Today is self-appraisal day. What that means, is that the powers that be, and which pay my salary, have dispached an email and requested that I rack my brains and say why I deserve a raise and not a boot in the soft cushions I carry everywhere with me. It is a bit like trying to get people to vote for me, while I know and they know how truthful my elegant reports can be.
Yes, I am able to finish 6 original essays in two hours and grade an average B+ in all of them. Yes, I am able to knock any type of essay on any type of subject, armed only with a working PC, Google, and enough coffee to spill on the keyboard. Yes, I am a genius at throwing together mediocre PowerPoints and translating innuendos in English from two hundred year old Lotharios. Yes, I can even charm a few bored minds and con them into reading these lines.
But how can I write a self-appraisal?
I can not stop sniggering or snivelling by turns after every full stop.
Spent time blog-writing? Reaching out to the “sandwich” generation my friends.
Researching dating advice? I need to be informed on social interactions to be prepared for my patients.
Visiting peshku? Oh just in the hopes they publish an Albanian NY Event.
What else? Yes, I have established a wonderful network. Weeell, most of them are my cousins and my friends, but they did bring in their grandparents so it goes in the achievement side.
Personal calls? MY job depends on personal calls people! Some of my referrals come from Albania for Pete’s sake!
Using internet from my work cell? Have not found an application for this yet.
So, I am an overworked albo confudaily slob. Where are my results? But it is hard man, so hard out there, trying to win the hearts of the grandmothers, hoodwinking grandfathers with decolletage and smiles, and dancing on egshells in order not to make any political or social mistakes.
It is high time I told my boss that I deserve a raise, for not screaming when I find a passed-out hooker in the bathtub and the son dealing coke out of the living room, while grannie is watching her soap opera, for smiling when I give people a chance to jeer at the capital city hussy, for holding the hands of neurotic politicos who want the vote but do not understand why they have to work for it, and for taking lectures from people who spell their own name wrong.
My weakest points? Why, none of course. Actually only one. I work too hard. They see me typing during ALL work day, concentrated and frowning and talking to myself. Yep, I sure am a workhorse.
I wish the appraisal was like American Idol and I am disqualified already. Wanna go home but who knows where home is right now?
So, vote for me that I may get a raise and give me your grannies.