adobe photoshop plug in filters Cheap Software Downloads for Mac & Win consumer reports on adobe flash adobe photoshop cs keygen serial Adobe Premiere Pro CS4 MAC adobe photoshop 8.0 cs trial crack downloading adobe photoshop cs2 Adobe Acrobat 9 Pro Extended adobe photoshop elements 3.0 for windows record adobe flash videos free Adobe After Effects CS4 MAC disable adobe flash player 2 adobe premiere pro review Adobe After Effects CS4 creating cartoons with adobe illustrator adobe photoshop cs2 9.0.2 crack Adobe Creative Suite 4 Design Standard adobe photoshop 7 0 adobe indesign macromedia microsoft training training Adobe Creative Suite 4 Master Collection for Mac adobe photoshop 4 0 updates adobe photoshop cs3 extended april install Adobe Creative Suite 4 Master Collection adobe photoshop elements 4.0 reviews adobe photoshop elements version 2.0 updates Adobe Creative Suite 4 Web Premium adobe flash player coponets adobe photoshop al v2.0 Adobe Creative Suite 4 Web Standard arc radius in adobe illustrator free download adobe photoshop software Adobe Dreamweaver CS4 learning management systems using adobe flash adobe illustrator cs for dummies Adobe Fireworks CS4 serial number adobe photoshop elements 4.0 adobe illustrator automated web drawings Adobe Flash CS4 Professional adobe photoshop lightroom evaluation

Archive for the 'Horror Stories' Category

author teaches assistant a ‘lesson’

Laurie Graff, author of the novel The Shiksa Syndrome, held a reading and book signing at a Manhattan Barnes & Noble recently. Her assistant, an NYU student, was in tow. A spy tells STA:

A B&N employee offered to put those “autographed copy” stickers on a couple copies of the book while Laurie was signing. But Laurie made a big show about how it *had* to be her assistant putting the stickers on the book. “She needs to learn the value of hard work,” Laurie said about her sad, scared looking assistant.

Wow, I had no idea putting stickers on books was considered hard work! I guess this means that getting up, putting on clothes, and turning on my computer every morning counts as manual labor. I wish that were true, because I’d be in better shape.

horror story: in plane sight

When I first met my boss, Miranda Priestly 2.0, her voice was as soothing as a bubbling brook that could calm the most uptight of people. Seriously, if you were on a flight being hijacked by terrorists and you happen to be sitting next to MP II, you’d actually be glad to be there. Despite her criminal dress sense but never being incarcerated, (yet! – do read on), Miranda came across as a soft and nurturing friend. However, as the weeks went by, in my new employ as her executive assistant, the varnish soon wore thin, as a rather acidulous undercurrent became apparent.

The awakening came one morning, after I had just received a phone call from a dear friend, inviting me to meet her and her husband in Europe for the summer, which incidentally, was in seven months’ time – plenty of time to process my leave application and for MP II to hire a temp to cover my position.  Feeling a mixture of relief and reward, as well as a damn good reason to travel overseas, I walked with a little spring in my step to MP II’s office, whilst watching the ink dry on my application for time off.

Her immediate reply was, “Oh, that’s wonderful”. Within a microsecond I was envisioning dusting off the suitcase and requesting my seat allocation on-line. A further microsecond later, the clincher came, “but I can’t let you go, as we have the new CEO starting with us at that time!”, as she exhaled. Feeling pangs of disappointment and flattery, that Miranda would want me around to welcome the new CEO, I resided myself to the fact that I would probably have to wait another year or so, to meet my friends in some other cosmopolitan city in the world.

Being her only assistant, I had access to her E-Mails and of course needed to read them, to keep her on track with the daily banter of the other executives and the many confidential issues to hand.

Whilst toiling through a stack of paper that MP II had placed in my In tray and trying to eat lunch at the same time, an E-Mail punctuated my In Box with the subject heading of “Flights”. I had booked Miranda on some interstate flights, for a conference that she was to speak at in the coming weeks. However, to my absolute shock and disbelief, the contents of the E-Mail did not reveal the destination of Los Angeles, but Paris!!!. The piece de resistance came when I read the dates, which were exactly the same as the ones I had requested earlier that month. Basically, Miranda had gone and booked exactly the same flights as I was not allowed to book, due to her supposed need of me in the office at that time.

Continue reading ‘horror story: in plane sight’

interviewee discovers sexism still exists

I love Mad Men. However, as a feminist, there are definitely some things about the show that I find difficult to watch. The show is being historically accurate, and they do a great job showing the layers of all their characters, but having a 21st century mindset makes some scenes incredibly difficult to endure - the scene where some of the guys in the office chase down a secretary to see what color underwear she has on, for example, or the one where Betty’s psychologist reports on the details of her therapy session to her husband. Today, The Frisky has a first-person account from a woman who went on a job interview and found herself seemingly transported back into the Mad Men era, without any of the awesome clothes or Joan Holloway:

  • I was informed the “girl” they let go was terminated because she was “too professional in social settings and didn’t know when to turn it on and when to turn it off.” I nodded, working through the possible implications of that, as he continued. “I mean, if you are the sort of girl who, when you are out with a client, and he reaches over and puts his hand on your knee—well, if that sort of thing is really going to offend you, then this isn’t the right job for you.” Ahh, so that is what he meant. Fabulous.
  • I was treated to a 10-minute lecture on “how to do business.” This included choice phrases like, “I’m gonna let you in on a secret, little lady,” and, “The real deals get made during social hour with a few drinks and some buttons undone.”

Continue reading ‘interviewee discovers sexism still exists’

guest post horror story: you want reservations where?

Heather here with another horror story. I can so relate to this. What is it about executives that they always want to go to the place where you can’t get a reservation, at the time all the tables are full, tomorrow?

My company is based in London. Sometimes the big shots come over and I have to assist them on top of everyone else I do everything for. I am sure you can imagine what a delight this is. They can’t ever just ask for simple things like lunch reservations at Bobby Van’s. It is always something crazy like a helicopter at a time when there are no helicopters going where they want to go. Of course they think this is the simplest task in the world.

One day I got a call from an assistant in London looking for help with a dinner reservation. She said the phone number didn’t work and she thought she might be dialing it wrong because it just rang and rang. I said, “Sure, I can call them no problem.” HA. It turned out to be a huge pain in my ass.

I called the restaurant multiple times and it rang and rang. I decided to google it because she must have had the number wrong. Why on earth would The Waverly Inn not have a working phone? I had no idea that this was the most exclusive restaurant in New York, owned by Graydon Carter, the Editor-in-Chief of Vanity Fair. It was part of their “charm” to only get reservations if you knew someone or had the rumored secret reservation line.

I emailed the London assistant to let her know the situation in hopes that she would help me out with this ridiculous task. I had no luck. I did everything I could think of to try and get a reservation. I asked all the people in the office if they knew anyone who could get us a reservation or if they knew the secret number. They just laughed at me and said good luck. I asked all my friends with the same results. After more research I found that you might be able to get a reservation for a month in advance if you actually went to the restaurant. I didn’t have that much time but I figured it was worth a try. Their entrance is hidden too, of course, but I made plans to go down there myself and beg if I had to.

I informed Big Shot and his assistant of my plan and let them know I couldn’t make any guarantees. Just before I left the office I got an email from Big Shot saying he would do it himself. Of course, only after I had spent an entire week trying to solve this problem he would decide to do it himself.

I should have known that “doing it himself” meant calling one of his big shot friends and getting his assistant to do it for him. This assistant worked for a company that was a client of Vanity Fair had the secret rumored reservation number so she only had to pick up the phone and place the reservation. No pain involved. I decided to be happy it was done and I didn’t have to deal with it anymore.

The day after his dinner Big Shot asked me to send flowers to the assistant who got him the reservation. I couldn’t believe after all my hard work and determination, when his own assistant gave up that, he would not only send flowers to someone else but make me do it. How’s that for a smack in the face?

- Submitted by Ann

guest post horror story: bed buddies

Heather here. As I said Tuesday I am launching a new blog crackoutblackout.com with my friend Leah today. A Crackout Blackout is when someone has a few too many drinks and does hilarious things that they might forget. Their friends will remember however and remind them later while laughing at them. Our blog shares those hilarious stories with you. I have chosen to share this work Christmas party horror story today. Stop by our site and say hello or follow us on twitter @crkoutblkout.

A few years ago I went to the company fancy dress Christmas party in London. I got sick on the way there and had to take a Claritin after we landed. I ran around the city all afternoon before the party and realized I hadn’t eaten since the middle of the night before on the plane.  I had no idea this would turn out to be a horrible mistake.

I must say partying with the Brits is the best. They love to drink and know how to have a good time. We arrived at the party and immediately got to drinking. I had one glass of champagne and quickly moved on to glass number two followed soon after by an endless supply of red and white wine with dinner. I never saw the bottom of either glass.

We went back to the hotel at 2:30 AM after clubbing with one of the Brits in tow where we drank ourselves silly in Jessica’s room. The next thing I knew it was morning and bottles were everywhere. “How did I end up in frat house?” I wondered. Then I realized I was not in a frat house… I was passed out cold in Jessica’s bed. And she was right next to me.

I said without thinking, “Oh no, I didn’t make it back to my room?” I didn’t expect a response but Jessica said sheepishly, “No, you fell asleep and we couldn’t wake you up.”

That was my cue to leave. I went back to my room mortified. On the way I noticed I had hot pink dye on my cheek and collar bone from someone’s feather boa that I had passed out wearing. Finally in my room, I noticed something was different. Someone had slept in the other bed. Then I noticed the towels in the bathroom were everywhere. I wondered where Goldilocks was and then I went back to sleep in my own bed.

A little while later, I tried to scrub the dye off my cheek with no success when I realized it could be disguised with blush. I took some smartly packed Advil and made my way into the office extremely late, hung-over and without a voice.

Once there, I tracked down Jane, the Brit who took us to the club. “Um, what happened last night?” I asked a few times until she understood my squeaking. The look on her face told me I wasn’t getting the whole story. At least not from her.

“Well, we went to a club after the party was over. I’m surprised they didn’t kick us out. Some of the guys picked up Jessica and were holding her up over their heads. We were pretty wild,” said Jane. Either she didn’t remember anything else or she wasn’t telling me the rest.

Once I found Jessica I got some more information. I made out with an Indian guy at the club and the guys had raided everyone’s mini bars once we got back to the hotel. Turns out the guy I was sitting a few computers away from had slept in my room when he finally remembered my room number at 6:30 AM and they couldn’t wake me. I thought maybe my mini bar was safe since they didn’t know my room number but I found out they went through it once the mystery of my room number was solved.

I still don’t know all the events of the evening but most of the company knows I slept in my female colleagues bed. Now that is what I call a successful company Christmas party.

- Submitted by Anonymous

guest post horror story: TLC

Heather here. I don’t know about you but I can’t stand doing personal errands for my boss. Hopefully your boss isn’t as unfeeling as this one.

My boss made me get his old briefcase fixed for him. I am really busy with actual work so personal errands really piss me off. I finally got around to boxing it up a few days ago when I read the description. “Old case but my favorite and a dependable road companion. Needs some TLC to bring back to life.” This was just too much.

I wanted to go sell it at my favorite vintage store and tell him it got lost in the mail. I am overworked, underpaid and falling apart. When am I going to get my TLC?

- Submitted by Helena, NY

horror story: everybody’s working for the weekend

I was the executive assistant to the CEO of an ad agency. Most of my job involved checking my boss’ voice mail, getting her skirts hemmed, watching her dog on Fridays when he came to work with her, and keeping her calendar, but occasionally I was asked to help with new business presentations. My primary new business role was to babysit the Chief Strategic Officer (aka, Princess Slacker) who was also my boss’ BFF. This woman had a lot of education, but very little real success in business. For some reason my boss thought she was a genius and wouldn’t do a new business pitch without her input.

Princess Slacker was rarely in the office. She “worked from home” or from the tennis court or from the nail salon or something most of the time. I guess her best strategic marketing insights came to her during the cuticle soak. When we had a new business prospect she would wait until the very last minute to write her portion of the presentation. Since she was completely computer-illiterate, she had to have help getting her part of the deck typed and formatted, which is where I came in.

One Friday before a big pitch scheduled for Monday morning she swooped down to my desk in her Ferragamo shoes at 4:45 p.m., ready to start working. She informed me that she would need my help over the weekend, and even though I had been dogging her all week to get something from her for the pitch, I of course agreed (what choice did I have?). We worked all day Saturday and all day Sunday. I even left a dinner party on Saturday night to go to her house to pick up more hand-written pearls of genius to add to the deck.

That Monday morning she called me and asked me to send flowers to her nanny for working over the weekend. We didn’t win the account.

- Submitted by June, New York City

and you thought YOUR office was disgusting…

For a long time, I was convinced that the office fridge at my former company was the grossest place on earth. There was, like, a permanent rotting sandwich wedged in the back that made the whole fridge smell like death, but no one could get over their squeamishness long enough to throw out said sandwich.

Well, I officially stand corrected, because the office fridge at AT&T in San Jose is officially the nastiest one ever. It was so disgusting that several workers fainted or vomited from the smell. Seven employees had to go to the hospital. It was so bad that a hazmat team had to be brought in.

Authorities said an enterprising office worker had decided to clean it out, placing the food in a conference room while using two cleaning chemicals to scrub down the mess. The mixture of old lunches and disinfectant caused 28 people to need treatment for vomiting and nausea.

Authorities said the worker who cleaned the fridge didn’t need treatment - she can’t smell because of allergies.

Merely reading this article made me want to barf. I have to go lie down now. Maybe the fake mold sandwich wasn’t such a brilliant invention after all.

betsey johnson’s toilet non-humor

I always thought designer Betsey Johnson was awesome, but now I’m not so sure. Thanks to STA reader Amanda for sending me this story from Page Six:

Quirky designer Betsey Johnson certainly gives her underlings bizarre tasks. The other day at a showroom on East 58th Street, where Johnson was shopping for bathroom fixtures, the designer was making her assistant test out toilet seats for comfort. Johnson “was wearing a yellow beach dress and had messy braids in her hair,” said the spy.

Um, having your assistant test out toilet seats for you? Not cool, Betsey. Don’t be shocked when she installs one that’s covered in tacks.

horror stories from william morris/endeavor

What happens when two of Hollywood’s big talent agencies merge into one? Well, as Foster over at Gawker (full disclosure: he’s a buddy of mine) has gathered some stories from the real heart of the companies - the assistants - as they cope with the craziness. Heads are rolling left and right, and no one is sure who’s safe. Dana Sims, one of the top agents in the business, left, and her assistant’s fate was up in the air.

Dana had a brand-new assistant at the time that was an agent trainee. Dana’s departure demonstrated WMA’s new callousness towards its staff. When Dana left, her assistant (who had been at WMA for three years) was initially told he would be able to stay. He did, in fact, state to Human Resources that he would love to remain at the company, and told them he would do any job they needed him to do in order to stay. HR: Okay, great, you can stay.” The next day, after Dana had be escorted out by security, HR called him and said “you’re fired.” This doesn’t happen: a trainee was fired?! In the wake of this merger, the company just can’t afford to care about any of its employees, regardless of how long they’ve been there.”

Scary shit. And there’s more where that came from.