Mummyfried

 Since February, I have been strutting into a fabulous office, to do a fabulous job, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to conquer the day at this incredible award winning genuinely professional communications agency.  And let me tell you, this place is like the Olympics of professionalism—energetic, dedicated, and responsive, just like yours truly. Let's talk about the boss lady. She's like the superhero version of who I want be when I grow up—smart, hilarious, down-to-earth, and has enough energy to power a small city.  An inspirational leader (who is younger than me, but let's leave that alone). I'm not exactly living that glamorous life. I'm a single mom to two not so tiny terrors who make mornings feel like a battlefield. Getting my moody teen out of bed is like trying to convince a bear to do ballet. And then there's the epic showdown of getting dressed, where I'm basically the ringmaster in a circus of chaos. Meanwhile, the 11 year old baby is wa...

The participation trophy for playing the game of corporate life without a rulebook, a map, or a decent budget is packaged up into a signed documented and a meager financial thanks called Redundancy. The lone ranger is out of commission. After seven years of undying dedication to a company that seemed to thrive on the philosophy of 'No Direction, No Budget, confused with micromanagement and thousands of ridiculous rewrites came - the role, and the person suddenly to a screaming halt. The late nights that had become friends were now waving goodbye, the fun weekends that had become myths were going to come back, the 14-hour day - over, done, no more. The sweetest cherry on top of this professional sundae was the reminder from higher-ups and the incompetent replacement higher than you, that you were in their eyes, after all the years of delivering, aiding mergers, profits, and recognition, about as competent as a fish riding a bicycle. So what that your role was carved up like ...