Performance Reviews

You may already realize that my boss is quite the character. If you don't, you can find some stories about it here (and here and here (with MS Paints!) and here).

Now that we've taken care of that, and you can see what I'm working with over here, I'm going to tell you a little bit about what Performance Reviews are like in our office. Basically, think Michael Scott...but older.

These days, I pretty much run the office, so I'm the one who does payroll and all that jazz. Which, ya know, means if you work in my office? You should probably not piss me off. Look, it's not that I don't LIKE archaeology (but I don't really like the kind we do), it's just that it pays better to do what I do now. And it was a full-time gig. I don't know if you've noticed, but the economy's not really doing so hot. Full-time = good idea.

Last year, my boss decided that maybe it would be wise for us to have an employee handbook. He decided this because a coworker and I pretty much beat him down until he came up with the idea all by himself. Unfortunately, this meant that I had to write an employee handbook. I had no earthly idea how to go about that, so I gathered a few examples and set about writing it up. This also meant that I had to pick my boss's brain on every subject from lunch breaks to vacation time to pay increases to attendance. Trust me, my boss's brain is not really a pretty place to be.

It turns out that my boss does not believe in giving his employees "cost of living" raises. He went on and on about how he didn't believe in just giving someone an increase in pay for doing the exact same amount of work, and so, if anyone wanted a raise from him, they'd have to come talk to him about it.

Yes, I tried to explain that cost of living raises are designed to keep employees' salaries in line with inflation and that not giving them essentially means that he's making it more difficult for the employees to live, while they're still doing the same amount of work, etc. He didn't buy it.

I argued and argued, but to no avail. And alas, it says in our employee handbook that no cost of living raises should be expected and that if an employee feels he deserves a raise, he is required to discuss the matter with the boss. Of course, no one but me will actually do that.

Every year, at the end of the year, we're supposed to have a "Performance Review." Last year, I think mine went something like this:

Boss walks up to my desk. "Shine, go ahead and give yourself a such-and-such cost of living raise. Oh, and here's the list for everyone else."

So...yeah.

After an employee has been here for three months, he is also entitled to a "Performance Review" from the boss. This review should determine the employee's future status with the company and his rate of pay for the coming year. About six months ago, we hired a new guy. He was only supposed to be here for a month. But, after three months, when he was still here, it was time for a Performance Review with the boss!

This is how that went down:

Boss calls me into his office. "Shine, what do you think of New Employee?"

Me: "Well, I think he works hard. He's not scared to ask questions. I've read some of his stuff and he seems to have a really good grip on the English language.

Boss: "Anything else? Do you think we should keep him around?"

Me: "I think NE is a pretty good asset. He's a little flaky, but I think he more than makes up for that with his writing. I don't know how he is in the field, though."

Boss: "Oh, he does just fine in the field. Let me ask you this, though. Would you date him?"

Me: ".........Ummmmm....what?"

Boss: "Would you, you know...date him?"

Me: "........Ummmm, well, uh, considering that he works here and that he HAS a girlfriend and that he's nearly five years younger than me...no. I really don't think I would. Why do you ask?"

Boss: "Oh, I was just curious. He has a girlfriend? What's she like?"

Me: "Honestly, Boss, I have no idea. None. I've never met the girl."

And now NE has a full-time position with our company. I can't say I'm sure whether the correct answer was "Yeah, I'd date him" or "Um, Hell no," nor do I see what in the FUCK that has to do with his employment status at our firm, but there you have it. A Performance Review by Boss.

Hi, my name is Shine and I don't know how to deal with nice people.

As you possibly know, or maybe you don't, I started dating someone. An actual person. A guy, even. I call him Princess.

He's nice. I'm not. Obviously. What kind of nice person nicknames her boyfriend Princess? (But seriously, he takes longer to get ready than I do, which he claims is because his clothes are fancier. And okay, yes...he has to wear real live suits to work and I could show up in my pajamas and no one would care, but STILL.)

(I'm pretty sure his suits are dead. Sorry for the misrepresentation. Don't come after Princess PETA!)

And I'm in "oh, you're doing nice things what do you want oh you're just nice why are you so nice just say something shitty to me dammit!" mode. Because that's how I roll.

I don't recall having these issues in the past, but my last relationship wasn't exactly the stuff that romantic comedies are made of. So here we are. I live in horrible fear of being my last boyfriend.

The thought of taking advantage of someone's giving nature or of walking all over someone terrifies me. COMPLETELY.

So now I'm doing this new dance in which I've been complimented so much I feel like I'm about to puke rainbows and butterflies.

How messed up am I?

In other news, I went on my first grown up date (I even had to dress up a little! Hello little black dress, nice to see you.) a couple of weeks ago. Since I'm so fancy now, I'm going to write you a restaurant review (and not tell you how many tries it just took me to type "restaurant").

Without further ado, I present you with a review of Local (click the link, damn it):

Local, located in Deep Ellum, transformed the face (and guts) of Dallas's oldest standing hotel, the Boyd Hotel. While retaining the charm and coziness of the structure, built in 1908, Local has transformed the space into a modern restaurant. Chef Tracy Miller's menu of upscale American cuisine will certainly make your mouth and belly smile.

The amuse-bouche was a broccoli soup that nearly brought tears to my eyes. Seriously, broccoli should start using this soup as an advertisement. (I've just been informed that it was, in fact, broccoli rabe soup, which is an entirely different vegetable, so I guess broccoli is still out of luck unless it wants to get sued for false advertising.) It was creamy, but not heavy and full of simple, yet luscious flavors. None of which I can identify because I took one bite and my entire mind went blank save for the thought, "Get this soup in my mouth now PLEASE THANK YOU." So that's what happened. Only I continued to use my TEENY TINY SPOON, so no one would notice that I had reverted to caveman status.

Next we ordered an appetizer of lobster cakes. Hello, delicious! They were just the right amount of lumpy and crumbly and (god, it pains me to write this word because I HATE IT, but there is no other word) moist. I calmly forked my cake into my mouth at a slow enough speed to not cause alarm. I refrained from licking my plate, but don't even think that I didn't contemplate it. I did. About a dozen times.

Our server spouted off the specials and one of them involved cheese grits. Yes, please. When my entree arrived, I almost cried (again) it was so beautiful. Fresh, lightly sauteed spinach on top of a Fillet Mignon marinated in something blah blah vinaigrette, all of which sat on a love seat of cheese grits. It couldn't possibly taste as good as it looked, but I gave in, after staring at it lovingly for five minutes, and sunk my knife into the steak. This was the most tender steak ever to be put in front of me. On my fork, I assembled the perfect first bite. A piece of spinach, a small cut of the steak, covered in cheese grits. I brought it to my mouth and closed my eyes and...FOODGASM. This was possibly the most delicious bite of food to ever enter my mouth. Cue tingling in my lady parts. I put my fork down on my plate, both hands on the table, eyes still closed and just savored the moment. I wanted to make slow sweet love to this plate of food. I'm pretty sure I proposed marriage. What?

I was stuck between a rock and a hard place at this point. If I continued to eat my food, it would be gone. It, the new love of my life, the apple of my eye, the mac to my cheese. But I wanted to inhale it like a hoover vacuum because it was so delicious. I went back and forth for a while, but I finally managed to eat Every. Last. Bite. And I did so without yelling, "GET IN MY BELLY YOU DELICIOUS PIECE OF MEAT." It was close, but I made it.

You know that scene in When Harry Met Sally where Sally shows Harry that all the women he's been sleeping with have been fakin' it by fakin' her own in the middle of the diner? Yeah, it was like that, but FOR REAL. I'm pretty sure the lady at the next table said, "I'll have whatever she's having" and everything.

At this point, I was so full, I didn't think I could eat another bite. Possibly for the rest of my life. But oh no, dessert was upon us.

One scoop of homemade "mint chocolate chip" ice cream. It's in quotes because it's not the same ice cream you buy in the store. Chef Miller steeps the mint leaves in the cream for the ice cream for a completely explosive flavor of pure spearmint. The chocolate isn't too bold. Basically, in the words of Goldilocks, it's just right.

Then the banana Bundt cake, which was topped with roasted banana ice cream and chocolate ganache. I don't like ice cream and cake together. Ever. But this? Was heaven on a spoon. The cake and the ice cream went together perfectly. I almost jumped up on the table to hump the plate. I think ice cream smashed on my crotch would have made the perfect addition to my little black dress, thankyouverymuch.

And then it was over. And I didn't even make the sex with any of it. But I'm pretty sure Princess got a how-do-you-do kiss on the cheek later that evening. Our only wrong step was to go see Where the Wild Things Are after eating all of that delicious food, instead of going somewhere and having bourbon on the rocks, smoking a cigar, and humping like rabbits staring deeply into each other's eyes.

So this, my dear readers, is what happens when I get taken on a date. I nearly do the horizontal mambo with all my food and then force you to go to the movies afterward. Oh, and I leave on a jet plane the next morning at 6:45 am to go to #pbandtuna, so you don't even get to sleep in. Okay, that probably doesn't always happen.

Is it too soon to ask to go back? I should mention here that I put up a fuss like you would not believe when Princess said he wanted to take me to this, his favorite restaurant in Dallas (the man's got good taste...OBVIOUSLY). I don't accept dates to places I can't afford and friends and lovers, let me say that this was no McDonald's. I've had too many crappy dates and I just don't go places where I can't afford to pay at least my half of the check. But he convinced me that he wanted to take me, so I should shut my face. And after my orgasmic eating performance, I suspect he might not even mind taking me back there.

Wednesday Wipeouts

For your reading pleasure, two more strange or awkward messages I've received on OKCupid. I promise I am in no way editing or making these up. I'm not that creative.

The first begins: Greetings, fellow humanoid!

I must state the obvious, and then it will be out of my system...

Thirty-seven!

*ahem* There, I'm done.

You seem like an interesting member of the earth species known as human and I would like to pick your brain *ahem* have a conversation. By the way, "I may shove my ovipositor tube down your throat and lay eggs in your stomach... But I'm not an alien." (which is perhaps the strangest thing you may have heard on a website geared towards dating)

Archaeology, eh? I'm sorry I don't know more about the subject, although I have a slightly related hobby that when I go to a used book store, I prefer the books that have been written in over a clean one.

Have you actually met someone who doesn't laugh? I've heard of people who "don't vomit", but purposely avoiding a pleasurable social act seems odd.

[redacted], good; doubt in the mythos of the popular, good; getting to have a conversation with you, great if it happens.

--[redacted]

No, but really. He may shove his ovipostor tube down my throat and lay eggs in my stomach. It's in quotes. Is this from a movie?

I'll admit to being completely freaked because 37 is my favorite number and there's no way he could have known that, so...is that also from a movie? If it had been 42, I would have understood. Or even 34. But 37? Anyone?

~~~~oOo~~~~

These next messages are from the same dude. I must have left myself logged in to OKCupid on a Friday night, while I was out.

(11:09 pm, I'm at dinner with friends)
Subject: hey there

its friday night and we are both online, i was just checkin you out and saw that you are online... wanna chat

(11:10 pm, I'm still at dinner with friends)
Subject: or

maybe meet up and have a guinness somewhere

(11:18 pm, you guessed it, I'm still at dinner)
Subject: reread your profile
getting the idea that the perfect weekend would involve watching crank, death race, the new star trek movie, a case of guinness, and laying in bed watching the cowboys on sunday. i have a laptop, netflix, and a leadfoot that can get me to the beer store on time...
:-) [name]
[email address]
[phone number]

Really? And I hadn't responded to any of that because I didn't even get the messages until the next day. I was kind of creeped out.

TMI Thursday - Possibly my worst date ever.

Hold on to your hats, ladies and gentlemen. It's time for LiLu's TMI Thursday!

Yeah, I know. I've already told you about some bad dates. But this one happened a really long time ago.

About six years ago, I had a friend. I know, right? I had a friend! Okay, no. But this friend had a little boy who...was my world (and you guys know how I feel about kids). Cutest little thing you ever did see. He was three when I met her and five when she chose to cart him off to Louisiana to marry a crazy, controlling freak of an asshole.

None of this has anything to do with the story, except to say that I had this friend who wanted to join Match.com. So of course she wanted me to join Match.com. So I did. And this is the story of my very first online date.

His name was something I didn't bother to remember. James or John or Jeff or something. We chatted for about a week before we finally bit it and met up for a drink. Now, at the time, I didn't really drink at all. So when I say "a drink," I do in fact mean, one drink. We met at Gloria's in Dallas (really far away from where I lived). I had a margarita, he had a beer, we ate chips and salsa and talked and everything seemed okay.

He asked if I wanted to do something after the drink, so I said okay. But then he discovered he had left his wallet at his apartment.

"No problem," I said. "I can get this."

Thinking all the while, "Oh great...he's one of those..."

I paid for our drinks and then he said, "Yeah, but I can't be without my wallet for the rest of the night. I need to go get it."

Let me back up a second to say this, he was already at the table when I got there, and the waiter brought him his beer shortly after I arrived. He had already ordered it. When I ordered my drink, they asked for my ID. But this isn't unusual because as a general rule, I look about 15. I hadn't really thought about whether or not they would ask him for his ID, though.

I said, "Well, okay, so do you just want to tell me where we're going and then meet me there after you get your wallet?"

"My place is really close. Why don't you just follow me there and and I'll get it and then you can follow me to the next place."

This seemed harmless enough in my naive little mind, so off we went. I followed him to his place, fully expecting to sit in my car until he came out with his wallet.

"Why don't you come up and see my place, since we're here?"

"Uh, that's all right. I'll just hang out here," I said.

"What? You think I'm going to lock you in or something. Just come up for a second. You can stand in the doorway, if that makes you feel more comfortable."

Yeah, I'm an idiot. I went upstairs.

He showed me around and then said, "Oh, and this is my room."

I walked in and stood there, willing him not to toss me down on the bed and rape me, while he fumbled around in a drawer, presumably looking for his wallet.

Then he turned around with this weird look on his face and said, "I thought maybe we could play with this?"

I look up and he's standing there, with this really strange creepy yet hopeful look on his face, holding a pocket pussy. A POCKET PUSSY.

Now, I don't know if you've ever seen a pocket pussy before, but it looks like (NSFW! REALLY REALLY NSFW!) this.

"Wanna touch it? It feels really real." (I have serious doubts at this point that he'd ever touched a real one.)

I was so freaked out that I kicked him in the shins, turned around and ran out the door. I discovered that he had indeed locked me in, but I knew how to work a lock, so I unlocked the door, ran down the stairs and got in my car. I spent the next 30 minutes shaking like a leaf in my car, on the verge of tears, lost in Dallas. In another hour, I was home and in the shower.

I'm sure there was some flirting while we were having drinks. But flirting to the point of trying to put your sex toy on me? No. Just no.

He messaged me the next day. Not to apologize. To see if I wanted to hang out again.

Serious.

Wednesday Wipeouts

Oh, OKCupid. Oh, the men on OKCupid. Actually, from what I hear from our dear Phronk, the women are just as bad...but I don't have to deal with them.

Wednesdays will now, for the near future at least, be devoted to weird messages and/or conversations I've had with men on OKCupid. I know, try to contain your excitement.

This week's winner:

Well hi

My name is [it would be mean to tell you] I am 200 lb and 6ft I am from [somewhere], and I think your cute (just so you know its hard to tell a total stranger that they are cute or pretty threw a computer without sounding creepy, please forgive me).. Just the same I am white I shave my head I love the cold not really into sports that much but I play volleyball twice a week I have a dog and I take great pride in being Irish.. So if you like guys that are strong quiet that have tattoos and love to cook stop buy and say hi or text dosent bother me [for his own protection] wish you the best..

It just hurts my head. PUNCTUATION, people. Figure it out.

And since it's our first week of Wednesday Wipeouts, here's a bonus conversation I had with a dude because I just couldn't stop myself. Later, as I was telling Gofahne (ahem, please to sit your ass down and write your first blog, thanks) about it and we had a nice chuckle. Then I sent her the link to his profile and she said, "Um...remember how I told you that I was maybe having coffee with someone this week? Well, that's him."

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Oops.

It went like this...

Him: hey, what are you upto?

(Now, I had been chastised for never really responding to people, so this week I was trying to be a good girl and at least say something. I went to check his profile and his list of "I'm really good at..." things was this:

Kick boxing
Tigers
Water Falls
Jet Skiing
Para Sailing
Scuba Diving
Muscle Cars
BMWs
Roller Coasters
Basketball
Kite Surfing
Chess
Horse Riding
Bowling
Pool
Card Games
Long Drives
Racing my car
Movies
Music
Reading
People
Dancing
Salsa
Camping
Nature
Photography
Travelling
Massage
Reflexology
Eyes
Kissing

Which is...a lot of crap that makes little sense, but the first "move" we learned in pole dancing class was "water fall," so I found it amusing that he's good at that. Anyway, it seemed like a bit of douchebaggery, but I decided to respond. But not much.)

Me: No good.

Him: oh no. what's wrong?

Me: Um, nothing. You asked what I'm up to. And I am up to no good.

(This is no longer amusing once I have to explain it. Now I just sound weird...)

(Also, is this no longer a frequently used expression? I thought it was...)

Him: lol no good means something is not good...are u living your life?

Me: (Trying to refrain from saying, "No, I'm dead.") It's an EXPRESSION. And everything in my life is lovely.

Him: Are u lovely too?

Me: Generally speaking, yes.

Him: Generally is the keyword here...It saves more lot of worries...so what would u prefer for yourself...intelligence or looks ?

(I still have no idea what the hell that means...it saves more lot of worries?!?)

Me: Intelligence.

Him: do u think intelligence is perfection?

Me: No.

Him: explain

Me: You want an explanation for "No."?

Him: (Fifteen hours later) nopes...i want an explanation for why u like me :)

Me: Whatever would have given you that impression? (Which should have been my other choice, "That's easy. I don't.")

Him: (Five hours later) YOU...and dont try to make me scared of it...its ok to like someone :)

I can't even think of a response to that that isn't "drop dead." So I'm just leaving it there.

Some people just shouldn't date.

I am one of those people.

This weekend, I had my second OKCupid date. It was...interesting. Yeah, let's go with that.

First, I'd like to say, for the record, that I'm tired of being asked if I need to be in a relationship to feel like a whole person. I don't. I'm not expecting to find love on the internets. But it's good for stories and interesting experiences.

I also don't think that people only resort to online dating because they're pathetic, anti-social losers who can't meet people any other way. It's a valid, albeit less likely to work (just because there are a lot of weird things about it), way to meet people these days. I'm out all the time. I meet people in public all the time. I talk to strangers a lot.

That being said, this is definitely an adventure.

My first OKCupid date was fine. He was funny, but I didn't really feel very attracted to him. At the end of the date, he kissed me. And that pretty much sealed the deal. The kiss? Was meh. Dry with hard lips and no tongue. And I don't mean sweet and soft no tongue. I mean awkward no tongue.

My second date was Sunday night.

I'm just going to clear this up before I get started. I actually like Star Trek. Quite a bit even.

Okay, now that that's out of the way...

We met at a bar to watch the Denver Broncos/Chicago Bears pre-season game (Ouch, Jay Cutler. Rough reception). I didn't really have a lot of excitement about the date, but I figured a little football, a little beer, how bad could it be?

And really, it could have been much much worse.

We hung out for about three hours. For two of those hours, my date spoke of nothing but Star Trek. Now, I know we both like Star Trek, but unless we both show up in costume, it's probably just not a good idea to talk only about it for two hours. That's a lot of Star Trek.

The other hour, we mostly talked football. Which is fine with me.

I ordered a burger and a beer. He ordered some kind of appetizer thing and a beer. He had already started on one when I got there (20 minutes early), so this was his second.

He had a third and was schmammered. Like, got up to go to the bathroom and could barely walk, schmammered. Again, it's not like I'm against someone getting drunk, but maybe it's not such a great idea on a first date.

At that point, he was ready to go (obviously), so we paid the tab. I paid more than half, though my part was less than half. He insisted on paying cash, and I put in most of what I had. The tab was $46 or so, I put in $30 and he put in $20. Leaving the bartender...the worst tip in the world (less than 10%). When I tried to argue about it, he said, "I don't wanna do math" and led me out the door. Seriously? Minus 20 points. You do not leave the bartender a crappy tip.

We walked outside and he said, "So, can I walk you to your car?"

I said, "Oh...um, noooo...that's okay. I...parked really far away. There's no need for you to do that. No. And actually, you know, gosh I have to pee. I think I'm going to go back inside and do that (and leave the bartender the rest of my cash)."

I would think that any normal human being would have taken that as a "don't kiss me" sign, but before I knew it, he was leaning in, with his tongue literally sticking out of his mouth. I turned my face and pulled back quickly. But not fast enough. He licked up the entire right side of my face.

Ugh.

I said, "Okay, I'm going to go pee now. Um. Thanks!"

He said, "I'll call you soon!"

AAAAHAHHHHHHHH!

I went inside, gave the bartender my cash and waited for him to leave. Then I went to a nearby bar and had a beer on my own.

And actually met a funny and interesting man. Hhhmmm...