In honor of Memorial Day, I would like to introduce “Memory Lane Mondays.” Every Monday, I will present you with the story of one of my most embarrassing moments in business. There are no profound lessons to be gleaned from these tales – just pure pointing-and-laughing-type humor. Enjoy!

Check out this SlideShare Presentation:

Dear Ladies Who Ocassionally and/or Frequently Urinate:

I understand that you are a delicate flower, with skin as fragile as white petals and a nervous system held together by spiderweb-like tendrils. I know that your world is fraught with danger. I get your fear of dread disease. And I feel you on getting the gross-outs. But, just so we’re clear, peeing all over the toilet seat isn’t going to solve any of these problems.

Here are the revenge fantasies that I have:

1. My business is so successful that both local and global companies line up to hire me. The investors who made my life a living hell at my last job beg me to take their account. I, of course, decline, causing them to go bankrupt and resulting in their having to set all of their horses, cars, planes, and dogs free.
2. I lose 40 pounds, and a local magazine writes a cover story – featuring me, of course – on how eliminating stress and working for yourself results in dramatic weight loss. A generous plastic surgeon offers me a complimentary eye lift in celebration of the new era of work-life balance, and Jimmy Choo hires me as a spokes-foot.
3. I pee on above mentioned investors’ toothbrushes without them knowing.
4. I am able to surreptitiously sneak into their offices and sew tiny salad shrimp into the seams of their curtains. Said shrimp are allowed to decompose undetected and the smell begins to haunt their dreams.

Of course, revenge is a dish best served cold, so I guess what I really hope is that they get what they deserve.

I decided to quit my job about six weeks before I actually did (OK, six months, but who’s counting?). Because the circumstances were less than great and folks in my world usually get walked right out, I was nervous about being kicked in the face (metaphorically-speaking) the moment I announced my intention to go, and my pride couldn’t handle the idea that my staff and co-workers might think I had been fired. Blah blah blah, ego ego ego.
I had a ton of stuff in my office: books, files, art — ten years worth of the stuff you think you need. It would have filled a dozen paper boxes, way more than you could pack in 30 dignified minutes. Part of that was my set of permanent files – the stuff I’ve traveled with for years and years – and I was afraid that it would look like I were stealing them if I packed them up and carried them out on my last day. The files were mine; I brought them with me when I got there, but it would have looked so shady if I grabbed them when I left. To try to avoid looking like an office supply thief, I started carrying a big purse. Every night, I slid my laptop into my briefcase with two or three file folders and dropped one big red pendaflex into my purse. When I got in the elevator, I would sweat and twitch like I was carrying heroin in my cleavage, probably making the security guards laugh their asses off as they watched me adjust my bra straps and tug on my Spanx with a Tourette’s Syndrome flourish. I was constantly terrified that I would become the subject of a bag check and have to explain that the red carboard folder in my purse was something I bought three cities ago and had dragged around with me ever since. Would it be more embarrassing to get searched or to have to admit that I had been hoarding all this crap for so long? Thank God there aren’t mandatory prison sentences for file mules.

1. Don’t send me an email that says, “Thank you.” Or “thanks,” or, and this is the worse, “thx.”
2. Put something in the subject line, or I will delete your message without reading it. I will also think you are dumber than a fifth-grader.
3. Do not ever, ever, ever forward me a PowerPoint presentation that includes blurry pictures of roses or kittens and instruct me to send it to those I love.
Thx!

OK, I quit my job, I’m starting a business, and I can sort of foresee a life of Ramen noodles and Colt 45. Well, I’m nothing if not organized, so I put together a list of ways to save money.

1. Change type of checking account to cheap one to get rid of fee.
2. Cancel Netflix.
3. Reduce temp on water heater to two-thirds.
4. Raise deductible on insurance.
5. Cancel long distance on home phone.
6. Use up all food and supplies we have.
7. Get library cards.
8. Sell clothes at consignment store.
9. Sell crap on eBay.
10. Get clothes altered instead of any new outfits.
11. Groceries only every two weeks and make a meal plan we stick to!
12. No more Starbucks.
13. Mo more wine. No drinking on weekdays.
14. Cash in our change jars.
15. Bake dog treats/dog food.
16. Make some gifts and cards.
17. Less heat, more blankets.
18. Turn off lights and unplug appliances.
19. Turn off computer monitor.
20. Cancel weird $12.95 thing on credit card.
21. Buy one last batch of cheap wine with coupon.
22. Ask friends to do potluck actovities.
23. Ask family to lower expectations.
24. Weatherstrip doors.
25. Don’t throw away food – eat leftovers.
26. Line dry clothes.
27. Water down liquid soaps and shampoo.
28. Bring a flask when appropriate.
29. Don’t eat out.
30. Steal gas from rich people.
31. Sell eggs/sperm to poor gay couple.
32. Cash Amex points for groceries.
33. Eat Oodles of Noodles Mon-Fri.
34. Pimp dog out for puppies and sell puppies.
35. Chop down trees in woods and sell as Christmas trees.
36. Drink vanilla and other extracts.
37. Dye old clothes.

Hmm. Cross your fingers that my client meeting in the morning is successful.