२७ मे, २०११
"Take a picture of my pie. I need a picture."/"No. You’ll write that my rhubarb cobbler sucked and your pie was great."
Penelope Trunk writes about what do do if you think you're getting fired — and, most bloggishly — includes a lot of rhubarb, interpersonal dramedy, goat cheese, home repair, absurd photography, and career advice like: "wait for the words, 'You’re fired.' And then, no matter what words lead up to that phrase, say, 'I’m sorry you feel that way. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.'"
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This post started out sounding dirty, and descended into something else.
I prefer the dirty.
You know what kindo of pie she can't take a picture of?
Peter
You see, Trooper, great minds do think alike, don't they?
Keep your eye on the pie!
My mother used to make rhubarb pie. Loved it. The original sweet and sour in my life. It's more rare now, but I eat it eagerly whenever I see it.
Pretty good advice about getting fired, too.
I'm always surprised by rhubarab pie, thinking it was cherry when I put it on the tray.
Even checking closely isn't good enough.
Email is the best way to be fired.
That's wonderful writing, the way she weaves the two themes together.
I've never been fired; but I've fired dozens of people over the years. I can understand their wanting to make the person doing the firing feel uncomfortable, but I can assure them that no matter what they do, it will be an excruciating experience for that person doing the firing, every time. Unless they're some sort of sadist.
And both rhubarb dishes look horrible. The cobbler consists of unripe rhubarb; and the pie has some sort of red gloop for filling.
She could have said the same thing in one paragraph, although the advice, "Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.", and going out on a good note is pretty sound.
Trooper York said...
You know what kindo of pie she can't take a picture of?
Peter
Especially full-flavored.
I am always disappointed when rhubarb pie turns out to be strawberry rhubarb pie. What a waste of rhubarb.
I don't really get rhubarb. It seems to me to be more a binder than a flavor. Someone once wanted to eat sugar and eggs in a pastry crust and asked themselves "what will make it all stick together in a gluey whole" and the next thing you know that person was chopping up rhubarb.
I write this heresy as a man whose wife makes a wonderful rhubarb pie using a recipe passed down from her beloved grandma.
I wonder where Penelope keeps her junk?
Wasn't Melissa the one who's supposed to go to Italy to be an au pair?
I don't follow Trunk but is it safe to assume Melissa's been sucked into the menagerie?
What to do if you think you're about to get fired? How about: your job.
We have rhubarb growing outside. I don't like it, but my wife and kids love strawberry/rhubarb pie. We're in high season for both, so they're in heaven.
"Melissa tells stories of getting fired like Vietnam vets tell stories about Phnom Penh. It’s a lot of death with a sort-of-inappropriately cavalier tone."
I know John Kerry was in Cambodia, but that seems like an error.
wv: hyrea
That's just too fertile to touch.
A wise person once told me that one must use the words "you will be fired unless" and "you're fired" when such words are necessary. It's a good general rule: use the words that say what you mean.
wv: reptizat. As in "what kind of...?
On the other side of that, I once asked someone whose job it was to fire people how she did it
"Tell the person she's fired. Tell her why. Let her vent as much as she wants to. Let her talk as long as she wants to. Walk her to the door. Wish her good luck."
No drama was the goal of the approach. It worked. She said that letting the person talk afterward was the key to the whole thing.
Rhubarb pie is disgusting- it reminds me of death and nightmares. I am convinced that anyone who trys to serve me rhubarb pie hates me and wants to see me dead.
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