Thumbs Up Their Asses, Thumbs Up Their Asses.

My bosses are lazy fucks who are "too good" to do routine maintenance of their own facility. So all the bitch work is left to, well, the bitches.

I have real difficulty accepting the fact that most bosses don't do shit. I guess that's the beauty of running your own business, to some people. I might even have a morsel of respect for these guys because, when all's said and done, they did build this place from the ground up. But, time has taken its toll, and now, this place is nothing more than a cesspool of negativity and elitism.

Yes, it's all about the Benjamins (AKA Bitch-Ass Clients). As far as management is concerned, the whole fuckin' office could be in flames, but it wouldn't matter so long as the clients get what they need, when they need it. Staff be damned. I hear trash talk from guys who have been working here 15+ years. They're not happy with the state of affairs and some of them want out. Soon.

Now, I'm no business mogul, but even I know that when YOU start a company, it's ultimately YOUR job to sustain its integrity. Anything that falls by the wayside is the owner's mess to clean, and if they can't or won't, it's time to sell, sell, sell. You can't create a monster and leave it to its own devices.

Dudes. A word of advice from your bitchy receptionist: If you start a business from scratch, you're gonna want to cater to your employees. Especially the loyal ones. If you can't make the people who work for YOU happy, how can you expect to the people you work FOR to be happy?

Reap what you sow bitches, reap what you sow.

Take That Chimichanga and Shove It

I might have this co-worker, let's call him Zeke.
Zeke rarely has clients. Yet, almost everyday, Zeke will walk from his office to my desk to place a lunch order with me. At first, I took it in stride. I mean, it's just a food order right?

Wrong.

Zeke will place an order with me when the office looks like a battlefield in Iwo Jima. People are calling me, yelling at me. I am printing shit in other rooms, trying to get packages ready for messengers. There are like, fifteen people buzzing me on the intercom, bitching. Yet, there Zeke stands, the fat bastard, waiting to put in his lunch order.
In the time it takes Zeke to walk from his office to the reception area, he could have ordered his goddamn beef chimichanga himself. And it seriously pisses me off.

My fantasy goes something like this:

"Listen Zeke. I'm not your fucking personal assistant. I don't particularly care to know what trash you put it your body to make it look the way it does. And Zeke, I'm fucking BUSY. I don't know if you noticed me running around like a fucking headless chicken, but, I really don't have time to order more food for your fat ass. You want to order a fucking Chicken Kabob with extra bread and salad dressing? Do it yourself."

Three Reasons to Quit Your Crap-Ass Job

Quitting kicks some serious ass.

Top Three Reasons to Quit Your Crap-Ass Job:

1. After two weeks, I never have to set foot in this shithole again.
2. My bastard co-workers feel all nostalgic or some shit.
3. The Receptionist's Holy Grail: GOSSIP.
(And, seriously, if there's anything better than plain old gossip in this world, it's gossip about me!)

Quitting has also given me the freedom to dump on this place, hardcore.

Don't take this the wrong way, but, I've been holding out on you.

There are a few posts that I was hesitant to put up 'cause, well, if I hadn't quit, I might have been straight-up fired.
And, lets be real, that wouldn't have been cool.
But now, with my bitchy spirit renewed, I will catapult myself to a new level of bitterness and resentment!

It is the time to release the beasts.

Prepare ye, the way of the Bitch...

How Many Wack Things Have To Happen Before You Quit?

A one? A two? A three?

Seriously though, where should we draw the line? How many put-downs and inappropriate show-downs must we face before we say:
"Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, you're cool, and fuck you, I'm out!"

So many things have gone down in this office that I don't even know where to begin to explain my reasons for quitting.

And yes, I did quit.

I knew the time would come when I just couldn't take it anymore. And that time came and went. But, I've been offered a considerable sum to work elsewhere. So, you can imagine the ease with which I said: "Peace Y'all."

So, I will be your bitchy receptionist for two more weeks and then I will pack up my my bitch bags and move on. And I'm damn happy about it. Don't worry, BAD RECEPTION isn't going anywhere. I will continue to blog about life in the administrative abyss. That's right kiddies, I'm still an administrative bitch. How could I leave this glorious field?

It's true, I will no longer be a phone wrangler...but trust me...no job is perfect.

And if there is work to be done, Front Desk Damsel will be there to bitch about it!

Movin' on up.

Stayin' Late? Hells no.

Mmmm yeeeah, overtime's a bitch. And that's why I straight-up refuse to work it.

Yes, I'm a bitch too, but, I'm a bitch with principles. And the principle of the matter is: I work Monday to Friday from 9 to 5.
That's what they told me in the interview and that's what I'm gonna do.

I might consider working late, with a little advance notice, but, the way this joint operates...it just doesn't happen.

Here's how shit usually goes down:

1. The night receptionist will call in sick at, say, 1PM.
2. I transfer her to the boss.
3. Boss will buzz down to me at, say, 4:55PM and ask me if I can cover her shift.
4. No fuckin' way.

Bossy boss had 4 hours to give me some notice. And if you think I am going to make any one's life easy when they can't even extend me a common courtesy, then you're fuckin' nuts.

Had I gotten a request at 1PM, I might have agreed.

But, Mama Bitch didn't raise no fool.

A Serious Word on Kindness

So, I've taken a pretty angry stance here at BAD RECEPTION thus far. But, I wanted to take a moment to step back and look at the real issue here, which is not anger, but rather, the place from where that anger stems: A lack of camaraderie and community in the workplace.

Let's face it, no one likes to return to work after a good weekend, but the fact of the matter is, returning to the workplace is inevitable. Sure, most of us would rather be riding our bikes along the West Side Highway or eating brunch at our favorite Brooklyn bistro, but, that's just not the way the world works. I am 23 years old and I have already made peace with that fact. So, you can imagine my disappointment when I learned that people nearly twice my age have not yet dealt with the realities of work and the type of behaviour that is appropriate in the workplace.

Work. It's a routine: Waking up, leaving your home and the people you care about, coming to a place where you see the same people everyday, and working toward a collective goal, together. When your day is through, you return home to the people you left in the morning, maybe you have dinner and see a few friends too. So it goes...

So, when I see people in the workplace, who are a part of this cycle and know the grind, treating others with blatant disrespect and obvious indifference to co-worker's/employee's personal feelings. I find it truly upsetting.

I use this blog as a means to deal with my anger, call management out, relate to other disgruntled workers, and hopefully bring a small does of humor to my reader's day. While certain posts may seem malicious, I will stand up and say that despite my writing (which, believe it or not, is sometimes embellished), I am a professional.

I treat everyone at my job with respect. This blog remains anonymous because I would never do anything to intentionally hurt this business.

Recent events at my job have made me sad, not only for myself, but for humanity. I find it astonishing how little respect people have for others.

Today, rather than rip into anyone, I would like to remind you all to be kind to the people you work with. I hope that you work in a place where a reminder of this nature is unnecessary, but, I will say it nonetheless:

Kindness towards others is something that can require patience, but, your kindness (or lack thereof) will resonate. So, please, make the most of the communities of which you are a part. I can assure you that your contributions, no matter how small, are felt.

Donde Esta La Bitch?

So, you're probably thinking, what was this bitch of a receptionist up to yesterday? Why no scathing report of some obnoxious office blunder? One word: Vacation.

If you can call taking two days off a vacation. But, seriously, it was amazing. Not only was I out of this hell hole, I was out of the fuckin' state. I was so far from this festering sore of an office I almost forgot I would have to return today. That's right kiddies, I was in New Mexico, and boy was it awesome.

Instead of answering a phone, I answered the call of the wild and hiked through the Sandia and Jemez Moutains. I took the longest tram in the world and ate a shitload of spicy food. My boyfriend and I stayed with friends in Albuquerque and made day trips to Santa Fe and the Frijoles Canyon and a ton of other shit.

I realized that when you leave New York and your oppressive receptionist job, life really isn't that bad.

Sometimes it takes more than your boss to make you feel small.
Like, try standing next to a huge-ass mountain.

But, here I am, back in Ol' NYC.

Back in the saddle, again.

Pssst. I Know All Your Dirty Little Secrets.

When all is said and done, reception is a fucking bore. Most of the time I just sit and stare lifelessly into the abyss, waiting for people to call and bitch at me. So, when I can, I will do my best to find ways to kill time. And so I set forth in search of the receptionist's Holy Grail...

Gossip.

Gossip is my life-blood. I know shit that I don't even WANT to know about most of the people I work with. Why? Because the front desk is the main hub here in this God forsaken dump. And what isn't my business, I MAKE my business. I know who's tokin' up in the maintenance closet, who cheats, who's been cheated, and who hates who. And it's all delicious.

Other than the obvious reasons, mainly blackmail, gossip is bitchin' because it makes this crap-ass job tolerable. It gives me the invisible leverage that I need to get myself out of bed in the morning. Don't get me wrong, I didn't always want to be a gossip whore. But I learned quickly, it is inevitable. People want to talk to me, and I get so fucking bored, I actually want to listen.

I am starting to believe that there is some sort of strange catharsis that occurs when you tell your bitchy receptionist that you hate your boss. Because, well, I hate her too. And I don't judge a thing people say. I mean, sure, I spread it around town like butter, but, fuck, isn't that what gossip's for?

I tell people it doesn't leave this desk. And it doesn't. You've just got to understand, I sit at this desk ALL day.

Lunchtime blows.

Client food orders.
Yay.
I love translating client's chicken-scratch, only to call and place an order with some moronic bitch. Said bitch inevitably fucks up my order. So, later, my co-worker comes out and tells me his clients are pissed because the order was fucked up.

"Dude. It's not my fault the bitch at Wondee Siam can't write down the words that are coming out of my mouth. Why don't you spank me, Secretary style, and I'll promise to do a better job next time."

FOOD ORDER CONFESSION:
Do you want a side of pasta or salad? Do you want blue cheese or creamy Italian dressing? Do you want that burger cooked medium or well done?

These are all important questions. That's why there's a section on the food order form for peeps to fill in information of this nature.

Clients, being the little bitches that they are, always forget to fill in the details on food orders. So, now, I just order what I feel like ordering. If you can't even fill out the fucking order form that is provided for you, so that I, your little receptionist bitch, can place an order, then fuck you. I couldn't give a shit if you don't like blue cheese muthafucka.

Oh, to be a morning person...

If I weren't a desk jockey, I'd be home sleeping. How is it that I managed to get through college without one class before 9AM, but, now my ass is up everyday at 6AM?
Reality fucking sucks dude.
But, let's get to the real issue here: I seriously hate morning people.
You know the type. He springs into the office, all smiles and joy. Meanwhile, I am sucking down my super-sized Dunkin' Doughnuts iced coffee just to remain coherent. But, I'm a pro, so I say my muffled "Good Mornings" and go about my business. But no, this little asshole wants more, he wants to talk about what I did last night, if I watched Entourage, and "Oh my God, Ari is effin' hilarious, right?"
And for a second, I think about pulling a Milton on this place.
Why?
Because maybe, just maybe, if I got paid more to get my ass up at 6AM, I could fucking afford HBO.

Administrative Professionals Day. Sweet.

Happy Administrative Professionals Day, bitches! Yet another day when your superiors and equals alike will forget to thank you for all the important shit you do. Sure, maybe one of your co-workers will bring you a shitty Hallmark card, but, in all seriousness, does that even begin to make your many administrative efforts worth it? Truth be told, you probably take on a crapload of tasks that are not even in your job description. So, let me begin today by saying: Fuck Administrative Professionals Day. And fuck all your shitty co-workers who make your life suck.

Do something nice for yourself today, 'cause no one else will.