Just to start things off, here�s an open letter to people calling my office:
Dear morons,Does �Titanic Cruises� sound like �Radiology�? You can�t get a fucking mammogram here, so stop trying to schedule one! And stop asking me to transfer you to radiology so you can schedule your mammogram when you finally shut up and listen long enough to hear me tell you this isn�t fucking radiology! And stop asking me for the phone number for radiology when you realize you�ve stumbled completely outside the healthcare system altogether, like this is fucking 411 or something, and I�ve just got all these numbers sitting right next to me! If you want the real number for radiology, call information, call the hospital�s general office line, or LEARN HOW TO OPERATE THE PHONE BOOK!
Sincerely,
Guy Who Does Not Work in the Radiology Department
I�m glad to have that out of the way. Now let�s move on to more important matters!I�m not a big fan of the fact that since the decision was made that my employment at Stupid Titanic Cruises would presently be coming to an end, that these ladies over here have suddenly started throwing every piddling task they�ve got my way. To wit, I just spent an hour putting printouts in plastic sleeves, just in case they decide to put together a binder full of�printouts at some later date.
Oh, also, since Jane, the Marketing Director, fled this company screaming two weeks ago, they have this stack of requests for charitable donations that need to be dealt with. Now, two months ago, Jane had me helping her out with that task, as she was really backed up. Basically, I just did what she told me, which is to say that I entered the names of the organizations requesting donations into a database, and then she had me put together a mailing, and send out some gift certificates. But she did this all in stages, and I don�t know where she was going with all this, or what the significance is of any of the tasks I was asked to perform. However, they all now just sort of seem to expect me to, you know, �take care of it�. My reply is that as soon as they want to promote me to Marketing Director and give me a $10/hr raise, I�ll be more than happy to comply.
Okay, I really didn�t want this to turn into the Job Bitterness Homepage, so I�ll stop now. I could go on, but�I won�t.
I was actually originally planning on writing a big rant about Martha Stewart and how everyone should just leave her alone, so maybe I�ll move on to that. My thought process is a little scattered today, so bear with me if this doesn�t make a whole lot of linear sense.
Anyway, I love me some Martha. I mean, it�s not like I get her magazine (except for that one month back in college, which was due entirely to a clerical error, and I now have one issue of Martha Stewart Living from, like, 1998), but I just think the woman is a genius. Have you seen the way she can make little Christmas trees out of gingerbread stars? It�s creative, homey, festive, and tasty, too! How can you decry a woman like that? And yet everyone seems to universally despise her.
Perhaps it�s this �berhomemaker image that publicists and media moguls built for her, celebrating her as some latter-day Mary Margaret McBride, that is really the source of the backlash. Is it that people resent her for having such a perfect veneer? Every hair in place, every line perfectly straight, every color precisely matched? Is it that we, as a people, are so insecure, cynical, and envious that we can�t handle even the very notion of perfection unless it pertains to ourselves and ourselves alone?
Martha Stewart, to my knowledge, has never lied about who she is. She never pretended to be The World�s Best Housewife or The World�s Best Mother; if these are opinions the public has formed about her, it is because that�s how she�s been touted in the press, and it�s because of our own sexist beliefs that being a good homemaker is the same thing as being a Good Little Wife. When stories of her being harsh, demanding, and somewhat crazy started to break out, people ate it up like popcorn, because everyone loves a scandal.
Anyway, she may well be guilty of insider trading, and I won�t defend that. But she roasts a mean turkey and can make a lovely table setting out of construction paper stars and a discarded milk carton, and I love her for it.
Oh. Um�okay.
