Kristin Lee Wicke- Taking on Corporate America

Kristin Lee Wicke- taking on Corporate America- pants suits and brief cases- meetings and executives- an unprofessional in a professional environment. 



Corporate Magazine says: “where did they get her from? What a freak show”

Muckies and Yuppies says: “she is a disgrace- a total disgrace for what we stand for”

Reasons I don't fit within Corporate America:

1. My hair-

From the first time I put on my pant suit to go to the interview, I knew, my hair did not fit in. From the shoulders down, I looked great- my pant suit cost me a whole $70- that was 2 weeks worth of pay from my job at the time of shoveling up dog shit...that $70 pant suit had better look good. My hair however, was using some cheap $11 shampoo- how could I expect more from it? I was banking on a midget to interview me or even better, a blind person- they would either only see my clothes or nothing at all and I would be hired instantly based on my bubbly personality and my hair would not scare them away. My hair has always had a mind of its own- In a way, I like to think my hair is a reflection of my personality- wild, big, and unpredictable. The pant suit and the hair clashed instantly...the interviewer was 5’6” and had full vision-

                                        

This is how I picture my hair on that first day

My hair= reason #1 I do not fit into Corporate America



2. The Security Guards:

My first day in the building was the day of my interview. I was super nervous and had no idea where to go, so naturally I decided to follow the herd of corporate cattle and walk hurriedly past the security guards. As the alarms went off, I realized I did something wrong- as my herd left me; I was stopped by security- I did not have a security badge. The security guard, Kevin, made me come to the side and interrogated me for what seemed like an hour- it went something like this:

Kevin: "what's your name?"

Me: "Kristin"

Kevin: "what's your last name?"

Me: "Oh, sorry, Wicke- my name is Kristin Wicke..."

*silence*

Me: "I'm really nervous...in fact I have some major pit stains going on right now...gawd and my hair...is it a mess? The humidity...makes me look like a black woman...*observes the security guard is black*...crap...I mean- nothing wrong with a black woman's hair...just you know- it's big...crap...ugh...man is it hot in here?"

Kevin: "Ma'am- what are you on?"

Me: "WHAT?...what am I on? ...nothing?"

Kevin: "You're not taking any drugs?"

Me: "No...WHAT?...no...gawd you should have seen me in high school- straight as an arrow...no sex drugs or rock and roll...*nervous laugh as I elbow the security guard* I tried pot in college- but I am immune...for real- I had to fake being high once just to fit in...no siree- no drugs for me. I'm just high on life!"

Kevin: "Ma'am may I suggest you lay off the caffeine- you are freaking the heck out of me- and you are bound to freak the people out who are potentially going to hire you"



Let’s just say I had some major confidence going into that interview...



                                  

Does this look like a person who would be “on something”?

I’m “on something”= reason #2 I do not fit into Corporate America



3. Yelling and dancing in the office:

I'm a creative type- a performer if you will. I love dancing, making weird voices, and just being goofy. I work at the headquarters of our company- CEOs, CFOs, the whole kitten and caboodle. I once told my co-worker that I didn't read an executive's email and he tackled me to shut my face because he was so scared an executive would hear of my bad conduct. My job title is office administrator- in The Middle Ages, this would translate to "peasant"...in 1800's- "slave"...in 2012 it simply translates to "bitch". I stock refrigerators, coffee, order office supplies, and lift boxes- its not glorious in the least, but it pays rent-so who am I to complain? The one day we had a rather large shipment of boxes come in, and I had to load them all onto a shelving unit so the floor would be cleared of all clutter- (major brain power here). After I got done I started running around the office supply room, flexing my muscles and grunting to show off my physical accomplishment. Little did I know there was a very important meeting going on in the other room and a co-worker had to leave the meeting because everyone was complaining of a "gorilla like sound" coming from the office supply room...aka ME! I was scolded for being too loud and not conducting myself in a professional manner. When you work with boxes and coffee all day, sometimes you just need to grunt.



                                         

                                    This is basically what happens when I lift anything heavy



I’m an animal= reason #3 I do not fit into the corporate world



Stocking coffee= talking coffee:

Every morning I have to stock the coffee rooms. We order very expensive coffee that comes in individual packets that have to be torn off of a plastic device. It is probably the simplest task that I have to do, and yet people think it is very difficult. I've had numerous people come up to me and say, "wow, you do a really good job tearing that coffee off of that plastic device, I know I could never do that". Isn't that just the nicest compliment ever? SARCASM SARCASM SARCASM!!  People in our office assume I have no college degree, that this task of pulling coffee off of a highly wasteful plastic device that could easily be performed by a severely retarded monkey is a task that no one but I can perform. It's hard not to get mouthy, which is what I usually do- or I simply put on a little kid voice and look at them dumbly saying "thanks" and walk off like I have a full diaper. It's interactions like this that may get me fired. This brings me to my least favorite activity-talking about coffee in general. I love how everyone that comes into the break room and sees me filling coffee assumes that I know everything about coffee and that I get off, and I mean really, get off, on talking about coffee.

-"So, what's your favorite flavor?

-"What's the most popular flavor?

-"I bet we go through this coffee a lot...must keep you busy huh?



First, off- I am a human being- I like to talk about things that other human beings like talking about. Like sports...how about those NY Tigers? Politics... are you voting for Bush this year? Health...I've been pooping after every meal!...That was all wrong wasn't it...and awkward....damn it...who am I kidding!  Well…my favorite flavor is the Dove Hot chocolate- morning roast is the most popular- it’s a light blend and I think it has the most caffeine which is what people generally drink in the morning...yes we do go through a lot of coffee...BUT I'M A REAL HUMAN BEING DAMN IT!



Coffee doesn’t get me off= reason #4 I do not fit into the corporate world



Answering the phones in a professional manner:

I work reception for an hour which is my favorite part of the day.  It consists of sitting on g-chat for an hour and answering phones in different voices.  One day I decided to play a prank on a co-worker and so I pretended I was on the phone and was having a fight with a supplier:



“NO SIR YOU CAN SHOVE IT UP YOUR BUTT!” *Slams down phone*



Little did I know the CEO would be walking by just as I did that…



Pranksters don’t impress= reason #5 I do not fit into the corporate world



Talking to co-workers in a professional manner:

We have two bathrooms on our floor.  One has a security code and has about 4 stalls in it.  The other requires a key to enter and has about 10 stalls.  As a passionate pooper in the office, I know that the key access bathrooms are place you want to go to poop.  No one goes out of their way to grab the key and unlock the door if they just have to pee.  It’s just a fact- if you need to pee, you will go into the code access bathroom.  I had an inside sales co-worker come up to the reception desk and ask for a bathroom key- we were out of them, so I told him he would have to use the coded bathrooms.  He replied that he didn’t like the bathroom with the code- it felt too claustrophobic for him and the toilet paper felt rougher on his butt hole compared to the exact same 1 ply sandpaper toilet paper in the key access bathroom.  My response:



“You have to take a shit don’t you!?  You have to take a huge dump and you are embarrassed to do it in the smaller bathroom because you don’t want everyone knowing that you are taking the crap!”



He has never asked for a bathroom key again- but I am also sure he has warned everyone in the office about me. 

              I’m familiar with the “I NEED TO POOP” look…and this guy surely had the look



I’m a social nightmare= reason #6 I do not fit in the corporate world



She’s climbing in your windows so hide your corporations, hide your executives- so you can run and tell that! 

Libby's Corner

http://youtu.be/2MgWOYkaiYY

http://youtu.be/sXyIZ_bkhoI

Email from an unprofessional

Hey Peter,

After hearing about how you slept on the floor for a week because you didn't have a bed... because I was buying it...and how you helped me transport said bed to my new place/ set it up for me, I feel obligated to pay you. 

I know, I know, you will say "No, I don't want any money" - (that was my Peter impression)- but you are going to have to accept it because of my strong morals aka strong anxiety, which has held me hostage until I cough up some dough-

let me explain: 

I have this tremendous amount of guilt that started at a young age when I tried to steal a rice krispy treat from my dance studio (why they were selling rice krispy treats at a place where they are supposed to be promoting good health is beyond me) but I had to write an apology letter to the woman that made them and it really did a number on me- ever since then I can't steal without having an immense amount of guilt. 

I was also raised Lutheran.  Need I say more?  Not only did I have to memorize the 10 commandments but the 3 paragraphs stating what it meant.  Thou shall not murder isn't as straight to the point as you may think.  It scared the shit out of me...and ever since, I can't murder anyone...sucks...morals engrained.    

Recently, I took a pen on accident from work and I couldn't sleep all night because I felt so bad- the entire train ride home, I thought everyone was looking at me, just thinking "pen stealer Pen Stealer PEN STEALER!"  The next day, I made sure I had that pen with me and returned it to its rightful place in the office supply room. 

 Basically, I am telling you all of this, because I have been plagued with having "good morals"- and I use the word "plagued" because that is exactly what it is.   Being ostracized by friends because I wouldn't steal a sandwhich from the deli in Memorial Union- breaking out into hives because my sisters and I snuck into 3 movies when we only paid for 1- that's the life of a good moraled individual.   

My skin is itching as we speak...which may or may not be from your mattress...I forgot to ask, what kind of bodily fluids are on this mattress? 

In conclusion, I am going to pay you for your labor of lugging my bed to my new place and setting it up.  Please accept the payment- for the love of god, if not for me, for my skin which has broken out into hives. 

-Kristin

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A letter I was close to sending my co-worker...who gave me his bed...and set it up for me....and is best friends with the COO. 

Girls Hold It, Real Women Poop

I can remember back in my high school days, pooping was something that was highly embarrassing.  If you had to poop, you would hold it throughout the day.  Your stomach would get the “I have to poop but I’m holding it” bloat.  A strange growl would be heard from miles away as your stomach would swallow your farts-a sound you would claim was a hunger growl even though you clearly just ate lunch.

Girls would allege that they didn’t poop- what a load of shit!

After years of holding it in throughout high school and waking up at odd hours during college to use the dormitory stalls when they were not occupied, I decided enough was enough.  I am proud to say that I poop not once, but two times a day at work.  I’m still not what you might call a “proud pooper”- I don’t excuse myself from a conversation saying “I’m sorry, can this meeting wait? I have to take a poop”  In fact, I’m the one who stole the bathroom key to the locked restroom because asking for it from the receptionist and disappearing for 15 minutes or more was just too obvious that I was vomiting from my butt. 

There is a strategy to pooping at work and I hope that everyone can learn from mine if you are one of those shy poopers.  For one thing, if there are multiple restrooms on your floor, I would choose the one with the most stalls.  The worst scenario is that you will be taking a dump in a two person stall and there will be a line that forms- you mine as well come out of your stall and take a poop right in front of everyone because there is no way to keep your identity secret at this point.  I’ve had this situation happen before- college- two person stall- massive diarrhea- just hawking a loogie from my butt hole- class of 300 some students gets out- line for the bathroom…and you can’t just sit in there because the stench will eventually kill you.   

Another reason to pick a restroom with multiple stalls is in case you end up farting in the toilet.  This often happens when you feel a bit constipated and you start to push real hard and a little toot comes out instead.  This is very dangerous, because if you are like me, you will hold your breath for a few minutes thinking it will make you invisible.  For the sake of your identity, DO. NOT. DO. THIS!  You risk passing out on the toilet seat which would lead to someone breaking down your bathroom stall, seeing you with your pants down and revealing whatever gift you left in the toilet.  It’s just way too dangerous for your identity.

Now here is the real strategy of pooping at work- always go to the handicapped stall.  Push aside the people in wheelchairs-that bathroom wasn’t made for only them- its main purpose is to protect the identities of those that poop.  How does it do this?  For one thing, the size of the stall allows for feet to remain hidden from other people in other stalls.  For instance, perhaps you are looking really fly in your red pumps that day and your co-workers come up to you and say, “Hey, you look really fly with those red pumps- those are really MEMORABLE”--if anyone were to see those shoes in a stall, the jig would be up.  EVERYONE would know that you, girl with the red pumps, are laying a big one in the toilet.  Also, the bigger space allows for you to do full length sit ups on the toilet to help your bowl movements pass faster.  If you have never tried doing a sit up on a toilet, you should.  That little poop ball that felt like the size of Texas will come out with much more ease- and you will get a little ab workout as well.   

Now go out into public places and poop!  And be considerate…yea I’m talking about you crippled people who just have to take a pee- think of others for once before using that handicapped stall you feel sooooo entitled to.   

Confessions of a Chronic Liar

Forgive me Father for I have sinned:

Confession: My mom's not dead...

Now hold on God, before you strike me with a lightning bolt for this one, let me explain. I am not some sort of sick freak who tells everyone that my mom is deceased just for the hell...heck of it.  Yes, I did say my mom was dead- but in my defense, it was to prove a point.

My co-worker was that popular girl that everyone loved for no reason at all.  Now, why would you love someone for no reason at all, God?! She was the girl who could fart and it would be deemed “cute butt language”.  She was gorgeous, funny, nice to everyone, and smart- EVERY GIRL’S WORST ENEMY-

CAN I GET AN AMEN FROM ALL INSECURE WOMEN OF THE WORLD WHO HATE OTHER GIRLS FOR BEING AWESOME HUMAN BEINGS BECAUSE THEY THEMSELVES WISH THEY COULD BE AWESOME HUMAN BEINGS AND INSTEAD OF STRIVING TO BE AN AWESOME HUMAN BEING THEY HATE OTHERS THAT ARE, IN FACT, AWESOME HUMAN BEINGS!

  

My co-workers all loved her... "She's gorgeous, funny, smart, bla bla bla....” but I think the best explanation was from my one co-worker Ned, who said, “Well her mom died about 10 years ago…so you HAVE to like her." 

Hold up-  WHAT?!?  God I don't want to put you on the spot or anything but how many people would you say die in…let’s say a day?  Okay...let’s keep it rhetorical, you keep that number to yourself God- no need to answer.  Now how many of their loved ones do I have to like because they died?  Yea yea yea, “love thy neighbor”. I get it…I’m a horrible person...but can you play along so I can prove my point?

It suddenly clicked in my brain- everyone was just being nice to her not because she was a truly amazing human being who spoke nothing but kind words of others (walking around all god like...the nerve, right God?)...BUT because her mother had died- and not even recently God, but 10 YEARS AGO! 

So, I simply replied, "Well my mom died too and I don't expect everyone to kiss my feet". –an itsy bitsy little teensy weensy lie…  IT WAS TO PROVE A POINT GOD!!    Well my co-worker went and told HIS mom that MY mom had died and little did I know that HIS mom knew MY mom and was freaking out because she thought MY mom had passed away.  So you can imagine the scolding I got from my mother when HIS mother saw her at work and explained how happy she was that my mother wasn't dead.  So I confess…Whew that felt good to get that off my chest. 

Confession: Let me drink...I'm not pregnant...or engaged...

 So God, you know
 Mary?  Totally relate to the whole Immaculate Conception thing. 

It started off as a joke; three young, punk ass friends doing some hoodlum activities on a Friday night.  That’s right, we were taking “engagement pictures” and updating our Facebook relationship statuses from “single” to “engaged”. 

But we didn’t stop there- we took to the streets with our camera, running into McDonalds and demanding the janitor to get down on one knee and confess his love for me while snapping picture after picture. 

This next bit I’m not proud of God. We posted them on Facebook…and immediately went on Facebook chat to share the news.

We were sick kids God…but in my defense, I told ONE friend on Facebook chat- Just one…she however told everyone else and the news spread like the gospel.  So as far as I am concerned I told one lie to ONE person…the rest just assumed. 

Everyone assummed I was getting married and was pregnant.  They started treating me different- asking me when I was due, asking if they could throw a baby shower, asking about my future janitorial Husband, asking if they could help father the child.  It was….well it was some funny shit God!

Everyone eventually found out the truth…everyone but 2 people…

I was going to tell them God…but my friends that knew the truth told me to keep up the lie…so what was I suppose to do God?  Tell the truth?!    

I tried to just let the rumor die naturally God, so I did ridiculous things that no responsible “mother-to- be” would EVER do.  For instance, the popular game, “punch the baby” where my friends would punch me in the stomach- sometimes with full force to take out their own feelings of  rage and distrust of being duped by me…I was hoping it would be evident that I wasn’t really preggo…but obviously, they just thought I was a sick demented pregnant mother. 

 I even started drinking at a party in front of them hoping that irresponsible actions would scream “I’M NOT PREGNANT” louder than an actual confession…but people are just so bad at reading subtext of actions.  Instead my night totally blew thank you very much because they not only took my $5 cup of PBR from me BUT they also hid it from me!     

God that was the moment I said ENOUGH is ENOUGH…the truth was standing between me and beer…so I confessed…well not that night…but eventually….AND they hated me for months…maybe years…maybe they still do.  I confess God. 



Confession:  I’m not adopted…I just want a muffin

God, I need to know the truth…is my mom my real mother?  My siblings would always tell me I was adopted when I was younger- but whose siblings wouldn’t? 

Seriously God, I look a lot like my Aunt Julie…and I’m wondering if she just pooped me out at a young age- decided she didn’t want to raise something that would turn out to be me in 22 years, and handed me over to Rita Ann Wicke…YOU CONFESS GOD!?  sorry…another rhetorical…don’t feel the urge to answer God- but since you made me look so much like my Aunt, you can’t possibly be upset with me for this next lie.

My Aunt Julie came to my comedy Improv show last year and I decided to play a little trick on my fellow improvisers…I assumed they would find it funny since they are all just, you know, a bunch of funny people.  Plus, they were the ones I lied to about being pregnant and engaged so I assumed they would just know I was punking them again…but they didn’t.

I introduced my Aunt to my fellow improvisers and as soon as she left, I pulled one of them aside and told them I was really upset, “she hasn’t been in my life for years and now she just shows up out of the blue…ugh…that…that wasn’t my aunt- that was my real mom”

So that news spread like the gospel again- everyone became really supportive like friends or something- the next thing I knew, I was in the middle of “a group hug”…of course with a lie comes the truth….and with the gospel, comes the law…The good news spread, then the truth came out…and then they hit me, beat me, told me they would never believe me again…yada yada yada. 

Which brings me to present day- I’m poor, I’m hungry, and I want a muffin.  I could stand out on the street and beg for change or food- but I choose to go the classier route- I instead told the mailman at work that I just found out that I was adopted and that I was really upset about it…and that a muffin would make me feel better…forgive me father…

but it was one good god damn muffin. 

Changing the World

America...are we falling behind? 

The value of an education- "We need affordable education, everyone must be educated!  Education is the cure to all ignorance!  The advancements of the world depend on an EDUCATION!" 

Lets be honest- kids cut class.  They drop out.  Some just don't care.  Teachers always have that annoying child in their class who asks, "Why do I have to learn this?  I will never use/need this!  I'm not going to be a math teacher or anything!"  I have to admit, I haven't used the quadratic formula since high school and  my phone can calculate a tip at a restaurant for me.  Is there some truth to a child's whining cry about school? 

What we need are practical places that these skills will be put to use- and I'm not talking about a profession- I mean the streets.  Let's start with Mathematics.  I'm thinking of a Disney World gone ghetto.  The government buys an entire street that wraps around the school building and names it "MATH ST."  At first, people will be hired to dress up as numbers and live there...but later on, it will become a way of life.  It will be the scariest shit ever...and 6 will really be scared of 7 because 789.  I want kids to have to walk through "MATH ST." everyday and see the practicality of it all.  They'll be waiting for the bus one minute and the next being held up by number 3 and asked for the quadratic equation.  Kids will learn this shit just to survive their walk to and from school.  Of course there will be those kids who decide to avoid school altogether in order to avoid "MATH ST" but that's when we expand the idea and start to incorporate "LANGUAGE ARTS ST." that surrounds their house- everytime they want to leave the house, a person dressed as the letter R will kick the shit out of them until they can name 10 gerunds and recite the definition of "sesquipedalianism".  There will actually be "spelling bees" that fly around " and sting you if you dont know how to spell something.  School just got real..shhhiiit

"When do I need this?  When will I ever use this?" 
Walk outside you little punk ass bitches- that's when you will need this, that's when you'll use this.  Problem solved.

Kristin Wicke for President!

My Leadership skills

Dear University of Wisconsin-Madison Admissions-

I have received your HUGE envelope in the mail thinking it was an acceptance letter to only find out (after gathering my whole family in the kitchen and opening a bottle of wine) that it was a letter informing me that I would have to write yet another essay to further prove myself to your institution.  After crumpling up the letter, burning it in the fire, and dramatically running up to my room and crying on my bed, I decided to swallow my pride and write you your damn essay on how I show leadership in the classroom and in the  community.  Unlike many of your applicants (who you accepted with their FIRST essay) I have been showing leadership skills since a very young age. 
    1. Leadership: Ability to organize- Second grade would probably be the first year that I started to really blossom into a fine leader.  After finding out my 2nd grade crush (who was burdened with being named after oral sex), had a crush on a different girl because of her shiny hair, I took it upon myself to organize a gang to beat the hell out of him.  Most kids my age would have shown affection by poking or calling names- I frickin beat the shit out of the kid- and I left the scene without a single scratch- not one!  That's because I had those second graders eating out of the palm of my hand- leadership baby!  At recess, on my command, my gang of fat rejected 2nd graders were punching and kicking poor little BJ.    
    2. Leadership: Ability to gain followers- Sixth grade is when I really started to gain followers.  Every Monday in our homebase class, our teacher would sit us in a circle and ask us how our weekends went.  This particular Monday I decided that listening to the lame weekend activities of sixth graders was just too pathetic.  When my teacher told us to sit in a circle, I stood up and began chanting "WE DON'T WANT TO! WE DON'T WANT TO! WE DON'T WANT TO!"  Soon the entire class was joining in- my teacher retreated to her desk and cried...I was later screamed at in front of the entire class- she said that "I was the instigator, I was the cause of the revolt in the classroom" What I think she was trying to say was "you are an excellent leader"
    3.  Traits of a Leader: A person who never backs down and stands up against injustice- Junior year in High school is when I learned a valuable trait as a leader- to stand my ground.  As a strong leader, I'm able to sniff out the weak ones and my math teacher just happened to be one.  During his class, I interrupted him, I told jokes- my mom would have explained this behavior as me being really intelligent and just bored in the classroom...that wasn't the case at all- I was just a little shit...The day that I really showed my ability to stand up against injustice was the day that I was kicked out of classroom for turning to my irritable friend and asking her "what's up your butt?".  The next thing I know my math teacher was screaming for me to get out of his classroom- INJUST!  So, I left- but I did not give up- that would be a quiter and I'm a winner.  Instead I sat outside the door and I interrupted that teacher through the vent in the door- when I have important things for the masses to hear, I am unstoppable.  When my math teacher came out to scream at me some more, I gave him a piece of my mind- Kicking ME out of his classroom- I. Don't. Think. So. 
   4.  Traits of a Leader: A person who is able to persuade.  This brings me to Senior year.  My ultimate leadership skills were really shown this year when I was able to trick...er...PERSUADE...my art teacher that it was my birthday that Friday when it really wasn't.  I was able to PERSUADE my teacher to let me go to the bathroom multiple times the Thursday before that Friday and plaster the hallways with flyers inviting the entire school to drop by the art room the next day for a huge celebration in my honor for being born.  I was able to PERSUADE the Principal- who found the flyers and was not too happy- that it wasn't me and that our art teacher was to blame for his lack of authority in the classroom.  My persuasion worked so well that the next day kids were skipping out of classes and asking for bathroom passes to come to my fake birthday party.  My art teacher even bought me a present.  Leadership at its finest. 

So as you can see, I was born a natural leader and I hope your institution accepts me because I'm afraid if you don't, I'll end up attending the University of Minnesota and becoming a Gopher for a year and then transfer to your institution and make you regret not accepting me because of my stellar grades.  I don't want to humiliate your institution by graduating within the top 20% of my major and making you feel like assholes for not accepting me off of my first essay.  Besides, not accepting someone the first year can cause serious damage to them, espeically when they get out into the real world- I could be unemployed for months after graduating because of the hurt of rejection.  Think about that! 

Sincerely,
Kristin Wicke

- Kristin Wicke never wrote this letter.  Instead, 4 1/2 years ago, she crumpled up the HUGE envelope and dramatically ran to her room.  Sadly she became a Gopher her freshman year and later transferred to the University of Wisconsin- Madison.  She graduated in December 2010 within the top 20% of her major and is now sadly unemployed.  If only she would have been accepted with her first essay...