Erin The Office Quotes

The man billed as Prospero the Enchanter receives a fair amount of correspondence via the theater office, but this is the first envelope addressed to him that contains a suicide note, and it is also the first to arrive carefully pinned to the coat of a five-year-old girl.

Mr. Ethan W. Barris is an engineer and architect of somerenown, and the second of the guest to arrive. He looks as though he has wandered into the wrong building and would be more at home in an office or a bank with his timid manner and silver spectacles, his hair carefully combed to diguise the fact that it is beginning to thin. He met Chandresh only once before, at a symposium on ancient Greek architect. The dinner invitation came as a surprise; Mr. Barris is not the type of man who receives invitations to unsual late-night social functions, or usual social functions for that matter, but he deemed it too impolite to decline.

ERIN ROONEY DOLAND is editor-in-chief of Unclutterer.com, a website providing daily articles on home and office organization, and author of the book Unclutter Your Life in One Week. She is a writer, productivity consultant, and lecturer. Writing and simple living are two of her greatest passions.

I like my job,” Vivi insisted, and the truth was, she did. Sure, there were the occasional Lacrosse Cheaters, but she could more than handle them, and she loved going to work on Penhaven’s campus. She loved going to the big cafeteria for lunch, loved her office with its comfy chairs. Loved sharing her own love of history with her students.

I don't have a car," I said bitterly. "Sorry." The officer stood. "Then you'll have to go on home. We don't give free rides to the station." "Oh yeah?" I said. Then, fast as lightning, I swung my arm all the way around Billy D. and landed a fist smack into Big Mouth's face. His head made a satisfying thunk as it hit the metal car door behind him. I looked up at the cop. "How 'bout now?

THE PARTY And at last the police are at the front door, summoned by a neighbor because of the noise, two large cops asking Peter, who had signed the rental agreement, to end the party. Our peace can’t be disturbed, one of the officers states. But when we receive a complaint we act on it. The police on the front stoop wear as their shoulder patch an artist’s palette, since the town likes to think of itself as an art colony, and indeed, Pacific Coast Highway two blocks inland, which serves as the main north-south street, is lined with commercial galleries featuring paintings of the surf by moonlight —like this night, but without anybody on the sand and with a bigger moon. And now Dennis, as at every party once the police arrive at the door, moves through the dancers, the drinkers, the talkers, to confront the uniforms and guns, to object, he says, to their attempt to stop people harmlessly enjoying themselves, and to argue it isn’t even 1 a.m. Then Stuart, as usual, pushes his way to the discussion happening at the door and in his drunken manner tries to justify to the cops Dennis’ attitude, believing he can explain things better to authority, which of course annoys Dennis, and soon those two are disputing with each other, tonight exasperating Peter, whose sole aim is to get the officers to leave before they are provoked enough to demand to enter to check ID or something, and maybe smell the pot and somebody ends up arrested with word getting back to the landlord and having the lease or whatever Peter had signed cancelled, and all staying here evicted. The Stones, or Janis, are on the stereo now, as the police stand firm like time, like death—You have to shut it down—as the dancing inside continues, the dancers forgetting for a moment a low mark on a quiz, or their draft status, or a paper due Monday, or how to end the war in Asia, or some of their poems rejected by a magazine, or the situation in Watts or of Chavez’s farmworkers, or that they wish they had asked Erin rather than Joan to dance. That dancing, that music, the party, even after the cops leave with their warning Don’t make us come back continues, the dancing has lasted for years, decades, across a new century, through the fear of nuclear obliteration, the great fires, fierce rain, Main Beach and Forest Avenue flooded, war after war, love after love, that dancing goes on, the dancing, the party, the night, the dancing

As a perk to being partner, he puts himself in charge of all the young, pretty female new hires. It’s a running joke at the office that he is living his mid-life crisis at work. He has one foot in retirement and the other foot sliding up the leg and under the skirt of some new associate.

(And for those "girls" who were not married, temp industry leaders pointed out, temping "offers an added benefit.... They have a chance to `case the field' and work in as many offices as they wish in order to expose their charms to potential husbands.")14

Once I was back in the office, I stopped by Mags’s cubicle and rested my arms on the top of one of the walls of her cubby. She was in red today. Red-red. Scarlet Letter red. Lipstick, sweater, four-inch heels. Red. God, I envied her … balls.

• “Which was the moment when Hook first realized something about himself—something so surprising that even his glorious hair took issue with it, whipping him about his face with the force of a stiff wind and an even more righteous indignation. He actually wished he could give her the new ship.” 157 But this Peter—the Peter whose face wore the anger of the gods—he was unknown to them, and they saw immediately the danger they were in. 190 “And where will you be going?” the Norseman asked. He tucked his bow behind his shoulder and crossed his arms over his chest, as though riding on the shoulders of a winged man was the most natural thing in the world. “Me?” Wendy grinned. “One does not keep one’s commission by standing around in a London office staring at maps on the wall.

The higher you get in an organization, the less feedback you receive, and the more likely you are to come to work naked or make another error that's obvious to everyone, but you. This is not just dysfunctional but dangerous. If an office assistant screws up a coffee order, and no one tells him, it's no big deal. If the Chief Financial Officer screws up a financial statement, and no one dares to challenge it, it sends the company into crisis. The first technique our managers use to get their employees to give them honest feedback is regularly putting feedback on the agenda of their one-on-one meetings with their staff. Don't just ask for feedback, but tell and show your employees it is expected.

Snakes. It was a dead body. Not sure what I expected in the coroner’s office, but it was too early for bodies.

Stop seeing it as office politics and start seeing it as office partnerships.

In a society that places a disproportionate emphasis on productivity, there is a true and real fear of slowing down. Will we be replaced? Left behind? Disrespected by the masses, whispered about in cubicles? Will we be cast aside for not pulling our weight, for not keeping up with the pace, for not playing by the rules? For exiting too slow on the 405? Perhaps. Perhaps we will be chastised, misunderstood. We might appear incompetent or lazy. We might be labeled meek. Poor, lowly, plain. But perhaps we will not. Perhaps the meek are the blessed. Perhaps cubicles are the true sanctuary, crouched down right there between the power cords and pencil cups. Not the corner office or the mahogany desk, not the pulpit or the stage. With or without the tie clip. Not the front and center but the sidelines and the back rooms—the unseen, the unheard, the quiet hands that have already learned what the rest of us seek to know. That there are blessings—peace, abundance, humility—in racing toward a different finish line. That there is a difference between being left behind and placing others first. That meek is not spiritless.

Onyx prides itself on its award winning customer service, however some of the staff prefer to pride themselves on their outstanding blow job skills.

...In my endless search for meaning, I bought the lie that work—a title, a calling card, a byline, a corner office—offered usefulness. Purpose. A way to make a difference. But of course, what we do is not who we are, and although we know this, we still, continually, over red-pepper bisque at a dinner party, ask each other what we do for a living.

Klopfer described how his failure to decode a message from his British boss almost cost him his job: In Germany, we typically use strong words when complaining or criticizing in order to make sure the message registers clearly and honestly. Of course, we assume others will do the same. My British boss during a one-on-one “suggested that I think about” doing something differently. So I took his suggestion: I thought about it and decided not to do it. Little did I know that his phrase was supposed to be interpreted as “change your behavior right away or else.” And I can tell you I was pretty surprised when my boss called me into his office to chew me out for insubordination!

Use food and drink to blur an unpleasant message. Aini told me, “If I have to provide criticism to someone on my staff, I am not going to call them into my office. If I do, I know that they are going to be listening to my message with all of their senses—and any message I provide will be greatly amplified in their minds. Instead, I might invite them out to lunch. Once we are relaxed, this is a good time to give feedback. We don’t make reference to it in the office the next day or the next week, but the feedback has been passed and the receiver is now able to take action without humiliation or breaking the harmony between the two parties. In Japan, Thailand, Korea, China, or Indonesia, the same strategy applies.

In this case, if the team leader had spent more time helping the team build relationships outside of the office, that would have been very helpful during the meeting. The team would have been much more comfortable dealing with open debate and direct confrontation if the relationships on the team had been stronger.

Meanwhile, the members of Jepsen’s Russian management team were equally annoyed at Jepsen’s apparent lack of competence as a leader. Here are some of the complaints they offered during focus group interviews: 1.​He is a weak, ineffective leader 2.​He doesn’t know how to manage 3.​He gave up his corner office on the top floor, suggesting to the company that our team is of no importance 4.​He is incompetent