Yes, I only posted one piece a day for the last two days. My apologies, but work and other circumstances conspired to utterly hose me over a 24-hour period. I feel the need to vent, but I don’t want to bore more people than absolutely necessary, so I’m stuffing it below the fold.
It all started Sunday morning, around 10:30. I got a call from a colleague (a young lady of whom I’m moderately fond) — the guy who was supposed to work with her blew off work AGAIN and she was gonna be stuck there by herself. Toss in a brand-new computer system that NONE of us know how to use, and she was seriously screwed being there by herself — so bad, she was reduced to tears.
I love it when a woman is crying and turns to me for help. It makes me feel all manly and wanted and needed. And if it happens to be a woman I happen to care about a bit, that’s all the better.
No, on second thought, I don’t. It makes me very angry, and that anger is best sated by finding out what made her cry and causing the person responsible to suffer.
So, on my day off when I had approximately 1.7 metric assloads of housework to do (of which I probably woulda done three items max), I tossed myself into the shower and off to work. For 8 hours. After putting in my 40 as of Friday.
So I dragged my ass home just in time to eat and watch “Desperate Housewives.” (Just how damned disturbing was that dinner at Bree’s? I COULD NOT BELIEVE what Andrew said about his own mother to George. I wanted to alternately laugh hysterically and drive an icepick through my ears at his calmly telling George the intimate details of his parents’ sex life.)
Woke up at 5 to do laundry. Found out that the building has a new washer and dryer — but only the washer’s hooked up. That’s OK, there’s a 24-hour laundromat about 1.5 miles from home. But the washer isn’t ready, either — I found out that it stops after the “rinse” cycle and just sits there, soaking and soaking and soaking, never bothering to drain or spin. So I have to haul a basket full of dripping-wet, nearly-saturated clothes to the laundromat.
But I ain’t going nowhere. There’s a car parked right in front of my garage door, almost dead-centered on my “NO PARKING” sign. Turns out one of my neighbors (the building’s designated asshole) has a guest over who doesn’t read very well. So I lost 20 minutes getting the neighbor up and getting his car out of the way. If I still had the old Cavalier and not the Shaggin’ Wagon, I might’ve tried to just push the POS out of my way, but I like the Shaggin’ Wagon too much to do that.
After dumping the clothes off at the laundromat and stuffing in an hour’s worth of quarters, I hauled my butt down the highway to run an errand for work (yes, I’m putting in for the time and tolls, padded slightly to cover the price of gas). We needed something from another location, and Good Old Jay can be counted on to shlep stuff around — especially since he’s got the room for it. Got it, got back just as the dryer was spinning down, hauled the clothes home, tossed on the work clothes, pounded down a quick breakfast, fixed a lunch, and beat cheeks to work — a mere 20 minutes late for my 8:30 scheduled start.
Where we spent the whole day STILL trying to learn the “new, improved” system of managing the work flow. We’re so far behind, it’s beyond funny, and into parody.
I’ve come to a realization: my employer has a tremendously devious tactic for engendering what I call “stupid loyalty” — loyalty beyond any reasonable expectation. They do that by hiring at the local level people of integrity and compassion, so we tend to have tremendous dedication to each other, and bust our asses to get the work done — “forgiving” the corporate jerks that engineer the conditions that make the work load so impossible.
But over the last two months, three of the people I feel the most respect/loyalty/affection/dedication to have either left or given their notice (including the lady mentioned above, and I’m starting to realize that I just might deserve better than a company that has given me two raises of less than 3% each over the last 30 months — not even keeping up with inflation. And with only a couple people sticking around who I still feel that way towards, I’m wondering if I ought to poke around and see if there are some greener pastures, preferably closer than 25 miles from home.
(And before anyone starts playing matchmaker between me and my departing colleague, I’ve considered it — and rejected it. For one, she’s nearly 13 years younger. For another, she’s just too damned nice — my rougher aspects would steamroller her, and “nice” people like her should be allowed to continue to be “nice,” and kept from getting too close to brutes like me.)