Weekend Coffee Share: Icebergs & Cats On Leashes

Another week, another measly post. Come on in and grab a cuppa. I’m using my own cup today, as in the one I drew based on my own dog for my own comic strip that I then made into a mug on Redbubble and bought with my own money.  Tah da!

IMG_0557While I love the mug, it’s actually one of the last ones I use before I run the dishwasher since it’s not all that big. I make coffee downstairs, but on the weekends, I drink it upstairs. I like large mugs so I don’t have to continually walk up and down for refills. This one, while cute, isn’t particularly large.

I thought about the coffee downstairs, drinking upstairs problem and even bought a carafe, but as of yet, I’m too lazy/forgetful to use it. I still prefer large coffee mugs. Besides, walking up and down the stairs for refills is good exercise.

Telling you that the mug is too small probably isn’t great self-promotion, but not everyone likes their coffee mugs as large as mine I guess. Some people might even drink their coffee in or near the room it was made without any pesky stairs in the mix at all. What people do with their coffee is their business. Anyway, I have a fine array of hand drawn mugs in two sizes available here. There are even travel mugs if you’re into leaving the house. There. Self-promotion accomplished.

Anyway, if we were having coffee, I’d tell you that I woke up with a sinus headache again for the third day in a row. Yesterday was the worst. In comparison, today is somewhat cake, though I still took some over the counter sinus meds anyway.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that I hate how hot Los Angeles is lately. I’m conflicted. On one hand, I love not having to put on proper shoes. Flip flops are as close to not wearing shoes as you can get, but since my feet are always like icicles, I can only wear them when it’s 80 (26C) and above.

On the other hand, while I love not having to wear shoes, I hate having to put a bra on just to walk the dog. When it’s cold, I can just throw on an oversized sweatshirt and you can’t even tell that I’m not wearing the offending lingerie.

In any event, I’m really not diggin’ this 90 degrees (32C) starting in March bullshit weather we’ve got going on. It doesn’t portend well for the real summer and my poor HVAC unit is very confused. I’m not sure which I prefer: no shoes or no bra, but I’d like to live somewhere where I didn’t have to wear either.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that work is still fairly miserable. Though, it is interesting how quickly the days fly by when I’m only doing work at work. I’m trying to do it as slowly as possible, but I’m still ahead of schedule.

The other day, the manager sent me the obligatory “when is this going to be done?” email. I panicked out of habit until I realized that the project in question was already done and have been at proofing for several days. Then I panicked that I got it done too quickly.

Just one of my monthly projects earns more than I do in a year. Yeah, you read that right. A single print project I’m responsible for from soup to nuts earns more in one month than I do in twelve. I create a dozen of those a year and that’s not even including the web stuff I also do. That isn’t right. I should at least make as much per year as one of my projects does in a month. They don’t pay me enough to work full-time, but I don’t have much choice since they’re now monitoring my internet.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that I did have a total sense of satisfaction and a rather public victory at work. A rare occurrence indeed. They wanted to do a small mailer for my flagship brand, but when they realized I didn’t have time to do it because I handle two brands, they gave the project to my nemesis, the manager’s son, who does the same thing I do for only one brand, but he has an office, a parking spot, and makes more money than me for doing, quite literally, half the work. He also has his mom for a boss. Eww. I was worried that they were trying to push me out the door again until I remembered that I just don’t give a shit.

So, manager’s son did my project without asking my input or even showing it to me, the art director for the brand (what do I know?). I didn’t even see it until I got a copy from the printer, which of course, I silently critiqued to all hell. While he used the design elements I created for my brand, it very much looked like his staid, boring, hasn’t-changed-in-twenty-years design. “Whatever,” I thought and put it out of my mind because caring about my job is a thing I don’t do anymore.

Well, my friends, a month later, I’m happy to report with a heaping dose of Schadenfreude, that his mailer for my brand BOMBED. I don’t mean it just didn’t perform as well as mine, but it Titanic’d itself right into an iceberg of FAIL. It barely even recouped the printing and mailing costs. Bwa ha ha ha ha!!!!1!! Apparently, my customers like my stuff better than his.

Now we know definitively that he can’t just take over my job, which is really what he wants, because he’s a control freak who can’t stand that my brands outperform his in most metrics. While his brand still makes more than both of mine overall, his projects are sent to more than twice the number of people. His average order is way lower and his response rate isn’t nearly as good as mine.

The difference is most evident in web sales. Every Monday morning, boss’ son and I spend several hours designing email blasts for the week. He does one, I design two for two distinct brands. Mine consistently perform about the same, sometimes better, than his as far as number of orders and total sales. The difference is that his are sent to 90,000 emails. Mine are sent to only 17,000 and 9,000 respectively.

In any event, with his mailer, I got to stick it to the man without lifting a finger. Yet, he still makes more than me, and has an office and parking spot. Anyway, I hope you enjoy your steaming pile of iceberg, manager’s son. I am.

But, that’s enough talk about work. Work sucks. What else? If we were having coffee, I’d tell you about the other day when I was walking my dog. Down the street, I saw a woman standing with a leash and a little dog that had very short legs.

We got a little closer and I realized that the dog didn’t actually have short legs; it was lying down. How odd, I thought. Why would a dog lie down on a walk for several minutes and why would its person just stand there and let it?

When we got close enough that my dog started freaking the hell out, I realized that the reposing critter wasn’t a dog at all. It was, in fact, a cat on a leash lounging in the middle of a very dog heavy neighborhood during doggy rush hour. What the ever lovin’ fuck? Only in LA. Sigh.

Anyway, we’re over a thousand words of rambling now, so we’ll end it here. Since I don’t write regularly anymore, when I do, I tend to spew. What’s up with you? Tell me one thing that happened to you this week. I’m so out of touch.

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