Shall We All Throw Up Now?

Narcissism is an interesting affliction to witness. Despite being viewed as a singular object of great disdain and disgust, the narcissist carries on as though the rest of the world has his view of himself.

Remember our odd little Lord and Master who took over Frumpie’s job and title in that group project? Didn’t we get an email from this odd little man yesterday that has Frumpie here wondering exactly how special his mother told him he was. He actually hit on me. Yes, dearies. The old, wrinkled Frump had an indecent proposal in her email. That he was basing his proposal on Frumpie’s ten-year-old photo on her website is bad enough (no, we shan’t reveal who we are to protect our guilty clients). He was making this offer after realizing Frumpie was married.

It’s just another layer of eww on top of an already icky situation.

How did I handle it? Very simply. I ignored him altogether. We don’t feed the animals, nor do we acknowledge bad behavior that’s waiting for some reward. We let the misbehavior stand alone, echoing loudly amid the telling silence.

Frump off, you tactless twit. From your photo, it’s obvious you hold a much higher opinion of yourself than you should be entertaining.

Hurry Up! Hurry Up! Wait….

The project was completed a month and a half ago. Frumpie has been sitting by patiently waiting for feedback. Any feedback. The silence is deafening, for this project was one of those “group” projects in which Frumpie was working with authors, project managers, and the unseen legal department.

Last week I sent another follow-up email to the project head. Nothing. Worse, my invoice was attached to it. I can take criticism. I can take “it just didn’t work out” statements. I cannot take silence and what is appearing to be avoidance. I understand you’re busy. I understand you may not have heard from your legal people yet, but that does not excuse saying, “Thank you for the invoice. I’ll let you know.” See? That took me less than ten seconds to type. Even using one finger (guess which one I’m choosing?) it would take you less than twenty seconds.

Dear client, if you don’t want to work with me in the future, say so. I rushed to meet your deadline. That you now keep me in limbo is unacceptable, no matter how big and important a corporation you are.

Red Tape (or Why Some Companies Fail)

Frumpie has on occasion written profile articles for magazines. As you know, profile pieces are feature stories that focus on one person, one company, or one product. It’s free publicity for the subject of that article. Yet to this day I cannot understand why some companies simply do not respond or show any interest.

I have been trying for about five weeks to get a response from a rather large company to see if they’d like to be interviewed and to set up said interview. Since they are mailed the questions well in advance of the interview, there are no surprises. I started this particular one-sided correspondence with the company president. Three emails. Three times I didn’t receive a response. One voice message. One ignored voice message, for no one responded. I did manage to contact the company. Perhaps the culture is one of “don’t ask because we won’t tell” for the receptionist wasn’t nearly as, well, receptive as one might hope.

Receptionist: “XYZ Corporation.”

Frump: “Hello. To whom am I speaking?”

Receptionist, in a bit of an annoyed tone: “XYZ Corporation.”

Frump, taken aback a bit: “Yes, I’m trying to reach someone in your public relations department to set up an interview for an article featuring your company.”

Receptionist: “One moment.” Click. The sound of indistinguishable on-hold music.

PR Woman: “Hello, this is Jane.”

Frump: “Hello, Jane. My name is Writing Frump. I’m writing a feature article for PDQ Magazine on the Top Special Companies and I was asked to contact your company for inclusion. Is this something your company would be interested in?

PR Woman: ”It may be. Send your name and number to me in email and I’ll forward it to our head PR woman.”

Frump: “Do you have an email address for her that you can share with me, please?”

PR Woman: “Just send it over and I’ll be sure she gets it.”

That was two and a half weeks ago. Despite talking to actual people, I am no closer to getting this interview than I was over a month ago when it was assigned.

Frump you, red tape makers! I’ve already asked the editor for a new company. I’m tired of being left in the dark while you decide if the world should know about your company. In my opinion, the only thing they need to know is your lack of cooperation and your odd attempts at secrecy.

Some Days You’re the Windshield, Some Days You’re the Fly

Remember the overreactive one of a few posts ago? In a conversation with the dear soul yesterday, she revealed that there really is quite a rush on her project; she needs all 300 pages edited in one week. When Frumpie stopped laughing, dear soul reiterated her need, saying her project had to be published before the end of next week. I’m so sorry, dear one, but if you had all summer to do it and you knew it had to be done at that time, why ask me to help and then expect me to clean up on your sloppy planning? I told her I would do my best but that I was sure it wouldn’t be done in a week. She repeated it must be. Funny how sometimes they believe repeating themselves will somehow change the outcome or the impossibility of it all.

Let me guess; you didn’t do your huge homework project until the night before, did you? Lest you forget, you are not my only client. I have others who planned ahead and who gave Frumpie ample time in which to complete the work. What do you think the odds are of your getting this massive project back in just five short days? Hmmm?

Splat, dear one. Today, I’m playing the part of the windshield.

Your Nose is Soooo Long!

Another day, another oddball client coming out of my past and into my present. Once there was a client who hired Frumpie to work with his client. Frumpie got along famously with client’s client, delivered the work, and waited for payment. And waited. And waited. Frump here sent invoices, made phone calls, and was given both written and verbal assurances that the check was being written as we spoke or it was in the mail. After six months, Frumpie had had enough fibbing by the client. She sent him a final invoice, marked it final, and mentioned he had exactly 10 days to pay up before the lawyers came calling. The almost-hilarious-yet-totally-desperate phone call came instantly:

LIAR: Frumpie, I just got your note. What’s going on?

FRUMPIE: Liar, you haven’t paid me.

LIAR: I would’ve paid that instantly but you see, you never sent the invoice!

FRUMPIE: Actually, I sent you four. Would you like me to forward those back to you?

LIAR: I apologize. I never received any of them. Must have landed in my Spam folder.

FRUMPIE: That’s fine. Just pay within 10 days and we’ll have no problem.

LIAR: (Developing a wounded tone) Gosh, that doesn’t give me much time. Let me see what I can do.

FRUMPIE: Okay. I’ll keep the lawyers at bay until the 10 days are up. But honestly, they’ve been encouraging me to file for months now, so I’m not sure how much longer they’re willing to wait….

LIAR: I’ll get right on it.

The check did come. Of course he lied about not receiving the invoices, for he doesn’t remember (or thinks I don’t remember) his telling me the check was just sent or the accounting department was processing it, or he walked it to the mailbox himself (all used by said Liar).

Well, he’s back. He wants to collaborate with Frumpie again on his client’s project. I will do so, but only because his client and I have been working together quite a bit and they’ve already agreed to pay my fee separate from his. They’re very nice people and I enjoy working with them. I’ll not let them down because a liar got in the way.

Out of The Woodwork and Into My In Box

This must be the month for the odd clients to return, for here it is only the 11th and already two of my strangest clients have returned. Last week it was the anal-retentive emailer. This week: the startup that’s still trying to start up.

She’s a lovely client. Really. I connect with her. I understand her industry. I enjoy our conversations, though I can’t quite get her to finish a sentence. I’m suspecting ADD, which would explain why now, a year and a half later, she’s still trying to get her business organized and funded.

I wrote for her back then, and she’s now tapping me for a larger role in her endeavor. However, I’m more than a little skeptical that this role will fizzle out for lack of proper funding, much like the first go-round with her. She did pay me without delay, but I don’t enjoy the indecisiveness of everything. That she makes conference call appointments and doesn’t show for them is indicative of what I can expect.

I will work with her, for I do believe in her project and I do like her. I will not work without a deposit payment up front, nor will I work without a strong contract.

Sticking Our Hands Back Into The Flame

Oh, let’s just humor this client for a time, shall we? One of my most frustrating clients is back again. Perhaps you remember her. She sent a bevy of email messages every day, each one more urgently stated than the last one. One in particular will give you a small clue as to her level of intensity; she wrote to me terrified at what she was seeing in the copy. There were lines! There were crossed-out words! There were comments and things appearing! Whatever did you do to my lovely document, Frumpie? This was her response to my using Track Changes, per her request. I swear to you, she requested I use it, then went into a tailspin because apparently she had never used it before in her long career. We cannot help those who are inept by their own doing now, can we?

I did enjoy most of my work with this client. I did not enjoy at all her panicked emails. I remember the one that came in two minutes after the “Oh no! Where’s the file! I can’t find the file!” note. It said simply, “Never mind. Found it.”

I do hope that since she now knows how I operate (calmly and efficiently) that her need to email me every half hour or sooner will cease. I love working on her projects as they are interesting. I don’t love working with someone who apparently is answering to a higher authority, for it makes her crazy and craziness often filters down to the worker bees, doesn’t it?

Forget a Life Boat; We Need Shark Repellant

Dearies, I know you’ve been shaking your lovely heads over the nonsense Frumpie’s been experiencing thanks to her project manager’s need for attention. This little incident cements my notion that he’s an unmitigated narcissist with some sort of disorder that causes him to believe everyone really is waiting impatiently to drool over his wisdom.

The project in question has need for an introductory statement. This fellow took it upon himself, without asking anyone or assuming anyone else would have anything remotely useful to say, to write it. I never before believed one could be embarrassed by the actions of another person one isn’t especially fond of, but it has happened. Our Lord and Master of the Prose has delivered to us an introductory statement that is both deeply personal in nature and insulting to the audience. He was, not surprisingly, quite proud of this statement, which was to fill just a few paragraphs but went on for pages. He made poor Bill Clinton’s 900+page book attempt look like a press brief. The things he revealed in this statement were so personal that I blushed. Not pornographic, no. It was more on the order of revealing a particularly lewd secret to a national media outlet. Then he went on to curse at the very people who would be reading the statement: actual curse words.

Of course the rest of the team wasn’t about to take this sitting down, and a few members did contact said fellow privately to let him know his statement was so far out in space that Pluto called asking if he wanted it back. His response was to take his ball and go home. He declined to amend it or to submit something else. It was the “phooey to all of you mean people” for not getting his way or understanding how he could be so callous and crude.

I didn’t giggle over this incident, for now I’m very concerned about the edits he’s introduced into the copy I’ve not seen. What other horrid things has he managed to sneak in under our noses? Oh dearies, this man’s days are numbered as it is, but why must he take us all down with him?

Grab the Magic Eraser, for the Writing is on the Wall

Let’s just say that it figures. Remember the “anonymous” man of our last post, dearies? He’s the one who took over all edits on the group project without letting yours truly, who is the editorial lead on the project, know a thing about it. Today’s email from Incognito Man has now revealed the true reason why this person took over a project arbitrarily. He wanted to retain in its entirety his portion of the written project. Verbatim. Sadly, he cannot write. Now he’s proven he cannot edit, either.

This project went from bad to worse in the time it takes butter to melt in a microwave set to High. It took no communication from him at all, which works very well for someone who’s obviously on the project to grab the spotlight. It works very little for everyone else involved. He sent samples of the proofed work to show how things are progressing. Which sample should show up but his own handiwork? Oh, the glee I take from knowing he demoted me in stature after reading that awful string of prose! He provided two samples — one of his own work and one of his best chum’s work — and both were pretty dreadful in terms of editing. Yet while the editing in his friend’s work was bad, the lack of editing in his own was horrendous. My suspicions that he is the anonymous editor has been confirmed by the state of what he has held up as the golden standard in our project. How silly that he cannot see that his gold is just a pile of pyrite, among other piles of things.

Let’s all just sit back and enjoy watching what been going around coming around, shall we? This Frumpie here cannot help but smile with unabashed glee. When this final project is revealed and he’s grabbed the glory, the criticism he’s mistakenly believed to be accolades will be his and his alone. That, dearies, is what we call the ultimate payback.