Reprioritize your life

Ok, today I came accross another b-shit article called "No" is the New "Yes". Since I am heavily looking for a job I assumed that it was another article about handling rejection. But it was not, it was actually about being able to reject.

Read it, it is about time management, it tells about reprioritizing your life by saying no :
http://blogs.hbr.org/schwartz/2012/01/no-is-the-new-yes-four-practic.html

The dude who writes it, Tony, has a point. I have been practising the 'No' a lot on my boss Xanax and on our sales team. But it doesn't work.

It doesn't work because when you are a middle manager that's miserable, you have no power over your boss, and neither to your team or other teams who's boss are more 'senior' than you.

But what does Tony Schwartz think about the consequences of saying no to your boss or to other teams? Because let's face it, you spend most of your days doing your boss' job or working for your colleagues that are either 'busy' or uncapable. So how do you say no? Who's gonna do the shit if you don't?

Philip Focker says no to me all the time, he just gives me plain 'no-I-won't-do-it' in my face. He pretends he is busy when I know he is not. So I want to fire him.
That would be the consequence for him, being fired. He is only lucky to be friend with Xanax that's all.

So please Tony, write about how to say no and the consequences. And please don't quote Gandhi and don't finish your shit with Carpe Diem, not modern.

Also Tony, it is sooo true when you say : 'Saying no, thoughtfully, may be the most undervalued capacity of our times.' because most recruitment agents and hiring managers don't have the balls to actually contact you to reject you!

Daring desperation

It’s been a while since I haven’t blogged, apologies to fellow readers, after a nervous breakdown in December I took off to the south of France and Megeve, checked out expensive ski slopes and posh women wearing fur. It did good to MMM, I realized that in 2012, the Miserable Middle Manager’s community is not the most persecuted. Foxes are and I should be glad that the rich don’t wear MMMs skin.

So, after a couple of weeks of rest and meditation, MMM came back to hell. Let’s leave the ‘MMM is back in the office’ topic for another time, yesterday Monday I had my first interview of the year, happy new year MMM.

Ladies and gentlemen, watch out, I am serving this story hot, MMM first fuckery of the year coming now!

Ho well.

The job was top, working for a top guy, the CEO of RatzParalyze – position of business middle manager to deliver the global strategy. Sounded promising.

Obviously I got the interview through an agent, named John-Gerard. I saw his picture on Linkedin and he looks like an hybrid of Dexter and Sarah Jessica Parker, not his fault. Anyway, he calls me in the morning to prep me, behavioural interview with the CEO, then the CFO - I ask him if there is any case study (i.e.: how many pink bras will be sold in the UK in 2045...). Guy seems on acids: sure I’ll check and call you back, two minutes later he is back on the phone: don’t worry, all cool, nothing to worry about and certainly no case study.

Ouf.

So I spend my whole morning checking the company’s website, reading about how good they are at eradicating pestilence, how they kill pest humanly etc... Then I dig out all the books in my library that have keywords related to ‘strategy’ or ‘success’ in their title : ‘How to pull men in bars: a woman’s successful strategy’, ‘Successful cooking’, ‘Leveraging your inside edge successfully’, ‘Successfully overcoming period pain’ etc...I have so many academic books on success, it is unbelievable.

So comes 3PM I am ready to rock, sitting at the reception of RatzParalyze with a glass of water. (What do you want to drink asked the receptionist : don't you have a Ricard by any chance?). Thanks to Bare Mineral make up, it doesn’t show on my face that I feel like vomiting of stress on the desk of the receptionist : she looks like a bitch and the carpet is olive green, yukk.

3:15, CEO guy arrives, his name is Dick, I mean Richard. OK looking, middle aged, very, very quiet....no word until we sit down in front of each other, he eventually asks where I live, like he couldn’t come up with a better ice breaker...

Thing is, he doesn’t give a shit where I live, he has a surprise for me : ‘OK, I believe the recruitment agent has told you about our standard procedure, first a case study then a behavioural chat with my colleague’. He may as well have said : ‘OK, the agent has fucked you again, he is the brother of Philippe Focker and he wants you to fail right now, I have worked for Accenture for 20 years and I am used to set candidates up for failure, so they never forget my rat face’.

Obviously I have the email of the agent which shows no mention of a case study, but at this stage it is too late, so I jump into the case study.

I am bad at case studies. I really can’t think on my feet, my brain needs time to process shit and my mind usually goes blank when I am asked to work out numbers.

But to be honest, I am so tired of interviews that something amazing happened as soon as he told me about the case study (you work for Bill Gates, he wants to create Microsoft Cola and he has a meeting with Tesco on Thursday in order to negotiate an exclusive deal with Tesco. Advise him on the product strategy), indeed, as soon as I heard ‘case study’, all the stress went away!

It seemed that my brain had suddenly given up stressing, I had failed again! So I did all the calculations I could (all wrong obviously) and after we finished (badly), I started glaring at Dick, checking each of the wrinkles on his face. He didn’t have many questions, and he asked me if I had any. So what happened then is what I call Daring Desperation : in a desperate last attempt to get the job you dare becoming yourself again.

 So I questioned the stupid current strategy of RatzParalize, why paralyze pestilence when you can kill it instantly? I told him that if he was hiring only on the results of a case study he would be ruling out potentially great candidates like me. As a result, he became a bit defensive and he almost ran out of the room, leaving me behind, waiting for my next bully. But I know that he will remember me.

Then I considered leaving the room, I thought that even doing the Asda Sales would probably be a better use of my time. But then a very nice gentleman arrived, and asked me how I did with his colleague, said that if I did badly he wouldn’t be surprised, that Dick was not that good at explaining case studies and that they were desperate to find someone for the position which had been left vacant for a long time.

SO.

Will I get the job or have I, again, wasted my time?

I have come to realise that having an MBA had another inconvenience : recruiters think that you can work out numerical shit very quickly, so they fetch stupid case studies in books, they learn the answers by heart and judge you if you don’t answer right straight away.

Truth is most MBA graduates don’t even know how much is 7x8.

Happy 2012 everyone!

Miserable Middle Manager goes Xmas shopping

Yesterday I went Xmas shopping in Westfield and it was an horrible experience. Over heated shops were all displaying the same expensive shit and my wallet was feeling lighter and lighter as I was progressing.

I think this experience resulted in me having another horrible nightmare:

I was back at Westfield, in the Superdry store, trying to find some not-too-tight-t-shirts for my wild teenage cousin. It felt super hot, I was hyperventilating, then suddenly my eyes come across a vision : Robert Kanayellow, another ex colleague bully like Moobs  is in the shop, his wet chicken face and rat eyes looking at me curiously – I hadn’t seen this abuser for 10 years, you bet he was surprised!

Suddenly I am short of breath, super loud music kills my ears, vision gets blurry, panic attack, I fall on the clothe rake, suddenly I Kanayellow is on me, his face on my face, what’s happening? Face rape??? No he is doing mouth to mouth eeeeekkkk!!!!!!!!!!!!

Happy Christmas shopping everyone.

The Tree of Eternal Goodness

This morning I found myself in my kitchen dozing over my coffee, reflecting on Xmas, on the office day ahead, the dog vet appointment next week, and wondering if I was another victim of Chronic fatigue syndrome (myalgic encephalomyelitis - ME) or just a victim of my poor eating habits. Maybe I could call in sick and say I got struck by ME?

But then my eyes came across my hair brush. What is an hair brush doing in a kitchen you will ask. Well, I don’t know, it seems that things have a life on their own in my flat, especially keys. Anyway, I bought the brush last year at TK Maxx for £5, it is big, flat and useful, it is black with some stuff scribbled at the back. I never reflected on what was written on it, I don’t really care, the brush is cheap and useful. But this morning I read it again, it says:  ‘Life is an endless struggle, full of frustrations and challenges, but eventually you find a hair stylist you like.’

What a fuck came through the mind of the Corioliss (the brand of the brush) designer?

This brought me back to the office, 3 years ago, when I was working as a Miserable Middle Manager contractor for a few months for another pestilent company.

Another guy, Jasper, had been hired as the same time as me, to be another middle manager : the sales manager - 10 direct reports, off course he was super motivated. He had been out of work for a few months and no one really knew what he had done before, not until he started being a dick, then everyone Googled him and asked around, finding out that he was just another loser with a big mouth.

But Jasper wasn’t lacking ideas, I have to give him that. He was an old style sales guy, one of those fuckers like Moobs, who sell encyclopedia door to door, and he was applying old style methods to encourage his sales team to make more money.

One of his idea was ‘the tree of eternal goodness’.

We had this dull plant in the office, you know the office plant that struggles to survive and that office managers put in empty corners, to remind you that nature exists somewhere, far away from your desk and fluorescent lights...Well, one day, he moved the plant, put it in the center of the open office and stuck small envelopes on its leaves.

Everyone wondered what the hell this was about, but he wouldn’t say. Then on Friday at 5PM, he pulled out a little bell, shaked it, and called everyone to gather around the tree.

Guys, it is Friday 5PM and I want to introduce the concept of the tree of eternal goodness. As you can see, in each of these envelopes there is a poem and a present. The principle is that you guys go sell as much as you can during the week, and on Friday the best sales person will be rewarded by an envelope which contains a poem and a nice present.

This week the best sales person has been : Arthur!!! Please go, pick your envelope and read us the poem!!!

Obviously Arthur became really pale, then he walked through the gathered crowd, picked an envelope, opened it, looked at the crowd : Do I have to read that to everyone?

Yes you have been the best man in the building this week!

Then he read :

‘Life is an endless struggle, full of frustrations and challenges, but this week, you nailed it, congratulations, you won a bottle of sauvignon, for a nice celebration. Xx Jasper.’

...

Jasper lasted 6 months in the company, during that time, about 30 envelopes were opened, about 10 people were shamed in public. He then left the company to join the Conservative party and run as an MP in his council.

Good luck Jasper.

Why Miserable Middle Manager is fuming today

I am fuming today, and I am fuming BIG.

You have now been reading my posts for a couple of months and you might think: "Well, MMM is actually fuming all the time, what is it special about today's fuming?". My fuming might not deserve a post, but today I need my loyal readers to listen to me. I need Ekaterina in Russia, Yorgos in Greece and Awowe in France to show me their empathy, I just need to feel you are there when I need you.

Where should I start? As you know, I have been catapulting CVs into the big black hole for a couple of months. I aim good as 99% of them get into the black hole and never come out again. During this time I have also had several off-on/love-hate relationships with HH (headhunters). No Kathy, don't get confused, HHs are not as idyllic as OBFs, they are an inferior species and don't deserve any respect.

This week my colleague Iman met this "a-m-a-z-i-n-g" HH and called me to share his experience: " Hey, MMM, you won't believe it but I have found the perfect man for us". Iman is not gay, he meant the perfect HH, not the perfect man. At first I did not want to listen to Iman's advice on having a date with HH, but as my rejection rate had been falling during the last two weeks as a result of having stopped my catapulting activities, I though it would be a good idea to follow a friend's advice and to give a bust to my rejection rate. I was (kind of) impressed when HH asked me questions about my MBA and seemed to know what an MBA was (the illiteracy rates in the HH industry are higher than those of adolescents in third world country- see The Economist, July2011 issue" ). Vate Ferfoutr seemed to be ready to invest a lot of time on me and I thought I had maybe finally found light at the end of the tunnel.

As he requested, I provided him a copy of the following information:
- Driving License
- Passport
- Security Clearance
- Birth Certificate
- Working VISA
- Green Card
- Recommendation letter from my previous manager
- Recommendation letter from HR
- Credit check
- PHD thesis
- MBA thesis
- My university transcripts
- Two utility bills (electricity bill & council tax) as proof of address
- Driving records showing I knew how to drive on the left of the road
- Height and weight (I had to give him this info in metric system as I cannot convert into feet or stones)

Anyway,

After spending two full days looking for all this information in my big fat files, I got my killer heels on (killer because they really kill me, I cannot walk for a week after wearing my heels, I got used to wearing the trainers we are obliged to wear at KonardKingdom) and headed up to his office. It was a good day until I got in the reception and told Onglede Chav, the receptionist, I was there to see Vate Ferfoutr.

25 minutes later I was still waiting for Vate Ferfoutr at the reception and decided to go and have one of the best muffins in London to forget that traumatic experience.


How long would you readers wait before leaving your date behind?

Rewarding employees

Yesterday night, as I was browsing through my stuff at home, in the hope of finding my car insurance policy, I came accross some fucked up shit!


I had completely blocked this fabulous episode of my life, when I was working for this amazing radio called Pestilence FM. At that time, I had a sub team who was selling radio air time to local care homes and businesses in need to advertise their products to OCD radio listeners in need of knowing all about pest control.

So my team had sales targets!

...and received awards.

One day my boss, the Marketing and Sales director decided to distribute some awards to reward us for our hard work. However, he decided that my contribution to the success of the commercial team was minor, as I was not selling, but managing.

So by the end of the quarter, we had a nice gathering in the local pub and surprise surprise, between the main course and the dessert, Jingo (that was his surname, can't remember why), well Jingo decides to shut us up and to distribute awards to the team!

He was a good man and everyone had an award : award of the best sales person, award of the most beautiful legs, award of the best dressed sales person, award of the best sales pitch, award of the one who won most awards, award for most amount of cleavage wore!

Then he looked at me with pity and said : and the Award for most amount of awards not won goes to..............MISERABLE!!!!!

Fond memory.

How was your weekend?

Today is Monday and Mondays are always a pain in Miserable Middle Manager’s life. In everybody’s life I guess. The world suffers on Mondays!

Nothing new here you will say, but then I thought I would describe my early Monday morning. See if I can beat you in the race for the worst first few hours of the day.

7:30: Iphone alarm clock goes off, the vegetables I had on Sunday night kick in, I have some energy (30% batteries left my brain tells me). My hand reach the Iphone to shut it up and put the news on. I doze another 15 minutes listening to the misery in the UK, the lodger who’s killed two women, rioters and police relationship, boring stuff....what’s become of Amanda Fox, has it rained in Somalia I wonder?

I stop wondering and look at my work mail (first mistake of the day) – a care home who wants to withdraw from its contract, Mark Oobs asking me to come earlier to take care of it. I think about my best friend Stress, nooo it is too early don’t come over, I leave the phone alone.

8:00: reach the bathroom, crawl to the shower. Hit my head on the wall – did I tell you I can’t stand up in my shower? It’s been built under the outside stairs. Anyway, doesn’t help the Monday mood – what’s gonna happen to Miserable Middle Manager this week?

8:15: the dog still hasn’t moved from his lamb sheep skin (called the moumoute, the thing was bought in Ikea when it was all soft and smooth, but the dog trashed it to make it his own). He looks like a snake on the moumoute, only his tail moves...every morning is the same, he hopes that I will leave him alone, that I won’t put him in his huge garden because it is cold outside. For him I am the monster that drags him out, but come on, it was the garden or the nice shower, I chose the shower to beat the ungrateful dog’s depression!

So every morning I take him for walks, 10 minutes around the block. He analyses pee, I call him the Piss Analyst, I have a theory: he is secretly part of the PSI squad (Pee Scene Investigation). He analyses every pee and covers it with his own to hide the smell of dog criminals who try to overtake the neighbourhood.  I know that he is a hero, although he is a miserable OCD lad.

Anyway! Off we go, once the pee has been all analysed, he ends up in the garden for the day.

8:25: put some make up on, eat a toast and drink half a litter of coffee – I will talk about the diet of Miserable Middle Manager another time, but in a nutshell : I am hooked to coffee but I shouldn’t, I should eat fruits, veggies and less carbs, but I can’t. Basically I eat fuck all at lunch from Monday to Friday, because of the stress that blocks my stomach.

8:30: am on my way to the tube, recharge the Oyster, signal failure on the Jubilee Line, train eventually comes, my cold body crashes against 50 other, the sardine is in the can, ready to get everyone’s disease and be pushed in the ribs by at least one person.

8:55: am off the tube, phone beeps: Gabino Ducon’s boiler has broke, he must wait for the boiler repair man to come by between 9 and 2PM, so he asks if he can work from home. I reply yes good luck take care, at least he is not off sick, so I won’t have to cover for him, and I don’t have to smell his presence in the office.

8:56: Philippe Focker text me he is late, bus tyre exploded on the way, won’t be able to attend the 9:30 meeting, off course.

9:00: reach KonarKingdom Ltd – my friend Stress welcomes me at the gate, he is my best friend and will shadow me the whole week. I guess without Stress I would feel lonely.

So there I am in the office, 20 desks on open space, 10 for my department, 5 for my team, all empty.

9:15: computer on, (yeah it takes on average 15 minute for the shit to be fully functional – IT keeps rebuilding it, it seems that they don’t have the budget to buy a new one, so they would rather spend time on it themselves).

So people start arriving between 9:30 and 10:00, I always try to force Philippe Focker to go to the 9:30 meeting, but he never does, he always has a good excuse, he never arrives before 9:40. But apparently it is ok, according to HR, the company is flexible on office hours, as long as we do 8H per day. According to them, if I start being strict on time keeping, employees will take revenge. I don’t really understand, between 9:00 and 10:00am, clients call, colleagues ask questions, meetings happen etc etc...so what, if nobody is in, clients will wait?

Ho well.

10:30: most people have arrived, I say hello to everyone, not everyone answers, I keep hearing colleagues saying ‘how was your weekend’, no one asks me how was mine. I guess I am the Miserable Middle Manager, not the office friend, people keep their distance.

I have tried to work on my body language (NLP experts told me to), but as I am always the first in the office, body language is only limited to my face. So I catch people and tell them an enthusiastic ‘Hello, how is it going!’ distorting my face in an extatic and happy shape.

I try to hide my miserableness obviously.

But it doesn’t work.

Very few answer.

Nobody ask me how my weekend was.

But if someone had I would have said the below:

On Friday night, I left work late and fuming because of Philippe ‘Busy’ Focker. I went straight to the pub to meet my friends, drank as much alcohol as my body could take and vomited on my BF car. I was quite hangover on Saturday morning, spent my whole day in front of the TV, watching all the Come dine with me and Signed by Katie price trash TV available, accompanied by the dog on his moumoute (the moumoute is really screwed to the dog now that I think about it). Then on Sunday I went to the North Acton scrapyard (hell on earth) to dump the pieces of an old shed that had been living in the garden for too long.

And each time I threw a piece of trash in the skip, I would call it a name : YOURS!

Today is Ninja day, happy Ninja day!