Giving up on Green?

So – seems I was not the only OCD sanitary freak believer here at Microsoft. (side note, Word does not supply any synonyms for freak – is that the PC thing to do?)  In case you need a refresher – I ranted 3 months ago on the insanity of installing new paper towel dispensers a couple of weeks after installing hand dryers based on Green initiatives at the company.

So a few weeks ago I enter the restroom to see the Dyson dryer has been ripped from the wall! (embellishing just a bit)  There has been a hole in the wall since then.  Yesterday, I noticed the spackle.  Today, the wall has been painted and ready for more wallpaper.

I wonder what led to the waste of purchasing hand dryers for multiple bathrooms on multiple floors of multiple buildings…only to remove them so quickly.  Were they a loaner?  Was it a test model that Dyson is now improving upon?  Given the hole/patch project, I’m thinking no.

So sad.  So wasteful.

Alienating Advertising

I love loved a Klondike bar.  The last month of my pregnancy I ate one every day.  There was NO substitute (as my husband found out the hard way).  6 years later, not sure how many times I’ve had one.  Regardless, there is was a special place in my heart for a Klondike Bar.

I was on some website this morning.  Not sure which one.  That doesn’t matter.  There was a display ad for Klondike Bars.  It had some flashy animation thing, and I saw something about more chocolate.  Knowing how much I have enjoyed them in the past – I clicked on the link.

See that highlight?  The one about the “Man Cave”?  Sure, I clicked it.  Sadly, the deeper you go into the cave, the more offensive it is to me as a Woman.  Here are a few highlights…

1. How about that moose head?  This Guy has known it longer than “your girl” – really?
2. “Khaki Pants Pete” – oh jeez, it is SO hard being a man, being nagged all the time by your wife, life is so fucking hard, then you have to drop off the sitter, but also get a “gift” for the bachelor party, so do you go to the sex shop first then drop off the sitter?  Can you say harassment?!
3. “Michael Ian Black” TV – different vignettes on what a guy would do for a Klondike bar.  This riled me up the most! Women in French maid costumes serving a bar and getting an ass goggling?  They guy agrees to kiss the next woman coming out of the gym, after a parade of well toned, pretty girls in work out wear – the next one out the door is an older, heavy set, homely looking woman. That he kisses on the cheek.

 

I tweeted a fail on Klondike for the Man Cave.  I got a response back that asked what I would do for a Klondike Bar.  Are they kidding me?!?!  So I tweeted back to them that they are missing the point.  They have alienated half their audience.  Would you want to support a product that had very little regard for women.  I haven’t heard anything back.

I get that people are tired of the whole PC environment.  I get that many women would not find this offensive.  I get that many (most?) guys don’t see the problem here…  It matters to me.  I have friends with a similar mind set that would support me.  All it takes is one voice…

What would you do?  Think about it.

No you may NOT have my blood!

I like to be a good corporate citizen.  I like to think I can help others in small ways.  Or big ways.  Depending on where you consider donating blood to land.  I began my donations back in high school.  Where at the tender age of 16, I could get my parent’s consent to give a pint and get a cookie.  Continued through college. 

Moved to Seattle and life changes a bit.  Regular, rotating schedules of tattoos and piercings made me ineligible to donate blood.  No worries, I know the blood banks need it.  But I’m not holding off on adding art to my body in the name of blood donation.  I picked it up again after I finished nursing A.  Whenever the blood mobile came to my office, I was there.  Hey – they still give out cookies!

It must have been 2 1/2 years ago now, I got a rather small tattoo on my ankle.  Completely forgetting about the restriction, I went in to donate and was turned away.  I’ll tell ya – It’s a different kind of shame to walk out of the blood mobile with a yellow slip of paper in hand.  I continued to get asks and rallies and Come On Down – We’ll Be in Your Parking Lot Tomorrow!  Each time, I sent a sweet message reminding them that I cannot give blood and please remove me from your list until 1/1/2009.

So last summer when I began the large piece on my back, I knew the drill.  No donations.  The requests continued to come in, once a month, an ask to donate.  Repeatedly asking they remove me from the list. Repeatedly  asking I’m off the list until 1/1/2011.  The last request I got, before today, I was more than irked.  I sent a strongly worded message, no more Ms. Nice Girl.  I received a very apologetic email assuring me my record was updated in all the right places and they were choosing to delay my donations until 12/31/2011.

So guess, dear reader, what fucking showed up in my email box today?! 

You know, it’s not that the volume is too high, once a month does not even register in my email volume.  However…the fact that I have to go through this dance every month?  I am now Ms Not So Nice mode.  I wanted to say something really rude like, if you email me again and I’ll call the office and be permanently removed from the database.  Expletive, bitchy, condescending kind of words.  Instead, I chose to tone it down, yet with a thread of superiority to remove my fucking name from the fucking list!

However, let it be known, if they email me one more fucking time – ALL BETS ARE OFF!

Patience is not my virtue

Yesterday, A and I went out for errands – library, grocery shopping, playing in water fountains, etc.  In the middle of this, lunch needed to happen.  So we went to a local place in Redmond, diner-like, breakfast all day, you know the type.

I’m tired.  More importantly hungry. Probably 15 minutes past my safe zone – nerves are shot, eyes sinking into my skull, trying to think clearly enough to order food fast for both of us.  A likes to get the french toast and egg.  No surprise, this is what she orders.  Few minutes later, food delivered.

A decides she wants to pour the syrup from the jar into the little bowl the jar was delivered in.  All is fine until she stops pouring and starts inspecting the jar, turning it in her hand.  I tell her to put the syrup down right away.  She looks at me with that devious face.  Right NOW! as I point my finger exactly on the table where she should place the jar.  But no….she wants to lick off the spot of syrup she found on her wrist. Can you see it coming?  She turns her wrist to lick, the jar goes from vertical, past horizontal, quickly towards the 180 degree angle.  Syrup pours down her arm and onto her dress.  “A!  I told you to put the syrup down.  You don’t listen to me, and now you have syrup all over you!”

And the reality of the 6 year old sitting across from me kicks in. 

She’s 6!  I am way to hard on this kid.  I am a horrible mother.
(have you heard this tape before?)

We go about lunch and grocery shopping.  We get home, unpack and start doing puzzles together. 

Side note – we both love puzzles. I think we could spend all day in the dining room doing puzzles together.  She’s mastered the 300 piece, it might be time for the 500

I look at her “A?”

“Yes?”

“I wanted to apologize for snapping at you at the restaurant.  I was very frustrated that you were not listening to me and that resulted in the accident.  I lost my temper and I’m sorry.”

“That’s OK Mommy.”

“I should not have lost my temper.  I’ll try to better next time.”

“I know Mommy, it’s OK.”  She smiles that smile of love and goes back to her puzzle.

Can I please crawl under a rock now?  Could I feel any more worse?  We are fire and ice.  Such the typical mother/daughter dynamic.  Have I mentioned she’s 6?  Feel like I really have my work cut out for me here.  Time to commit.