Every month there’s an email that work sends out about our big group’s goings on. I don’t usually read it.
For one, it’s in Comic Sans font. In the years since 2000 (when I noticed fonts getting fancy), I have come to loathe that font. I imagine that it was initially created to give AOL users the opportunity to say, “I’m playful, and I love my kids!”
(I receive emails from one person in that font, and she is forgiven. She drives a PT Cruiser, so it really is kinda fitting.)
Another reason I don’t read the monthly work email is because I really just don’t care what’s going on in the department. Upward mobility? That was so four years ago. Today my aim is to make the work life of SheBoss easier. I actually *gasp* like her and want to and will do anything I can to not screw her over. Other than preemptively doing some work, keeping up on my assignments, and finding ways to make sure she gets everything she needs, I truly just don’t give a fuck.
We’re rolling out a new widget that will save our customers 4.8%! YAHOO!
Well, guess what?! The amount of time you spent calculating that metric just wasted 6.2% of that time, so consider that null and void.
Disgruntled? Not really.
That being said, it makes sense that the bulk of the email just doesn’t interest me. However, there is one section of the email that I actually do enjoy.
Despite the bellyaching I do about having to work for a living, this is an honest-to-goodness good job. I am treated with respect, my opinion matters, my time and efforts are valued, I’m compensated generously, and I work with absolutely amazing people. If you’re looking for a job in the tech sector, I will 100% recommend White Men in Ties, Inc. Heck, I’ll even submit your resume so you get top consideration.
Of all the nice things I can say about this place, the final item on that list really makes it worthwhile: the people. It’s so clichéd, but it’s true. I work with some absolute rockstars who are more than merely competent, who generally care about what they’re doing, and who genuinely give consideration and respect to all others. It’s a good way to be.
In the monthly email, there’s a section that focuses on someone in the big group. I always get a kick out of this part, learning something new about the people who have been around me for the past five years.
This month’s email features me, and the author of my blurb sent me the early proof:
Joanna moved here (Chicago) from Texas, having been born outside of Houston as the first of three children. She remains very close to her brother, sister, and entire colorful family, who all still live in the Lone Star state. Joanna (or, as she’s called outside of the office, Jo), was a little “Doogie Howser,” heading off to college at the age of 15. She graduated from Small School Big Scholarship University, and commenced her career in technical writing with companies such as Angry Korean Men in Ties, Inc. and Funny Old Men in Grey Socks, Inc. in Austin and, a few years later, Chicago, where she moved all by herself to try something new.
Though these windy city winters have been trying for this southern gal, she has certainly made the most of her time here. In addition to her position as a Middle Management Lackey, she has been the only female member of the Ch!cago G@y M3n’s Chorus; taken ukulele lessons; explored the art of country western line dancing; taught math to underprivileged children; and, to boot, she hangs her own dry wall and makes her own beef jerky. An avid athlete, Joanna has run various marathons throughout the states, most recently in competitions in Hawaii, Tennessee, and Utah. She is also a gifted (non-technical) writer, contributing editorials, short stories, and interview write-ups to various journals and publications.
In job interviews and self-actualization exercises, you’re sometimes asked to view your life five years out. I always hate that interview question.
If you had asked me five years ago what my life would look like, there’s no friggin’ way I’d have imagined that blurb to be accurate snapshot of my life.
No. Friggin’. Way.
With that thought, there’s no way I can guess where the next five years will take me. I’ve managed to narrow my “Choose Your Own Adventure” down to its next few page turns, but who knows what I’ll find myself into once I get where I’m going.
May my next five years find me pleasantly surprised.