Archive for the 'Office Space' Category

Time zones: a primer

Dear California,

Not everyone lives in your time zone.

I just wanted to make sure you’re aware of this.

No love,
The Anger Ball

___
Significant Other and I both deal with people who live in California for our jobs, and both of us are getting pretty fucking fed up with constantly getting things late (I don’t mean as in “late in the evening”, I mean as in “missing deadlines”). Clearly if I live on the East coast, and I decide to start work at 8 a.m. my time, I don’t expect my co-workers on the West coast to be available at that time.

HOWEVER.

If we’ve been working on the same publication, with the same schedule, for 4 years, I do expect them to know what our deadlines are (both in their time zone and in mine) and that I need things WEDNESDAY MORNING EASTERN TIME. I mean, this shouldn’t be a fucking surprise by now. It’s been the same since we started publishing. If I don’t get things in the morning IN MY TIME ZONE, they don’t get laid out on time, and then our publication doesn’t go out on time. It’s not fucking rocket science.

So someone please explain to me how, if we’ve had the same deadlines in place for 4 years and the same people on both the East and West coasts working on said publication, I’m sitting here right now WITH NOTHING TO DO ON A WEDNESDAY MORNING. Which means I’m going to have to try and somehow create extra time later in the day to compensate. Breaking news: I can’t manipulate time. I can’t create extra hours from the wasted ones that occur when things don’t get to me on time. SO NOW EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE LATE.

But why did this happen? I sign off between 5 p.m. and 6 p.m. Eastern time each night. That’s only 2 p.m. or 3 p.m. on the West coast. WHAT ARE THEY DOING WITH THAT TIME? Answer: not what they’re supposed to be doing.

The reason this is problematic is because it’s not like, if I sign into my e-mail Wednesday morning at 8 and don’t have the things I need yet from the West coast, I’m going to get them at 9 or 10 my time. If they’re not there when I sign in, I’m probably not getting them until at LEAST noon EAST COAST TIME, if not closer to 1 p.m. THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE. I’m sorry, but it is. That’s 4 HOURS I have to sit around waiting, and waiting, and waiting, because the assholes on the West coast, WHO SHOULD KNOW OUR DEADLINES BY NOW, didn’t want to bother doing what they had to do yesterday in their time zone. So they might come in at 9 a.m. THEIR TIME and think “Oh, there’s still plenty of time to get this stuff sent to The Anger Ball.” BUT THERE ISN’T, BECAUSE IN MY TIME ZONE IT’S ALREADY THE AFTERNOON.

Are time zones really that hard to comprehend? I’ve never found them that challenging. Breaking news: When it’s 2 p.m. where you live, it’s not 2 p.m. EVERYWHERE ELSE IN THE WORLD. You especially need to be aware of this if you’re working with people in OTHER TIME ZONES, so your co-workers do not track you down and cause you bodily harm.

This rant has been brought to you by the Earth rotating both on its axis and around the sun, the letter “T”, and FUCKING COMMON SENSE.

I’m positively sure you suck!

Have you ever just had one of those fucking weeks? Where nothing seems to go right and everyone demands your attention at the same time and it’s just one damned thing after another, and the week isn’t even fucking over yet, what the hell?

That is the kind of week I’m having.

And then have you ever had someone try to tell you, when you talk to them about your shitty week, that you just need to think more positively and look on the bright side and life will be so much better! All it takes is a positive attitude!

Yeah, I had that happen, too.

It’s like the perfect fucking rage-inducing storm, right here. Some of you might have noticed me tweet, “I feel like I could stab everyone in the entire world right now, if that were possible.” It’s true. Sorry, friends, but in my fucking blind rage, I would not be able to distinguish between friend and asshole. It’s best to just stay away from me in these moments. When my rage meter is near the top, along with my patience wearing thin and people providing exactly the wrong advice, everyone near me better just find a bomb shelter, because I will explode, and my fury will not discriminate.

Because I think we can all agree that pretty much the worst thing you can say to someone who’s having a bad week is “Just think positively!” As if that’s some fucking magic cure to everything. Breaking news: It isn’t. Sometimes bad things happen, sometimes a lot of them happen at once, and I’m allowed to be fucking annoyed about it. Because I’m not saying good things NEVER HAPPEN. I’m just saying that right now, today or this week or just this moment, a lot of bad things have been happening and I’m fucking pissed. Don’t try and make me feel like it’s WRONG to feel that way. I know things are going to get better, or that good things happened in between the bad things. When I want to fucking pretend I’m floating on a rainbow, I’ll think about those positive things. But now is not that time.

And let’s face it: if just having a positive attitude were that easy, and could fix everything, nobody would have any problems. There would be no depression or drama, because everything could be solved with a smile and a shrug. But that doesn’t fucking sound like reality, does it? Because it isn’t. General positivity may help, but it isn’t a fucking solution to anything. And some people’s brain chemistry works against them, too, so trying to just tell someone to think positively is about as helpful and offensive as telling someone to pull themselves up by their bootstraps! Like they have to try harder at life or something. Look, I may get angry a lot at the fucking annoying things people do, but I recognize that everyone is allowed to live their life as they want* and that I can’t expect people, especially people I don’t know, to live up to my standards. But telling someone to just think positively has an implication that they aren’t already doing so or aren’t doing so to your satisfaction. Even if you don’t mean it that way and think it’s actually good advice. Can we just fucking agree that if you read this blog, you’ll never tell someone to “just think positively!” again? Trust me, it’s never what someone wants, or even needs, to hear.

Now that we’ve got that out of the way, I would like to add a little anecdote here that just happened to me and sort of exemplifies the week I’ve been having:

My sister called me last night as I was getting ready for bed and told me she had a document she needed to read that my mom’s computer would not open. She wanted to e-mail this document to me so I could read it for her. I told her I could do it the next day, as my computer was already shut down. Out of curiosity, I asked her what type of document it was. I figured it was something that required a special program and that was why my mom’s computer couldn’t open it.

My sister told me it was a Word document. I was baffled, because my mom has a PC that at least has notepad on it or something. But it’s old and slow, so for some reason it’s just having a problem with the file. Whatever.

Anyway, I got up this morning, did some work, and around 11 my sister e-mailed me the file. I opened it and read it, then pasted what the file said into an e-mail that I sent to her so SHE could read it, too. I texted her once I did this so she knew to check her e-mail. Her reply to me was, no lie: “Mom wants you to read what the letter says to me over the phone.”

I’m sorry, have I been transported to the fucking dark ages or something? This is a digital document that was sent via e-mail that I am now supposed to read over the phone to someone? I can’t be the only one who finds that ridiculous. Plus, I’m fucking busy with work. I don’t have the time for that, and my sister doesn’t need the information right this second; it’s not something that is going to change her life this very moment. So I texted her back and said I’ll also send the e-mail to mom, but that to tell her I don’t have the time right now to read it over the phone.

I also told her that it’s time for mom to get a new computer and cable internet (she has dial up right now, which…what is even the point of that anymore?).

But that pretty much sums up my week: people making ridiculous requests for my time when I have other, more important things to do and then getting annoyed when I can’t cater to their ridiculous desires. Doesn’t that sound like fun?

Yeah, not to me.

So I think my desire to stab everyone all at once is understandable. Luckily it’s impossible, so you all can sleep soundly tonight.

______
*I don’t want to get into the semantics here, about how someone living life the way they want may interfere with the way someone else wants to live their life (extreme example: someone wants to murder another person, but that other person doesn’t want to be murdered!). I just mean in the general sense, and within the rules of the society in which the person lives. So if someone wants to act like a fucking asshole all the time, as long as it’s not illegal, it’s their right even if annoys me when we’re sharing the same public space. They are able to do those jackass things, just as I am allowed to come home and blog about them.

Ah, my favorite: work-related rage

Dear co-workers,

Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were all suddenly experts at my job. I guess I’ll just step aside and let you all take over, seeing as you know so much about grammar now. Did it come to you in a dream? Because just earlier this week, some of you couldn’t write a parallel comparison to save your lives. It’s amazing how enlightenment can come on so quickly! I’m happy for you.

Except that you’re full of shit.

Love,
The Anger Ball

If I could, I would send this letter on fancy paper to some of my co-workers. Some of them think that just because they spent time in college helping edit their friends’ essays, they’re experts in the rules of grammar. Then, they write or edit a story and can’t seem to string a sentence together without changing the tense or making it otherwise incomprehensible. So I fix it, as is my job, and then have to deal with a thousand questions on why I changed something. I have to defend every fucking change I make, even though THIS IS MY JOB AND WHAT I WAS HIRED TO DO. But you know what? I’m not perfect. So when I need help, I ask my boss, who has much more experience than me. So it’s not like I just change these things on a whim: there is always a reason. The reason being that the writing fucking blows.

I just don’t understand when it became okay to question how someone else does their job AT EVERY TURN. And these people are not my bosses. Bosses are allowed to talk to you about the quality of your work or the reasoning behind what you chose to do. People who are on the same rung as you, even if their job is different, need to shut the hell up and keep to themselves. Breaking news: If you wanted my job, you should have applied for it when it was vacant. Instead, you have another job. And I’m not constantly harassing you about what YOU’RE doing. If you have any serious concerns, bring them up to my bosses, who can then talk to me about it.

Because in the end, many of my co-workers know shit all about what I do and just look like dumbasses when they then try to explain why they don’t agree with what I did. Oh, you don’t agree with universally accepted grammar rules? That’s not my fucking problem.

Not to mention that many of the people I work with seem to have terrible reading comprehension. I will send out a sheet of examples of a given grammar principle, to try and stop myself from having an aneurysm of rage every week when I have to make THE SAME FUCKING CORRECTIONS, and my co-workers suddenly become EXPERTS on this fucking topic, sending me e-mails about how they would word some of these examples differently. Often, their “better” examples destroy the grammar principle my original example was representing. OH YES, THAT’S SO MUCH BETTER NOW. THANKS FOR MISSING THE WHOLE FUCKING POINT.

It astounds me how this happens EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. Without fail. No matter the topic, or that I consulted my expert boss on it, or that the deadline already passed. I don’t pretend to know my co-workers’ jobs better than they do, so why is okay for them to fucking pretend they know mine better?

I know the examples in this rant are very job specific, but I’m sure this overall experience isn’t something I go through alone. I feel that in every job, there is at least ONE person who likes to think themselves an expert at everyone else’s job. Usually there is more than one. People don’t like to admit when they’re ignorant about something. But the fact is, we’re all mostly ignorant. Most of us will never be true experts in ANYTHING, and some of us might become experts in ONE thing. Even though this is the case, most people hate to admit when they don’t know something, and to counteract their feeling of inadequacy, they have to constantly correct people or offer their opinion on matters about which they know nothing. And after dealing with it for four years—years in which I have been IMPROVING AT WHAT I DO—I am at my fucking wit’s end. So this rant just had to go here, for the sake of my sanity. Which, I suppose, is really the reason this blog exists. To save my sanity.

Anyway, the day that I move on to a new job, I might just mail a variation of the letter I wrote out above. It sure would make me feel a hell of a lot better about all this bullshit.

I’m sure if you keep doing that you’ll get what you want

My cats and I are in an epic battle. All they want to do is eat all the food, and all I want is for them not to die of obesity.

One of my cats is a serious glutton. I don’t know what his problem is, but unlike most cats, who will graze all day if you leave food out, my one cat will eat it all IMMEDIATELY as if he hasn’t eaten in DAYS and he may never eat AGAIN. So about a year ago when we took him to the vet, we were warned that he was just over his target weight with the potential to be obese if we just kept letting him eat.

So this means that now we only feed the cats at set times during the day. Once in the morning, once before I pick Significant Other up from the train (around 5) and once before we go to bed. We’ve been doing this schedule for nearly a year now, with some variations here and there for numerous reasons. The other two cats seem to get it and know when food time is coming and will follow me around only close to those times. Glutton Cat still hasn’t caught on.

Since we moved into our new place and I started working from home most the time, between 3 and 5 pm Glutton Cat just sits and stares at me. And if I move—I don’t just mean getting up and heading in the general direction of the kitchen, I mean even if I so much as twitch or breathe heavily—he fucking meows at me. And not just one meow. A whole string of them. Just in case I didn’t hear the first five, he adds five more. And just in case I didn’t hear him the last time I breathed, he meows again. And just in case I didn’t notice him, he’ll jump on my (small) desk. And stare. And meow.

Breaking news: I feed you at the same fucking time EVERY DAY. It’s been a YEAR NOW. Please catch on ANY TIME YOU LIKE and LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE.

Because at 3pm, I am still working. And there are TWO HOURS TO GO before you’re getting food, Glutton Cat. I mean, the other two cats seem marginally more intelligent, but the more Glutton Cat freaks out about food, the more they start to think maybe it IS food time and they should freak out, too. Soon I’m sitting in my office trying to do work and I have a chorus of cats sitting around me expecting food when it’s 3:30 and there’s still 90 minutes before they get to eat.

I think in his tiny dysfunctional brain, he must think that I feed him every day after he meows for two hours BECAUSE of his meowing and general creeper attitude of staring at me from any location in my office. Like he’s finally worn me down, EVERY DAY AT THE SAME TIME, with his persistence.

It’s actually fucking unbelievable how this happens like CLOCKWORK, yet he hasn’t caught on to the ACTUAL CLOCKWORK OF THE FACT THAT HE EATS AT THE SAME TIME EVERY FUCKING DAY. He fucking knows when it’s time for him to meow, like he can read the digital clock on my computer and see that it’s 3pm, so it’s time for fucking constant meows, but he can’t cotton on to the fact that he eats at 5pm NO MATTER WHAT.

Frankly, if it were up to me, I wouldn’t give him his food until he STOPPED meowing. Because then maybe there would be a tiny fucking light bulb in his tiny fucking brain that would go off, and he would realize that THE MEOWING, IT DOES NOTHING.

But then I’d feel like I was inadvertently punishing the other, non-stupid cats. In school, I always hated being punished when the dumb kids did something wrong, because I was a smart kid. So I don’t want to do that, even if it’s just to my cats. So I just make sure I feed them at the same time every day, and at night I pray that someday Glutton Cat will fucking get a clue.

You all might think I’m being a little harsh, calling him a glutton, but there’s another reason for it: aside from him thinking ALL THE TIME IS FOOD TIME and OMG I HAVEN’T EATEN IN DAYS, he also takes it upon himself to eat the other cats’ food. I give them all the same fucking amount, and Glutton Cat will scarf his down in 20 seconds, and then see that the other two STILL HAVE FOOD, SO CLEARLY I HAVE GIVEN THEM MORE! WHY?! WHY IS LIFE SO HARD?! and then he goes over and tries to nose into their dish and wolf down their food, too. I literally have to stand in the kitchen and monitor them while they eat to make sure Glutton Cat doesn’t eat all the food before the other cats can finish. I mean, it’d be one thing if he went to their bowls once they had walked away, but he PUSHES THEM AWAY AND TAKES THEIR FOOD. So I can’t just put their food down and fucking go back to work (because lately I am ALWAYS WORKING); I have to stand there for 15 minutes and chase Glutton Cat away from the other bowls.

He’s so convinced that he’s being starved to death, sometimes he doesn’t even finish the food in his own bowl before he tries to steal food from the other cats. If that isn’t gluttony, I don’t know what is. Maybe if he didn’t inhale his food, he would realize that HE ACTUALLY HAS A PRETTY FUCKING SWEET DEAL. He gets to sleep all day (until 3pm), then he gets to fucking stuff his face with food, and then he gets to GO BACK TO SLEEP. I wish I could do that. So stop being an asshole, Glutton Cat. YOUR LIFE IS NOT THAT HARD.

Frankly, I don’t feel like this is asking too much of a cat. Look, I know they have teeny little brains and are mostly just cute, but all I ask is that Glutton Cat take a fucking break from harassing me from 3 to 5 every fucking day. I already deal with enough whining idiots in my job; I don’t need one sitting in my office with me complaining directly in my ear for two hours EVERY DAY.

Free time, where did that go?

So I fully intended for last week to be my glorious blog return, but then work started kicking my ass again, basically sucking away all of my fucking free time.

I remember when work was work and it stayed at the office, and home was home and you got to do whatever the hell you wanted, and never did the two meet. And while working from home most the time is a pretty sweet deal, please believe me when I say it also has its drawbacks.

Pro: The cats sleep on my desk and otherwise add some levity to my day (when they aren’t pooing where they shouldn’t be, that is).
Con: I essentially am working ALL THE FUCKING TIME.

Pro: I don’t have to worry about looking busy when I have nothing to do.
Con: I essentially am working ALL THE FUCKING TIME.

All I’m saying is, I’d like my free time back, thanks. Or a raise. More money will make up for my sleep deprivation and general increased crankiness. I always said I could never create time to make up for the Space Crew’s idiocy, but it’s starting to feel like that’s what I’m doing.

So, anyway, bear with me if my posts are a bit scarce. I have no intentions of abandoning the blog, as I enjoy myself a good rant. Work is just seeping into every crevice of my life right now (even my blog, gah!). But someday I’ll reclaim my free time, and then my rants will resound off the walls of the Internet once again.

In the meantime, you’ll have to deal with my sporadic rants. I have some good ones saved up, though, so when I get a chance to really make a post, there’s some hilarity in store.

But right now I’m working, at the real job I get paid (not enough) to do.

I don’t want to see your ass at work

Earlier this year, my office instated a new summer dress code. Now, before I get into it, my office is pretty casual anyway. I wear dress pants and button-down shirts, but mostly because otherwise I’d have no place else to wear them and they’re about half of my wardrobe. But my office is casual: people wear jeans and t-shirts. People even fucking wear flip-flops, which I think is disgusting, but whatever.

However, in the summer in previous years, we were not allowed to wear shorts of any kind (not that that stopped people, let me tell you). This year, they relaxed the policy to: you can wear Bermuda-length shorts on Fridays or days when the forecasted temperature is over 90. Here are some examples of Bermuda-length shorts, but generally they fall at the knee or just above the knee. JUST SO WE’RE CLEAR.

At first I thought this was a great idea, because men kind of got a shitty deal under the old dress code. Women can wear skirts (and some women in my office wear REALLY SHORT SKIRTS, ugh) in the summer, but men were stuck wearing pants. So hey, this shorts policy is a little more fair, right?

But it is so, so unfair to my eyeballs.

The problem is that now people are dressing like they’re fucking going to the beach instead of the office: ratty t-shirts and shorts and flip-flops. Really? I mean, I know the office is casual, but do you really want to look like a beach bum? You can’t even wear sneakers? I mean, the office is like -5 degrees with the AC, so who cares if it’s 100 degrees outside anyway? But you need to maximize your assault on my eyes by showing every bit of skin you can? Ugh. Nothing is more gross than seeing some person’s hairy toes splaying off their flip-flops as they parade around your office. And I don’t know, I mean, when I have worn shorts to the office, I’ve made sure they’re at least nice-looking shorts. Khaki or a solid color of some kind, not plaid and fashionably torn up or something. But most the time I just wear dress pants anyway because my office is fucking freezing.

But far more offensive to anyone with even a little bit of decorum is the people who apparently are illiterate. What I mean is that more than once, I have seen someone in the office wearing what are essentially booty shorts (warning: link contains images not safe for work, if you give a shit). Remember how I said the dress code is for Bermuda shorts? I mean, there’s at least a 6-inch difference in length there, and I’m being conservative in my guesstimation. I know Bermuda and booty both start with “b,” but let’s be serious here: When is it ever OK to show your ass at work? Unless you are a stripper or a hooker, keep your ass out of sight at all times. Even if for some reason you thought the dress code said “booty shorts” (and wouldn’t you double-check that anyway?), why would you want to show your ass at work?

And trust me, most the people at my office don’t have an ass worth looking at anyway. So I definitely don’t want it hanging out in plain sight.

The most fucking unbelievable thing is I’ve seen this happen more than once. So are these people not being reprimanded even though they are assaulting the rest of us with their poor life choices? Or are they just disregarding all warnings? And if it’s the latter, why can’t they be fired? I mean, doesn’t that show a distinct inability to follow directions? PLEASE FIRE THESE ASSHOLES. I DON’T WANT TO HAVE TO STAB MY EYES OUT.

It just doesn’t seem right. I’m forced to deal with people’s poor clothing choices when I’m out in public, so you would think I’d get a reprieve in my office, where people are WORKING and should dress like they are AT WORK. I am all for a casual office; I like to wear jeans on Fridays or whatever. But I was unaware my office had become stripper central.

I also wonder what the point is of having a dress code if it’s not enforced. How bad does the violation have to be before someone’s going to suffer some kind of penalty? I consider having your ass hanging out of your shorts at work to be a pretty egregious offense, not to mention a fucking disgusting sight, and yet these assholes are often repeat offenders. Do they need to be completely naked before anyone’s going to say something to them?

I mean, I would say something, but it would probably involve a lot of cursing and gesticulating, and it would probably get me fired. It might be worth it even then, but something tells me I’d be fired and the offender would show up the next day in a thong without a care in the world.

For once, I would like the assholes to have to suffer for their blatant disregard of the rules. They only do it because 9 times out of 10 they can get away with it. But the rules should apply to everybody, and I don’t see why they don’t, especially in this case. To my knowledge, there is no medical condition for which you are required to wear booty shorts OR YOU WILL DIE. And if there is, then these assholes should have doctor’s notes.

Actually, maybe I’ll get a doctor’s note. I’m allergic to people with poor taste in clothing and no self-respect. May I be excused?

I just do this every day for my health

In case you hadn’t noticed, I deal with quite a few idiots every day at my job. This never ends well for me.

It’s hard being one of the only competent people of your immediate co-workers. Lucky for me, my company has a better capable-to-incapable ratio than Significant Other’s company, where she appears to be the only person who can rub at least two brain cells together, and she’s been working there the shortest amount of time.

It’s no secret really that I work in some form of publishing. And in publishing, we have these things called style guides. If you can read, I bet you can figure out what they’re used for. But I’ll tell you anyway, because the Space Crew that I work with doesn’t seem to know, so I can’t rely on the level of one’s reading comprehension to reveal the mystery: It’s so from publication to publication, everything looks uniform (such as Oxford commas, or where to put citation numbers in the text! Exciting, no?). And it covers a lot more than you might expect. Some publishing places don’t go so in-depth, but we do where I work. And not only do we have the overall house style guide, but then there’s the style guide for the particular niche in which I work, which overrides some house styles thanks to the stupid style of the Space Crew’s publications. We had to compromise, and unfortunately we adopted a LOT of their idiotic styles (this was before I was hired, as you can imagine).

You would THINK this would mean that all the Space Minions who work under Space Cadet (who I’ve written about before) would have impeccable style, since most of it is THEIR HOUSE STYLE ALREADY. But no. It’s like at the end of every week the style-sensitive part of their brains gets erased so they make the SAME FUCKING STYLE ERRORS OVER AND OVER AGAIN. Breaking news: We have a style guide so that I don’t have to have an aneurysm every week correcting your fucking stupid mistakes. Also, I update this style guide EVERY WEEK, so it is always current. THERE IS NO EXCUSE FOR YOUR IDIOCY.

Now, it’s my job to know the style better than anyone else; I’m not complaining about that. But if I have to constantly be correcting the same mistakes, it gives me less time to see if there are new and exciting mistakes that also need correcting, because I’m too busy living in fucking Groundhog Day, where I’m doing the same thing over and over and over again with the hopes that SOMETHING WILL BE DIFFERENT THIS TIME. It’s enough to truly drive a person to insanity. Blissful, blissful insanity.

Is it too much to ask that the Space Crew make my job a little easier by cracking open the fucking style guide to look something up? Apparently so. But my favorite is when they e-mail me (or call!) to ask me a style question that’s answered in the style guide. Because I’m not fucking busy or anything making up for how late the Space Crew is always sending me things. I just sit around with my thumb up my ass waiting until they call with a question. Just use the fucking search function and check the style guide FIRST. THAT’S WHAT IT’S THERE FOR. You would think if they’re going to consistently blow past deadlines they could at LEAST use that extra time to read the fucking style guide. But no. I don’t know what the fuck they do with that extra time, but it isn’t anything that generates tangible results. Each Minion so consistently makes the same style (and grammar) mistakes that if their names were removed from their stories, I could still tell who wrote which one based on the errors. If I were feeling generous, I might at least give them points for consistency. But even still, the detraction for inability to learn from one’s mistakes would far outweigh any positive balance.

Significant Other has an interesting situation at her company as well. She’s so competent at her job that she has to do OTHER PEOPLE’S JOBS all the time. At first it was a favor that she did for her boss, because she likes her boss. But now it’s become this thing where she’s like the fucking guiding light for her co-workers. Which is way more annoying than it sounds. There is one person, who has worked at this company for far longer than SO, who literally cannot do anything now without getting SO’s opinion on it. Even when SO is in the middle of doing her own job or having a conversation. I don’t know how this person got along for so many years without SO there if they have always been this crippled by decision making. Breaking news: Sometimes you have to make work-related choices on your own. Also, you’ve been TRAINED to make these choices. You know what choice to make ALREADY. It’s not even really a CHOICE. So what is the fucking issue here?

This is a result of the fact that SO has a lot of free time at her job, so that’s originally why she started helping in this way. But get this: she asked her boss’s boss for more work, and that asshole said no. Now half the time, SO sits there with nothing to do, her competence wasted, and the rest of the time she’s trying to do not only her job, but also the jobs of her handful of co-workers. She wasn’t even asking for a raise or anything. She’s literally so bored at work that she just wanted something else to do, and the head boss refused her. That has to be the height of corporate idiocy. It’s not that there’s a lack of other things that she could be doing, it’s that that asshole, for some reason, doesn’t want her doing them. Probably because then his superiors would wake up and realize how fucking inefficient everyone else is, and we can’t harm the corporate status quo!

In this economy, it just baffles me that these assholes can continue to be employed. In my situation, it’s because the Space Crew is full of giant egos who have all learned to coexist, so you can’t upset that balance without causing a shitstorm. Collectively, they’re the most important group of people on the planet and they expect us all to treat them as such, and they’ve got a specific pecking order that cannot be disturbed. I’m not sure how they can all be in the same room together since their egos must suck all the oxygen away, but alas none of them have died of asphyxiation yet. Sadly. But a lot of the Space Crew is fucking moronic, and I know I could probably pull two dozen random names of unemployed people out of a hat and get a better, more hard-working group than these assholes. And yet these assholes are the ones I’m stuck with because I have no hiring/firing power. In SO’s situation, we can’t figure out how the head boss is still in charge, since that asshole has made numerous completely terrible business decisions this year alone. We also can’t figure out how any of her co-workers are still employed because these people just aren’t doing their jobs at all. At least for me, the co-workers are doing their job, eventually, at their own pace. But for SO, she’s often making up those people’s slack. So why are they still employed? Breaking news: You were hired to do a specific job, so DO IT. Otherwise, you should be fired. Again: hat, random names, better workers.

Considering how many people are unemployed right now, I say companies everywhere fire the obvious idiots and give someone new a chance. Sure, they might be an idiot too, but hey, maybe they won’t be! After all the work-related frustration SO and I put up with each week, that’s a gamble I’m willing to take.


Monthly Raging

June 2017
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