25 June 2012

Demotivation at its best.

We found out today that our team has been restructured. This time no one was let go, which is nice. However, it feels nearly as demotivational as that experience.

My title was changed. There's no research anymore. I'm an associate analyst. First of all, associate? I have my own accounts and have for a couple of years. But now I'm lumped right back in with the people who started last week. Thanks for the recognition!

Taking away the research part of everyone's title doesn't make sense at all. It's our business. Then again, based on everything I've heard from the higher-ups this year, I wouldn't have any idea what we actually did. It's all profits and margins and revenue and budget and plan. You'd think we were a financial services firm.

I now have two additional bosses, too. I like them both; one I've been working very closely with over the last few months. The other used to be his boss. It's nice that we now have an advocate in the intermediate boss. He will fight for us. And I know for a fact my now-immediate boss will fight for us. He's been doing much of the fighting for our group since the layoffs.

He doesn't want to be our boss, though. I guess I can understand that. It's more work (no one knows how much, though) with no more pay or reduction in billable time (the work is non-billable). We've had a really collaborative working relationship and he doesn't want that to change.

And I don't necessarily want that to change either. But on the other hand, I decided not to do any work tonight. I'm trying to concentrate on relaxing and trying to kick this cold that is on the verge of taking over my sinuses and lungs. And why should I worry? I'm but a lowly associate now. It's not my problem to figure out how the work gets done. There are three bosses above me who can work on that.

Oh sure, I talk big. I worked nine hours today and eight over the weekend. It's not like I'm going to slack off or anything. The nice thing about knowing my former colleague is going to do my review for me is that he knows how hard I've been working. Both he and now his boss have thanked me for working my ass off over the past several months. My former boss hasn't even acknowledged it.

At the end of the day, not much will likely change. But I'm going to try (again) to take a step back and not work so damn much. I'm getting sick right before a wedding, then Girls' Weekend and a family "vacation" (three week days at my aunt and uncle's cabin ... whoooo!) . I am still eating shittier than I'd like to. I'm not getting to the gym as much as I'd like to (and need to), and when I do get there, my workouts are cut short because I got there late or I have to get home and work. My apartment is a sty. I'm just fucking sick of feeling and looking like shit and coming home to my cluttered-ass apartment.

What doesn't kill me, right?

20 June 2012

Oh come on.

There is no help coming at work. It's official.

The bathroom situation is as bad as ever. And new today, no parking! I had to come home to work, because there was not a single open parking spot.

It's too depressing to think about, so I'm gonna look at pictures of my favorite puppy.

10 June 2012

Open Streets Minneapolis, hooray?

I thought "Hooray!" was going to be my reaction. I missed Open Streets last year, as I was at a wedding reception. So, I'd been really looking forward to today for quite some time.

Things didn't start too terribly well. I walked out the door to meet W and her wee H at the Uptown Market, and I was dodging fucking bicycles on the sidewalk. Because of course, if the street is closed to vehicle traffic, your best choice for bicycling is the sidewalk.

That's actually my biggest complaint about Open Streets. My only complaint, really. It's not pedestrian friendly. You'd think it would be, right? Or am I crazy? In addition to being forced to share the sidewalk with cyclists, we were forced off the sidewalks and into the street in a number of places because there was shit set up on the sidewalks and you couldn't use them. Then you had to brave the streets with the fucking kids clipping you, people going the wrong way and just generally not having any fucking clue as to what they should do.


After the Uptown Market (which was pretty damn disappointing and claustrophobic in its new location) and breakfast at French Meadow, I parted ways with W and H. I stopped in the house briefly to drop off my veggies and get some cool air.

Then I traipsed down to Belle Weather, where I bought the super cute bag below, along with earrings and sunglasses (I left my sunglasses at the home of KayGee and The Prison Librarian [who is no longer a prison librarian, by the by] last night and didn't much care for the pair I had handy ... and I also wanted a new pair).

On my way either down to Belle Weather or on my way home, I saw the DFL was having a picnic at Painter Park and Retribution Gospel Choir was playing. How did I not know that? I braved the heat (it was 92, for fuck's sake) to go, which meant I didn't get any damn work done. I mean, I had plenty of time after I got home, since I didn't go searching for Macho Man. The heat just sapped my will to do anything.

So, I learned that doing much other than observing Open Streets from my deck is a bad idea. I actually have my plan all set up for next year in my head. I got the idea from someone across the street. I'm gonna put out a dog bowl that will have a constantly-refreshed supply of cool water, and I will have a pantload of dog treats. I'll set up in the front yard and I will get to pet ALL THE DOGS. It's gonna be bad. ass. y'all.