Toe twidling revisited

I've gotten into the habit of taking off my shoes and walking around barefoot here. It's much easier to twidle my toes this way.

Toe twidling

Okay, so this post doesn't really belong here, but I thought it was too funny to not write about.

I spent part of the afternoon hanging out with my old lady friend, reading the newspaper and discussing North Korean politics, when the phone rang. It was her daughter. Below is what I heard of the conversation.

"Hello, Dear. I'm good, thank you. Susan's here and she's informing me of the world's happenings. Oh, I'm just twidling my toes. They're in my shoes, Sweetheart, which makes it even more of a challenge. Good to hear your voice. We'll talk again soon. Bye bye."

How I love Mrs. Wallach.

How much longer?

I realized that working in non-profits is depressing. I think I've actually felt this way for a while. The past instances mostly consisted of being overworked and underappreciated.

This new experience with the cancer folks is depressing in a whole different light. I've never learned more about cancer in my life. And not just that, but hearing conversations about people having their friends diagnosed with cancer and wondering how they can help, and seeing people come in with wigs for women, and researching about cancer survivors or parents whose children died when they were two years old. I think it's starting to wear my down.

Susie Q

I was just called "Susie." Do they not know my name here?

Name game

I think I've officially become "SueTu" to my supervisor. She greeted me with a huge smile and a, "Hey, SueTu! How was LA?" when I stepped in on Tuesday. Yesterday, she sent me two emails to "Sue Tu." And, today, I found a package on my desk addressed to "Su Tu." Apparently, she must still be trying to figure out the spelling of such a name.

Dirty talk

I was given a phone with a voicemail box today and so I had to set up my greeting, which I knew I would hate. At 826, I refused to record my own message so when you called me you got someone else's voice. But I couldn't do it at this place since I was new and they still had to think I was normal before I started being weird.

I don't like the sound of my voice. It's a bit deep, husky sometimes. And, on the right occassion, sounds quite like a valley girl with all the lilts in the right places. So, I recorded my message and heard it played back to me. All deep and low and, really, kinda sexy. I couldn't think if it was funny or inappropriate to have a sex-phone-operator-style voicemail box greeting. I left it.

What's in a name?

My supervisor lady came up to me and was like, "You know, everytime I say your name, I want to say Sue-Tu. Does anyone call you that?" I nodded. Sad memories of elementary school ridicule flooded my being ("Where's Susan One or Susan Three?), but I laughed it off. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.

Sharpie psychos

My supervisor and I share the same workplace obsessions. Sharpie markers and Post-Its are our saviors. They make our worlds go round. She gave me a gift of a clicker style Sharpie. We bonded.

Newsletter inspiration

On my second day here, I have been put in charge of creating a newsletter. I'm googling my heart out. Can anyone help me? I know tech-saavy, design-saavy, and all-around-saavy folks are reading this...ahem.

Dear Mr. Postman

I just used the postage machine here. It kept beeping at me and I kept pushing its buttons. Eventually, the letters came out with the proper markings. Exciting.

Who you calling stupid?

My supervisor lady here said that she hoped I didn't think she was stupid. (I noticed a mistake she made and asked her about it, in the nicest possible way, of course.) I don't. A little bit scattered but not stupid.

Highway to heaven

My drive to Marin today was slighty disconcerting. Rain was pouring. Crossing the Richmond Bridge was like driving into clouds, all was gray, above and below. And, because there was an incline in the bridge, it felt as if I was driving to heaven. Is my work at the Cancer Society ensuring my afterlife with God? Hm...I find that questionable.

Hang ups

This time, there was no hello. No, "Do you speak Korean?" Just a click.

Prank call?

That was the first time someone hung up on me, and I don't think it was an accident. He asked if I spoke Korean. And, I said no. Apparently, he only speaks to Koreans.

Say my name

I've been called Sue twice today. Both times by my supervisor lady who does it in such a sweet way and has been doing it for a while so that I can't say, "You know, that's not really my name. Can you please get it straight? Thanks."

Three's the charm

-Are you the permanent receptionist?
-No, I'm just filling in for the afternoon.
-So, you're just a temp?
-Yup, I'm just the temp.

That's the third time I've been told that I'm just the temp today. This time by some balding short guy.

Deep throat

The phone rings and I answer to this:

-You have a great voice.
-Huh?
-Do you remember that old radio person named Dusty? Your voice sounds just like that. Awesome.
-No, must have been before my time. Thanks though.
-What's your name?
-Susan.
-Hi, Susan. I'm Marty.
-How do you do that?
-What do you mean?
-Make your voice sound like that.
-I don't know. I'm not trying all that hard.
-Anyhow, can you give me the phone number for the Marin office?
-Sure. Just a second. [blah blah blah]
-Thanks.
-Keep that up. It's awesome.
-Thanks. Have a great afternoon.

A permanent temp?

My supervisor lady here who is really nice just asked if I was still looking for something permanent and if I'd be interested in working here. I very politely responded, "Mmm...real estate isn't really my thing, but I'd be happy to help until you find someone." I guess they haven't figured out that I've hung up on six people today already. All by accident.

A wink and a smile

An old Asian male courier just winked at me. I don't know why. I smiled in return and signed for his package. Hot.