Running it up the flagpole

It seems no matter where I work, I run into people who love Industry Speak. Every industry has 'em, but every industry is different.

In restaurants, you have code names for ingredients, you yell "behind" when you're crossing someone in the kitchen, you do "side work" after your shift and "prep" before your shift. It's like an internal secret language and - secretly - I kind of dig it. It's not intended to convey any sense of superior knowledge or advanced intellect. It's more like belonging to a fraternal order of food slingers.

In corporations, it's very very different. Everyone who has been in an office job knows the kinds of people I'm talking about. The types who don't talk about ideas, they "socialize" them. Who don't do good work, they "deliver added-value." And - my favorite - people who take things "offline."

I find that the people who engage in this kind of lingo are usually doing so to meet a few critical objectives. (har!) One is to make themselves feel important. The other is to try and develop a sense of the camaraderie that develops in other industries. But the actual result is usually to alienate themselves and open themselves to ridicule. Furthermore, I've found that the more insecure people get in their position (either they're unqualified to do their job, things in the company are unstable or they just weren't hugged as a kid), the more the Corporate Speak manifests its ugly head.

Napolean was one of these lingoists. Before leaving my last gig, I wrote this mission statement for him:
We must be proactive in controlling our own destiny to convey the ubiquitous paradigm for the construct of creating awareness, credibility and preference for our world-class Sexy Claims.

Now, here at AgencyJob, we've found another one. This gal is an EA or some basic equivalent of that. And, boy, does she love her lingo. I haven't been able to nail down her exact quirks of phrase, yet, but my buddy put this award-deserving email together to convey the overall emotion of the office:

First off, I want to thank you for the great job you’re doing staying focused on executing our priorities. And I want to assure you that we’re thoughtfully evaluating a wide range of potential strategic alternatives in what is a complex and evolving landscape. And we’ve hired top advisors to assist through the process. What’s become clear in the past few days is how much people care about this company. We have a lot to be excited about and there’s more good news to come. As we look to build on the progress we’ve been making, I want to convey how essential you are to our success. As this process moves forward, we’re going to keep you informed. Your hard work and strong commitment are more important now than ever before.

So, if you think it's bad enough that I have to live in survival mode, not knowing when the axe is going to fall, think again. Because I have to live in a survival mode where they don't even speak English.

Some days I really just want to go back to slinging beans and rice....

Taking a Comfortable Seat

I haven't posted in awhile. Life has been a whirlwind filled with broken refrigerators, long walks, lots of work and plenty more universal mood swings.

I contemplated planning a fun little post on corporate speech and its attempt to hide insecurity. And I definitely will run that post up the flagpole soon. But today, sitting on a rock on Niles Beach, I did a pretty deep meditation on being grounded.

In Anusara yoga, class begins with a meditation. And almost always, one of the first instructions out of the teacher's mouth is, "Take a comfortable seat." Superficially, it means exactly what it says: sit in a way you can sustain without movement for a few moments. But I think it actually means something deeper.

When I'm feeling insecure or anxious, I sit on the edge of my seat. I fidget. I ants. I pants. My legs twitch - jumping up off the ground again and again and again and again.

When I "take a comfortable seat," I open my legs and hips wide (attempting full lotus) and let my weight settle into my root. I literally can feel the Earth against the base of my spine. It's a posture that invites stillness. And yet, somehow, you can also feel the pulse of nature, the ebb and flow of tides, the sway of the breeze. You could call it an "active rest."

I've been feeling more "edge" and less "comfortable" in my seat these days. On top of the overarching job insecurity- to be redundant or not redundant, that is the question - there has been a more specific insecurity about the most recent project. And although I wish it weren't so, my job informs my self-view. So I'm left feeling a tad ... off kilter.

I've tried to do more "grounding" yoga poses to counteract this emotion. Unfortunately, I've also resorted to slightly ... less healthy ... methods. The combination of which seems to be working to more or less degrees. We shall see. Still, I feel like maybe recognizing the problem is at least part of the solution.

What can only - ultimately - help is time and resolution of all these survival mode circumstances. Here's hoping there's a positive (read, stable and grounded) resolution.

I Thought These Things Happened in Threes?

The following have all happened to me in less than 12 hours.

My laptop at home has a white line bisecting the screen. It's only a matter of time before the whole thing blows up.

My Sleeping Beauty mug, which holds my nightly cup of chamomile, developed a huge crack, which I didn't see until my tea poured into my cup and right back out onto the counter.

My closet door knob pulled off in my hand.

My fridge and freezer aren't so much with the working. Water everywhere. About $200 worth of food preparing to spoil.

Please - please oh please Universe - let today's meeting go well. Because if it doesn't, I might just implode.

Things I Learned This Weekend

I am exactly as high-strung as I think I am.

A travel soda is what the kids are calling it when you mix booze into a Pepsi/Coke bottle to avoid open container issues.

When my stomach hurts, a five-mile run in pea-soup weather is a bad idea.

Earplugs do not block out the bass at 2 in the morning.

Knowing may actually be worse than not knowing.

If you're craving funnel cake, the only thing to do, really, is to go ahead and have funnel cake. It's worth it. It really is.

Universal Mood Swings

Over the weekend, the weather turned gorgeous. Yet my mood was foul. I kept trying to make the best of it, but overhead hung my imagined black cloud of impending doom.

Today, the day was filled with rainclouds and thunderheads. And yet, marvelous things happened.

My next-door neighbor gave me a grill. A big one. All mine.

My soon-to-be roommate told me she's giving me the rent check tomorrow.

I got a call-back on a job. An amazing one. One that I said, when submitting my application, "I could really REALLY do this."

I had what could be considered a fairly enjoyable first date.

One of my favorite yoga teachers is back in town and teaching again.

And it looks like I may have some partners in crime around for Fiesta.

It all collectively reminds me of this riff from Bill Hicks. (I wish - today of all days - that it was the genius of George Carlin (God'vemercyonim), but alas... couldn't find an appropriate one.)

I don't understand anything so there you go...you know what my problem is? I watch too much news, man, that's my problem, that's why I'm so depressed all the time, I figured it out. I watch too much CNN, man. I don't know if you've ever sat around and watched CNN more than, I don't know, 20 hours in one day...I don't recommend that. Watch CNN Headline News for 1 hour, it's the most depressing thing you'll ever fucking do: WAR, FAMINE, DEATH, AIDS, HOMELESS, RECESSION, DEPRESSION. WAR, FAMINE, DEATH, AIDS, HOMELESS...Then, you look out your window. <sound of birds chirping> "Where's all this shit happening? Ted Turner's making this shit up! Jane Fonda won't sleep with him, he runs to a typewriter: 'By 1992, we will all die of AIDS; read that on the air. I don't get laid, no one gets laid!'" I'm writing Jane Fonda: 'Will you fuck this guy so we can get some good news, please?' I want to see a well-laid Ted Turner newscast: "Hey, it's all going to work out. Here's sports."

Chirp chirp. Chirp chirp.