Give Us Us Free

My last day working with MOFO (for the foreseeable future) was on Friday, October 1, 2010.

When I walked out of that office (an hour earlier than I was supposed to), I experienced a sense of joy and happiness that I had never felt in my entire life.

Part of me was happy to be leaving that experience because it was emotionally, mentally, and physically draining as well as retarding to my overall personal growth. Another part of me was grateful to have completed that particular "assignment" in life's journey and for the first time in a long time, I felt confident that I had learned the lesson that God wanted me to learn. I felt great because as I walked out of that office, I was determined to not ever take a job in government, with politicians, or just for money again.

So the million dollar question was, "what are you going to do now that you are done with work and may never have to see MOFO again?"

While I thought that I would enjoy long, endless, days of lemonade, my down comforter on the couch, and action movies -- the truth is that my first week off of work made me feel like an emancipated slave that didn't realize that she was free.

From Monday through Wednesday, I still checked my work email, took phone calls from the job (unnecessarily), worked on the baby's nursery, exchanged duplicate gifts from the shower, ran errands, and cooked like nothing had even changed.

But by Thursday, I had a long talk with myself regarding the need to slow down and allowing myself to actually relax.  I recognized that if I didn't bring things down a notch that I would burn myself out before the baby even got here and would end up having a nervous breakdown my the time the baby was 1 week old.

So on Thursday I went and got my hair done and on Friday I went to my favorite spa and allowed myself to relax and enjoy peace, quiet, and stillness.

I've even began to host "Hot Chocolate/Chili/Tea Time" socials with friends during the weekends so I won't develop cabin fever.  Today will be Chili Sunday with the Sister Circle and I'm just glad that I'll have some company to keep me from shampooing the apartment again or from thinking too much about my gigantic stomach and swollen ankles.

So there it is family and friends, this is my state of well being as of 10.10.10.  I'll continue to blog as exciting events occur, but its likely that the next time that you hear from me - I'll be blogging through my labor or introducing you to my sweet little boy!

Talk to you soon!

Sh*tting in an waffle cone doesn't make it a sundae...(MY ANGRY RANT)

Jesus be a fence...

By now, anyone who knows me knows that I hate my job.

(Sorry Jesus I know "hate" is a strong word but I gotta tell the truth and shame the devil...)

So anyway, as I was saying...I HATE my job. I hate my job recognizing that it is a recession, recognizing that the poor men standing outside of my office would love my job, recognizing that my job is the exact job that I prayed feverishly for 4 years ago when I completed graduate school.

I wanted to help build communities. I wanted to build resources into underserved communities. Heck, I wanted for Black folks in Chicago who make a decent living to be able to shop in their neighborhood instead of have to drive 30, 40, or 50 minutes to the northside, west loop, south loop, north suburbs, west suburbs, or south suburbs for a decent pair of shoes, a healthy meal, or a yoga class.

I wanted to see a diversity of investment in communities on the southside -- commercial investment, residential development, open space, walkable communities, green technology, assessible and safe transportation.

But this job - this stanking little two person non-profit, funded by the premier community development corporation in the country, chaired by an alderman that "GETS THINGS DONE", and "supported" by consultants who supposed advised everyone from Obama to Jesse Jackson - has shown me that most of public service is merely an illusion.

I would elaborate on my evolving thesis of why most, if not all politicians and public servants are full of spoiled mozzarella cheese, but I'll save that for my book, "Bullsh*tters Anonymous: Why Chicago and Illinois Politics Won't Change."

So for now, I focus on the depth of tom-foolery, and coonery that takes place on my job -- for no other reason that to vent into the abyss of words called cyberspace.

For those who may believe I am just complaining, understand that there is simple logical explanation for why I do not like my job -- a phenonmenon that economists would call "a lack of rationale incentives". The one person who works over me, "MOFO", is a person of high aspirations and absolutely little to no competency to achieve anything. As a result, there are over 20 big idea plans that "MOFO" has set as a priority for his two-person organization (ie. everything from fully redeveloping a historic park to mimic Central Park to holding a world-wide architectural competition to set the standard for design in a community that he doesn't live in) -- Yet whenever the rubber hits the road and ish needs to get done, he stalls, redirects the project to me, and moves on to another assinine idea.

But this only makes me dislike my job.

What makes me ashamed to be an employee of this organization is that I have seen how people -- from the most powerful in the State to outside powerhouses with no investment in the community in which we work -- have enabled this fool to operate in a manner that will ensure that the organization where I work will not survive another 1-3 years and where all of these people have no issue community is the last entity to benefit from his initiatives. After almost two years of existence, there are no standard operating procedures for anything, the organization has overspent its budget twice in one year -- yet, like George W. Bush told Mike Brown after Katrina, people continuously look at "MOFO", shake his hand for the cameras and say "I SHOLE THINK YOU ARE DOING A GREAT JOB [MOFO]!"

But that only makes me ashamed -- its not what truly makes me hate this job.

What I hate about this muthasucking, the devilisaliar, stumpthedevilout, sholenuff'niggery filled job is this...

...after doing all the work, taking a $20,000 paycut to "do good in the hood", seeing someone else continuously take credit for my work, and not getting the support, compensation, or assistance that I've been continuously promised - the corrupt, narcistic, sexist, and incompetent "MOFOs" that I must report to continuously sh*t on a big sugary waffle cone, sprinkle it toffee, oreos, and m and m's and try to convince me that this sh*t is a d*mn coldstone chocolate sundae deluxe.

Through poor attempts of munipulation, they try to convince me that I SHOLE SHOULD BE HAPPY THAT I GOT THIS JOB, forgetting or underestimating the value of my past work experience working for people and organizations that knew that the (BLEEP) they were doing. Unfortunately, they misunderstand my politeness (or more honestly my "dontgiveaf*ckness") for naivety and in their ignorance they don't realize that I'm only there to perserve my healthcare, take 3 hour lunch breaks, and only work 3 days a week.

Whew...sorry Jesus and Teddy Graham but momma has been holding that one in for a long time. I'm counting the days until the day that I can submit my resignation, crash the computer, and burn that beyotch down.

Heart to Heart with a MOFO/Jesus Take the Wheel (Part IV)

After much prayer and meditation, I had began to find some resolve working with MOFO. While he still isn't my favorite person, I've began to feel a great deal of pity for him because he seemed, at his core, to be clueless to the world around him. When he walked into a room, what would be apparent to the average person was oblivious to him -- due to what I suspect is an over-sized ego that has disabled him from seeing anything but his inflated perception of himself. So things at work had been manageable until a Board meeting where I realized that MOFO was out of his pure African-American mind.

As he sat around a table of 12 Board members he rammed his fist down and said, "You all do not do anything! You serve no purpose! I have to run this organization by myself!"


He continued, "I've had to beg my Program Manager [that would be me] not to quit because you all are not doing anything!"

I sat across the table from him during this 25 minute rant and tried to dream of a place far, far away.

After the meeting, I could tell that MOFO was pleased with himself and all I could think was that "this guy really doesn't get it." Moreover, a number of things about the meeting had ticked me off but I had decided to blow if off because the fact of the matter was that I didn't care that much to mention it anyway.

Sunday night, as I began to mentally prepare for work, I decided that I would have a sit down talk with MOFO because he clearly had no idea that he was an asshole. As I contemplated this talk, I felt confident that this was something that I had to do because perhaps this was the sole reason God had placed me in his path? Maybe it was I who was supposed to give MOFO a glimpse into the dungeon called his soul or at least give give him a head's up that he was making alot of enemies on his way to the "top".

On Monday morning I waited patiently for two hours for MOFO to walk in so I could ask him if we could talk. When he wasn't in the office by 11:00 am I decided to write him a letter. After a quick prayer and a glass of hot chocolate, I began to write my thoughts...

Dear ["MOFO"] –

I wanted to touch base with you about a few things from the Board meeting (and general matters) that were on my mind. These are simply my reactions and opinion for you to consider but I felt that I should at least share my perspective with you.

On Chastising the Board:

While I understand your desire to move the Board to action, I think you must reconsider your current methods. To date, I have observed you chastise the Board, individually and collectively, on several occasions and I must say that I think that is the wrong approach. At its core, you must remember you are speaking to adults and not children. A heavy handed approach will not provoke people to act, complaining will not provoke people to act, passing the blame will not provoke people to act. Essentially, I believe you have to meet people where they are (and as Marty appropriately pointed out) inspire them to act. I have some thoughts on how to readjust the working groups projects and will share them when we meet.

On the Work-plan:

During the Board meeting you emphasized that you put together the work plan “singlehandedly” by yourself. I was surprised to hear this considering I worked 3 days on it. Nevertheless, it’s something that I bring to your attention because you have done it several times in the past. While it may not be intentional, I hope that in the future you become conscious of it because for better or worse, when people give you their work product they take pride it in. This isn’t as much an issue of giving credit as it is about not miscrediting work products.

Moreover, the work plan that was reviewed by the LISC and the Board comes with parameters. Much of my frustration and hesitation in putting one together is that I did not want it to be an exercise in futility. We have set strategic goals, had the Board approve strategic goals, but in the end --- still operated in a chaotic state, picking up projects that we don’t have the capacity to implement. My hope is that the work plan that was put together will be respected and adhered to. All that should be left for “us” to do it was put a timeline and staffing needs to the actions. But if a project isn’t listed on there – it shouldn’t be picked up. I understand this may be difficult with the Alderman’s expectations of the Consortium as his campaign revs up but I think that is something that you will have to work very hard to manage. If you don’t, then I think capacity and frustration will continue to be an issue, whether it’s me that you are working with or someone else.

On begging me to stay:

I really thought it was inappropriate to discuss any misgivings I have about this job with the Board. Not only did it compromise their perception of me but in the short term it could potentially compromised their perception of the organization to effectively do its work. Moreover, any decision that I make to leave or stay with the Consortium will be because of my personal feelings and professional goals – not because of the Board. To make them think it would be because of them was a little disingenuous.

On women:

Many times you come off as chauvinistic. Many times I have seen you over talk women, disregard their opinions, and minimize their professional input. I bring this to your attention because I don’t think that you are aware of it but would be more than open to talking to you about this whenever.

So I apologize for putting all of this on you on Monday. Mondays are definitely bad enough. However, I believe that I owe it to you to be as honest as possible during the time that I am working for the Consortium. My intention is truly not to frustrate or anger but to give you some things to think about as a professional and as the person running this organization.


Kirstin


I didn't think before I pressed "send". Although I had promised my close friend Joy that I would run every confrontation email by her since 2003, I knew that I had to send the letter at that very moment. I was less worried about getting fired than I was about grammatical errors. I would hate for him to miss the points that I was trying to make because my touch of dyslexia was kicking it. Nevertheless, I sent it and just prayed that he would receive it with an open mind.

Once MOFO finally came into the office, I was on my way to a meeting downtown but was sure to tell him to check his email. Once I returned to the office he asked if we could meet to discuss the things that I had written.

After much justification for his actions, MOFO said the only part of the letter that he couldn't appreciate was the "Chauvinistic part". I told him that if there was one part of the letter that I felt that I had to write that it was the "Chauvinistic part". He looked like was going to cry and at that moment I began to feel really bad. But just when I was going to apologize for the harshness of my letter he said, "I think I understand...I think...I think I just need to be MORE of a politician."

All I could do was shake my head.

It wasn't my job to judge him -- only to give him a glimpse of how many perceived him -- but I surely wasn't going to hold my breathe for him to change either.

"MOFO"/ Jesus take the wheel (part one)

It all started one day when I was driving to work and I realized that I was singing a negro spiritual...

"Jesus on the mainline, tell him what you want...
oh! Jesus on the main line, tell him what you want..."

This song is always a sign of an emotional breakdown on the horizon so when I pulled into the parking lot, I turned off my car and simply said, "Jesus give me the strength" before collecting my things and walking inside the building.

It was a Monday morning, which is always hard for me because at 10:00 a.m. my boss (who I will refer to as "MOFO") and I have a meeting to discuss the priorities for the week.

"So I was thinking," MOFO started, "if we do this right, in a year, we will be able to set our own salaries. Cause there's nobody in the game doing the type of work and policy analysis that we doing. If we do this right, we are going to monopolize the urban agribusiness market in Chicago. Cause ain't no white man coming into my community to exploit my land..."

Jesus, be a fence...ooo, Jesus be a fence!, I began to sing in my head.

It's too early for this sh*t, I told myself but nothing that I tried could stop the aggravation of hearing MOFO talk.

I tried my usual apathetic response of, "Yeah, I hear ya."

I tried my blank catatonic stare.

I tried working on my weekly "to-do" list while MOFO talked...but 1 hour and 10 minutes later there we were - still in the conference room, having this bootleg staff meeting.

To me, MOFO symbolized all things that was wrong with the future of the planet Earth and I began to wonder who the hell I killed in a previous life for my karma to lead me to this job.

Have you ever been so desperate for a word from God that you were certain that Jesus needed to come down through the clouds, sit down at your coffee table, and have a sip of chamomile tea with you? Or at least appear to you in a dream -- perhaps as a bright blinding light or a large talking lamb? Well, that's exactly how I felt that day.

Luckily, Revival had been going on at my church and I decided to be there at 7:00 o'clock (on the dot) because I knew that I was spiritually running on fumes and needed to get it together; if not for myself then for the baby.

"I don't want to catch the Holy Ghost!" / Jesus take the wheel (part two)

That night, the visiting minister preached about how God only puts us through situations that he knows that he equipped us to conquer in order to produce character, perseverance, hope and increased faith. I was moved to tears because the message resonated deeply with me and I felt encouraged in moving forward in the wilderness called "My Career".

Nevertheless, once the alter call began, I quickly sobered up because as a saved person, you never want to look "unsaved" during alter call...especially at a church where everyone knows you as "Deacon Karry and Sweet Sister Liza's Daughter".

The choir began to sing...

"We offer Christ to you...all my brothers..." the choir sang as the minister invited anyone who had not received Christ up to the alter.

"We offer Christ to you...all my sisters..." the choir continued as the minister invited all people who wanted to recommit their life up to the alter.

Suddenly...my heart started beating fast. I had felt this feeling many times before but unlike other times I was unable to ignore it.

"Oh no!" I thought. "Jesus, please don't let me get the holy ghost" I thought as my heart began to palpitate rapidly.

"Oh come! Come on! To Christ..." The choir echoed.

"Don't leave here the same way you came in," the preacher encouraged the congregation.

By that time, 15 people had walked to the alter and the church was going crazy.

Then suddenly, I heard God say, "Get up Kirstin,"" in a deep Barry White voice.

">Wait, God are you talking to me and are you sure? I mean...I know you...you know me. I think I'm okay", I negotiated back.

Get up Kirstin, God said again. But this time his voice sounded alot like mine so I wasn't for sure what to do.

Then the visiting minister came up to the alter and said, "Wait. Stop the music. There's somebody here who needs to recommit their life to God. I don't know who you are but you need to stop playing. God has kept you through many trials and tribulations. You need to reaffirm your faith."

I knew that was a sign and that God could only be talking to me. So with all the courage in my body I stood up and stepped into the aisle...

Back in Jesus Bootcamp/ Jesus take the wheel (part three)

...Simultaneously, me and this guy who looked like he'd just shot somebody stepped into the aisle to walk forward.

"Dag, that brother looks like he just robbed a liquor store before coming into church Jesus...Maybe you were really just talking to him?" I thought to myself as I continued to move forward with excitement, relief, and anxiety.

Once we were escorted downstairs, I looked for the "Unsaved" and "Saved with Issues" sections of the room but found neither. To my surprise we all sat in one group and we were asked why we came forth.

"I came forth, cause I'm tired in living in dees streets," said the gangsta.

"I came forth cause I am tired of feeling alone," said another girl.

"I grew up in church but sometimes you just need to be reminded of who God is," I proclaimed to the group in part to let everyone know that I knew the Lord.

Unfortunately, it seemed that no one was buying it. I spent much of my one on one session trying to explain to the minister that I was really saved but she kept responding with "oh, I used to say I was saved too."

"Do you want to get baptized again?"

You can't say no to getting baptized, I thought. "Well, I has baptized when I was 16, so I think I'm okay."

'Hunny, I was baptized three times so I'm going to put you down as a yes!"

I couldn't figure out why they gave the option for people to recommit their lives if they wouldn't believe them. By the end of the night, I was signed up to be baptized again and pre-enrolled in "New Membership" classes although I had been a member of the church for 25 years.

Somehow, the night didn't turn out the way that I envisioned when I walked down the aisle. I wanted to say, "...Listen, I really do love Jesus," but it felt like no one would believe me. While I didn't want to lose the great feeling that I had that night, I did begin to ponder what about me spoke "heathen" so loudly that no one would believe I could possibly know Jesus.

The truth is that I take my relationship with God very seriously and this experience - both, inspiring and revealing - me made begin to reflect on whether I was really living the life of a Christian, or just wearing a figurative "Jesus Peace" like I was a rapper at the Grammy's...