Happy Easter to yooouuu.

(a recent visit back to the crazy factory)

If you've followed me at all, you know I used to work for some pretty awesome people. And by awesome I mean crazy.  If we're going by age and number of years worked, I virtually grew up there (though the term 'grew up' might be pushing it). Don't get me wrong... it was a stressful job. It taught me a lot about people, business, and politics...but it also provided the deep belly laughs and mischievious outlets that kept me in constant trouble. You think I learned how to be this quirky on my own? I was once young and innocent. And very boring.


When I turned 21, they made me buy the drinks for Beer: 30. I was so embarrassed, was all I KIND OF HAVE WORK TO DO, PEOPLE. Or what about the time my boss was in the mood for some ice cream, so he said LET'S GO GET SOME and I was all LET ME FINISH WHAT I'M DOING and he said NOOOOO, RIGHT NOW!!! I dropped everything, snuck out the front door so nobody knew we were leaving, all the while saying PRETTY SURE I FAILED COVERT OPERATIONS just in time to see him Rambo-roll to his car.


April Fools Day was always a fun one. Being programmers and designers, our practical jokes were always pretty nerdy... taping over ones optical mouse, or the Option+Control+Command+8 trick. (You know you want to try it.) But when you're nerds together you really don't care.


The first time I ever lost my temper and swore in front of them, my boss inducted me into The Swearing Club. I don't know what's worse... being frustrated due to a project, or knowing your boss doesn't take your frustration seriously. So I learned to just go with it, and instead of demanding validation, I demanded better club benefits or I bail.


Every now and then I visit them. Because I miss the laughter. These people, they know me so well. I miss the comfortability of knowing no matter what I did, business or personal, they cared fiercely. Sometimes it meant not being afraid to get in their face..I never thought twice. You could say I learned a lot about communication, relationships and conflict resolution. Naturally. Sometimes it meant melting down right there in front of all of them, because it was just a hard day. They knew how to take it. And sometimes it meant being called to the carpet. When they promoted me to Project Manager of the Web Development department, first project out of the chute was a nightmare. One of my co-workers was in my face sooner than I could bat an eye, challenging me to step up to the plate... her exact words were IF YOU DON'T TAKE INITIATIVE, YOU WILL FAIL AT THIS JOB. DECIDE RIGHT NOW IF YOU CAN DO IT. From there I didn't look back. 


When I left in May 2009, I wrote them a goodbye letter. It was a roast, a tribute, a humorous way of remembering all the fun I had over six years time. Read on. 

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If you were to ask my friends about my experience here, they would say one of three things. 1) "She gets to drink Beer at work. BEER. AT WORK." 2) "Those people...they're weird. But a fun weird."  3) "They tolerate her bad days because they know if they don't, all hell will break loose." And it has, a time or two. Moreso, those near to me (and even those who hardly know me), have and can testify to the fact that here, I've endured severe growth... learned how to operate under pressure... grown into myself, out of my bad habits, into other bad habits, made friends, obtained mentors, and given every one of my friends and family a reason to envy me. I've been the one in a thousand people who truly LOVES their job. 

I learned a lot here. How to operate pepper spray, how to scavenge for buried 'treasure', how not to organize files (ever), how to stay sane (thank you, Melanie), how to go insane (thank you, Darin), how to wash a sink full of day-old dishes, how to catch snowflakes with my tongue, how to smash my fingers in the conference room door, how to smash my assets in the conference room door, how to swear with passion, how to make a grown man run for the hills (i.e. turn on the tears), how to spot a corrupt font from a mile away, how to drive my friends crazy with snotty remarks about how THAT logo is absolutely hideous, how to write a proposal in 15 minutes flat, how to smile when I want to scream, offer my assistance when I really just want to wring your neck, and how to do all of your work for you because you had to leave, something about your kid having backed the car into a stationery object. (That apple never falls very far from the tree.) I've come dangerously close to spontaneous combustion, learned valuable lessons in delegation and scheduling, I've thrown a stapler or two, sabotaged your computer (yes, yours), developed a coffee addiction, and lost every ounce of innocence I ever thought I had. And I've had instilled in me a severe hatred for two things: the all-call, and Microsoft Office.

I've been hit on by the creeper delivery guy, heard "I love you" from one photographer's assistant, and been told by one client that surely I must've come straight from the Princess Factory, for the ability I possess to make my boss admit that he needs me, that I know he needs me, and that everyone else knows I know he needs me.

I've learned nothing comes easy to those who want it. It's hard to look this good all the time...don't hate us because we're beautiful. It's even harder to make other companies look good, yet somehow we manage. But really, I should be saying YOU; I've just been the legs of the operation. I've witnessed some harrowing times, some less-than-perfect processes, some messy projects and even messier billing previews... I've seen firsthand the cost of running a joint as high-maintenance as ours. 

I thought you were all weird then, I think you're all weird now, and I can't imagine fitting anywhere as well as I fit here. You will never be replaced, not even close. A sizeable chunk of, let's face it, my childhood -- was experienced right here in this office.

Here I have sweat blood, cried real tears, lost tremendous amounts of sleep and all for what? A website launch. I've laughed my royal ass off more times than any single one of you can count, and poured my bleeding heart into a company more worthy than any I could ever imagine. I deserve a medal, but suppose a frame will do. 

So. For taking in a 17-year-old, flip-flop sporting, home-learned, slapstick-comedy loving theater geek -- you are all saints. You have my thanks, my admiration, my respect, my love, and many of my best memories. I will never again have a family like the one I have here. The pleasure, the blessing, the enjoyment and the utter privilege...has been, and will remain, entirely my own. I promise to remember you when E! writes my True Hollywood Story.