Donika Miller's Blog

Having never really belonged in a corporate environment, and coming from a family that includes teachers, carpenters, academics, business owners, programmers, executives, military--almost every sector and rank of employment-- I've made a casual hobby of studying people's relationships with their jobs, and the different types of workplace cultures. I've usually been lucky enough to work for pretty progressive, flexible companies who focus on the work you do, and otherwise let you be you. Also, they might spoil you a bit.

As a result, it's possible I got accustomed to having a ping-pong table and Wii in the office. It's true that I'm confused when I work somewhere that doesn't allow dogs. There is a level on which I expect food to just magically appear at regular intervals. One time I might have worn pajama pants to work and tried to pass them off as yoga pants, since yoga pants are considered perfectly appropriate attire in my offices. Three pairs of shoes in my closet fall into the category of "work flip flops."

So you can imagine how unprepared I was when one such company suddenly laid me off, I didn't qualify for unemployment (dispute between PA and NY), and I found myself sitting in a temp agency, exploring my one single option after a month of job hunting.

The secretarial pool-- an entity I didn't think still existed in any contemporary company.

For those of you as in the dark as I was, this is a department of people (mostly over-50s women in my case) who provide general administrative support to the company overall. So say, for example, a department has a large marketing mailing to do. They would open a ticket with the secretarial pool, the mailing would be printed, assembled, and shipped, and the ticket closed out. Much like an antiquated help desk.

Sometimes people submit tickets The Pool can't fulfill. Such as a large HTML request, when as far as these ladies are concerned, HTML might as well be voodoo. Enter me. Right off the bat, I had to make my peace with quite a few things I'm not used to--a dress code, strict work schedule, and highly restricted web browsing. I accepted these in theory, but nothing could have prepared me for the time warp that the philosophy behind these practices creates.

The other day I was sitting at my desk and heard this steady beating sound in the background--clack slap slap clack slap. Is that a... a typewriter?

Indeed.

Actual model in use: The Canon AP 500 circa 1987 (looked it up).

Earlier in the day, I had overheard the ladies talking and rearranging their schedules because Mr. Casmar would be coming in and needed a letter done. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that when one asked, "Is Carol a good typist?" she actually meant typing. Not word processing, proofreading, or mail merging. Typing.

Last year someone needed me to fax some forms to them, and I found myself unable to do so. I asked a friend with a home office if she could help me, and she responded, "I mean, I have a fax machine, but it's still in the box gathering dust. I'd unpack it and hook it up for you, but WHO STILL FAXES?" This was my world until recently.

Still, I don't think that getting a new computer annually is the best use of funds or a good way to treat the planet. I think it's righteous to conserve resources and work tools into the ground. But in this case, it's not so much the lack of technology that bothers me, but the inefficiency and refusal to adapt. Every day involves five women worrying about a single small project, discussing it incessantly, and basically expending a great deal of collective time and energy over something one person could resolve in 1/2 hour with Google (were that allowed, more on that to come). The world is a wide, glorious, and ever-changing place, why not go with it? Isn't that the definition of living?

At any rate, I feel like an Anthropologist who's stumbled into a civilization long-considered extinct, yet existing in a tiny spans of cubicles in Philadelphia. I'm implicitly obligated to report on it to the rest of us. If you recently lost your job, or still have it but hate it, consider the next few entries public service toward making you feel better. Enjoy!

Posted by Donika at 03:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

It's very therapeutic for me to work with my hands, as there's something uniquely satisfying about pointing to an object and knowing, "I made that. It didn't exist before and now it does." Because I'm such a school person, when fall rolls around I get in the mood for homework and dioramas and experiments. As a result my family and friends wind up with strange gifts.

While idly stumbling the Internet, I came across this project. How cool (and easy!) does that look? I decided to whip one of those suckers right up for Thanksgiving at my aunt's house. However, a new 9-5 and a few rainy weekends in a row prevented my journey to the maple tree area of Central Park before last weekend (my deadline).

Staying in because of more rain that Saturday, I rooted through my craft stuff for centerpiece supplies. My project monkey desperately needed to be fed. Astoundingly, among the ribbons and beads and fancy paper types and special scissors, I found a branch of silk maple leaves. Why and when I purchased such a thing? No idea. Sale at Michael's probably, but it was like fate telling me that the maple-leaf-rose centerpiece would bestow a predestined blessing upon our meal. There was one problem, though. The maple leaves looked a little too real, a little too declining and a little too, well, sad. Behold.



Photo courtesy of e e cummings.


But that was OK! I have paint. I'd paint them into pretty yet varied fall tones appropriate for roses. I'd have the chance to create leaves of a deeper individual and wider collective palette than I'm likely to get during any one trip to the park. Donika:1, Mother Nature: 0



Photo courtesy of Raphael and Thomas Hardy.


So things were going well, until a few painted leaves dried and I started testing them out. Something I should have tried before painting them, because it turns out the texture and cut of the silk leaves did not lend itself to folding.

That's when the thing that always happens happened-- the moment when all goes wrong with my crafts, when innocent items around my house become prone to smashing, and I might start digging through the trash. I decided I was going to have to make stuff out of other stuff, and let that be my guide.

I tell people I like to make crafts, and they either picture one of those lonely moms crying into their vats of nylon pigs dyeing in tea, or a Martha Stewart overachiever who isn't quite an artist but might secretly fancy herself one. While I'll admit that I can occasionally do cool things like reupholster a chair or sew a dress, most of my crafts are pretty crappy. Because I have no project plan. I have all the wrong materials-- just what's in my house that looks like it would like to be something else. I don't make crafts; I deal in reincarnation.

Continue reading "Making Stuff Out Of Other Stuff - A Way Of Life" »

Posted by Donika at 08:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)