Post by Lauryn on Aug 2, 2007 20:38:36 GMT -5
Been playing around with the library's subscription services again. From the Brit newspaper, The Guardian.
Had to post this, first, because it's so witty and true, and second because that social butterfly, the SMA gets a mention. Oh, and third, (though particulars vary) bits of this article could have been outtakes of RS, Season One. Or other times, other seasons when Steele's personality is rolling over Laura, Mildred, clients, et. al. like a motorbus, LOL!
Office Hours: How to be a prima donna
Byline: Giles Morris
Every office has a prima donna, swanning around doing minimal amounts of work and seeming to get away with it by sheer force of personality. And somewhere, deep in their darkest fantasies, everyone has wondered what it might be like to join their ranks. Bear in mind that it isn't as easy as it looks. Being the resident workplace diva takes practice, dedication and the steeliest of nerves.
For a start, a prima donna has to make a grand entrance on a daily basis. Ideally, you'll need a car, so colleagues can hear you as you arrive, windows down, music blasting. You'll also need to be the dressiest person in the office, but try to alternate high formality with ludicrously overpriced designer sportswear, just to keep everyone guessing.
Second, remember that rules are for the little people. So break them; all of them. Supposed to come in at nine each morning? Don't even consider an appearance until after 10am. Nationwide ban on smoking in the workplace? "Anyone would think there's some massive government conspiracy to rob us of our vital freedoms," should be your line as you light the first fag of the day and settle in to tackle that important pile of celebrity magazines on your desk.
If anyone complains, freshen up the atmosphere with a spritz of eau de toilette, or offer them a sip of your San Pellegrino to soothe that nasty cough. Or, if the complainant is someone you don't get on with, think of it as a chance to practise your most withering stare.
As a prima donna, your actual work should revolve around one or two big projects, preferably events, which give full rein to your innate pizzazz. Ideally, you want to be organising grandly titled symposiums and swanky receptions. But if you have to start with the office Christmas lunch, so be it. Once you've moved the location to Milan, they'll soon sit up and take notice.
As an event planner, most of your working life should be spent on the phone, talking at the top of your voice about the string of A- listers you've made it your mission to invite to your bash. But remember your time is strictly limited. At around one o'clock comes the high point of any prima donna's day: lunch. And not for you the sandwich at your desk. Instead, the midday meal is a full-on, three- course networking orgy.
Don't have any qualms about getting back late, either. Whether you're eating with Princess Michael of Kent or your sister, a lunch which finishes before three o'clock isn't lunch at all. Afterwards, leave an hour for some more in-depth phone discussions about tablecloth colours and whether Pierce Brosnan is likely to be in St Tropez next month, before heading off to burnish your contacts list on the cocktail circuit.
If your colleagues get shirty, the best thing to do is patronise them. Try: "Of course, we're so different; sometimes I wish I could be more like you, holed up all day with those spreadsheets, but I have to be outward-facing . . ." Meanwhile, sow confusion by sending a few emails in the wee small hours of the morning, so they think you've been working through the night.
If the boss smells a rat, don't let it get you down. Few prima donnas keep their jobs for long. They're far too individualistic and highly strung. But one thing's for certain: once gone, you'll never, ever be forgotten.
(Copyright, Guardian Newspapers Limited, Jul 02, 2007)
Had to post this, first, because it's so witty and true, and second because that social butterfly, the SMA gets a mention. Oh, and third, (though particulars vary) bits of this article could have been outtakes of RS, Season One. Or other times, other seasons when Steele's personality is rolling over Laura, Mildred, clients, et. al. like a motorbus, LOL!
Office Hours: How to be a prima donna
Byline: Giles Morris
Every office has a prima donna, swanning around doing minimal amounts of work and seeming to get away with it by sheer force of personality. And somewhere, deep in their darkest fantasies, everyone has wondered what it might be like to join their ranks. Bear in mind that it isn't as easy as it looks. Being the resident workplace diva takes practice, dedication and the steeliest of nerves.
For a start, a prima donna has to make a grand entrance on a daily basis. Ideally, you'll need a car, so colleagues can hear you as you arrive, windows down, music blasting. You'll also need to be the dressiest person in the office, but try to alternate high formality with ludicrously overpriced designer sportswear, just to keep everyone guessing.
Second, remember that rules are for the little people. So break them; all of them. Supposed to come in at nine each morning? Don't even consider an appearance until after 10am. Nationwide ban on smoking in the workplace? "Anyone would think there's some massive government conspiracy to rob us of our vital freedoms," should be your line as you light the first fag of the day and settle in to tackle that important pile of celebrity magazines on your desk.
If anyone complains, freshen up the atmosphere with a spritz of eau de toilette, or offer them a sip of your San Pellegrino to soothe that nasty cough. Or, if the complainant is someone you don't get on with, think of it as a chance to practise your most withering stare.
As a prima donna, your actual work should revolve around one or two big projects, preferably events, which give full rein to your innate pizzazz. Ideally, you want to be organising grandly titled symposiums and swanky receptions. But if you have to start with the office Christmas lunch, so be it. Once you've moved the location to Milan, they'll soon sit up and take notice.
As an event planner, most of your working life should be spent on the phone, talking at the top of your voice about the string of A- listers you've made it your mission to invite to your bash. But remember your time is strictly limited. At around one o'clock comes the high point of any prima donna's day: lunch. And not for you the sandwich at your desk. Instead, the midday meal is a full-on, three- course networking orgy.
Don't have any qualms about getting back late, either. Whether you're eating with Princess Michael of Kent or your sister, a lunch which finishes before three o'clock isn't lunch at all. Afterwards, leave an hour for some more in-depth phone discussions about tablecloth colours and whether Pierce Brosnan is likely to be in St Tropez next month, before heading off to burnish your contacts list on the cocktail circuit.
If your colleagues get shirty, the best thing to do is patronise them. Try: "Of course, we're so different; sometimes I wish I could be more like you, holed up all day with those spreadsheets, but I have to be outward-facing . . ." Meanwhile, sow confusion by sending a few emails in the wee small hours of the morning, so they think you've been working through the night.
If the boss smells a rat, don't let it get you down. Few prima donnas keep their jobs for long. They're far too individualistic and highly strung. But one thing's for certain: once gone, you'll never, ever be forgotten.
(Copyright, Guardian Newspapers Limited, Jul 02, 2007)
