You Can't Fire Me...

Most people love the holidays. But most people don't work for Moxie, who has 27 holiday parties to organize. 13 of these parties happen to fall onto my desk. So I have been going from hotel to ballroom, hanging holly and misteltoe and shiny red and gold ornaments from high ceilings. We will NOT even discuss the carnival themed holiday party.

Okay, we so will.

Consider draping the entire ballroom in a circus tent. Hiring clowns and magicians, renting popcorn and cotton candy machines, hot dog “stands”…The bar was turned into a carousel, complete with lit horses going up and down. I was a wreck. I had not slept more than a few hours a week in the last month and I was losing it. The staff at Moxie was being...a little less than holiday-spirited. I asked for raise three times in the last three months, to which Ross had laughed the first time, said to ask another time, and finally, told me that if I really wanted to make more money I should look for another job. Which is hard to do when you are working 80-90 hours a week. But something had fallen out of the sky, and even though it was crazy, I was considering it more and more. Especially since I currently had 126 boxes of assorted stationary on my desk to print out follow up holiday cards. Seriously. I was on my fourth attempt to shove the card stock through the printer to print up Ross' special holiday greeting. "What's the hold-up?" Ross barked from his office.
"The printer." My voice was probably louder and sharper than necessary. "I have been trying to work with the templates for two hours, Ross, maybe I should-"

Ross held up a hand. "I want these done!" I shot him a dirty look as I pulled out the manual feed tray, crashed into Lainie's desk, overturned a plant, and landed on the floor.
"We do not have time for you goofing off!" Ross exploded. "I want those cards done NOW!"

I stood up and faced him. "Ross, I will finish those cards as soon as I can." Again, my tone was sharper than I'd intended, but I was so tired, and so sick of everything. I limped back to my desk and slumped in my chair when I noticed I had an email in my personal mail...from Jay Avano. Jay Avano was the president of a non-profit organization that ran events for teens in Atlanta. I had met him at a conference three years ago and we had chatted briefly. And he had offered me a job.

"Just wondering if you had thought any more about my offer. I'd love to fly you in to meet some people. Let me know. -J"

I looked around the office. Everyone seemed to be moving underwater, in slow motion. I was so tired. I was done. My hands were shaking, and I stood up and made my way to Ross' office. He did not even look up from his desk. "Cards ready?"

"Ross, there' something wrong with the printer. I'm going to send the cards over to Simco Printing, they can do them overnight for us."

Ross grunted. "Whatever. You can finish the report on the Ellison Holiday Ball."

"Ross, I have worked really, really hard these past few months. I really think we should sit down and talk about my future with this company. I would like a 7% raise."

Now Ross was paying attention. "I don't even get 7%. Are you kidding?"

"No. I have proven myself over and over and nothing is ever good enough for you. What do I need to do?" My voice was rising but I couldn't check myself. "I work harder than anybody else here! We all have our off days, I know that I am not perfect, but seriously! What else do I need to do?"

"Look, if you don't feel valued-"

"Don't feel VALUED?" Now I was shouting. "Of course I don't feel valued! Nobody here feels valued!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw everyone staring at me. Joe was shaking his head. "Get a grip." He mouthed. I glared at him.

"Look, maybe if you just work a little harder-"

"Work a little HARDER?" I shrieked. "I brought you more business this year than the last two years combined. My events raised more money than Joe and Rodney's teams combined!"

"You had some high profile clients," Ross waved his hands dismissively.

"Yes, I DID have some high profile clients. And who kept them happy? Who brought Heather Carrington her gummy bears and hot chocolate? Who brought Nancy Wentworth her double espressos which I STILL have not gotten reimbursed for? Who walked Lincoln Denton's three DOGS?"

"You are very good at client services, that's not the point." Ross argued.

I folded my arms. "Then what is the point? Am I getting a raise or not?"

"We can discuss it at your next review in 6 months. Likely it will be 3%." Ross replied.
"If you want a serious salary increase , get another job."

"Fine."

"Great, I'm glad we resolved this issue. Can you get me the Ellison file?"

"Consider this my two weeks notice."

"Excuse me?" Ross was clearly confused.

"Ross, I have learned so much from you." I took a deep breath. "But I don't want to do this anymore. Thank you for everything, but I'm done here."

"You can't be serious."

"I quit."

Abandoned at the "Beach"

Joe glanced up at me. He corners of his mouth twitched as he tried not to laugh.
"Hey."
I glared at him as I regained my footing. "Hey."
"So, how's it going over here?"
"Shut up." I reached out again to secure the corner of the net. "This is ridiculous."
"I'm not going to disagree with you." Joe folded his arms. "So, you're having a great day then?"
I climbed down. "I'm glad you find this so amusing."
This time he really did start laughing. "You've got to admit this is funny."
"Not so much." I plopped onto the floor. "I see no humor in this freaking situation! I'm not getting paid to sit here and blow up freaking beach balls."
"Well, I'm sure you'll get a nice bonus." Joe said. "Anyway, I was just passing by and wanted to say hi."
"Do you want to stay and help me finish?" I asked in a small voice. "Please? I'll love you forever and ever."
"You already do." Joe looked at his watch. "And I have a conference call at nine. Sorry babe." He bopped me on the head with his portfolio and left.

Beach Bash Fun!

I am sitting in a ballroom, surrounded by beach balls. Yes, beach balls. I am actually blowing up the beach balls. The Annual Sara and Jonathan Fellers Foundation for Children's Education End of Summer Party (yes, that is the actual name of the event) was tonight. And of course, as Moxie was the event planner for the party, and the party had a beach theme, naturally we were decorating with beach balls. Yeah. I know.

Ross was out and stressed about the event, calling hourly to check in. Joe was busy with a corporate conference, Lainie was training a new associate, and I had the Fellers party. Lucky me. If you thought the Carrington Ball was tough...Sara Fellers wanted sand on the tables. Tropical cocktails. Waiters and waitresses in grass skirts. She had originally wanted a luau but somehow I talked her out of it. So a beach theme. Striped umbrellas, sand, and lounge chairs were everywhere. And there I was, sitting in the middle of it all, with the beach balls. Aside from big buckets of sand with shovels and sand castles for centerpieces, which I still had to finish, I also had to attach the balls to a huge screen that we were going to hang from the ceiling of the ballroom. And of course, I also had to field the forwarded calls from my office and deal with the endless problems that kept cropping up.

Attaching beach balls to a screen--not so easy. Using a stapler, glue gun, and floss I finally figured out how to make it work (after an hour). Then I spent another hour and half affixing the beach balls to the screen, and then it was time to suspend the screen from the ceiling. I wearily picked up the two radio the conference center had given me. "Martin, it's me, I'm ready.."
No answer.
"Martin?"
"Martin goes home," a chipper voice said. I swore. How was I going to get the $#@^ thing up?
I sighed and climbed up on the ladder to secure one corner of the screen. As I reached up to hoof the wire over the hook I had thankfully had Martin put up earlier, my phone vibrated in my pocket, the radio beeped, and my shoe fell off and landed on Joe's shoulder as he strode into the ballroom. And I grabbed on to the hook for dear life.

Edited! Author's Note: Clarification

Hey, Readers! Just a quick note: A few of you have been guessing who some people are in the story...a lot of people are clearly people in my life (Ross is obviously Elie, Joe is Hillel, Jax is Hinda...) but lots of people, while rooted in real people, are fictional or an amalgam of people (What movie is that from?!). For example, David may seem familiar, but he is really two people. Also, Daniel is not really a douchebag. It's FICTIONAL. It's DRAMA! Because this whole story, while eerily similar to events in my life, is actually NOT REAL. Just clarifying. Thanks for reading!

XOXO

Addendum: Yes, Ed, you're right. Occasionally I do reveal the real "inspiration" behind the character.

Joe the Hero?!

The week wore on. I was at work from 8 am until 8 pm, hammering out the brochure. Joe and I were getting along pretty well. Drinking lots of coffee. I was also doing other projects for Ross. I was stressed. The headache I'd had for the last three days had intensified. My apartment was a mess, I was exhausted, and I was constantly checking my phone to see if the Douchebag had called. And no, by the way. he hadn't. In almost a week. And no, nothing bad happened to him because I'm sure if it did I would know. Okay?!)

Umayeah. So nothing from the Douchebag. No calls, no texts, no emails. And so I feel like it's time to pull the plug and say goodbye.
"You always say that," Lainie said, not even looking up from her computer.
"Yeah but I'm really done."I insisted.
"I know."
I sighed. "Look, if I say it enough, it'll happen eventually, right?"
"Hey." Joe waved at me from his office. "Let's go. Next round of changes."
I made a pouty face and dragged myself to his office.
"I'm thinking of moving."
"Great. You live in the crappiest neighborhood." Joe circled a blurb. "This looks weird. Double check that?"
"Yeah."
"Looking good on this page..."
"You realize this is maybe the eleventh draft."
"Make sure you cross reference these dates with the master calendar."
"Yeah." I peered over his shoulder.
"You didn't change this paragraph."
"I didn't do it on purpose. Re-read it."
Joe mumbled the blurb. "You're right. "
We slogged through the 45 page document and Joe sent me back to my desk to input his myriad of corrections. When I finished that, I dragged myself back to Joe's desk with a stack of publicity materials.
Joe rifled through the stack silently until he got to the last one. He lifted an eyebrow.
"Um, I know, that's why I'm showing it to you."
"Okay, take out that box and then rearrange everything around the graphic."
"Great, thanks." I went back to my desk. I was running out of time, these had to be printed by the end of the day. I did what Joe said. It still didn't look right.
"I can't do it." I reported.
"Yes, you can."
"Clearly not."
Joe sighed. "Let me do it."
Ten minutes later, I had a perfect piece. Joe was definitely on my good list.

This week, anyway.

ARGH!

To make my life even more difficult, I had not heard from Daniel the Douchebag in several days. WTF? Seriously!
I was so stressed and irritated. I was jotting down notes during my meeting with Joe and suddenly I burst out, "What the hell is wrong with him?"
Joe looked up from his desk. "Excuse me?"
I sighed and leaned back. Joe swiveled his chair around. "You have got to stop this," he said firmly. "This is not good for you. I wish I could tell you that there is some way to make yourself feel better when you like someone and they're not into you, but there's not. Life just sucks that way sometimes." (AUTHOR'S NOTE: Actual advice from "Joe". Not bad, right?)
"I know." I was quiet for a minute. "I just wish I knew WHY he doesn't like me."
"Not going to help you." Joe tapped me with his pen. "Come on, let's finish this up."
A few hours later, I was not feeling better. I was so annoyed that I started yelling at Eliana on the phone.
"I just don't freaking understand why he is so freaking irritating!" I started. "I mean, we freaking talk every day for a few freaking weeks, and then...nothing! That's it, El, it's over!"
Beep. I glanced at my caller ID. It was Daniel.

And so it begins...

It's starting again.

Oh, you aren't sure what I am talking about?

I'm on my third large iced coffee. It is Wednesday morning. It is early. I have already worked 22 hours. That would be on Monday and Tuesday. I am stressed. STRESSED. Two of our biggest events of the year were coming up in September, back to back, and I was coordinating a huge brochure for another client, plus the new company publicity. I also had all my usual press releases, searches, and administrative responsibilities. Oh, and I was also trying to divide my time between Joe and Ross, who both thought their work took priority. Neither liked to share me.

The brochure I was working on was two weeks overdue to the designer. I was still waiting finalization on numerous details, including prices and dates. Joe was getting VERY antsy. By antsy I mean FREAKING OUT. And Ross wanted the Moxie publicity out and we were already behind on the preliminary deadlines for the September and October events. I had heartburn. I had a headache. And I had STRESS. Half of my friends were annoyed with me because I was too tense to carry on a normal convesation without interrupting and shrieking "Oh, no, I forgot to input the December changes!". A few others, like Trace and Jax, had taken to alternating camping out in my apartment so I would not forget what they looked like. Not that I was ever in my apartment, because I was in..the office. Where else?

I had left my apartment this morning at 7 am, got to the office at 8 in anticipation of my meeting with Joe. He waltzed in at 8:45 with a large iced coffee. Just one. I gave him a dirty look. "Thanks, but I didn't want any." Joe just laughed and dropped a huge file on my desk. "Changes. Let's meet in an hour."
"Right." I said brightly.
"Great, you're here." Ross handed me a thick folder. "Take care of these. And why is the new text not on the sebsite yet?"
"Ross, I need her to finish the brochure changes," Joe interceded. "She can do this next week."
"Well, it should have been done last week," Ross pointed out. "So today."
"I'm sorry, but the brochure takes priority."
"Guys." I took a deep breath. "It's fine. It will all get done." I picked up the phone to cancel on Emily.
"Don't stay late," Joe said when Ross had returned to his office. "None of that really needs to get done this week."
"It's fine." I turned to the files. "Thanks."
"Get yourself some more coffee."
I turned to glare at him. He winked and walked away .

I am out of post it notes. This is a bad, bad omen.