Archive for January, 2005

Updated Revolving Door Report:

Updated Revolving Door Report:

My departure marks the 17th person to have left my company since late October 2002. Presenting to you here in reverse chronological order.

  • January 2005: Me. Assistant Account Executive/Project coordinator. Quit.
  • October 2004: Boss’ executive assistant/office manager/billing clerk/editor. Lasted about 6 months. Quit.
  • September: The new office manager lasted 8 days.
  • August: My Manager/Project Manager. Quit.
  • Late July: Boss’ Executive Assistant/Billing Clerk, a week before the Manager. Quit.
  • Mid July: Receptionist. Quit.
  • June: Boss’ other Executive Assistant. She was to take over the assisting part so the other lady can concentrate on billing, but she wasn’t give anything to do all of the few months she was hired. Let go.
  • Early April: Account Executive. Let go while on vacation.
  • February: Account Executive. Let go.
  • February: Writer. Quit.
  • November 2003: Writer. Let go as she was due to return from sick leave.
  • Early 2003: Part-time Receptionist. Let go.
  • Early 2003: Billing Clerk. Let go/Quit. She went home to lunch and never came back.
  • Early 2003: Web designer who worked from home. Quit.
  • Early 2003: Boss’ Executive Assistant. Let go.
  • November 2002: Writer. Let go.
  • October: Graphics Designer. Quit soon after I started.

Moo

A brief chat log with minor editing from my chat with Lauren about the possibility of her moving to New Mexico to live with Brandon’s parents and finish high school there.

Oakley: So yeah. Tell me more about going to NM for school thing.

Lauren: I guess I’m gonna stay out there and finish high school, or at least try it out because it’ll be good for me. And I’ll be in a small school so more help. They’ve [Brandon’s parents] got it planned out.

Oakley:

Lauren: LMAO. I’m like scared that I’ll be even more outcasted than I already am. But then again, the majority of me doesn’t care. >:)

Oakley: Bah! You’ll be a star.

Lauren: A death star. Dun dun dun, dun dundun, dun dundun. -Star wars music plays-

Oakley: LMAO. Oh look, a genuine Californian!

Lauren: LMAO.

Oakley: “Is it true your cows are happier?”

Lauren: “Why yes, yes it is. You can hear it in their tone when they Moo.”

Oakley: ROFLMAO

Revolving Door continues

Joining the ranks of numerous people before me, I quit my job at the PR firm on Friday. The first time I ever quit a job.

I usually am an optimist, ever the company’s and life cheerleader. Ask anyone I used to work for and my friends. But this place has turned me into a bitter and angry Oak. I never thought in my life I could brood, and I did.

If you or anyone you know is applying for a job listing (probably on Monster) for a PR firm in Long Beach, please do check with me before you apply. If it is indeed the firm I have just left, you seriously do NOT want that job. I do not wish this kind of torment on anyone else.

Although I have learned a lot about public policy and PR, and have forged the most wonderful friendship with people at my work, I have learned even more so about how not to treat my employees. We literally have sold our souls to the devils working there: the money was amazing, but they treated you like worthless laboring animals whose only reason for of existence is to make them money.

The Boss Man is an inconsiderate, rude, misogynistic, workaholic, unrealistic man who instinctively lies and is paranoid that everyone is after him. 90% of the client dealings go through him. Nothing leaves the office without his approval. He gets the glory, and we got the blames. Someone mentioned once that at a meeting he was sent to, a client was thorough puzzled to know that there were staff members backing up the Boss Man and another account executive. He never mentioned you guys, the client said.

That’s right. You only see the finish project which the Boss Man would proudly claimed as his own. Here is “MY” analysis on the project, said the heading of the email, which body was a copy-and-paste work which a writer toiled to get done in a break neck speed. Oh no, god forbids it would be “OUR” analysis.

More times than we could count, the Boss Man would ask for projects that are “urgent” and “must get done right away” and that is “top priority”. Sometimes the projects were his ideas and never left the office. We scurried to get them to him on time, and they would sit on his desk or email box for days, waiting for his approval, or waiting for him to send out to clients which we would hear from him later on that the clients never received the work, or the work was sent in late. Of course, it was not his fault. Not at all.

His preferred method of internal communications is yelling. The Boss Man would yell for people in the office instead of using the intercom system, and would keep yelling for them if they don’t reply soon because they either can’t hear him, or not in the office. If he called on the phone, we must answer it in seconds. More than once he’d have someone go into the restroom to let the person know that he was on the phone.

As for the misogynistic part, it comes across by the way he holds a double standard for female employees. From the dress code that was enforced on the female employees, but not the other way around (we rebelled against that one and won eventually), his relaxed control on the male employees about their hours and days off while female employees are under microscope for leaving 10 minutes early or arriving 5 minutes late, to his fraternizing with only the male employees, his misogyny is obvious. He likes woman underlings. Strong female figures seem to make him, hmm…what word should I use, uncomfortable. When a male employee disputed his ideas or questioned his logic, they could argue over it, but if a female does the same we were reprimanded for having “bad attitude” or “bad manners”, or eventually were forced to quit.

The Boss Man would tell a client that they could have a piece of project done in 2 hours when in fact it would take a lot longer than that to complete. He’d look at the works we have done, according to his earlier order, and told us “What is this? This is not what I asked for?” or “This is crap. I wouldn’t wipe my ass with this”. It’s never the “This is good, but perhaps we could change this a little bit” like everyone else would say. Different management style? Perhaps. But I seriously never heard of any supervisorial people degrades someone like that. The Boss Man rarely shares with us the positive comments and praises from the clients, just more work orders and complaints.

He would ask for something that is logistically makes no sense i.e. damn near impossible turnaround time so we had to rush and resulting in less quality in the job, having 3 staff members who had other responsibilities making 700 phone calls in 3 day because he “doesn’t trust the temp”, all of that because, and I quote, “If anyone else can do this, we’d be out of a job”.

No, boss. We’d be out of a job because we were rushing too much, making mistakes because we were rushed, and quality of work couldn’t compare to when we had time to think things through and to work on them. We’d be out of a job because you play favorites with your clients, putting in 110% efforts in the ones that was making you the money, and ignoring others.

We’d be out of a job, not because we aren’t capable, but because of how you treat your client, and how you treat your employees.

IN ANY CASE, there is a breaking point, and I reached it. So I quit. I’m out of there. Already, Brandon and my friends have seen the improvement in my mood.

The Happy Oak is back!

Overwhelmed

Overwhelmed with work, and personal life. These past few weeks have been pure hell. But I see lights at the end of the tunnel. Or so I hope.

Have to go Downtown LA to INS office at the crack of dawn to get a sticker on my green card to extend the expiration date. It would be nice if they would tell you what you need to do with your soon-to-expire green card when they send you a receipt to tell you that it’ll take them 333 days to process your filed paperworks. Yep. Found that out a week ago, after 10 minutes on hold, what to do.

And then around 1 p.m. I’m heading to LAX to pick up my brother Onk. Onk is in transit to return to Thailand permanently for a few days. I haven’t seen him since my wedding, so that’s 3 years! Onk finally finished his Masters degree in architecture from University of Oklahoma. He’s So I’m off tomorrow and Friday to hang with my real bruddah!

That’s right. He’s a Sooner. And boy did we have fun over Orange Bowl.

After the first OU score, he called and said nothing, just laughed. Then USC scored, and I called him back to laugh. Then USC scored again, so I called again to talk more smack. Then USC scored again, Onk stopped picking up his phone. I texted him instead.

Snark Spot

Amy mentioned that she’s in a snarky mood today. So I figure, I’ll make a point to leave this spot open for ANYONE who wants to drop by and snark about anything.

Snark away, people.

Noise Control

I’m nice and well alcoholized. So I think I’m just going to muse about the sound of music.

It’s a love-hate relationship I have with the apartment complex’s noise curfew.

We live right above the jacuzzi in an apartment complex mostly populated by college kids. So we LOVE the noise curfew because it gives us the reason to 1) shut down parties, and 2) kick the kids out of the jacuzzi. The security people have been really good about locking up the jacuzzi at 10 p.m. as well, so we haven’t had as much problems as we used to. And the kids know about the Jacuzzi Nazis that we are, skipping security and go straight for the cops. Because, you know, if it’s locked and you’re in it, it’s trespassing.

But on the same token, I found myself in many occasion that I’m thoroughly musically inclined in the late hours. But I have to pull the lid on my piano because of the noise curfew and seek my refuge with the guitar instead. And I can’t play much on the guitar, plus if I’ve neglected to play for a while, the callous on my fingertips are so far gone I couldn’t withstand a lot of playing. Even then, I’m still afraid to sing too loudly. No Sweet Child of Mine after 10 p.m. I can tell you that.

So I’m caught in the middle. If I play earlier in the night, there usually are people in the jacuzzi. If I can hear them, I got super self conscious so I don’t usually play anything fancy i.e. Sweet Child of Mine…which needs a LOT of practice. I’ll stick with songs I know well and confidence I won’t mess up i.e. Desperado, 5 for Fighting’s Superman. But then if I wait until they leave, it’s too late and I don’t want to keep the neighbor downstairs awake either.

I can’t wait to get into a house. At least I can play until someone throws a brick at my window. But we’re a long way from that right now.

That is another thing I miss about my house back in Bangkok. I’m far enough away from my neighbors in all directions! Well, the apartment building behind our backyard is close enough, but most people have their AC on and they won’t hear a thing.

It’s odd our we are smack dab in the middle of a metropolis, but there have been a few occasions where my music carried so far, we had strangers in our backyard listening in. Once I busted out the Thai instrument called khim, a Thai dolcimer if you will. Some farang (Westerner) was out jocking in the neighborhood heard it, and followed the sound into our big back yard to listen. A few other occasions I would play under candlelights when the electricity was out in the monsoon season, and my mom would spot a few folks on the balcony of the apartment.

That was before I met other talented people in the US. When I’m here, I feel completely inediquate to be playing or singing. Back home, at least a chance is in my neighborhood I could be the only one who is even slightly musical.

Small pond-big pond adjustment totally.

Laugh at the Bald Guy

Shamelessly plugging again. But if you haven’t checked out Christopher’s blog (the C.E. Long one) yet, you should. He’s frelling hilarious, in a deranged sort of way. His comic book, Easy Way, is coming out in April. So I’m helping to spread the word. Not that I have a lot of pull, but hey, one more person having heard of Easy Way is better than nobody.

And just to think, this mofo is going to be a father soon. It’s kind of scary.

Trojan Week

My buddy Nora is going out with a Trojan. The Neutered Dame Irish fan, ever the Trojan hater, is dating one of us. She’ll never hear the end of it from me. And she so knows that.

Well she said he got his Masters degree from fucla. Like that counts! Trust me if she asks him what he is, he’d say he’s a Trojan in a heartbeat.

So yeah. I haven’t met the guy yet, but for being a Trojan, he gets 25% approval from me already. Ah heck, another 25% for Nora’s actually finding someone!

Trojan network

Ah. The world’s famous USC Trojan network. I’m so proud to be a part of that.

I have this discussion with Amy a long time ago on our collective Trojan pride. When we meet another Trojan, we just light up. It can’t be helped.

We share the pride of being college football national champ 2 years in a row alright, but there are more to the Trojan family than that. In some deeper level, all of us have something in common. Whatever it is, it always brings up good memories, sense of belonging, and an unexplainable bond. We Trojans look out for each other, no matter what.

Like my Trojan eye doctor. We talked football while waiting for my eye to dilate. I was told I could come to him for glasses prescription instead of paying more at Lenscrafter.

There is a gentleman waiting in a lawnchair for his wife outside the door of the room where I take jazz dance lessons. His wife is in the tap class right after my class. He is always there in his USC sweatshirt, so I started to say hello to him on my way out.

Actually, Brandon thinks I’m weird for occasionally going up to random people wearing USC regalia and say “Fight on!”. I just feel that I should acknowledge a family member when I see them.

And of course, Amy. When I first interviewed with her for a receptionist job years ago, we talked football for 15 minutes before we even got anywhere else. She did go with another choice, but I was the fallback girl who got the job eventually.

It’s a family thing. Another reason why I hang around USC Thai Students Association to see if any of “the kids” need anything. It’s not just national comraderie but a Trojan one as well.

You just don’t see that kind of connection and helpfulness with other schools around here. Especially that one school across town.

Somehow, in my observation, other people who didn’t go to USC, hate USC. And most of the time, they can’t even tell you why.

And that is probably another reason Trojans stick together. It’s us against them.

And to add…

I can’t believe I forgot to mention one more passion of mine that I’d like to attempt: musical theater.

That’s right. I want to get on stage and break into songs.

Blame it on my mother who introduced me to The Sound of Music, South Pacific, West Side Story and even an illegal copy of The King and I (it’s banned in Thailand for obvious reason) at a very early age.

I remembered telling my mom that if those girls in The Sound of Music can be in a musical, so could I. I am pretty, and I can even play the piano! Hah!

Yes, I am trying REALLY hard not to break into I feel pretty right now.

Whoop. Too late.

./~ I feel pretty, Oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and briiiiight! And I pity Any girl who isn’t me toniiiight. ./~

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