You Are Parties.
Months ago, I had to put a memo in the breakroom here at work and when I got it back someone had written "ALL EMPLOYEE'S NOTE" on the top. And not even in very good handwriting.
My poor little head just about exploded. It had my name on it.
That then reminded me of the fiasco when I worked at what my friends referred to as "The Book Burning Place". When my department moved to the other end of the building, they moved HR into the front office where I had been working before.
Well, the woman I shared the office with and I had a few receptionist duties. The door was always locked -- apparently there was a concern that someone would go out into the plant and start shooting people -- and we sat on the otherside of the window and pressed a button to unlock the door and let people in.
Well, when we moved the HR Coordinator decided that she was above pressing a button. Mind you, we got, tops, three visitors in an average day and they were always the same people from the bigger plant down the road.
It was decided that everyone would have to be responsible for letting their own visitors into the building. A phone was installed in the tiny little atrium and a sign was professionally made.
When I saw the sign, I asked her about it. I told her it was not right. I explained exactly what the wording on it actually meant. She told me it was too right, Microsoft Word said so. I went to her boss. "Well, her husband is an English professor. We should ask him. I don't see what's wrong with it."
She came back to work insisting that her husband said it was fine. I went to my boss. "You do understand that the next time someone comes in here from a corporate office (Conneticut or Montreal), they are going to walk in, see this sign and think that the stereotypes are right and Kentuckians really are a bunch of stupid hicks, right?"
He told me he was powerless on this one, and we talked to the plant manager, who, like everyone else, could not see what my problem was. All of these people have college degrees. Then, one day, the vice president of our division came through. I happened to be the one standing there when he walked in. He looked at the sign, hard. I told him I knew it wasn't right, that I was trying to get it fixed...
He spoke to the plant manager and had the sign fixed for me. This all only took like three months more than four years ago, and I'm still not over it. The sign said:
Dial You're Parties Extension
posted by mary ann 9:34 AM