Rant to the Men in My Office

And I love you dearly, really I do, though not as much as I worship your wives and/or girlfriends, because damn, those women have stamina.

Here's the speech I need to make at the next "get it off your chest" departmental moment, as the chick dealing with the men:

Dear Boys (and I love you all, I really do):

I know every man, in his heart of hearts, truly thinks this is true, but a uterus does not actually function as a calendar, filing and tracking system, and women don't actually read minds if we're not sleeping with you. I am so sorry to crush your fantasy about this, but if you want me to do something for/with you, you need to fucking tell me about it.

Do not tell me that I was supposed to attend a meeting with you unless you put it on my calendar. You can do this, and if you can't, our administrator, whose uterus is also not a tracking device or Ouija board, will do this if you TELL HER to.

Do not ask me if I've followed up on something we talked about and that you said you'd follow up on, and then you ask me later what happened with it like you have no clue and you are vaguely put out that I haven't done it yet.

And if you really want something to get out the door, don't give it to three people in the department and then ask me what the fuck happened to it.

Thank you.

Not the Girlfriend, Wife or Mama.