Home Blogs Bathroom Break, Boss? Week of 24 March 2002
Week of 24 March 2002
Ten hours after being told that I was going to be getting a pay cut I already had another job lined up. Not just any job. A job doing something I enjoy, working from home, and setting my own schedule. It's so good it almost sounds like a pyramid scheme infomercial, but it's a real job with a real company.
The problem in a situation like this is expressing my joy in a way that doesn't rub salt in the wounds of my unemployed friends. Some of them have been looking for jobs for nine months without success, and here I go quitting one excellent job to go work at another one that's even better. I can't exactly go around grinning like a maniac because I've been so blessed. Instead, when speaking to my jobless friends, I focus more on the part of the story dealing with how my last employer had to lay a bunch of people off and was going to reduce the pay of those of us who were left. My unemployed buddies can sink their teeth into that. The story I tell them is sort of like The Empire Strikes Back. "My hand got cut off, see, and Vader told me he was my dad. My best friend was frozen. Man, it sucked." I leave out the goody-goody Return of the Jedi ending where Vader turns nice and we all cuddle with Ewoks, or in my case, I work in my underwear and sleep as late as I like.
I'm one of those people who tends to go through life feeling like I'm the gum on the bottom of someone's shoe. Even when things are going well I tell myself that I'll screw everything up eventually and it will all come crashing down. I suck all the happiness out of every moment by worrying about what-ifs. Somehow, though, this latest chain of events has gotten through to that inner Eeyore and slapped some sense into him. I'm happy. I don't feel guilty about it. I'm not killing the moment with stress. Yet because I want to be a nice guy and not make my friends feel bad about their situation I'm keeping it all bottled up. Good thing this site is here so I can say it: I am the luckiest man on Earth.
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Dear Area Manager (also referred to as The Hobbit because he LOOKS LIKE ONE!),
My name is NOT Rebecca. Why did you insist on calling me Rebecca when you came in to look over the store? I have a nametag, bright white against the navy blue of my workshirt. The nametag clearly states that my name is not Rebecca. I know you know my name, because yesterday when you came in, you said "Hi, NamethatisnotRebecca, how are you doing today?" There is no excuse for you calling me by my proper name when IT IS ON MY F*CKING SHIRT.
Oh yeah. About my uniform being dirty...well...you'd be dirty too, if you had to open in the morning, and spilled mashed potato mix all over your shirt. If you have a problem with my uniform, tell me, and not the manager in charge, and I will explain to you why I am not wearing the uniform pants. They gave me very big very uncomfortable rashes all over my legs. You would know this if you talked to ME about it, and not the manager.
Thank you,
Girl who is NOT named Rebecca
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Ok - last time I checked my resume, nowhere on it does it state that I am capable of conjuring bread and fish out of nothing for millions of people. Along those lines, I can't produce 300 dpi stock photography out of thin air. Sure I can airbrush some photos from scratch, but that is just not possible to achieve within one day. Don't look at the finished product and get mad that I didn't include non-BMW cars on it when all the stock photography you gave me are BMW shots. I know I could just as easily rip-off a picture from the Mercedes/Audi/Porshe site, but surely they will not be amused to find a small internet company profiting from their images. Above all, those images are 72 dpi - that is not good printing material!
And lastly - yes, stand right behind me and breathe down my neck; that will make the project move along much more quickly!
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Hehe...
I'm researching an orphaned system and diving deep into the database to dig up some info. It's funny what people put into the support history for a unit when they think nobody will ever look it up. Like this one by Linda M: "Chad said this is to go to ___ ...he is a retard."
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Get to Work!
I heard on NPR's Morning Edition today that Tuesdays are the most productive day of the week. Why? I guess because Mondays are usually filled up with meetings (not to mention serious cases of the Moooooondays), Wednesdays are "Hump Day," on Thursday we're starting to drag a bit, and on Friday people are thinking mostly about the weekend.
So basically, today's a great day to slack off whenever possible, because everybody else will be too busy to notice.
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*Ducking under my desk*
Do people often yell and scream at their co-workers or is it just in TV?
People are always yelling and screaming in newsrooms... thankfully my cube isn't in the newsroom. I thought I was escaping from all the noise and bad vibes when I learned my desk was two floors up and away from the newsroom. But apparently people in creative services like to yell and scream at eachother as well.
I feel like the eight-year-old hiding in her bedroom while mom and dad are ranting and throwing things at each other in the kitchen!
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Why oh why oh why do people order food, and ask for a glass of water, only to fill it up with soda? Hell-lo! The fountain is right next to the f*cking register. Water does NOT make that fuzzy noise that soda does. If we weren't so busy, then we'd f*cking come down on your ass and make you fork over the $1 for a drink. You can spend $15 on a meal for three, yet you can't spend an extra $3 for drinks? I don't buy that, especially since you're dressed in those trendy "underground" skate clothes. If you can afford a $150 pair of pants or a $30 shirt, then you can buy a damn soda.
Damn punk ass kids. I was NEVER that rude and/or stupid when I was in high school. My mother taught me to...oh...I don't know...RESPECT people, reguardless if they're behind the counter at a fast-food joint, or behind the desk in the principal's office.
What is up with the deterioration of today's youth, anyway? Hell. I'm turning 20 in a few months (less than three), and I'm already pissed off about the state of today's youth. Gah.
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Hi again.
Have I mentioned that I work from home?
I delete porn from the internet and I get to work from home. Mostly on the weekends and at nights. Part time.
I get to work from my bed.
Sometimes I spend my whole weekend in bed. Working.
I have to sweep through lots of posts that look like:
How do you get over a broken heart?And delete the ones that look like:
Any single Australian girls like to chat??
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"Give a man a stapler, and he'll staple for a day. Teach a man to staple his hand to a stack of memos and he'll be in Admin before you know it."
