Ever Have One Of Those Days?
Well, I seem to be having more than my fair share of them lately. It is rapidly growing old.
Yesterday was one of those days. It started off with my back hurting (as it often does, these days) and only got more fun when I found out that the pet project Chris (my dickhead boss) wanted me to do was to drag half the lawn furniture we'd exiled out to the Lawn & Garden center back inside for whatever reason. Of course, it had to be done a ridiculously anal-retentive way, but I'm used to him going by the rules, even if it defies common sense.
Take for example the conversation I had with him about a very tall piece of lawn furniture. In a nutshell, he wanted me to wedge a 84" tall piece of furniture into 74" by stuffing it in crooked. It took several minutes to explain to him (using a tape measure, no less) that that wouldn't work. Then he just told me "this is taking to long. We'll figure it out another time. Just do something with it, and hurry up! I had other stuff today I wanted you to do.". That's not an exact quote, but it is definitely the vibe that I got from him, including the insult to my productivity (which because of an attitude I inherited from my father, I still foolishly take pride in). All because I wanted to do things the right way the first time, and not have to run around like a chicken with it's head cut off to make up for the lack of foresight later. Correct me if I'm wrong, but is it not generally one of the jobs of management to plan ahead to minimize the needed amount of labor one needs to throw at a given project? I was certainly under that impression.
Later in the day, as I was getting out of a chair in the breakroom to go clock back in from lunch, the damned chair broke out from under me (it was already partly broken, and had been for some time). Gretchen (who, while higher-ranking in the company, is not my boss) essentially ordered me to take the busted chair to the trash compactor. Didn't say please, didn't ask. Told me. Frankly, while I didn't approve of her trying to give me orders, and I certainly dislike being told to do things without so much as a "please" or "would you mind...?", I said I'd gladly do it... once I was back on the clock. I also congratulated her on her "promotion", which was a sarcastic jab at how she was behaving as if she was in fact in a position to be giving me orders, when in fact that's not the case. As is the case with a lot of the more barbed comments I make at work, it went completely over her head. I work with some rather dense people.
The biggest tooth-grinder came later on, when fatass (Chris) wandered out to "check up" on me, and promptly shat upon all I'd thus far done, without so much as a "gee, you did a lot, but.." to smooth over the fact that he'd given me poorly thought-out instructions in the first place. Needless to say, I wasn't happy about this at all. To add insult to injury, he kept up the condescending bullshit that I've come to expect. Words cannot express how pissed off I am at being treated in such a belittling fashion. At some point, I am going to completely lose control and go off on him. There's only so much of this I can take. After all, I didn't sign on for this to be treated like a child, or slave labor. And for the love of fuck, the next time he pats me on the shoulder (no joke, he actually does this) I'm going to tell him that if he ever touches me again I'm going to go after him for sexual harassment (or should I just do it?).
Anyway, lord Chris wanted another 15-20 pieces of lawn furniture dragged back inside, and put away there (where there's not much room). And of course, he seemed to think it no big deal that I should be able to make a dozen or so trips, make location labels, and LOCU / re-STO everything in a grand total of about 25 minutes. After this pronouncement, he went home. So, because I actually give a shit about what I do (there must be some way of curing the affliction of caring about doing things the right way) I ended up staying an hour past when he said I should go home. Got 95% of it done, however. But, I can virtually guarantee that he won't thank me for following through on what I'd started. Instead, he'll either bitch that I left things 95% done, and not 100% (I needed to use the pallet stacker, and it was very much in use at the time) or that I stayed later than I was supposed to. Probably both, in fact.
Even on the way out the door, he managed to get in one final blow to my sanity. And I got some snark from the normally mellow Michelle (Our low-tier HR person) to boot. Apparently, Chis neglected to sign off on the punch correction for the day I waited outside for 50 minutes (and ultimately ended up going home) until it was too late in the week to include it in this week's check. Gee, thanks. It's not like I fucking need that money or anything. Michelle responded to my voiced displeasure with a lecture about how it's my responsibility to get it in to them in a timely fashion. Um, hello? I did... Chris was just a fuckoff and didn't sign it in time because he's a lazy shithead. I am really, really, sick of being told everything is my fault. After all, it wasn't my fault that the boss was two hours late that day, was it? I'm just so fucking sick of all of it.
I'm really starting to think that maybe I should join the military. If I'm going to be treated subhuman, I may as well get to shoot at towelheads and get combat pay for it.
Yesterday was one of those days. It started off with my back hurting (as it often does, these days) and only got more fun when I found out that the pet project Chris (my dickhead boss) wanted me to do was to drag half the lawn furniture we'd exiled out to the Lawn & Garden center back inside for whatever reason. Of course, it had to be done a ridiculously anal-retentive way, but I'm used to him going by the rules, even if it defies common sense.
Take for example the conversation I had with him about a very tall piece of lawn furniture. In a nutshell, he wanted me to wedge a 84" tall piece of furniture into 74" by stuffing it in crooked. It took several minutes to explain to him (using a tape measure, no less) that that wouldn't work. Then he just told me "this is taking to long. We'll figure it out another time. Just do something with it, and hurry up! I had other stuff today I wanted you to do.". That's not an exact quote, but it is definitely the vibe that I got from him, including the insult to my productivity (which because of an attitude I inherited from my father, I still foolishly take pride in). All because I wanted to do things the right way the first time, and not have to run around like a chicken with it's head cut off to make up for the lack of foresight later. Correct me if I'm wrong, but is it not generally one of the jobs of management to plan ahead to minimize the needed amount of labor one needs to throw at a given project? I was certainly under that impression.
Later in the day, as I was getting out of a chair in the breakroom to go clock back in from lunch, the damned chair broke out from under me (it was already partly broken, and had been for some time). Gretchen (who, while higher-ranking in the company, is not my boss) essentially ordered me to take the busted chair to the trash compactor. Didn't say please, didn't ask. Told me. Frankly, while I didn't approve of her trying to give me orders, and I certainly dislike being told to do things without so much as a "please" or "would you mind...?", I said I'd gladly do it... once I was back on the clock. I also congratulated her on her "promotion", which was a sarcastic jab at how she was behaving as if she was in fact in a position to be giving me orders, when in fact that's not the case. As is the case with a lot of the more barbed comments I make at work, it went completely over her head. I work with some rather dense people.
The biggest tooth-grinder came later on, when fatass (Chris) wandered out to "check up" on me, and promptly shat upon all I'd thus far done, without so much as a "gee, you did a lot, but.." to smooth over the fact that he'd given me poorly thought-out instructions in the first place. Needless to say, I wasn't happy about this at all. To add insult to injury, he kept up the condescending bullshit that I've come to expect. Words cannot express how pissed off I am at being treated in such a belittling fashion. At some point, I am going to completely lose control and go off on him. There's only so much of this I can take. After all, I didn't sign on for this to be treated like a child, or slave labor. And for the love of fuck, the next time he pats me on the shoulder (no joke, he actually does this) I'm going to tell him that if he ever touches me again I'm going to go after him for sexual harassment (or should I just do it?).
Anyway, lord Chris wanted another 15-20 pieces of lawn furniture dragged back inside, and put away there (where there's not much room). And of course, he seemed to think it no big deal that I should be able to make a dozen or so trips, make location labels, and LOCU / re-STO everything in a grand total of about 25 minutes. After this pronouncement, he went home. So, because I actually give a shit about what I do (there must be some way of curing the affliction of caring about doing things the right way) I ended up staying an hour past when he said I should go home. Got 95% of it done, however. But, I can virtually guarantee that he won't thank me for following through on what I'd started. Instead, he'll either bitch that I left things 95% done, and not 100% (I needed to use the pallet stacker, and it was very much in use at the time) or that I stayed later than I was supposed to. Probably both, in fact.
Even on the way out the door, he managed to get in one final blow to my sanity. And I got some snark from the normally mellow Michelle (Our low-tier HR person) to boot. Apparently, Chis neglected to sign off on the punch correction for the day I waited outside for 50 minutes (and ultimately ended up going home) until it was too late in the week to include it in this week's check. Gee, thanks. It's not like I fucking need that money or anything. Michelle responded to my voiced displeasure with a lecture about how it's my responsibility to get it in to them in a timely fashion. Um, hello? I did... Chris was just a fuckoff and didn't sign it in time because he's a lazy shithead. I am really, really, sick of being told everything is my fault. After all, it wasn't my fault that the boss was two hours late that day, was it? I'm just so fucking sick of all of it.
I'm really starting to think that maybe I should join the military. If I'm going to be treated subhuman, I may as well get to shoot at towelheads and get combat pay for it.