Get a Life

The more I thought about Lisette's issue at work, the madder I got. So I kind of decided to tell them off. At first I was going to send it to one of those public affairs complaint lines but then I saw the email of the president in the directory and off it went. I copied the email I sent below. I doubt I'll get a response but something had to be said I think (don't worry Lisette I changed your name). Should I have just left it alone? You really should never email mad.


From: Gramuglia, Frank [mailto:fgramuglia@yahoo.com]
Sent: Friday, November 02, 2007 7:40 PM
To: henriksoncr@metlife.com
Cc: metbod@metlife.com
Subject: Totalitarian Swine


Mr. C. Robert Henrikson
Chairman of the Board, President and Chief Executive Officer
MetLife, Inc.
200 Park Avenue
New York, NY 10166-0188

Cc: Board of Directors

Dear “Sir”,

I’m directing a scathing invective against you personally since you are paid obscene sums to be the public face of a fascist, propagandistic and blog-hating regime. That the hubris of your organization stands out in an age of unprecedented corporate greed and irresponsibility is truly an incredible feat and a testament to your relentless pursuit of godless and imperialistic goals.

Perhaps I should pause here and go back. It could be that up there in the penthouse of the MetLife building, reclining in your customized plush ergonomic chair, you may not be aware of the existence and office life of the honest, hard-working folks in your captivity. It is their toil that pays for the many private jets in your fleet and their good work should be compensated well and rewarded with certain liberties and fringe benefits. There is a newly arrived young lady who is now in your employ at the Hartford office. In order to protect her identity we will call her L. Brewste. L is merely a low level functionary – certainly not as prominent a square in the global org chart as someone like you - but a person nonetheless. Recently, L was victimized by your oppressive and thuggish IT group when they abruptly cut off her access to an innocent family blog in violation not only of her first amendment rights but also of any sense of common decency and ethics. The content of this site is well within the guidelines of appropriate business decorum. Viewing the many, many baby photos, birthday wishes, discussion threads, contests and general good natured mockery was a peppy midday boost for L and made her a much more productive employee. Her sadness and anger cannot be adequately articulated. She now has low morale.

If my words have not aroused your basic, innate understanding of human morality, then I tremble for the future of MetLife under your leadership. I predict the MetLife blimp will be your Hindenburg, sir, and Snoopy, bloodied and twitching on the side of the road, will never see the speeding truck that didn't bother to slow down.

I look forward to a swift reversal of company policy on internet usage and eagerly await your response.

Best Regards,

Frank Gramuglia

Sunny Days on Sesame Street: Parts 5 and 6

I'm a little behind in Lisette's internship reports. As I write, she is at Sesame Workshop, just another Wednesday on the job, and I'm at home waiting for Blue to come.

Lisette has been pretty well behaved in the last two weeks, blogging on the job not withstanding—there's a time and a place for that, and while her colleagues are stuck in a two hour meeting upstairs is a perfect example of one of those times. So I'm going to have to dig a bit for material. But I won't have to dig much past the dirty Manhattan snowbanks to find something that amuses me: Listte's pitiful preparations for the cold weather.

Let's take a look at these two pictures from last Wednesday, Lisette's birthday, the last day we got to work together. It was also the day of the snow storm. Coming in that morning was a confrontation with snow, wind, cold, and ice rain. It was raining ice. Naturally, that's why I'm dressed this way.

Now take a look at Miss Smelly Poo. No umbrella. No gloves. Nothing resembling boots. Are those moccasins? Ni un puto sombrero. Lisette, my dear, I know your head is abiding somewhere in southern California, but you still have to cover it with a hat when New York is spewing diagonal sheets of ice at you. Don't they sell hats at the place you work, Blue Oyster Cult?
























Okay, that's all I have for now. Here's a big belly boot to Oscar. Lisette, hows about keeping us posted on your days on the Street? It's so much fun for me to think of you there. But hard to miss out on being there with you.

Sunny Days: Lisette's internship on Sesame Street, Part 4

I have just two more days to share with Lisette at Sesame, and I'm wondering how things are going to be for her when I'm gone. What is she going to do for lunch? Will she enjoy the work? And will she continue to bare her ankles like a good New Yorker, despite the frigid cold, rather than wear nylons? These things I won't know, but at least I can rest assured that her Metro North anxiety has subsided.

A week into her internship, she revealed her feelings about the train rides. Subway seemed to be okay, but she could never be sure if she'd get a seat for the long Metro North train ride, and worried about it well in advance each Wednesday, as only Lisette can do. She does travel during rush hour, so the trains are pretty darn full.

But somehow between then and now she's come to peace with the possibility that, up to two times each Wednesday, she may not get a seat. Maybe her breakthrough came when, on the way home one evening, the train was too full for her to get a seat. She had to stand, yet fell asleep, and woke herself up when she fell down.

This of course pales in comparison to past experiences Lisette's had on the Metro North, but I'll let her expound on that. Or maybe the Man in the Mirror should?

Sunny Days: Lisette's internship on Sesame Street, Part 3

Last week I called Lisette at school to ask her who her favorite muppet was. I didn't tell her why I was asking, but the reason was that I wanted to customize a name plate for her cube. And do you know what came out of her mouth?

"Hmm, I like Telly a lot."

I don't think I have to explain my horror at hearing this answer. But I'll allow myself a short explanation. I think we all know that Telly sucks—almost as bad as Baby Bear sucks (sorry, Luca, but sanctioned lisping on network TV is not cool. And this monster and bear pair are best fwends. Not surprising.). Telly is a whiny, anxiety-ridden sack of fidgety maroon shit. He has the self-confidence and sense of humor of a potato—and kind of the same shape. He's the annoying acquaintance who's always around and too ready to greet any situation with a down-in-the-mouth "but what if" bummer scenario. What a buzz-kill.

You can imagine my verbal response to her. It included an embarassed guffaw, then a condescending compliment on being first person to work at Sesame Workshop to come up with that answer.

"Well, actually, I really like Oscar, too"

"Nope. Too late. Telly's your favorite."

"But... well, I do like him, giggle giggle. But I don't know if he's my favorite..."

"Yes. Telly's your favorite."

And so it goes. The news spread quickly to the entire editorial staff (Kama and Beth), who also let out a pair of embarrased guffaws. And now, my dear Smelly Poo, I'm afraid anyone who walks by your quite centrally-located cubicle will know, too.

Sunny Days: Lisette's internship on Sesame Street, Part 2

Lisette completed her second day at Sesame Street Magazine last Wednesday. She may not have a badge or an email account yet, but she's already baking cookies for the staff. My co-workers threw a baby shower for me that day. I was forced to lie—over and over—as Kama insisted I must have known about it. Of course I did. Lisette told Annie, who then told me. And I'm glad. Who really likes surprises anyway? Aside from the time I asked Mom months in advance if she could please arrange for a surprise birthday party for me, who ever really wants such a thing? What if I was wearing a bad outfit?

Lisette, your cookies, by the way, were a hit. Everyone was commenting on them. It felt a little awkward to hear at first, but I have to admit your cookies are nice.

I can't remember if I was actually surprised on my 9th birthday, but it's lovely to remember the bit of trouble Mom went through to arrange my stay at Granny's the night before, so Granny could bring me home to a little old surprise party for Mary!