Chatty Tatty

Allow me to preface this by saying that if ever there was a time when free advice from an  expert on Employee Rights was needed, NOW would be the time.  The issue and question at hand: During the 9-5 reign of the “ALMIGHTY DRESS CODE”, where does an employer cross the line between discrimination and professionalism?

To explain: Once upon a time I was hired by a lovely, humane organization to be their Secretary.  They bestowed upon me their Handbook and asked me for signature verification of reading the thing cover-to-cover, which I did.  Well all the stuff that counts, anyway, i.e. sick-days, vacation, overtime and the ever-important section on Professional Appearance.  The heart of the dilemma – can permanent things like tattoos be grouped into the category of “Dress Code” and restricted as such?  Can an organization which prides itself on acceptance and tolerance go all “discriminatory” on every inked and pierced person out of the blue just because some old biddies frown on the sacred art of tattoo (and the tiny, innocent nose-stud)?  Is a company allowed to tell you to “cover up” just because you happen to get “one-too-many”? 

Do you currently have or intend in the near future to get any kind of body art, i.e. piercings or tattoos?  

YES             NO

Is this something we will soon see on pre-employment questionnaires & applications?  Last I checked, tattoos were not illegal and at my time of hire I had tattoos on my person which were not hidden.  Mind you, they were not displayed during my interview as it was during the fall and were most likely covered under my blouse and pants.  My ankle-tattoo may or may not have been visible as I did not go all-out and duct-tape my pants-hem to my leg or tuck them into my socks to prevent them from rising as pants tend to do. I also did not disclose the fact of my inked status to my boss as it didn't seem appropriate.  Why should he care what’s under my clolthes and wouldn’t he think it weird or out of place of me for to say what was? He might not have hired me due to “unsuitable disclosure of personal information”! 

Please feel free to correct me but is it not, after all, my body?  Does an employer have the right to inspect my person to see what appears on it before they deem me “approvable” to hire for a specific position?  Can they accept the two tasteful tattoos I had when I was hired then decide to draw the line on a third, fourth of fifth? Will they start making employees sign contracts saying that they promise NOT to get any more visible tattoos during their tenure or else be subject to immediate termination? 

I’m pretty sure if put to some of the above questions their reply would be something along the lines of, “Well, alcohol is not illegal either but we don’t allow folks to drink during working hours!” I’m positive all tattooed professionals would chime in to agree that getting tattooed does not induce bouts of errant behavior or DUI’s.  Of course, I’m also pretty sure it’s within an employer’s rights to transform into a raging hypocrite wielding the mighty keyboard to demand HR edit the policy & procedure manual to suit the current mood.  Don't be surprised if the next change involves limitations to the number of earrings one can have in one's ear...

According to the handbook, items included in the section on personal appearance which are restricted are common-sense items such as the micro mini-skirt, short-shorts, halter/tube/tank-top/cutoff shirts, low-rise pants, tattered or cutoff jeans.  Can they really insert some new “rule” insisting that the Program Assistant now wear turtle-necks or scarves in the summer to hide the sunflower tattoo on the back of her neck?  Will other staff, including Directors, having tattoos on their hands or wrists be required to employ the use of gloves to hide them?  How professional would that look “”??  "Gee, Mr. So-and-So, please pardon my ridiculous figerless gloves but it was common sense according to the Dress Code being that I have 'FUCK YOU!' tattooed on my knuckles." 

Please tell me there is some legitimate level of infringement on my civil rights somewhere in the above.  Is it not outright discrimination to censor the personal, artistic expression of tattooed people just because a tribal arm-band doesn't fit within the confines of Corporate America, yet the 65-year-old Records Clerk can just slide by with her wackadoodle, Frida-Kahlo-Bratz-doll eyebrows?  BEHOLD! - Common sense prevails!!

In the category of “Personal Appearance” and the logic used to dictate what is appropriate for the workplace, what makes body art a worse offense than a Trump comb-over, an ill-fitting skirt or badly-drawn facial hair?

Fun With Quasi-Catholics. Or, "Backpeddlers & Hypocrites Anonymous"

“The wages of sin is DEATH…”  Sage advice given to me by my best friend in high school.  Seemingly, it was to warn me against such things as premarital sex and thinking violent thoughts about my stepparents.  She got herself knocked up right out of high school and had to tell her parents 2 weeks after she got back from her honeymoon.  Her Catholic parents denied noticing how significantly pregnant she was when she stepped off the plane.  They also conveniently forgot how to count to 9 months…

“I AIN'T really NO CAT'LIC!  I DON'T DO THAT 'CHURCH-THING'…”  You know what they say about them ducks - If it sounds like BULLSHIT, looks like BULLSHIT, smells like BULLSHIT, there is most likely a bull arond somewhere.  There's also something about "if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck...".   Don't believe it.  Nod and smile then walk, no - run! far, far away.  Isn't this what they say Satan does to trick you - tells you something that lulls you into a false sense of security and open-mindedness, then steals your soul and eats it when you're not looking?  They will say and stick by above, bolded statement for now, but just wait until the cards line up differently.  Then you'll see who really shakes the holy-water around and means it. 

If I may, I'd like to insert a suggestion:  Maybe it'd be a great idea to get yourself one of those little plastic bottles just for the fuck of it.  For example - at the exact moment of the great Flip-Flop, presumably when one or both of you is getting your "drink-on" on a Friday night (or perhaps it'll be when you've told the Great Non-Catholic you've no intention whatsoever of performing any of the sacraments on any children you might have together) you whip out your little bottle of holy water and perform one of the following: 

• Open it and shake it towards your beloved and announce loudly that you must CAST OUT SATAN!
• Twist off the top, stick a straw in it and start sipping; then act like it burns like acid.
• Tell him or her that you got this bottle from a man in black who lured you into the alley next to the church, sold it to you for a "great price" and told you it's great on the rocks.

“being catholic is better than being 'nothing'…”  One of my all-time favorites is the man who at one point during high school wanted to become a priest.  He attended the annual retreat with many of his classmates led by the religious instructor of his school.  After careful consideration it was decided that this was not for him.  He graduated high school, enrolled in college and got married.  Instead of the life dedicated to the cross and the cloth he opted for running up his credit cards, going into debt and cheating on his young wife all for the pleasure of porn.  Yessiree - sex clubs and foreclosure was the life for him.

Last I heard it was not a crime to subscribe to nothing; follow nothing - to never allow the strongly worded repute to sway personal beliefs.  People forget that every word spoken in each and every house of worship is an opinion.  Made up by men to explain a world of mysteries and keep order.  Used by monarchs to rule over people as commoners were not even allowed to read the gospels on their own.  Wasn't it actually almost a crime in those medieval times to do so?

So, in the big scheme of things, is it really so bad to not have a religion chosen for you or to pick one on your own when others just can't lead you?  In a recent heated debate a.k.a-argument, I was actually called "nothing".  Maybe my opponent should have thought hard about how to define the word before turning it into a flaming accusation - "risker of infant souls", "future resident of Purgatory", "peril of unknown origin or type".  Aren't your friends and loved ones there for support, unconditional love and more lenient and liberal-minded than the average  bible-thumping stranger? One would hope so...

Seems like Catholics and other religious dictators could learn a lot from "nothing".

Million-Dollar Resume, Baby! Or, Why it Should Be...

Based on the current requirements necessary for attaining the American Dream, this is a stupid question, I’m sure.  There is no inherent instinct or drive which propels me to hack-slash my way to the front of the line for that Golden Ticket.  There is also no Masters Degree or Doctorate to use as my Get Out of Workin’-for-da’-Man “Free” card.  For the record, I will also not sleep my way to anywhere.  Well, to be completely realistic I would not unless there is a RIDICULOUSLY huge payoff being offered AND you are also not a repellent specimen of man (or woman! – heck, for that “ridiculously huge payoff” I’m all for equal-opportunities).  I do have some standards...

All kidding aside, I should sincerely and thoroughly examine every quality and talent I possess which entitles me to earn upwards of an early-retirement-worthy salary: 

 - Writing:  This is a talent for which I’ve earned myself quite a reputation and even a couple of nice prizes.  Mind you, the commemorative dictionary awarded to me in the 4^th grade by Nickelodeon has my name spelled incorrectly and the guest-spot in a panel-discussion about an upcoming film bestowed upon me by Time Out New York went unused as it was on the wrong day on my calendar.  How stupid I felt when the booth-clerk told me, “Oh! That was last night”.  Nevertheless, this does not negate the fact that my poem earned a coveted spot on a children’s TV show once-upon-a-time and that my essay won first place in a popular, NYC magazine.  Being the Jack-of-All genres that I am, I also won a top prize package for T.O.N.Y.’s “Sweaty Haiku” contest!  It might even still be up there in the online archives…

As for the literary magazine submissions and contest deadlines – I’ve missed quite a number of those but I work almost 7 days a week usually only leaving myself only 1 – 1.5 days to get some much-needed and well-deserved lazytime.  Seems like the only people who get the gift of publication, mega contract-deals and book-touring are the folk who are independently wealthy or getting by on a trust-fund with time enough to spare for eccentric, creative hobbies.  You will find me secretly drafting and editing on my lunch breaks at work or during “down-time” (wink-wink) when all that is required of me is to mind the phones.  Honing my craft currently involves stealing time and calling it a “spreadsheet”. 


 - Sardonic Wit, a.k.a. “Witty Repartee”:  Not necessarily by itself, but fits well with the above in many cases.  I have been known to slay people (usually with laughter) and sometimes piss them off at the same time; although they’re never really able to put their finger on “why”.  Comes in very handy during arguments where I know for a fact that I am right and the other person is definitely not; or when the other person is assuredly way dumber than I am but is managing to piss me off in some annoying way.  Sarcasm – “The Wit That Bites Back!” 


 - Perfectionism:  Why does being anal-retentive garner such a negative connotation?  Sometimes being anal for details is not such a BAD thing!  Given the indiscriminate manner in which most people are awarded the privilege of an email account these days wouldn’t it be great if, in business situations, there was someone looking over our shoulder to remind us to use the friggin’ spell-check before we click “Send” or “Print”?  This also applies to folks who blog and sometimes even to hot-shot journalists who neglect to use Google, for-criminy’s-sake, to confirm the spelling of a proper name!  Since when did proper grammar and correct spelling fall out of favor in this country?  And what, in the sevenhells, does it say about us as a people that a former President of this country couldn’t even get the pronunciation of words like “strategy” and “nuclear” correct??  Had he someone in his staff with cojones enough to correct his hick-ass, then maybe we’d have at least won some Brownie-points for intellectualism.  Maybe not.  I digress…


 - Fashion Sense, a.k.a. “Knowing how to put together an outfit that fits well, matches artistically using a color-scheme, makes creative use of accessories and shoes,  takes into consideration hair, eye and skin color AND season of the year and ALSO employs creative and artistic use of hairstyle and makeup”:  Enough said.


 - Good Judgement: Firstly, see above.  Second, I have never been in a lineup; never hit rock-bottom as an addict to anything; have not graced the cover of any publication with my mug-shot nor has my face (or any other body part for that matter) appeared, accidentally or on purpose, in anyone’s adult-website.  Do relationships and marriages count?  I sure hope not…


I will leave off mundane, every-day traits such as loyalty, generosity and good-looks as I’m pretty sure nobody has ever earned a Fat-Mil with any ONE of those on its own.  If they say they did, it can almost be guaranteed they KNEW someone and are just embellishing the fact that they just took a backseat on the coattails. 

So if there are any high-level professionals reading this, take this as my Curriculum Vtae and why I am definitely a practical luxury item.  Figure out a space for me and I'll fit, guaranteed.  But if that space happens to be someplace secret on the sly you better be sure to send me a pic first! 

The Insolence of the "Triple-G"

Not to pinpoint or spotlight any individual columnist or magazine, but isn’t there an obvious problem here with this kind of advice?  Well, 2 out of the three G’s anyway… You know what I’m talking about – that whole idea that we must at least try to accommodate every perverse spousal whim and request; we must ‘give in’ and be ‘game’ for anything on the menu.  We must all be Yes-Men and Yes-Women when it comes to the sporadic bedroom anomaly.  Yesiree – bow, bend over and swallow; all at the same time.  Even if doing so engraves it permanently on our bedposts.  Doesn’t matter if it’s the grandest departure from the everyday we actually didn’t enjoy.  We must yield graciously and even gratuitously. Cause, y’know, we’d be selfish if we didn’t. 

F.W.D.= Freakin' Witless Denizens!

To the Witless Denizens Who Insist on Abusing the "FWD" feature:

Yes, that's right - "Freakin' Witless Denizens" is how you will be defined when you assault my mailbox with your mindless use of that God-forsaken "Forward" button.  I liken this feature of email to a pestilent syndrome with its unbiased destruction of healthy, smart neurons replacing them with massive areas of dead-zone, zombie-cerebrums.  Can you think of a more witless act than the brain-numbing use of the "Forward" button?

I will no longer pay any mind to the malignant chain-mail invitations as God and the Essence of Humanity truly does not care if I delete "The Lord's Prayer" or the "Prayer for the Soldier", “"St. Peter's Wish" or the countless “inspirational” Power Point presentations and He will not cast me into the fires of hell for not forwarding these items to every contact in my address book.  No, I will not have 10 years of bad luck or a shriveled heart for ignoring the aforementioned items.  The only “inspiration” that will hit me will be to DELETE, DELETE, DELETE!  In my humble opinion, this is the smartest feature ever created for email.

“My Inbox is NOW PURGED of all EVIL!!  Hallelujah!”  Now, isn’t that a great feeling?

Do not even get me started on the Amber-Alert emails preying on the worried-mothers who have nothing better to do in their trailer-park, gossip-mongering, talk-show-watching existence than click the "Forward" button while simultaneously being glued to OWN in the hopes of saving a stolen child.  Have they never heard of Snopes, Google or God-forbid the NEWS?  How about picking up a telephone and confirming the facts with the appropriate County's Sherrif's Department?? I liken the blatant lack of fact-checking (or blatant ignorance, if you ask me) nowadays to deeee-licious potential fodder for a civil suit.  Perhaps this need to abuse that “Forward” button is a simply an indicator of a deep-seated brain/personality defect.  Not sure which option rings more appropriate.

You see, it does not do anything to "forward" my thinking or my station in life to read and send onward the countless emails which plead with me to wait and see what happens at 11:15 AM the day after sending this malignancy onward to the required allotment of contacts; or to have a heart and send to as many as possible in the next hour so Bill Gates can donate $1 for every email to a kid with cancer in Florida, Philly, Kansas or Katmandu.

I will also not be any smarter, luckier, kinder or richer for doing so - this is a bold-face lie which plays on the human need for validation.

But I do not need to be validated via my email inbox and all the contacts it contains.  Email was created as a convenient, stamp-saving, tree-hugging alternative to paper snail-mail.  How many of us would DARE send a chain-letter onward to all of our friends & family members by SNAIL-MAIL??  Would any of us even think to write down stuff we heard on a late-night info-mercial and mail it to all of our contacts via the USPS?? The newest Maxine we read in the Sunday-paper?? REALLY, PEOPLE!!??

And why do you think that is?

You see, calling it a "Forward" button is an oxymoron if you stop and think about it:  It does not bring or move you toward a position in front.  It will not move you in a prescribed direction or order for "normal use" and it surely does not help advance or promote you in the eyes of the recipients of your misguided "Forwards".

So you're reading this and are either one of 2 things - insulted at the mere suggestion that forwarding emails is stupid and pointless.  Or you're sitting there trepidatiously considering forwarding this post to all of your contacts because maybe it makes a valid point.  Just consider it carefully before you click "Send".

Thank you,
L

Enjoy the Silence...

Keeping my memories company and attempting to bind my personality with labels, labels, labels – all bad ones, no less – are these words bouncing around the small concavity in my misfiring mind: Recession, aggression, compression, depression, regression…That is, at this moment, all I’m stuck with. I started giving the world the silent-treatment a thousand years ago. My own head just hears myself better, I guess.

The short-list of my itemized companions also includes my never-fading, forever-precious gift of a name from my father that nobody ever got right the first time. You’d think it was a certified tongue-twister or something with all the variations I’ve been addressed by over the years –

“Gloria, what time is it??” Not even close.

“Lorianne…” Let me stop you right there – please don’t even finish the statement.

“Hi, Lauren...” Oy.

“Y’know something, Lorelei…!?” You’re friggin’ kidding.

“LOREAL, where’s my car?” Aaannd… …you’re drunk.

It did get sort of tiring having to correct folks by way of my own brand of brief-instructional/witty-inside-joke - "It's pronounced like 'DeLorean' but without the 'duh'".  They mostly picked up on my knowledge of automobile history which made it funny for me for a while. 

Who’d have thought a six-letter, three-syllable name would puzzle so many educated people? "Lorien" is, after all, borrowed from famous AND recently popular literature.  Can you guess where it's from?  Two minutes on Google and you'll pretty much find out...

The problem with people is that their brains get stuck on the familiar, common-sounding, easily recognizable fluff. Save for that one nut of a high-profile client who’d actually get it RIGHT while she was sober, but would make me an exotic, French-i-fied cosmetics brand after a few drinks at Morton’s out with her own clients. Had she eaten enough steak and potatoes, maybe she’d have gotten it right. Or, come to think of it, maybe in her Queen-of-the-Music-Industry robes she was just screwing with me – O, she knew how to properly pronounce my name alright, but it was so silly-sounding to her that she just had to make her drunken jabs at me. Either way she loses because in the end (of the commercial, anyway) I’m worth it! Whatever that means…

Dis-Information: Saga of the Cluess Mind

It is beyond comprehension - once upon a time we did some crazy-ass stuff. Well, some of it was "crazy"; most of it was just weird.  FUN as all hell, but truly weird and uniquely ours.  Yep, you should recognize the posessive there...

Some of this weird-stuff we got on film.  It was cool and special and meaningful and super, super-secret from friends & family - no, they couldn't know or else it would be none of those things, right?  "Our dirty, little secrets" - locked in a padded box; protected with a password; tied with a bow  - all excitement and edge-of-our-seats, when-can-we-do-it-again!? anticipation with teasing, buzzy invitations by silent emails and leading winks. A regular covert operation.

It was truly all fun-and-games until both of us came up with the same idea while browsing the ever-captive interNET - we could make a website!! Post some pics & video to create a subscription-site or charge a pay-per-view fee for each download.  Cool, right?  Have fun AND put some money in the bank!  It was an AWESOME IDEA! All we needed was good video-camera, website-building software and an endless bank of "Awesome Ideas" to use.

Things were "Just AWESOME"... Well, it was truly awesome until it was suggested that people might get bored seeing the same, significant other in these videos and pics all the time.  MODELS could be substituted for the "same 'ol" BORING ball-and-chain. Just rent a hotel-room, pay them a small fee to video-tape them for an hour and out they go...

Seriously, now - can I get a "Rejected!"? Can someone else go BUY a CLUE for Cripe's sake!??

So back to the drawing-board we go without too much hullaballoo.  Things returned to calm quite swiftly. That is, until it was discovered that somebody went ahead and did it anyway.  Behind someone's back. There were lies and there was hurt and then there were tears and, finally, discussion.  Mend, mend, mend. 

So time passes and things are smoother again as honesty does have an ability to cure and create new understanding.  There are new secret discussions about new, more exciting "covert weirdness" and there is renewed anticipation.

It is then mentioned that the most unique, secret, weird thing we'd ever shared just "has to be captured on film".  Minds are abuzz and cheeks are flushing in a display of replenished exhilaration!  Wow - he wants to preserve our all-time, favorite "weird-thing" forever! And then there was sweetness and smiles...

I say you can just go get as many of those <<secrety-things you used last time>> and just <<secret thing you did with aforementioned secrety-things>> as much as you WANT!     :D

"Um, I meant with models..."            >: {