a cupless cube dweller to do?

Last Friday, some mighty fine co-workers got creative and used biodegradable bowls as cups. We filled these sad little shallow bowls with Coke-flavored slurpees and then added vodka. Suddenly, creating a positive impact was a lot more positive. We did use straws, though. We figured they would make the positive impact come a little more quickly.

Here are a few ways to refer to vodka slurpees. Feel free to recommend your own labels. Suggestions are always environmentally friendly.

• Codka
• Vodkee
• Slodka
• Slodkee

For our next trick, perhaps we'll have to use the company-provided taterware to shovel the Codka into our mouths. It's not easy bein' green.

Denial Sunday

Hey. You. Cube Dweller.

I hate to bring it to your attention, but it's that time...that time when the dread sets in. It's looming. It's a dark Cumulonimbus cloud cruising in fast from the west to fuck up your happy weekend bliss. It's Sunday.

Some friends and I have decided that since there is no cure for The Day Before Monday, we'll resort to trickery to get by. We call it Denial Sunday. This usually involves alcohol, of course, and delusional stories about who we are and what we're doing. (The stories are usually the same -- we're disgustingly wealthy, we don't work, we'll be seeking the best fine art we can find on our trip to the Republic of Turkey tomorrow, etc.) Try it sometime. It beats reality.

This message has been brought to you by the Depressed Cube Dwellers of America.

TGIF - It's Not What You Think

So it's Friday, a day when beaten-down friends flood my inbox with TGIF messages followed by infinite exclamation points. Sure, TGIF is something to be excited about, but it used to have a somewhat different meaning in my corner cube of the world.

I worked with Gene, a charismatic, animated, and very Italian character who could sell you your own shoes -- which is good since he was the Director of Sales. Gene was a god in his own right. He would show up at the British Rose on Fridays, a strange little bar near work, with cigars and a credit card to buy beer for anybody from work who made an appearance. That's a generous man (or perhaps an overpaid man...or perhaps both).

At the time, I was relatively new to the workforce, still paying off college credit cards and surviving on white rice (white rice was still cool back then and much cheaper than brown rice). Any opportunity to meet my caloric deficit with free barley and hops was not to be turned down. I was a regular, as were a few inherently good co-workers. We all just needed to vent about our crazy CEO, who sexually harrassed most of the women in the office. He ended up divorcing his longtime wife and then marrying and divorcing a secretary that he had sexually harrassed from the very first day that she started working there -- who knows, maybe sooner. (During the interview, perhaps? I could totally see him saying, "You're a hot babe. Work here now. You know you want me. The bathroom's free. I'll do you in there and then decide on your starting salary. Let's go.") There just isn't enough alcohol in the world to make corporate dysfunction disappear, but talk therapy and beer helped us all hang on.

So my Fridays were definitely of TGIF nature -- Thank Gene It's Friday.

The Programmer

Once upon a time, in a cubicle far far away, I landed my first job. I started in Cube City as a technical writer. Luckily I didn't work for a company that beat you down with "Junior" or "Senior" before your title -- the first showing your inexperience, the second showing that you might have money but are too old to know how to spend it on cool stuff. You can't win in Cube City.

At my first job, I worked very closely with Lee, an introverted but wickedly funny and smart programmer. Lee had a penchant for technical writers. Whenever Tina the Tech Writer made an appearance in Dilbert, Lee would print that comic strip and hand it to me that day. It's like he wanted me to smile, or kill myself, or smile while killing myself.

My days as a technical writer at that company came and went, as most job titles and jobs (and even companies!) do. I wonder where Lee is today and if he's still giving technical writers a hard time and/or a little taste of Tina. He was a good guy -- strange, like a stereotypical programmer, but harmless and entertaining in his own right. If you're out there, Lee, this blog's for you.

Beware the T-Shirt

There's a reason that most companies have dress codes. Let's face it. Most of us need a little guidance on what NOT to wear, or there wouldn't be a reality TV show about it.

Anyway, some dress codes are really strict while others are pretty loose. I've worked in strict dress codes (business casual -- no denim, no t-shirts, no open-toed shoes) and pretty loose dress codes (no shirt, no shoes, no service).

One thing that I love about my current job is that there seems to be absolutely no dress code. If there is, nobody knows what it is. Sure, I'd probably get sent home if I showed up naked (okay, so I'd probably get sent to jail or a mental institution or even Jenny Craig), but nobody would notice if I wore a t-shirt with a slogan like, "Do the naked."

However, there is one shirt that gets people's attention. As a writer, one of my favorite t-shirts reads, "Careful or you'll end up in my novel." It's the most powerful piece of advertising I can wear at work. People part ways like they're in a horror film. They just clear a path. I love an empowering t-shirt and the right to define my own reality in Cube City.

I Believe You Have My Stapler

I believe we know what Milton worked for.


It's quite clear that Milton took ownership of the red stapler and felt entitled to it.

You're not alone, Milton.

Roseanne Keeps It Real

Much to my significant other's dismay, I could spend hours watching reruns of Roseanne. I think Roseanne speaks for much of the workforce and our distain for unqualified bosses and inexplicable processes.

I also think that Roseanne is a good reminder that "office" can have many meanings. Roseanne worked at a lot of jobs, from hair salons to restaurants to factories.

What did Roseanne work for? When she worked at Rodbell's, a restaurant in the mall, we got a solid answer: Condiments. Roseanne had tubs of mayo, ketchup, mustard, BBQ sauce, and -- total bonus -- pickles in her refrigerator at home. Way to keep it real, Roseanne.

Office Nicknames

Have you ever loved or hated a co-worker so much that you've given that person a nickname? I like to give names to people, places, and things. It's how I roll.

I think that my favorite nickname for a co-worker in my pitifully long history of hangin' in Cube City is this one:

Picky Bitch Control Freak (PBCF)

In case you can't tell, I hated PBCF. (There was never any love there for you, girl, and you know who you are...not that you'll ever have the privilege of reading about your five minutes of defame here.) The thing about me is that many people say they can't tell when I'm joking vs. being serious. I think PBCF thought I was joking all along. Yes, I labeled her to her face...and in time, she started referring to herself as PBCF. Now that's just insanely nerdy. But anyway, let's break it down:

• Picky -- this was a good quality, focused on quality, so I can see where she'd be confused about the negativity of her nickname
• Bitch -- she was the type to stab you in the back; the pure definition of a bitch
• Control Freak -- nuff said about this picky bitchy freakshow

PBCF was totally unqualified for the job. She went around hijacking other people's ideas and taking them to the CEO. The CEO was a clueless nerdy moron who could be easily snowed by a PBCF, but that's a story for another blog entry.

So...what are your office nicknames? You get extra points for acronyms.

The Quest for Scissors

Welcome to Working for Scissors, the blog about dysfunctional businesses and the victims -- I mean, workers...no, I mean victims -- who work for such businesses.

I'm a theme girl. I like to write around themes and focus on the negative as often as possible. What better material than office stories?!

Why work for scissors?
Working for Scissors is inspired by the many layoffs and self-imposed flight stories I've witnessed and/or experienced over my many years of cutting the mustard in Corporate America. You might say that scissors are a metaphor for getting cut. Of course, a metaphor like this can have many meanings:

• Cut from the workforce
• Cut and run
• Cut from an injury involving blood, sweat, and/or tears

Basically, anything having to do with the dysfunctional corporate family is fair game at Working for Scissors.

A good pair of scissors is hard to find.
Finding the right pair of scissors can be a challenge. Not all supply rooms are created equal. So in cutting edge style, I add this twist: What is your most prized possession from the office supply room that you've accidentally thrown into your Bye Box? C'mon, you know you have a great pair of scissors at home that you lifted from your office. If not, you're a total nerd and are not cut out for this blog.

I want to hear your stories, so please send them my way and hold nothing back!