Most Prized Possession

My most prized possession is now the car voucher that will let me get home in thsi shit after the shuttle bus service stops. I will sing sweetly to the voucher. Oh, my pretty little voucher.

Can you hear my boss screaming/ do you understand/do you feel the same/ or am I only dreaming/ or is this burning....

...an eternal hatred of everything about this job?

-----Original Message-----
From: Human Resources
Sent: Tue 12/20/2005 8:57 PM
To: All Employees
Subject: Friday, December 23rd
Sender: VP for Employee and Labor Relations

As you know, the transit strike has imposed considerable hardship
for members of the Teldar Paper Community. Next week, the Company
has holidays scheduled for December 26th, 27th, 29th and 30th. In
an earlier e-mail, I advised and encouraged those departments
without a 24/7 operation to consider closing on December 28th so
that employees could have a full week off. (Employees would be
required to take a personal or vacation day to cover the 28th). If
the strike continues, I would also encourage those departments
without a 24/7 operation to close on Friday, December 23rd to ease
the difficulty caused by the transit strike. Employees taking off
on the 23rd would still be required
to have their leave banks charged for the day.

I can almost hear the Bossy Monster cackling when I tell him this. But he should know that this is fucking exhausting and his dumping extra work on me is not helpful. Sigh.

Strike Strike Everywhere a Strike

All I could think this morning was "I am tired of hearing about the transit strike. I get it. I am stuck in the traffic caused by the strike. 1010 WINS you can shut up now." But then they never covered anything else... it occurred to me that there is nothing else in the entire universe more important to my life right now...as I walked by a TV monitor on in the building which was tuned to CNN, there was a story about people giving/getting "Botox for Christmas." I just started laughing.

The Re-giftey Dance

My boss is a re-gifter. It’s just terrible. He’s got that academic/eccentric nutty professor thing, but he never invented shit. It would be ok if he had invented Flubber or something useful like that. If you want to know about the economics of Asian paper distribution, he’s your man...but if you need to dunk on Wesley Snipes or Woody Harrelson in a pick-up basketball game, forget about it.

Everything would have been ok, if he had re-gifted us…good gifts. But it is clear why he did not want the tacky wood-carved salad tongs with Japanese aboriginal imagery on them. Or the tacky scarves. Or the pen. Actually, it was a pretty good pen. I took that. But most of the stuff is unlabeled, so even if I could sell it on eBay, what would I say? "Vaguely Japanese looking woood carvings...probably...NO RESERVE BID NOW TOP SELLER WILL NOT LAST”????

An Open Letter

Dear [Every credit card or MTA hotline I have called],

I would like to get my money back. You charged my card and took my money but I got nothing. NOTHING. Oh, you need details- got 'em. I got the transaction time down to the second. I have the terminal ID and color. I have the name of the bag lady who asked me for change before the transaction. I know what the temperature and pressure were at the time. I know your name, the name of your dog and yes, I know the size of your mother's panties. She's ugly but kind of fun in the sack.

Yes, I'll hold.

No problem I just- ok, I'll hold.

Sure, no problem. Yes, It is P-a-n-t-s D-i-s-p-e-n-s-e-r. Yes, I'll hold.

Oh, ok. So, what's up? Three weeks? Are you serious? What happened to zero fraud liability? What happened to the networked economy and the digital revolution? This is my money! It was taken out of my paycheck so I could use it on approved goods and services and now you are ruining my game plan. You're fucking up my Christmas! You fuck stick. Eat me. Eat my ass. Suck a Wesley Willis album sideways.

No, I'm not mad at you, just the faceless machine you represent. I'm sorry I cursed. Please just hurry.

Transit CounterStrike

Having had some discussions with friends and read some items online, I would like to propose that we have some kind of contingency plan for a Transit Strike.

EF, PDO, and AH will need to find a way to work. I think we need Boba Fett Jetpacks. I'll have to sell my speeder- but I won't get top dollar; ever since the t-38's came out, the model I have just isn't in demand.

Since road and bridge occupancy restrictions appear not to affect streets north of 96th, a driver from New Jersey could pick up Teldar Paper staff and park near the office without too much trouble, though there might be significant traffic....Until I open my Vulcan cannon filled with chain-fed .50 caliber whoop-ass! Stand by Ion Control!

BTW, some helpful links:

Gothamist: Stop Worrying and Learn to Love the Transit Strike Fear



Gridlock Sam

What it is?

Hey, motherfuckers! Somehow it feels like today sucked so badly I can't justify staying. It told my boss flat out how disrespectful he was being, and I just saw how he didn't even care. Anger never solved anything. Why am I still here? Am I feeling guilty because I can never have a great week...The tension between me not caring and me wanting to please my boss creates ridiculous behavior patterns in my work. I don't know if I want him to know how I feel or if I want to silently punish him with apathy. Why would I want to help him after hours? I just want to escape, most days. I earn the respect of my subordinates because I need their hard work, I need them to put up with an office that is a wreck and my boss, who doesn't give a shit about anyone except himself.

I'm damaged by this job. I'm tense and frustrated. My back hurts, and my fingers are worse. I'm underpaid. I am a better person than he will ever be. He throws temper tantrums and I listen. I don't want to own a project he's upset about. I'd rather fix something than be chastised. He would rather yell at someone than fix something himself. I am holding so many things together what will he do if I just leave? Fuck. Fuck it all to fucking hell. It's cold, and dark, and I am tired of having to take five minutes to compose myself just so I don't do something crazy. Where is my reward for keeping my cool? nowhere. He doesn't care. Fuck it. He is not gaining respect for me when I throw his shit right back at him, is he? No. He lives in his own little cubbyhole of vanity, a little private nirvana of his own, blissfully unaware of his place in the world.

Just how could my life get so good

Today, my pants arrived (cf. here) my new TiVo arrived, and I got a reimbursement check. And yesterday I found out I am getting the complete Calvin and Hobbes. ROCK!