No Commuter Left Behind

Let’s just start this out with a little PSA. If you are traveling on the T between the hours of 6-8 in the morning or 4-7 in the evening, then put the book away. I love literature as much as the next person, but you and your Kafka are taking up, like, two people’s worth of space during rush hour. ‘Nuff Said.

Do you see room for a book in here?

It had been a while since I’d been on the T, but I had a meeting in Cambridge so the car got dumped in Wellington, I sat on the orange line, I sat on the red line, I dodged that random guy who stands in Downtown Crossing hissing at people, and before you know it I’d landed.

The ride back was not so smooth. I would first like to bring up this ‘view from inside Boston’ which states that the MBTA is ranked third in the U.S. for transit systems. My heart goes out to those poor souls in Portland. This was also published on the same day, by the way, that anyone going to Alewife was bound to see a twelve minute ride turn into a two hour one.

But anyway, as it was rush hour, I figured it would be the perfect time to head home. And so I and about a billion of my closest friends rushed on board and we took off… For about one stop. The train came to a grinding halt, the doors opened, people left, more crammed on, and we waited. And waited. And waited.

The announcer came on and announced quite impressively, “Therrrrrre’s a train crossing ahead of us aaaaand it’ll be just a few more minutes before we take off. I’ll leave the doors open” A few minutes later and he came back on, “Aaaas I said before just a few more minutes, and the doors are open for anyone else who wants to jump on.” At that point I was in the mood to shove a few people off. Some greedy bitch decided to use her body as a shield between me and two other people and the train pole you grab onto. Finally the guy came back on for yet another update, “And we just got word that that other train has move past us.” Good, we can move. “I’ll just leave these doors open a moment longer so everyone can get on.” So who can get on? Who the hell hasn’t gotten on?  And then he let out in one last cry, “WE won’t leave anyone behind!!!” Oh dear. No I believe everyone and their mother is on this train.

The doors finally closed and I was left to train surf my way back to the orange line along with all others excluded from the train pole. 

Talk Radio Would Better Without the 'Talk' Part

My morning commute takes me down through 2 very long highways, which around 7 AM look more like parking lots than actual roads. So what does this mean for me? Channel flipping through my radio for roughly an hour and a half. Super.

If you too are plagued by this, then you understand you’re basically limited to two radio options:

You can listen to a mish mash of Gavin Degraw declaring that he is doin’ just fine,  Rihanna declaring that she found love in a hopeless place, or those random British guys declaring that they’re glad you came.

You can listen to talk radio...

And this leads me to my main question: Why does anyone ever call into talk radio?!  Because let me tell you, calling into morning radio shows will result in you either.

           Embarrassing yourself by sharing personal information no one wants to know.

                     Being ridiculed by radio station personnel because you shared personal information no one wants to know. 

People need to cool it with oversharing. First of all, why the hell aren't you at work? If I have to be up at this miserable hour, then you should be equally as unhappy. Fact. 

Second, if you aren't on your way to your place of employment, why are even awake? 

Third, why is it necessary to share this story? 

GOD! JUST MARRY ME!

Some lady called into a show the other day, then had them call her boyfriend, and then gave him crap about not proposing. So what do we think the outcome of this went? Spoiler alert, we won’t be hearing wedding bells anytime soon. Yep, this chick got dumped on the Matty in the Morning Show, sobbed for a bit and then hung up in a huff. I mean really. The audacity this man has to not propose to his crazy girlfriend, who made the effort to call into a radio show so she could bully him into marriage. It’s amazing they weren't already hitched.

Who Else Loves Route 128 to Waltham?

Once upon a time ago I wrote a post where I, believe it or not, whined for a hefty amount of time about sitting in an hour and 15 minutes of traffic. My how the times have changed. Now if I'm lucky I get to work that quickly.

Except for today, today I got to sit in traffic three hours. Yayyyyyy! That was really all. Just a whine. Promise I'm done now. I'll be sitting at my desk for the next 4 hours to make up the time I missed. WAhhhhh!

OK now I'm really done. Next time I'll write something real.

Lessons from the Titanic

Spoiler alert: the ship (and my job) sinks

Monday was a boring day. And what do I do on boring days? Why pay $13 to watch a movie I’ve already seen of course! Duh, silly. Yep, after much whining about my friends dragging me to see Titanic, I have to say I may have, uh, errmm enjoyed it… Egg on my face.

But here is an important life lesson that I wish I had taken from Titanic back in 4^th grade when I had originally seen it. Though my 4^th grade expectations for life didn’t include me getting some sort of low paying corporate bitch position that I would ultimately get laid off from… So here we go.

The boat takes off, yayyyyy!

Woooo I'm the queen of the office!!!

The engineer of the ship declares that his 46,000 ton ship made of iron couldn’t possibly be sunk. The chairman of White Star Lines insists that they go faster even after he’s told they shouldn’t. The captain is told there will probably be icebergs everywhere, but decides he needs his beauty rest.  

The ship could SINK?? Why that's...

Yada, yada, failed suicide attempt, yada, yada, sex in antique car (this part only pertains to the movie, not my job), yada yada ship hits iceberg –shock – and starts sinking. Now let’s look at the two types of people on this ridiculous nonunsinkable ship.

We have project manag- I mean snooty rich people running the show, who wear uncomfortable outfits and use too many forks at dinner.

Do you take your fish eggs with sour cream or toasted bread?

And we have the people who actually work, show up to meetings on time, and write 3 different kinds of repor – I mean everyone else gets to hang out with the rats and shovel coal all day.  

Just another day livin' the dream...

So when the ship goes down who gets to fill those life rafts? Not the coal shoveling, report writing, meeting attending steerage occupants. Nope, it the geniuses in charge who take 2 hour lunch breaks and think supplying 20 lifeboats instead of 32 is OK because deck might look cluttered.

So yeah, I got laid off... Sour grapes, can you tell?

Waka Waka Syndrome

So the Boston Bruins have round one of the playoffs against the Capitals tonight. This can only mean one thing - and that is that everyone can start pretending to care about hockey.

This is what I like to refer to as Waka Waka Syndrome. Basically, Waka Waka Syndrome dates back to a million years ago, when the World Cup started. Whenever the World Cup is about to happen, people like to go ape shit all over soccer and it shows up everywhere- on people cars, posters go up, random positive yet nebulous words are shouted in the streets, people actually like Italy again. Then, when its over, soccer returns to being known as a sport of obscurity played by small, wimpy children in the suburbs, except maybe in England.

Much like the experience curling and synchronized diving goes through during the Olympics, hockey is no exception to this phenomenon.

Generally, a few types of "fans" become particularly loud during this special time of year:

Most kids from South Boston

Irish! Bruins! Boston! Guiness! WOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

Chicks who think black and yellow complement their skin tones and strive land themselves a hockey player eventually.

 Pucks! Ice! Chara! See? We totally loooove hockey! 

And these poor bastards who need something to root for.

Sorry boys, Beckett's pitching tonight, you
should probably just head over to the Garden now. 

Don't worry Waka Waka Syndrome never lasts long. Generally, its either till playoffs are over or till we lose.  You can fill in the blank here.

The Secret to Success in Corporate America

So what could be a better way to begin the New Year? Why by writing a post four months late of course!

So at my first big kid job here is what I learned:

If you walk around with a terrified look on your face, you will look busy and important

If you schedule yourself for 8 meetings a day and then miss half of them and show up late for the other half, then you will look busy and important.

If you fill out a million different kinds of reports and complain about your work load, then you will look busy and important.

So are we seeing a trend?

Sorry this post came in late, I’ve just been so busy…