(no subject)
So, along with owning and operating a business, I am a working dog. I work for a big giant corporation whom I'm actually legally forbidden to mention by name in an publicly accessible blog.
I started part time, went to almost-but-not-quite-full-time part time, and then got a sudden promotion to management and a full-time salaried position with benefits. This should be a good thing. And in many ways, it *is* a good thing. I have a fat bank account now, that seems to get fatter every second Thursday, as I actually make money faster than I can spend it, give it to M. or have it claimed by various government agencies.
The down side being I work a lot and have ridiculous claims made to my time and energy and a crap load of responsibilities that in an ideal world wouldn't actually be that strenuous to shoulder, but due to circumstances beyond my (or the companies, strangely enough) control, have started to grate. Yet I've never really complained more than a occasional work-sucked comment to M. and a bit of ranting about the occasionally completely retarded co-worker/employee (depending on if we're talking before or after I became Management).
In all this time (roughly a year and a half) I've only ever asked for one thing from my company/superiors. Mondays off. That's it. I'll happily work weekends, closing shifts, opening shifts, a whole f'n week (or three, haha!) of managing the entire place by myself (even though I'm not 'fully trained' Management yet) and all I want, ever is that one fucking day a week off.
I even settled for every second Monday off, because I'm just that kinda guy. A corporate who-, er, I mean, a nice guy, willing to compromise for the greater good or whatever.
Yet every time something comes up, it's a Monday. Every time I'm called in it's a Monday. Every time I look the other way for half a fucking second I'm being scheduled to work a Monday. It's always a different reason, always something that'll happen just-this-once or that I'll benefit from in some other never-to-be-actually-realized way. Always something. Always Monday.
My question to you, my f-list and random readers, friends, neighbors, countrymen, is this: Is it bad that I'm honestly considering throwing away what could one day amount to a cushy 60+K a year job, with benefits, retirement plan, etc. etc. just because one (very nice, very respected) women can't get it through her fucking skull that ALL I WANT IS MONDAYS off?
I've literally told her a million fucking times that I couldn't possibly care less about having any other day off, that weekends are nothing to me, and that all I want is Monday.
One. Fucking. Day.
She just doesn't seem to grasp this simple concept. If boggles my mind. I want to hit her with a 500 page inter-office memo repeatedly about the face and neck until she gets it: I want Mondays off.
So tell me: Quit? Suffer? Kill her and myself in an act of rage-fueled passion as a martyr for disenfranchised corporate whores everywhere? What should I do, oh dearest, wise LJers?
(And hey, sober posting FTW! Not nearly as entertaining is it? And Goodnight!)
I started part time, went to almost-but-not-quite-full-time part time, and then got a sudden promotion to management and a full-time salaried position with benefits. This should be a good thing. And in many ways, it *is* a good thing. I have a fat bank account now, that seems to get fatter every second Thursday, as I actually make money faster than I can spend it, give it to M. or have it claimed by various government agencies.
The down side being I work a lot and have ridiculous claims made to my time and energy and a crap load of responsibilities that in an ideal world wouldn't actually be that strenuous to shoulder, but due to circumstances beyond my (or the companies, strangely enough) control, have started to grate. Yet I've never really complained more than a occasional work-sucked comment to M. and a bit of ranting about the occasionally completely retarded co-worker/employee (depending on if we're talking before or after I became Management).
In all this time (roughly a year and a half) I've only ever asked for one thing from my company/superiors. Mondays off. That's it. I'll happily work weekends, closing shifts, opening shifts, a whole f'n week (or three, haha!) of managing the entire place by myself (even though I'm not 'fully trained' Management yet) and all I want, ever is that one fucking day a week off.
I even settled for every second Monday off, because I'm just that kinda guy. A corporate who-, er, I mean, a nice guy, willing to compromise for the greater good or whatever.
Yet every time something comes up, it's a Monday. Every time I'm called in it's a Monday. Every time I look the other way for half a fucking second I'm being scheduled to work a Monday. It's always a different reason, always something that'll happen just-this-once or that I'll benefit from in some other never-to-be-actually-realized way. Always something. Always Monday.
My question to you, my f-list and random readers, friends, neighbors, countrymen, is this: Is it bad that I'm honestly considering throwing away what could one day amount to a cushy 60+K a year job, with benefits, retirement plan, etc. etc. just because one (very nice, very respected) women can't get it through her fucking skull that ALL I WANT IS MONDAYS off?
I've literally told her a million fucking times that I couldn't possibly care less about having any other day off, that weekends are nothing to me, and that all I want is Monday.
One. Fucking. Day.
She just doesn't seem to grasp this simple concept. If boggles my mind. I want to hit her with a 500 page inter-office memo repeatedly about the face and neck until she gets it: I want Mondays off.
So tell me: Quit? Suffer? Kill her and myself in an act of rage-fueled passion as a martyr for disenfranchised corporate whores everywhere? What should I do, oh dearest, wise LJers?
(And hey, sober posting FTW! Not nearly as entertaining is it? And Goodnight!)