It’s Only Tuesday

It’s probably not legal to declare the week a drag before Thursday, but I’m a rebel who will say it for everyone: this week is dragging. Incidentally, so is my brain. None of my List o’Topics appeals to me for banter-fodder this evening. Work was fairly quiet today, just some editing and pondering infused with conversations. We didn’t have any beatings, which reminds me of my latest motivational poster idea: “A day without meetings is like a poop sandwich without the poop.” No doubt Hallmark will be dying to hire me within minutes of discovering this gem of wisdom.

At any rate, peering into space…er, my monitor…to search for a topic, my eyes came to rest upon my site title: The Spotted Cat. Other people who stumble through here might wonder where that name came from, so tonight’s topic is now that story.

When my niece, Rhiannon, was about four years old, she was very much into imaginary friends and creating new realities in which to entertain herself. (She’s a lot like her aunt in that regard.) The family was gathered at my parents’ house for a barbecue, so the niece and I were inside talking with my grandmother while waiting for the pigout to commence. Rhiannon was regaling us with her latest creation, complete with character names, when she ran completely off topic and started asking about my cats. Specifically, their names.

Now Rhiannon adores my cats, but she could only remember Shadow’s name. I think it’s because he’s the most lovey of the bunch and would let her haul him around the house and play dolls with him. Seriously, that cat is not happy unless someone is holding him. So, Rhiannon was trying to list them.

Rhiannon: Shadow, and…what was the girl one?
Me: Tish.
Rhiannon: Oh, okay. Shadow, Tish, and…what was the white kitty with black dots? He has big eyes.

For some reason, I found her description of Wolfie the cutest thing I’ve ever heard a kid say, and I still do. So, in tribute to my creative, gorgeous, and hilarious niece, this place is called The Spotted Cat. I’m reserving the longer name for something else, and no, you can’t have it. Here is Wolfie, though.

As you can see, he’s one of my editors. And nothing is pickier than a big-eyed cat, especially a white one with black dots.~H

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Monday Office Beatings

Just a quick post because I want to stay in the habit of posting, daily if possible, while managing to do all the other evening stuff I want or need to do. Work can and probably will upend this goal, but I’ll do my best!

If you follow my fledgling Twitter feed, you saw my note about Monday meetings being soul-sucking machinations of hell that need to be purged from the face of the earth. My fave rave are meetings to plan future meetings. Yes, those do happen. Driving home tonight I thought about the process of meetings in the corporate world and wondered how they came to such a horrible state. (A reason does exist for my renaming “meetings” to “beatings.”) Honestly, they must have had a valid use when they were instituted, so why are so many of them such brutal wastes of time now? I blame two factors:
• Dead Weight Wally and his girlfriend Wilma
• Management fads created to sell lobotomizingly boring books

Dead Weight Wally and Wilma
You know who I’m talking about because you work with them, too. These are the people who never actually produce any work: just lots of emails and teleconferences pointing out the obvious actions that “someone” needs to perform, while avoiding said actions, which amazingly are in their job description; agreeing with anything senior management says, regardless of how stupid it is; and blustering about their current workload, which of course is on the path to “very promising” results. I nominate these people for getting shoved out the door first during the zombie apocalypse.

Management Fads
You know about these because they’ve infested every freaking industry known to man. From fast food chains to hospitals, middle managers are spoon fed heaping piles of tripe from the latest best seller. While I admit that the fast food folks might find a use for moving their cheese, the rest of us could really care less if George McGorge is a certified Wide 7 Alpha Blue Belt studying to upgrade his status to mauve. George and his compatriots like to schedule meetings and then monopolize the talk time so no one else can communicate. Some shred of useful information might pass from one level to the next, and we can’t have that! Don’t get me wrong, I’m well aware that some of these techniques are good and valid. Some of us are just tired of mucking through the Swamp of Ridiculous Expectations to get the gems we need to do our own work.

Obviously, other factors have dragged the once-noble meeting down the path of suckery, but those two are the ones that itch me at the moment. We may revisit this topic at a later date. In closing, I’ll just say this to the people who turn meetings into beatings: “You are two-legged pussbags from hell. Please shut up and motate off a cliff so the rest of us can actually work when we’re at work. Thank you.” ~H

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Aha!

Found my log-in info! I’ve been feeling thinky lately, which usually leads to feeling writey, so I’ve resurrected this blog. This one always was my favorite. My ginormous audience of one (1) might notice the redesign and wonder what mystical reasons are behind the change. As much as I enjoyed the old layout, it was a little too spartan, the color scheme could lead to eyebleed, and… I like blue.

Anyone who cruised over here from my old, defunct blog knows that I tend to write a lot about computer games. That will probably continue, but I’ll try to look at other topics as well, such as life in a corporate job, awesome things about being in one’s 30s, and bizarre habits of the overindulged feline. More to follow soon. No, really!
~H

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