Just take a look at me ...
Lording over a high-rise. My rubber duckie executive assistant at my side. I knew how structure worked. I controlled everything that went on in that building block company.
What I am today:
I fell down the ranks to the status of a corporate peon. I'm the "gal" who makes copies all day, the one who's only ever address by her first name. Do I even have a last name? I'm sure it appears somewhere on some interoffice memo. Lemme find it for you ... uh ... oh. Ah well.
"Speak up!" they tell me. "Voice your opinion. Make yourself heard." Just how exactly does one do that in this mess we call organization? "Put it in a memo. Why don't you write up a proposal and give it to someone else to check over for you."
I'm here! I'm here underneath this mile-high pile of paperwork. Look here, I have opinions too! Don't incorporate my thoughts into a memo with your name on top. Give me some credit - direct the praise over here once in a while. Hey, you're not the only one who wants a corner office some day!
So tonight is the department holiday party, I learned this morning. Damn, I must have tossed out the invitation -- may have mistook it for some junk mail or a memo on office procedures. That should teach me to be so hasty.
I walked over to the chief reception clerk and asked quite politely, "Hey Richard, I think I may have lost my invitation to tonight's party. Any idea where I could get another one? Or maybe I could call someone to get on the guest list last minute?"
Richard pulls out a master list, runs his finger down the 20 million names and says plainly, "You weren't invited."
Silence. I wasn't invited?!
As if I'd said that aloud, he continued, not very apologetically, "Yeah, they wanted to keep the celebration small this year so they only invited the more senior staff."
I said nothing, but I'm sure my jaw was touching the floor.
"There's going to be a fabulous shindig when we return though. The VP is getting us catered finger sandwiches. I'm sure you're on that invitation list."
I mumble, or grunt, and walk away. Another co-worker approaches Richard's desk and practically yells out, "Sooooo Rich, who are you bringing to the holiday party?"
I stopped in my tracks, my ears strained to hear his reply. "Oh, I don't know," he yawns. "I'll probably take my partner, if he can get out of work early enough."
Fuming, I returned to my office and began revising my resume, resisted the temptation to add an array of four-letter words in the description of my job here. Hey, I'm Leo rising, I crave a little bit of recognition and reward once in a while. The ego needs to be fed, if only with the tiniest morsel of appreciation.
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