I sit here at my PC, drinking too-strong coffee and debating at what point I should go and make some toast. The sun is a little marble that has just cleared the edge of the field outside my window, and it's laying a thick blanket of fog on the ground which I see, on occasion, the bright plume of a pheasant dash around in. I have my feet tucked onto the windowsill and I look and see each little toe in my little sock gloves, and I wonder why it is that I think about moving my toes and it just happens, even though they're so far away.

When I was younger I was so enamoured with the corporate ladder. I couldn't wait to climb it and kick some ass, I saw the glass ceiling as a personal challenge that needed my fingerprints smeared all over it. I wanted nothing more to wear pinstriped suits and high heels and to tell people what to do, to be the one working late nights and speaking in large auditoriums. I wanted to be the one who made decisions, the one with the sparkly word "manager" on her business card.

And when I did eventually get to the top, I found that the ladder I had been climbing didn't actually have a view at all. I realized the cliff I was on had another ladder up from it, and with reluctance I am being pushed up it by the hordes below, getting my fingers mashed and my face kicked as I simply hold onto the rungs. The corporate ladder is real and it is not at all the brass ring I thought it would be. In fact I would be perfectly happy to take a chainsaw to it and use a few rungs as the sticks I throw for my future dog as I take long walks in the woods wearing old sweatshirts and Wellington boots.

I never wanted to be the Killer Queen when I was a child, it's not like my list to Santa at Christmas included things like: Palm Pilot, mobile phone, Zantac, PowerPoint for Dummies, the CEO Skipper doll with black attache case (not the brown one, my God, how gauche!) and a Cat-o-nine-tails. I never looked up from my evening prayers and said: God, when I grow up, can you make me a corporate icon? Or, at the very least, instead of that whole I-want-a-pony business, can you please, please, please give me project manager skills?

I mean, I'm the one with the anthropology degree. I switched from pre-med to anthropology after learning that anthro was both easy and a breeze, that I could show up to class in a tank-top and boxer shorts and be considered both overdressed and a symbol of non-conformist retro ideals. I studied a crunchy-group hug subject and it wasn't until I had to get a job in corporate America (it's that whole "eating" thing. As in: I like to do it.) that I realized that corporations are like the game Doom-it's more interesting if you go up to the next levels, and you get much bigger weapons, too.

I have a headache and a backache. My back hurts from the constant and sudden jarring it gets as I freeze in my tracks when I realize they're about to get angry. I hold absolutely still and try not to attract attention, to try to be as subtly soothing as possible. Once upon a time I used to speak up if I was angry or annoyed-I have acres of sarcasm but I run a mile if people get angry. I don't know if I simply lost my argumentative nature or if it's just obscured. I don't know if I just don't have opinoins anymore or if they're hidden too far in a force-field for me to reach, I can only reach in up to my elbow and they're buried shoulder-deep.

I don't know what happened to that girl, but I could use some of her spunk back.

I wonder if one day my voice will just come back. If my opinions and cheekiness will burst out through the cracks, like that hard shell chocolate ice cream topping. Maybe my opinions are frozen in the creamy ice cream layers, but sooner or later they'll pop out of the sweating chocolate surface and then I'll just have to deal with them, I'll just have to swallow them whole and feel it all the way to my stomach.

Said stomach hurts from the constant churning of stomach acid. I have a cold and made my way through half a box of kleenex yesterday as I talked my way through 4 hours of conference calls. I will shortly go and take a bath to try to ease the kinks and pains from my body, but until then the chair hurts too much and I feel the knobs of my spine whimper solicitously.

I spent the entire day yesterday working hard with a sigh of relief I turned on Sims at 6 pm to play for an hour and try to lighten up.

And with a sigh of disappointment I wonder if this is as good as it gets.

I try to make things easier for some. I try to be proactive in helping Angus deal with the stress he has right now. I try to encourage and help my team and to settle arguments without taking sides. Angus has a colleague that sends out minutes each week and adds tidbits to make it interesting, so I have decided to do the same.

One week until we go on holiday, and I'm going to need it.

-H.

UPDATE-the noble Jim helped me figure out my problem with my pic, and my St. Trinian's moment is posted below.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 07:36 AM | Comments (12) | Add Comment
Post contains 980 words, total size 5 kb.

1 Is it just a co-incidence that you work in a telecom and you spend your entire time on conference calls? It sounds like you all spend so much time in meetings and calls that it's a wonder you actually get work done.

Posted by: Simon at February 18, 2005 09:23 AM (UKqGy)

2 I dunno either, Simon, but I'm getting ideas from Lynnette's incidental pharmaceuticals on "Desperate Housewives".

Posted by: Helen at February 18, 2005 09:44 AM (9jsh4)

3 I'd start chewing your ass about not making your job equate with your life, but I have no idea how either telecom or this "corporate ladder" of which you speak works. So, may I suggest a nice iced coconut latte?

Posted by: Tami at February 18, 2005 11:57 AM (523VB)

4 Two go in, one comes out. That's an awesome title for a porn movie.

Posted by: Jim at February 18, 2005 01:21 PM (tyQ8y)

5 I hope this isn't as good as it gets. Of course, I'm still only on rung 4 of the corporate ladder. I have about 96 more to climb before I have that pretty, managerial business card. And on a side note, movies have ruined me. After that toe moving comment, all I could see in my head was Uma Thurman sitting in the back of that ugly ass truck saying "Wiggle. Your big. Toe."

Posted by: amy t. at February 18, 2005 03:35 PM (zPssd)

6 You make me so grateful that I dumped the whole corporate bit long ago. Would you like to hear stories about University politics instead? They're terrifying, in a throw-yourself-off-the-building kind of way. You look very cheeky in the tie. ;-)

Posted by: Kaetchen at February 18, 2005 04:14 PM (1nMRx)

7 can I just say I want to grow up to be cheeky just like you?? there are warm things on their way to you... look for them in the post

Posted by: stinkerbell at February 18, 2005 05:55 PM (m18uI)

8 Oh Helen, I feel your pain. I'm a longtime reader, but an infrequent commenter. Lately at my job I've been so stressed, bitter and resentful that I wake up at 3 am and can't keep my mind from racing. I have to ask myself for what real purpose I do this, since in the end I want to have a life outside of work, a family, enjoy my home and enjoy myself! My current job doesn't allow that. Just as other areas of your life have become more satisfying over the past year, I am sure you will persevere and find a balance professionally! Hang in there!

Posted by: sarah at February 18, 2005 06:08 PM (h4p3o)

9 Sorry this is long. Hang in there, Helen. I predict that you will come back from holiday feeling rejuventated and with a new perspective. My hubby works in hospice and if there is one thing I know from that, it's: life is too short to worry about Roosters and corporate ladders. When we die, NO ONE will say at our funeral "wow, she was such a great project manager." They might devote a sentence to say "wow, she was responsible for launching rocket riding gerbils which changed the whole world" but I promise they'll spend much more time saying you were kind, happy, smart, funny, caring, etc. You know? It sounds so cliche but it is absolutely true.

Posted by: ms.quilty at February 18, 2005 06:43 PM (WUM14)

10 how could anyone give you shit while you're wearing that tie?! yer so cute! xoxox

Posted by: kat at February 18, 2005 07:24 PM (ejrqO)

11 Sock gloves rule. Especially the striped ones. :-) And I surely do hate The Rooster with all my might.

Posted by: Amber at February 20, 2005 04:21 PM (zQE5D)

12 I feel as if I should write you a limerick to cheer you up, but "kill the rooster" refuses to rhyme with "There once was a lass named Helen." Maybe it's a good thing, since I know how you feel about hunting. With the Rooster it would've be a mercy killing though, har har.

Posted by: redsaid at February 22, 2005 10:52 AM (kDH/u)

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