measi's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Resisting the urge to be my own worst critic It's 2002. Which means performance reviews for the past year. Ugh. My dear company, Pearson Education (undersigned Prentice Hall for my division), has a rough way of doing the things. Well... okay, I guess no matter how you look at them, performance reviews bite the big one. But we get to do our OWN. In the third person. And then our managers look at them and add to them. In essence, Pearson revels in the concept that all people are their own worst critics. And in a publishing company, that's probably not that far from the truth. This little admin assistant is having a hellish time with hers, lemme tell ya. Cripes, now I'm talking about myself in the third person. Ick ick ick. In any case, I've been working on this thing for the better part of an hour. It's due on Friday, but I'd rather get it in earlier this week than later in case crap comes up later in the week-- as it always does. Starting now also gives me more time to brood on this thing, and figure out how to kiss my own ass while I cut myself down at the same time. It's a perplexing phenomenon. I mean, it would be easy enough to just say:
But really... the good ol' Brits who own our company will laugh hysterically at the notion that someone older than a fourth grader wrote such a review. *sigh* So being the good little journalism major that I am, I'm actually trying to write something of substance. Short and to the point, but with some meat in it. To really sell myself at the same time as I slander myself mercilessly so it's not all rosy and cheery. Sure, I could improve. The Beast does not just live at my apartment, of course. Its offspring lives in my cubicle. Gods, I hate this stuff. *whimpers* 3:03 p.m. - 15 January 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||