February 13, 2005 Dear... Man, I have to make a resolution to never, ever log into the office network at night. I thought that I'd come home from Laurie's, dash off a quick entry, and be to bed in time to get enough sleep to function for my 12-hour day, which will include at least one interview. Instead, I messed around with Lotus Notes, creating a (non-functional, I can't program in Notes for shit) feedback form for the consultants to leave when a document has been sent back to them. I'm uber-supervisor! All this work is going to come to nothing, I'm sure, once I step down from the supervisor's position and am a lowly designer again. It's irritating that my early morning is Monday, since that's when the most people (according to my stats) check in. I feel like I should write something marvelous with which to greet your week, but it's not to be. Instead, you'll most likely get lame, half-baked entries like this one. That is, unless I can manage to keep away from doing other work during this writing time. Organization and time management is the key. Stealing a format directly from Pamie (who may not have invented it, but is the first person I ever saw using it), here are some letters I would have liked to send today: Dear Hammermill Paper Company: You make some mighty fine paper, but what's with the packaging? I know that moisture is a problem in high-volume printers, but did you have to wrap a ream of paper in transparent titanium? No amount of fiddling with the seams or pulling at the ends will open a package of paper. We have a utility knife in the printing room for the express purpose of opening your product. Enough with the childproof packaging, already! Dear Cleaning Crew: Stop moving the utility knife out of the printing room. We need it (see above). Go back to strewing the hole-punch remnants all over the floor like confetti, the way you used to a year ago. Dear Stephanie: I know you're tired on weekends from nights out partying with your college friends, but when I offer to help you out with something work-related and you don't understand what I'm talking about, the appropriate response is, "Could you repeat that, I didn't get it," not "WHAT?!?" with That Look and That Tone of Voice. Why is it that all new employees immediately lose patience once they get two weeks' worth of training under their belts? It's not rocket science, it just takes some getting used to, and snapping at people who are trying to help you do your job better isn't all that great a way of getting that help. Dear Robert: That's what you call a free schedule? Geez, I'm a hermit. Sorry for the late-night reply, but hopefully we can get together tomorrow. Dear (Cousin) Beth: Thank you for the picture of your mom and for the letter you wrote to her at her funeral. Reading it just about made me cry, but I managed to hold it together, since I was at work. I don't think I'll change a word of it for the project. You're an excellent writer. Dear Clementines: You're not filling. Eating one of you is about as satisfying as a half-sip of water, but I'm being healthy, so I'll continue to bring you to work with me. However, I'm starting to feel that "fruit makes me angry" again. Dear Body: What's with the coordination, lately? Falling off the treadmill yesterday and spilling a full glass of water on an employee today? Is it the exercise? Usually you let me know you're angry at me for exercising by making me sick. Is this a new tactic to get me to stay on the couch all day long? Dear Consultants: I don't mind your last-minute printing requests. I don't mind changes after something has been printed, but please don't stand at the counter, telling me that you're going to miss your plane if I don't re-collate the pages you screwed up faster! faster! faster! I could understand a little mistake, but if what you overlooked is a GIGANTIC ELECTRIC BLUE TEXT BOX with information that is just a note to your team on four different slides, you seriously need to rethink your proofreading strategy (if you have one). Dear Retro-Active: Enough with The The already. There were other artists during the 80s, you know. Dear Grammys: I didn't watch you tonight, partly because Desperate Housewives was on, and partly because I only know about one-third of the artists who were nominated. Thank you so much for reminding me that I'm old. Dear Valentine's Day: I know you're tomorrow, and though I don't want to hurt your feelings, I'm really not that into you. I have yet to have a decent Valentine's Day ever, even when I have someone to share it with. Thank you so much for reminding me that I'm either alone and unwanted or that the guy I'm dating is kind of a dick. Dear Patrick: Go to bed. You can only push this "no sleeping" thing so far.