(This afternoon I’m too busy mourning the loss of what was left of my fence to share nasal-toned monologues via the podcast. The fence was carried off in a wind storm and last seen prancing like a series of 12-foot deer over the top of my neighbor’s roof. Rest easy, wherever you end up fence. For some background on the fence and the idiot who originally installed it, see post entitled “Henry” (3/12/12).
In the past, I think that I’ve mentioned my occupation as an office clerk. One part of my job deals with reconciling monthly billing between the company that employs me and their contracted hospitality provider. Right. You’re probably just all tingly about reading some more of a blog post about bookkeeping. Oooh. Ahhh. By trade and training, I am probably not a suitable candidate for clerical work. It’s weird to have stood over a saute pan for years and taken pride in setting things on fire and then one day transition into paperwork. Honestly, though, I enjoy the desk work. I adapt to change and overcome challenges well. If a new job required me to stand in a snow bank and wave at motorists, it wouldn’t be too much of a problem.
One of the issues with desk life is email etiquette. In cooking, you communicate by shouting time-honored, pithy phrases at your co-workers. Most of which, incidentally, shouldn’t be repeated in other walks of life. You give them the finger, they beat you senseless as soon as you step out for a smoke. Communication received. Email is more a finesse game. I am very comfortable navigating the e-world at my own company, as long as I don’t “reply all” with old pictures of myself getting beaten up. The big corporate hospitality company’s email is a little murkier. Since I’ve got one of the world’s most common first/last name combinations, my name has gotten shuffled into every global mail list for the big corporate hospitality provider. The global giant’s European divisions started including me in all kinds of mail about two years ago. Since absolutely none of the mail involved me, I got in the habit of asking to be taken off the overseas mailing lists. I’d point out that I’m a lowly middle-man from Michigan, USA and the replies were unfailing polite.
Apologies, Andrew. Best Wishes!
Such nice correspondents, but lousy with follow-up. So, I just got used to the mail. After a while, I pieced together stories and networks in corporate divisions that I’ll never interact with. I became concerned with their Uzbekistan marketing drives and invoice delays between North Atlantic oil rigs and land-based offices. When one European associate would leave for a new job, I’d shed a tear like everyone else in her division. Sigh. I really have to get off these mailing lists. There are enough storylines in my own office cubicles to fill a blog.