Work Post Numero Uno
Yours truly has graduated from the mundane life of a student and moved on to greener, more cutthroat pastures of being in the workforce. The reason I took the job at the learning center (I’m currently acting as assistant manager), is because of the good pay and the nearness to my house. I don’t have to deal with the horrible experience of riding the MRT to Ayala during rush hour and being squished to death by some twenty million women crammed in a single car.
Unfortunately, just when I’ve thought I’ve served my time dealing with bitches, another one comes in the form of THE MANAGER (who surely graduated from Bitch School with Latin honors), making my life seem like it’s from one of those lame chick-literature crap with the perfunctory evil hag of a boss breathing down on my neck.
And this is the part where I’m supposed to quit my job, break down and some hot rich guy will rescue me from my damsel-in-distress state, and automatically give me the glamorous job of my dreams.
RIGHT. The rubbish plotlines those books give.
To elaborate, my job is pretty much okay, and the salary is nothing to sneer at for a fresh graduate. The problem is that it’s a start-up company and I’m doing a lot of work and putting in more than 40 hours a week without overtime pay. But the work is definitely something I can handle, and most of the people are fun to hang out with; we’ve become a huge dysfunctional family of sorts.
The biggest deterrence to our otherwise happy work lives is none other than Jessy, Manager and Evil Hag Extraordinaire.
Top 5 Reasons Why My Manager is A Spawn of Satan
1) “I’m anorexic,” was the first thing that she proudly told me and my co-workers when we were eating out.
What I wanted to say: Oh yeah. Like I would never have guessed from your size 0 body, and your lollipop-head-like proportion. And your skeletal wrists, which by the way, look like they’re slowly disintegrating as we speak. Sorry, but did you want me to say CONGRATULATIONS?
What I actually said: Oh. Really.
To emphasize her point, she proceeded to peck on her food like a bird while the rest of us chowed down like pigs, therefore making us feel like… pigs. Thirty-three years old, mother of two, and she still acts like a Hollywood starlet.
2) Evil Hag is a huge power-player. She loves the feeling of having people beneath her. And since with my luck of having my desk five feet away from hers, I’m always in her sight, and therefore, her favorite target in playing “Make a Person Feel Inferior Today” is ME.
She called me outside last week, while she was smoking her first of many cigarettes. Thinking she was going to pass on her dirty work to me again, I tried to plaster a smile and nicely asked, “Yes?”
“Renee, keep me company,” she whined/pouted.
What I wanted to say: Oh my fucking God. You want me to stand with you here, outside, leave the sanctity of air-conditioned rooms, look stupid, feel stupid while you blow second-hand smoke into my face from your cheap-ass Winston Lights. Fuck you.
Talk back and she will give you worse stuff to do. Talk back and she will make your life so miserable. Talk back and you get fired.
What I actually said: ………………………………‘Kay.
A minute passed by and she was still smoking her lame stick. I finally said, “I have to do something else so I’m going inside.” She raised her overly plucked eyebrows and looked at me insolently. Like how dare I even act remotely subversive. How dare I even grow a backbone and assert my will.
3) Evil Hag wants to be Queen Bee in the office and have all male attention directed at her. Have all the straight men kneeling in front of her, declaring their love and all that hoopla. She got herself pregnant thrice with different boyfriends and never got married, if that’s any indication of how much she likes men.
This is the reason she glared at me once when I was inside a roomful of her Sales and Marketing boys, consulting with one of them. She apparently thought I was flirting, when in fact, “Renee” and “flirting” do not go together well (You got my back on this one, right Paula?).
And this is the reason why she stares at me from head to toe when I come to work wearing a skirt and killer heels, lips curling in displeasure, and that weird eyebrow arching up ‘til the ceiling. She sits up straighter in her chair and looks at me as if to say, Excuse me? How dare you wear a skirt in my presence, when I specifically told you to dress in a potato sack, wear tissue-box shoes and be as ugly as possible?
What I wanted to say: I’m sorry, are my legs blinding you, bitch?
What I actually said: ………………………………………Morning.
Call me officially spineless.
4) Though I’m frigging doing something else, she will try to get me to do something for her because she is beyond incompetent. I can’t even describe how stupid she is. She doesn’t even know how to adjust the settings to her monitor and asked me how to do it. I swear the only thing she has ahead of me is years of experience and the capacity to act like the biggest bitch.
Oh yeah, and the talent to suck ass and balls. But sucking ass can’t get you too far, as demonstrated with what happened yesterday.
There were two schedules that have been assigned for the manager and assistant manager. 6 am to 3 pm and 1 pm to 10 pm. I’ve told everyone that I’m a morning person and will function better working with the first shift. Besides, it’s not safe anymore to go home from work at 10 pm since I don’t even have a car.
Jessy, fucktard that she is, automatically claimed the 6 to 3 shift, without even consulting with me if I was okay with it. So naturally I said nothing while she was dictating a load of crap as usual. Marcial, who owns the company, talked to me and asked me if I was okay with the schedule. I said, “No.”
“Don’t you want growth?”
“I do, but I don’t want that schedule.”
“Give me your decision until tomorrow.”
Tomorrow comes and I told him I don’t want the schedule and he could either put me in another position or fire me because I wouldn’t want to work at the 1 to 10 shift. He said, “There’s no need to do either because you’re getting the 6 to 3 shift.”
Miracle of miracles, he put me in priority. “Jessy’s not going to be happy with that.”
He shrugged and said, “It’s my decision.”
Jessy SMSed me as soon as she heard, saying, “I heard you might have a problem with the 1 to 10 pm schedule?”
Might have a problem? MIGHT HAVE A PROBLEM? She already knows that I’m getting the 6 to 3 shift and she’s trying to intimidate me via text message so I’ll take it back? Stupid bitch.
I replied, “Last night, I got called by Marcial and Ana, and they bothered to ask me if I was alright with the schedule. I said I wasn’t. I told Marcial that he could transfer me to another position. He said there was no need and gave me the 6 to 3. It was his call.”
She replied back, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come across as confronting you. It was just a thought of concern.”
Yeah, tell me another one, dumbass.
5) Everybody wants to kill Jessy. Well, granted, I may have the strongest killing intent out of all of us, but everybody hates her because she’s so fake and saccharine. And the biggest bitch of all time. This is how it goes in the office…
Me: I hate her.
Nikki: I thought it was just me.
Jean: I wanted to strangle her while I was installing something in her computer.
Bryan: She tries to act like she knows so much about sales and marketing but you really know she’s so stupid.
Me: I hate her.
Ashley: I know. Her shoes are so cheap. She’s so cheap.
Emer: Guys, let’s try not to judge a person…
Me: Emer, stop being such a goody-goody.
Emer: Yeah well, she’s…
Bryan: A ball-sucker.
Nikki: I hope she gets fired.
Me: She has big ears. Like Mickey Mouse.
Jean: Ah, so true.
Ashley: That’s harsh.
Me: You guys do know that it’s only been one month. This IS her best side.
Nikki: Yeah, it’s not about to get better.
Bryan: Fuck.
Jessy comes inside the room and says in a cutesy voice, “What are you all conspiring about?”
What everyone said: Sales projections. Website designs. Corporate partners.
What everyone wanted to say: You, stupid. YOU!
Right now, I’m really having doubts on whether the money is worth all that stress, all that hassle of not-saying-what-you-want-to-say and saying-what-you-don’t-want-to-say. I’m currently waiting for that Operations Specialist post I applied at some other bank, which at first, I didn’t want to test for, but after Jessy showed us her true colors, I knew I had to do it.
Everyone is obviously bound to meet all kinds of shrews in life, but this is just one who’s been trying hard to show her best side to her people but still ends up being a bitch. If she doesn’t respect your co-workers, nobody’s going to respect her. I’m not about to stay and watch her attitude towards employees get worse. I’m going to quit the first chance I get my hands on another job. But right now…
I’ll work. And keep sharp things handy.
Unfortunately, just when I’ve thought I’ve served my time dealing with bitches, another one comes in the form of THE MANAGER (who surely graduated from Bitch School with Latin honors), making my life seem like it’s from one of those lame chick-literature crap with the perfunctory evil hag of a boss breathing down on my neck.
And this is the part where I’m supposed to quit my job, break down and some hot rich guy will rescue me from my damsel-in-distress state, and automatically give me the glamorous job of my dreams.
RIGHT. The rubbish plotlines those books give.
To elaborate, my job is pretty much okay, and the salary is nothing to sneer at for a fresh graduate. The problem is that it’s a start-up company and I’m doing a lot of work and putting in more than 40 hours a week without overtime pay. But the work is definitely something I can handle, and most of the people are fun to hang out with; we’ve become a huge dysfunctional family of sorts.
The biggest deterrence to our otherwise happy work lives is none other than Jessy, Manager and Evil Hag Extraordinaire.
Top 5 Reasons Why My Manager is A Spawn of Satan
1) “I’m anorexic,” was the first thing that she proudly told me and my co-workers when we were eating out.
What I wanted to say: Oh yeah. Like I would never have guessed from your size 0 body, and your lollipop-head-like proportion. And your skeletal wrists, which by the way, look like they’re slowly disintegrating as we speak. Sorry, but did you want me to say CONGRATULATIONS?
What I actually said: Oh. Really.
To emphasize her point, she proceeded to peck on her food like a bird while the rest of us chowed down like pigs, therefore making us feel like… pigs. Thirty-three years old, mother of two, and she still acts like a Hollywood starlet.
2) Evil Hag is a huge power-player. She loves the feeling of having people beneath her. And since with my luck of having my desk five feet away from hers, I’m always in her sight, and therefore, her favorite target in playing “Make a Person Feel Inferior Today” is ME.
She called me outside last week, while she was smoking her first of many cigarettes. Thinking she was going to pass on her dirty work to me again, I tried to plaster a smile and nicely asked, “Yes?”
“Renee, keep me company,” she whined/pouted.
What I wanted to say: Oh my fucking God. You want me to stand with you here, outside, leave the sanctity of air-conditioned rooms, look stupid, feel stupid while you blow second-hand smoke into my face from your cheap-ass Winston Lights. Fuck you.
Talk back and she will give you worse stuff to do. Talk back and she will make your life so miserable. Talk back and you get fired.
What I actually said: ………………………………‘Kay.
A minute passed by and she was still smoking her lame stick. I finally said, “I have to do something else so I’m going inside.” She raised her overly plucked eyebrows and looked at me insolently. Like how dare I even act remotely subversive. How dare I even grow a backbone and assert my will.
3) Evil Hag wants to be Queen Bee in the office and have all male attention directed at her. Have all the straight men kneeling in front of her, declaring their love and all that hoopla. She got herself pregnant thrice with different boyfriends and never got married, if that’s any indication of how much she likes men.
This is the reason she glared at me once when I was inside a roomful of her Sales and Marketing boys, consulting with one of them. She apparently thought I was flirting, when in fact, “Renee” and “flirting” do not go together well (You got my back on this one, right Paula?).
And this is the reason why she stares at me from head to toe when I come to work wearing a skirt and killer heels, lips curling in displeasure, and that weird eyebrow arching up ‘til the ceiling. She sits up straighter in her chair and looks at me as if to say, Excuse me? How dare you wear a skirt in my presence, when I specifically told you to dress in a potato sack, wear tissue-box shoes and be as ugly as possible?
What I wanted to say: I’m sorry, are my legs blinding you, bitch?
What I actually said: ………………………………………Morning.
Call me officially spineless.
4) Though I’m frigging doing something else, she will try to get me to do something for her because she is beyond incompetent. I can’t even describe how stupid she is. She doesn’t even know how to adjust the settings to her monitor and asked me how to do it. I swear the only thing she has ahead of me is years of experience and the capacity to act like the biggest bitch.
Oh yeah, and the talent to suck ass and balls. But sucking ass can’t get you too far, as demonstrated with what happened yesterday.
There were two schedules that have been assigned for the manager and assistant manager. 6 am to 3 pm and 1 pm to 10 pm. I’ve told everyone that I’m a morning person and will function better working with the first shift. Besides, it’s not safe anymore to go home from work at 10 pm since I don’t even have a car.
Jessy, fucktard that she is, automatically claimed the 6 to 3 shift, without even consulting with me if I was okay with it. So naturally I said nothing while she was dictating a load of crap as usual. Marcial, who owns the company, talked to me and asked me if I was okay with the schedule. I said, “No.”
“Don’t you want growth?”
“I do, but I don’t want that schedule.”
“Give me your decision until tomorrow.”
Tomorrow comes and I told him I don’t want the schedule and he could either put me in another position or fire me because I wouldn’t want to work at the 1 to 10 shift. He said, “There’s no need to do either because you’re getting the 6 to 3 shift.”
Miracle of miracles, he put me in priority. “Jessy’s not going to be happy with that.”
He shrugged and said, “It’s my decision.”
Jessy SMSed me as soon as she heard, saying, “I heard you might have a problem with the 1 to 10 pm schedule?”
Might have a problem? MIGHT HAVE A PROBLEM? She already knows that I’m getting the 6 to 3 shift and she’s trying to intimidate me via text message so I’ll take it back? Stupid bitch.
I replied, “Last night, I got called by Marcial and Ana, and they bothered to ask me if I was alright with the schedule. I said I wasn’t. I told Marcial that he could transfer me to another position. He said there was no need and gave me the 6 to 3. It was his call.”
She replied back, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come across as confronting you. It was just a thought of concern.”
Yeah, tell me another one, dumbass.
5) Everybody wants to kill Jessy. Well, granted, I may have the strongest killing intent out of all of us, but everybody hates her because she’s so fake and saccharine. And the biggest bitch of all time. This is how it goes in the office…
Me: I hate her.
Nikki: I thought it was just me.
Jean: I wanted to strangle her while I was installing something in her computer.
Bryan: She tries to act like she knows so much about sales and marketing but you really know she’s so stupid.
Me: I hate her.
Ashley: I know. Her shoes are so cheap. She’s so cheap.
Emer: Guys, let’s try not to judge a person…
Me: Emer, stop being such a goody-goody.
Emer: Yeah well, she’s…
Bryan: A ball-sucker.
Nikki: I hope she gets fired.
Me: She has big ears. Like Mickey Mouse.
Jean: Ah, so true.
Ashley: That’s harsh.
Me: You guys do know that it’s only been one month. This IS her best side.
Nikki: Yeah, it’s not about to get better.
Bryan: Fuck.
Jessy comes inside the room and says in a cutesy voice, “What are you all conspiring about?”
What everyone said: Sales projections. Website designs. Corporate partners.
What everyone wanted to say: You, stupid. YOU!
Right now, I’m really having doubts on whether the money is worth all that stress, all that hassle of not-saying-what-you-want-to-say and saying-what-you-don’t-want-to-say. I’m currently waiting for that Operations Specialist post I applied at some other bank, which at first, I didn’t want to test for, but after Jessy showed us her true colors, I knew I had to do it.
Everyone is obviously bound to meet all kinds of shrews in life, but this is just one who’s been trying hard to show her best side to her people but still ends up being a bitch. If she doesn’t respect your co-workers, nobody’s going to respect her. I’m not about to stay and watch her attitude towards employees get worse. I’m going to quit the first chance I get my hands on another job. But right now…
I’ll work. And keep sharp things handy.