On my drive along the Gardiner every morning, I notice this Inglis Home Appliance sign that has a digital marquee scrolling along the bottom of it. The message on this sign changes daily and is usually some inspirational quote or thought of the day about wisdom, positive thinking, forgiveness or justice. I like looking at this sign as I creep by in the morning traffic.
But for some reason yesterday the sign said: "Wishing Everyone a Happy Easter."
What the hell? I was confused and dissapointed.
I think the sign operator had a few too many the night before. I think someone probably got fired today.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Delusions of Grandeur
The CEO's of large companies are often these elusive figures you never get a chance to meet. You see them in the news, hear their voices on webcasts or read emails they may have written but a face-to-face meeting is not something an entry level employee like myself ever gets to do.
So imagine my delight when I found myself sharing an elevator with the CEO of my company the other day. I had just returned from purchasing some sushi for lunch and as I travelled up to the fourth floor of my building, the door of the elevator opened up on the second floor to reveal the big man himself. I recognized him instantly. I see his face in the media almost daily. He was taller than I imagined and looked friendly and approachable. As he stepped into the elevator, I felt comfortable saying hello and introducing myself. He asked where I worked and how long I'd been with the company and as we shook hands, I had a glimpse of my future as some ultra important C-level business woman shaking hands with men and women of his status on a daily basis. As I got off the elevator, I felt pleased about the meeting. When I got back to my desk, I bragged about my random encounter like a kid who'd just met Santa Claus. :) I'm sure it's not a sign of great things to come but being able to have the undivided attention of your company's CEO, even for a mere 15 seconds, definitley can't be a bad thing.
*****************
I'd also like to wish my blog a belated happy 1st birthday. My blog celebrated it's one year anniverary on June 14. I'm pleased to have stayed (semi) committed to maintaining this thing for a whole year.
So imagine my delight when I found myself sharing an elevator with the CEO of my company the other day. I had just returned from purchasing some sushi for lunch and as I travelled up to the fourth floor of my building, the door of the elevator opened up on the second floor to reveal the big man himself. I recognized him instantly. I see his face in the media almost daily. He was taller than I imagined and looked friendly and approachable. As he stepped into the elevator, I felt comfortable saying hello and introducing myself. He asked where I worked and how long I'd been with the company and as we shook hands, I had a glimpse of my future as some ultra important C-level business woman shaking hands with men and women of his status on a daily basis. As I got off the elevator, I felt pleased about the meeting. When I got back to my desk, I bragged about my random encounter like a kid who'd just met Santa Claus. :) I'm sure it's not a sign of great things to come but being able to have the undivided attention of your company's CEO, even for a mere 15 seconds, definitley can't be a bad thing.
*****************
I'd also like to wish my blog a belated happy 1st birthday. My blog celebrated it's one year anniverary on June 14. I'm pleased to have stayed (semi) committed to maintaining this thing for a whole year.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Can You Smell What the Mac is Cookin'?
I received the following email from a former RIM coworker after he asked if I had seen the new BlackBerry. I said no adding that all the people here have these old school ones and walk around thinking they're so tech savvy. It's ridiculous. I responded that I felt like taking their vintage BlackBerry's and shooting them around the office like hockey pucks to which he responded with the following dialogue:
Miranda: "Ooooo, a 7250... aren't you the clever clogs!"
"Get a grip, man! The 7250 is, like, 4 years old! Maybe 5! If you can't keep up, get out! And if you want your piece of crap device back, check the dumpster after work. 'Course, I'm nuking it while I rant, so you might wanna just let it go. 'Specially after I get finished playing ringette down the West Mall with the thing. And stop crying! God, you're pathetic!"
Miranda, upon noticing that everyone's staring with eyes as big as dinner plates and their chins on the floor: "And what are you all looking at? Get back to work! And clean up that coffee spill, Gus, you look like a slob."
Hilarious. (Thanks Ian)
Miranda: "Ooooo, a 7250... aren't you the clever clogs!"
"Get a grip, man! The 7250 is, like, 4 years old! Maybe 5! If you can't keep up, get out! And if you want your piece of crap device back, check the dumpster after work. 'Course, I'm nuking it while I rant, so you might wanna just let it go. 'Specially after I get finished playing ringette down the West Mall with the thing. And stop crying! God, you're pathetic!"
Miranda, upon noticing that everyone's staring with eyes as big as dinner plates and their chins on the floor: "And what are you all looking at? Get back to work! And clean up that coffee spill, Gus, you look like a slob."
Hilarious. (Thanks Ian)
Friday, June 01, 2007
Ode to Lou
For some reason, I always called her Granny. You know how kids all have different names for Grandma and Grandpa? Like Oma and Opa, Gramma and Grandad or like one person I knew, Baba and Gigi. Well, for some reason, they were always Granny and Gramps to me.
She died on Monday night at the age of 85. This wasn't terribly shocking to me. She'd been in the hospital for a month prior after a near heart failure and that experience really sucked out whatever life was left in her. She had advanced stages of Alzheimer's or some other form of dementia. Last time I visited her, I doubt she even knew who I was.
We're not having a funeral and being rational, I understand why. But this really unsettles me. Someone lives for 85 years and there's absolutley nothing to acknowledge this? She just dies alone in a nursing home and that's it? I feel like there should be some closure.
Despite the fact that even in her earlier years, she was a very odd lady, I always remember her being a decent grandmother when I was a kid. She used to steal those jam or honey packets from McDonald's and then give them to me out in the yard or in the car to eat when my parents would never let me eat them. Not sure what the allure was in eating plain jam but for some reason I thought it was some awesome and delicious act of rebellion coordinated by my grandmother.
Her and my grandfather spoiled me rotten. For Christmas, I'd pick out anything I wanted and it was mine, no questions asked. I'd shop around in the mall selecting all the items I liked and then drag along my poor grandparents to each store to make the purchase. They always seemed happy to do it and my grandma really got no greater joy than pleasing me with presents.
She used to make these shortbread cookies that I loved as a kid. She knew I loved them and every time we'd visit, she'd have one of those old-school cookie tins filled with them.
They used to spend their winters in Victoria and I loved visiting as a kid. Every morning we'd walk around a giant pond and feed swans and geese with bread crusts. She always complained that the walk was too exhausting but came anyways because she needed her "exercises."
She had a real sweet tooth. Her Christmas presents always consisted of several boxes of chocolate that she would polish off before noon. When we'd question her gluttony, she'd lie and say there were still some left. We knew better. The evidence was usually all over her hands and in her false teeth.
She had a very scattered mind which was probably an early indication of her later ailments but it often caused us much amusement. Once I found her out in our front yard holding a coffee cup in one hand, a metal coat hanger in the other and staring up at the sky. When I asked her what she was doing, she replied casually "Oh, just looking for my purse."
Her passing is not entirely sad. She was not really living a life anymore anyways. In fact, she really hadn't been living anything resembling life since my grandfather passed away 5 years ago. I know my mom and her never got along so there likely won't be any fond reminiscing about her next time I see my parents. I imagine we won't even talk about it. For me though, it's important that I acknowledge her life because she was the only grandmother I knew.
So to Granny - May she rest in peace :)
xoxoxox
She died on Monday night at the age of 85. This wasn't terribly shocking to me. She'd been in the hospital for a month prior after a near heart failure and that experience really sucked out whatever life was left in her. She had advanced stages of Alzheimer's or some other form of dementia. Last time I visited her, I doubt she even knew who I was.
We're not having a funeral and being rational, I understand why. But this really unsettles me. Someone lives for 85 years and there's absolutley nothing to acknowledge this? She just dies alone in a nursing home and that's it? I feel like there should be some closure.
Despite the fact that even in her earlier years, she was a very odd lady, I always remember her being a decent grandmother when I was a kid. She used to steal those jam or honey packets from McDonald's and then give them to me out in the yard or in the car to eat when my parents would never let me eat them. Not sure what the allure was in eating plain jam but for some reason I thought it was some awesome and delicious act of rebellion coordinated by my grandmother.
Her and my grandfather spoiled me rotten. For Christmas, I'd pick out anything I wanted and it was mine, no questions asked. I'd shop around in the mall selecting all the items I liked and then drag along my poor grandparents to each store to make the purchase. They always seemed happy to do it and my grandma really got no greater joy than pleasing me with presents.
She used to make these shortbread cookies that I loved as a kid. She knew I loved them and every time we'd visit, she'd have one of those old-school cookie tins filled with them.
They used to spend their winters in Victoria and I loved visiting as a kid. Every morning we'd walk around a giant pond and feed swans and geese with bread crusts. She always complained that the walk was too exhausting but came anyways because she needed her "exercises."
She had a real sweet tooth. Her Christmas presents always consisted of several boxes of chocolate that she would polish off before noon. When we'd question her gluttony, she'd lie and say there were still some left. We knew better. The evidence was usually all over her hands and in her false teeth.
She had a very scattered mind which was probably an early indication of her later ailments but it often caused us much amusement. Once I found her out in our front yard holding a coffee cup in one hand, a metal coat hanger in the other and staring up at the sky. When I asked her what she was doing, she replied casually "Oh, just looking for my purse."
Her passing is not entirely sad. She was not really living a life anymore anyways. In fact, she really hadn't been living anything resembling life since my grandfather passed away 5 years ago. I know my mom and her never got along so there likely won't be any fond reminiscing about her next time I see my parents. I imagine we won't even talk about it. For me though, it's important that I acknowledge her life because she was the only grandmother I knew.
So to Granny - May she rest in peace :)
xoxoxox
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