I don't know about all that "pen, mightier, sword" stuff, but I do know this: There can be plenty of sting in a well placed period, gentle flirtation in an ellipse, and some nasty, passive-aggressive crap in a colon when a comma would suffice. Don't get me started on slashes.
Brief background-- I am a writer for a nonprofit that puts out a magazine for its donors. The top editor just left because, well, she hated it here. Shortly thereafter, the program assistant left. That left me & dear old Jeff, my boss. Jeff is loathe to talk to me; as communications VP, he considers it a waste of time. His palpable resentment toward his employees is all too plain to see, if you look between the lines-- or dots, as the case may be....
Jeff,
I was wondering if we should discuss the upcoming issue of [our publication] since [top editor] has left.
His response...
[Youworthlessemployee]:
We need to discuss this, not via e-mail. Let's meet Monday, we'll resume department meetings at 10:30am.
/Jeff
"Department", mind you, refers to me...and him. We know he has a comma on his keyboard; look: he misused it twice in a two-sentence missive. But where a comma inserts a soft pause, a moment of savor even, after a salutation, a colon is a gut-punch-- like my name has been forcibly extracted from him under extreme duress, and he was using it only to serve the barest semblance of politeness.
Or am I just being sensitive?
I've kind of stopped working at work. I mean, I never really worked, but I used to try to make it look like I was working. Morale around here is so low, mine especially, that I just couldn't care less. Here's how I spend my days:
8:45 -- Show up for my 8:00 job.
8:45 - 9:30 -- Read email; forward email (to which I'm supposed to respond) to someone else.
9:30 - 9:45 -- Give the receptionist a smoke break. Chat with people who walk by.
9:45 - 10:30 -- Read personal email. Reply to some; think about replying to others; beat myself up over the rest that I really need to reply to but have been putting off.
10:30 - 12:30 -- Read favorite blogs, such as the WOW Report; work on own blogs.
12:30 - 12:45 -- Look at pictures of Dave Grohl on the Internet.
12:45 - 1:30 -- Feel guilty about only reading celebrity news, and catch up on world (i.e. the United States) news.
1:30 - 2:30 -- Take "half hour" lunch break at my desk; usually read a book.
2:30 - 3:00 -- Play with label machine.
3:00 - 3:45 -- Rate movies on Netflix.
3:45 - 4:00 -- Check boss's mail cubby; open mail; deliver mail.
4:00 - 4:30 -- Look for jobs on Monster.
4:30 -- Quitting time.
I would like to take a moment to thank the president of my last company -- the job I had before I quit to become a freelancer.
One day he came into my office after I'd been working there for three years producing a radio show. The internet was this whole big new idea, and they were just deciding it was time to put out a website. He announced -- he didn't ask, suggest, or begin a dialogue on the subject. mind you -- he just announced they were going to change my job description and I would no longer be a science writer or a radio producer but that I would be the person who pulled together all the information for the company's website and be in charge of internet PR, and maybe occasionally writing a piece for the site.
I was probably 26 at the time. He finished his speech -- I had no warning ahead of time that this was in the works -- and I smiled sweetly and said, "No." He said, "what?" And I said: "I'm happy to do the job for you until you hire someone else to replace me, but I am a writer, and I want to be a writer and I'm far enough along in my career that I don't need to take a job in which I don't get to write." He said he was surprised, and that he would have to think about it. . .
. . . and then he didn't mention the subject to me again for a month.
A month in which I had zero job loyalty whatsoever, didn't know if I was even still supposed to be putting out a radio show, and during which the National Association of Science Writers happened to give me a free website.
I spent the month ignoring my job completely and putting together one of those really early Here's A Page With All My Friends On It! kind of websites. This is about the sixth incarnation of that original website. . . but over the years this website has netted me:
--A job as a dating columnist on AOL (and therefore subsequently Oxygen and Dating911)
--Two book contracts
--several dates
--two really good friends
--more articles than I can name
After a month, my boss finally gave him a nudge saying that I was still waiting for his final decision. The president had basically forgotten the whole thing, and came to my office to tell me off-handedly that oh, yeah, my job wasn't going to change. By the time I left the job two years later I had the columnist gig and had published my first book.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
So I just get an all staff e-mail from the CEO with the rosters of three new employee work groups he's formed. I love that he's suddenly after two years on the job getting to know his employees a little better, especially since reliable rumors report the board will not be renewing his contract this fall. Talk about rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic.
Anyway, CEO's lack of knowledge about his own staff seems completely confirmed by the fact that Mr. Inappropriate was listed as a member of the work group on "Improving Staff Morale/Removing Organizational Obstacles." Ha! Do you think he was trying to improve my morale when he stopped by my office this week to fill me in on all the details of the very messy divorce he's going through at present? Or maybe he was removing organizational obstacles by asking to use the hand lotion I keep on my desk? Gross.
OK, here's my short mean thing of the day. . . What is up with the slow talkers? I don't mean speaking slowly in of itself. That's usually a boon -- and as everyone who has to replay my answering machine messages over and over and over and over again trying to understand that word I'm slurring knows, I could stand to speak a lot more slowly. But why do they have to insist on, like, actually finishing their sentences when you've already understood?
I mean they say things like: "Because this is in the blue category . . ." and you say: "Oh! It's blue so I have to push the BLUE button!" and they don't stop at all, but say ". . . you have to push the blue button. The reason you know it's in the blue category is because it's in a blue folder labeled with the word 'blue' written across it. So you can quickly and easily see that it's in the blue category, so that's how you can remember that you have to push the blue button."
I hate those people.
Volumes of hot air!
Veep's internal editor
Needs to be fired
A whole staff captive . . .
Forced to sit and listen to
meaningless nonsense
Am I all alone
noticing that this insults
our intelligence?
I just can't take it . . .
A rusty blade or chainsaw
would be more pleasant
And one more under the extended entry that's not entirely safe for work.
Isn't it so great
that everyone thinks my boss
is fucking brilliant?
1. Checked my Powerball numbers (won $7, not enough to retire)
2. Scoured epicurious.com for salmon recipe
3. Made weekly phone call to Verizon to berate them about their inability to provide me with DSL service in downtown Washington, D.C. (DSL still unavailable on my line . . . shocking)
4. Used opportunity of tree-induced allergy attack to blow nose 50 times, setting up the "sick" day three-day weekend
5. Puzzled over what tourists in Portuguese-speaking countries may question swallowing whole
Tough day . . . good thing it's a three-day weekend.
This is a really a story about MY idiocy.
So, I was volunteering this morning at a homeless shelter with people from work. I was put in charge of handing out bagels when this guy, who had been spooning out eggs, took over my station! In a shrill tone I asked him "Did you take my thong?" Naturally, I meant to say tongs....much to the amusement of the gaggle of men waiting in line for food.