Holiday overload can be pretty flocking annoying

Every year ladies who channel Martha (as in Stewart, as in annoyingly creative with ribbon and fine linen) get that wild eye look right after Thanksgiving. They know that once the turkey is history and the pumpkin pie has settled on their hips and thighs, it’s time to Deck the Halls with all manner of holiday fancy. These gals of the gift wrap get all shades of excited with a strategically placed snowman or welcoming Santa. The blinking lights, the sparkling garland, and let’s not even touch those glass balls.

Before you peg me a Scrooge, let’s remember that Christmas is about Christ. I can take a few of the annoying accoutrements that come with the season, but I draw the line at taking Christ out of Christmas and substituting Winter Wonderland scenes as the main attraction.

So it was with great trepidation that I faced the whirlwind of what is the Office Holiday Decorating Team. Armed with shiny fabric and wire ribbons and enough hanging balls to rival a NFL locker room, these Divas of Decor unleash a torrent of holiday tchotkes in and around my work area. It’s like the Home Department of a Ross Store exploded in our lobby.

Someone puts on a Christmas CD to set the mood. When Dean Martin starts singing, “Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!” I think, “In Hawaii? Yeah right Dino, when pigs fly!”

The Christmas tree is adorned with tasteful and elegant ribbons and color coordinated ornaments. (The handmade ornaments staff created over the years have mysteriously disappeared.) The simple red felt tree skirt has been replaced with a gold crushed velvet wrap. There is ominous talk of placing a large Santa right outside my CUBE. “Target practice!” I muse in my retaliation scenario. And I swear if those lights strung on my CUBE walls start blinking, I will have a seizure and die.

One of the ladies microwaves a gingerbread cookie and the smell wafts into the lobby. The Decorating Team stops, sniffs the air, and sighs – so deeply satisfied by the complete holiday sensory experience.

So for the next few weeks I am surrounded by glitter, tiny glowing lights, fake snow, and an abundance of holiday swag. I think I can probably handle this, but if someone pops their head in my CUBE one more time and says, “Ho! Ho! Ho!” my retort will be, “Who you calling a ho?” Tis the season, after all.

Aloha, my Lesley

In a few days, dear friend Lesley Makekau will be off to Orlando, Florida. No, she’s not going on a Disney World vacation, she’ll be in training for her new job as CUNA Mutual Group sales executive. No longer a veteran Hawaii Credit Union League employee (27 years is a lifetime for some) my good friend is embarking on a whole new adventure. To say I am very sad to see her leave is an epic understatement.

Lesley Frost started working at the League as its receptionist-clerk typist in 1983. In the nearly three decades that followed, she became Lesley Makekau and successfully worked as a supply/purchasing agent, business relations specialist, and member relations officer. Whenever she faced the challenges of a new job description, she rose above obstacles with wisdom and a great sense of humor. “I’m a duck,” she would say when things got hectic. “I just let it roll off my back!” We all admired her duck-like qualities and would often quack our approval.

Lesley’s keen intelligence was demonstrated in the fact she graduated from Western CUNA Management School (WCMS) with “High Honors”. She was also among those inducted into the Academic Hall of Fame from the 46th session of WCMS held July 15-27, 2007 at Pomona College in California.

On a personal note, I am saying so long (but not goodbye) to a dear friend who has been a part of my life for 20 years. When you’ve known someone for so long and share the same warped sense of humor, it makes the worst work day a bit more bearable. For an entire year, Lesley used to read me The Joke of The Day off her desk calendar. She loved to involve anyone in the lunchroom with the trivia quizzes from the daily newspaper. We would burst into song at the mention of a single word or if a phrase reminded us of a show tune. I remember when Lesley wanted me to name my daughter “Wai Pei”. She explained, “So your daughter would be Why Pay Moore!”

Then there was this often repeated exchange:
Me: “Hullo…”
Lesley: “Welcome to Draw Like a Pig!”
I don’t really remember where that came from, but it stuck with us all these years and still makes us laugh.

When I first came to the League I told Lesley I wasn’t going to stay very long. She laughed at me every time I said in frustration, “This will be my last annual convention!” She would reply, “You just added five more years to your life at the League!” How ironic then that my friend Lesley, the one person I thought would never leave the League has taken another career path. I’m glad she’s still in the credit union movement and I know she will be an awesome addition to the CUNA Mutual staff in Hawaii. I know we’ll see Lesley at the annual conventions, although she will be inside an exhibit booth instead of assisting in the entire exhibit area. We’ll probably see her every once in awhile when CUNA Mutual staff attends League board meetings. And when she stops by to say, “Hullo…” I will reply, “Welcome to Draw Like a Pig!” It will be like old times.

Waiting for election is like passing a kidney stone

In four short days, all of this will be over. Those ubiquitous political signs will no longer ugly-up every fence, wall, and slow moving animal in our fine State. The snarky campaign ads (paid for without the express consent of any candidate) by vaguely named organizations will no longer clutter the TV landscape. Most importantly, those sign wavers will take their “wave-point-shaka-repeat” routines off our city’s busiest medians and intersections.

I’ve seen all sorts of sign waving folks this political season, ranging from the hyper-enthusiastic to the uber-apathetic. There was the multi-tasker who texted with one hand, steadied the sign with his elbow, and half-assed waved with his other hand. Never once did he look up. There was the guy who didn’t actually wear the candidate’s requisite white T-shirt. No, he simply draped the shirt over his torso signifying either his fear of commitment to the candidate or his rebellion against this sign waving punishment. Then there was the cute, elderly Asian couple who stood at one of the busiest intersections in Kaneohe every morning and evening, rain or shine. I surmised they were doing this for their grandson, the candidate who proudly proclaimed his Japanese middle name and Filipino surname on every one of his signs. His strategy? Target your racial demographics and then let Baachan and Jiisan do the grunt work.

Amid all the posturing and prognosticating, the best political commentary I ever heard came from my son Alex a few years ago. We were driving past a large banner touting a Republican candidate, when my then-five year old said to me, “Look Mommy! Jerry Coffee is rated R!" Indeed, politics in this town is sometimes for mature audiences only.

Aloha, Mikey

WHEN YOU WORK with someone for nearly two decades, it’s hard to imagine him not being in the office anymore. When our Legislative and Regulatory Affairs Manager Michael Leach announced his retirement a few months ago, I immediately assumed the Cleopatra persona and became “Queen of Denial”. No way! Michael is not going anywhere! What are we going to do without him?

Michael Leach was hired by the Hawaii Credit Union League in late 1990, just a few months after I came on board. In the beginning, Michael was a conundrum to me—so intelligent, so insightful, yet so confusing that at times I had to take a break from his lengthy musing just to decipher the message. Some of us would jokingly tell Michael to “land the plane!” when his spoken thoughts would endlessly “circle the airport”.

He was such a good sport and took it all in stride. We all loved his self-deprecating humor. Recently I overheard him take the blame for something that wasn’t his fault. I gently chided him for bearing this unfounded guilt, to which he quipped, “I’m a Catholic and a male—I can’t help it!” I nearly fell off my chair laughing. That was just so Michael!

My favorite Michael story happened over a decade ago when he showed up at the office with three very tiny kittens. The mama cat abandoned the kittens and Michael, hearing their faint cries, came to their rescue. I vividly remember my co-workers taking turns bottle feeding those little kittens in Michael’s office. Of course, the cats became a part of Michael’s family. More recently, Michael stopped his car on a busy street to rescue a kitten in danger of becoming road kill. That cat, too, is now part of Michael’s household.

As head of the Hawaii Credit Union League’s governmental affairs effort, Michael could navigate the often murky waters of the political arena, whether it was at the state Capitol or in our nation’s Capitol. His analytical mind could make sense of convoluted legislation and his diplomacy allowed him to deal with myriad egos and personalities. Like a good shepherd, Michael took excellent care of the Hawaii credit union representatives who made the annual trek to Washington D.C. for the CUNA Governmental Affairs Conference (GAC). When I made my first visit to D.C. for the 2008 CUNA GAC, I felt very secure knowing I could just follow Michael around unfamiliar airports and the D.C. metro system and get to our destination safely.

Those of us who knew Michael personally saw a devoted husband, son, nephew, and friend. For a time, Michael took care of his elderly aunt and uncle—taking them to doctor appointments and on trips to the mainland to visit relatives. In recent years, Michael has spent his time outside of the office caring for his ailing mother, which was a big part of his decision to retire. Though intellectually we knew caring for his mom full-time was the right thing to do, we selfishly wanted to keep him here.

League staff, along with retired staff and friends celebrated Michael’s 60th birthday on July 20 with a birthday/retirement office party. After gorging ourselves on a wonderful array of mostly homemade dishes, I expected Michael to “circle the airport” with a long farewell speech. It wasn’t that I minded so much, but I didn’t want to end up a teary-eyed mess with raccoon eyes and a red nose. To my surprise, Michael kept it brief with a simple, heartfelt thank-you to everyone. I think it then dawned on all of us that, after nearly 20 years, Michael finally “landed the plane” and was about to embark on a whole new journey. He will surely be missed.

Middle aged skin care requires scientific acumen

I recently observed my 49th birthday. Since I ventured over to the dark side of 45, I stopped celebrating birthdays. And quite honestly, I often forget when my birthday comes and goes.

This year, I spent 16 hours of my birthday traveling from Corning, New York back home to Honolulu. I hoped that passing through three time zones would reverse the signs of aging, but life can be so unkind.

At my age, something as basic as taking care of my skin has become a challenge. Twenty-five years ago, I merely washed my face and was ready to go. Now I have a cleansing ritual that involves corrective serums, antioxidant rich moisturizers, and assorted concoctions that fight the aging effects of "free radicals". I'm not sure what "free radicals" are, but I'm told they are bad and must be stopped at all cost! And that cost usually means $50 for 1.5 ounces of age-defying night cream.

It takes a Ph.D in chemistry to understand how to keep my skin evenly toned, appropriately lifted, and dewy fresh. A recent column in Oprah magazine offered up this advice to those of us seeking youthful skin.

"Don't apply a retinoid in the morning; the sun will deactivate it. And don't use a glycolic acid serum or moisturizer at the same time you're using a hydroquinone lightening cream, vitamin C serum, or retinoid, because the glycolic acid will deactivate them."

Huh? All of this makes me tired. It makes me want to take a nap. Naps are now one of my best friends. But that's a whole other issue altogether.

Body shaping jeans boast miracle making transformation! Yeah, right.

It irks me that creators of "slimming jeans" want you to believe you will look a full size smaller just by wearing these manufactured miracle makers. Duh-uh!

One such brand claims its "tummy control panel" will smooth and flatten your problem belly area. News flash: If you displace 10 pounds of belly fat using an industrial strength spandex/denim blend, that fat has to go somewhere else. Most likely it will push that load upward, giving you a less-than-attractive third chin. Not a good look on anyone, I'm afraid. And then there are those jeans that claim to give your butt an added lift. I'm sorry, but my ass was not meant to hang over my waistband like an overflowing ice cream cone. I give kudos to one body-shaping jeans brand, though. These jeans simply repositioned the side seams giving the illusion of narrower hips. I appreciate the honesty here, though not the $100 price tag.

What really bothers me is the ads for these jeans feature skinny models. Hello? A size zero woman does not need a power mesh panty to smooth problem areas. Let's see a plus size gal wearing these jeans for a little truth in advertising, shall we? Of course that will never happen. Nobody wants to see a 200 pound woman with a faux third chin and butt overflowing her waistband. She may look like a the Michelin Man after a week-long binge, but at least her $100 jeans will look fabulous.

Job Performance Evaluation Anxiety Rears Its Ugly Head

Every year as we approach the summer a dark, yet familiar dread hangs over the CUBE Farm. The fiscal year is coming to an end and I and my fellow CUBE dwellers know what that means: Job Performance Evaluations! (Insert ominous music here.)

I have nothing against job performance evaluations, but we have such a convoluted evaluation process in our organization. The first part of the torture includes a self-evaluation. It takes me half a day to rate my specific job duties and include a justification with each "above average" rating I give myself. And quite honestly, I can be very well above average at times. (Insert smirk here.) Then I have to compare it to last years's rating and do a mini essay on what I have accomplished and what needs improvement. Oh, and I did I mention that, despite all of the effort, there are no raises in the forecast due to budgetary constraints that will continue well into the next century?

If there was no blood shed over the year, I can honestly give myself a good job performance evaluation. I mean, I had ample reason to maim and mutilate over the last 12 months, but restrained myself admirably.

Most of the performance evaluation questions cause involuntary eye rolling. For example: "What are the employee’s strongest qualifications?" My Inner Wise Ass wants to scream, "I've lasted 20 years in this joint! I deserve a freaking medal!" Another question asks: "What experience should the employee gain to be more qualified for increased responsibilities? I have to fight the temptation to answer: "The ability to read minds and pull miracles out of thin air." Yet another lame-oh question on self evaluation: What progress was made on personal growth objectives? My smarty butt answer: "None. Wanted to grow vertically, but ended up with uncontrolled horizontal growth."

I vote for a simpler job performance evaluation. Let's just say I was a great employee and deserve a double digit raise. Oh wait, I work for a nonprofit. Never mind.