What You Are Laughing At

This Is What It's Come To

I had planned vacation days for today and tomorrow. No work. Play. I'm at work today for a couple of reasons. The main reason is that I have 4 managers. None of them talk directly to me until they F up and need to tell me to fix something. The good thing is that whatever they think is broken probably ISN'T, because I don't do enough work to break anything anyway.

I have a project in front of me that I was handed on the 16th of April. It was going to be due for presentation on 5/13 to a group of people who feel that what they do for this three-legged dog of a company actually amounts to a hill of disposable cell-phone batteries. It doesn't, by the way. So in this report I'm supposed to gather and manipulate the data for the month of March on the efficiency of a few processes we run here at Turkish Prison Cellular, as per our conversation on the 16th of April.

Yesterday one of my 4 managers, whom I shall refer to as Pigtit, because he's bulbous and pinkish in hue... (I just threw up a little)... stops by my desk after a meeting with another Director-level mopey waste of organs. He tells me that we'll need the numbers for April, but that will be odd because the end of the month isn't until Friday. No schidt? aaaand NO SCHIDT! So he's changed the criteria for a deliverable one week before it's due. It's important that I point out to you, dear reader, that I pointed out to him, Pigtit, that I had written down in my notes from the 4/16 meeting that our main priority was March metrics. His comeback?
"Well yeah, but that's because it wasn't the end of April yet."
Does this make sense to you? The words make sense, but the idea, the gyst, the REASON FOR OPENING THE PIGTIT PIEHOLE makes no damn sense whatsoever. Luckily I'm ahead of schedule for the actual work I need to do on this report, because...

later on I get a Pigtit-mail that is a reply for clarification on a few issues so that I knew what I was doing from here on out and made myself look good. It's the corporate equivalent of reverse psychology: This is what you told me you wanted. Are you wrong? Turns out... he was! STOP THE MUSIC, this shouldn't be a surprise to any of us at this point. Other than finding the M&Ms in trail mix, this guy's ability to sift through information is suspect at best. He tells me that the big report due on the 13th isn't due on the 13th anymore. Yeah, that's due on the 6th. They moved the date up a week.

Nowhere in here have I used the words "apology" or "sorry." See, when I goof up and it affects someone else, I apologize and I mean it, because my goof messed with someone else's day or life or happiness, and I am sorry for doing that. Pigtit's head-in-the-hamhock maneuver not only could have REALLY f*cked himself over, but it almost put me in a position to look really bad and maybe get fired. Instead I'm in the office on a gorgeous day working over some files for schidt that means NOTHING to the future of this planet, mankind, or making out with M, who's leavin' on a jet plane in a few days. I don't want to be here. There's really no cosmic reason to be here. It's only a job, not THE job, it's just money. It helps. I shut out the pain and find the hilarity of it all. And THAT my friends is WORK.

I'm checking the company handbook to see if it's true that you can get fired for hitting a co-worker. Pussies.

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