I Need a New Fucking Job
It's hard to mark the moment when this turned into a living hell. It was pretty gradual, though I would have to say last labor day was a turning point. I worked the whole weekend, putting shit together on a deal that had gone south but was being hopelessly backrigged to pass for done in hopes of saving a massive account that some management asshole had buggered beyond repair. I was on a conference call, with 1. A guy in the parking lot of a big ten stadium for a ball game, 2. a woman in colorado in a chalet taking a break from the slopes, 3. a guy on a sailboat going under the golden gate. I was the only one at work. And, big point here, I was not the one who fucked up the deal. He was in Bermuda, and couldn't be on the call because he was probably being rubbed down by cabana boys on the fucking company dime.
Since then, it's been "trending down". Instead of interesting, funny and brilliant team players, I see my coworkers as a pack of fuck-eyed ass monkeys trolling for bagels and a 90 minute lunch. They duck work like the Republican Guard around here. Instead of an inspired leadership, I see the managers as a boatload of cackling seagulls who smell of shit and are typically way too far above head to do anything useful, except maybe write a scathing memo once in a while. My office is the fucking Death Star. I can feel the life being sucked out of me, honestly. I think this is called burnout, but I can't be sure. I'm working too many hours to spend time researching what that means. If I start thinking about buying a gun, I'll look it up. In the meantime, somebody has to update the client while the ass monkeys all go to Nick and Tony's for the third time this week. My secretary likes me, but that's just bad. I desperately want to fuck her silly, but can't for more reasons than I can possibly think of. Top 2 - her boyfriend is LARGE, and my girlfriend is great. Every time she comes in my office to "talk", I fain total concentration on something else and tell her I'm busy.
I'm contemplating my escape. Frankly, I'd like to repel down the side of the building, hop into a speedboat and make-off with the bearer bonds like bruce fucking willis, but it's not likely. I could shop around, but really, the market is not right to get caught with your zipper down. I could be unemployed, which, well, would be bad.
So I have a few resolutions, we'll call them Sanity Savers, in the spirit of every dumbass HR presentation I ever had to sit through:
1. 40 hour weeks, starting now. Which means I got friday off, motherfuckers.
2. Casual attire. I'm sick of getting dressed for you fuckwads. I've got jeans too, you know. They're dirty, and I'll be wearing them tomorrow. That way, I can be the one who ducks the client every tuesday. Ha.
3. Long lunches. Next time the little flock off assholes heads off to Nick and Tony's, I'll be there already, tying one on at the bar. Oh yeah, lunch drinking is back!
4. Progress Reports. I'm going to start issuing less and less, until, eventually, nobody knows where the fuck anything is at. I'm also going to start writing really pointless, lengthy memos that I compose while shitfaced. You can anticipate lots of expletives.
5. Closed Door Policy. I'm sick of people poking their heads in my office "to say hi", so I'm closing the door permanently. I will then be much more able to look at porn, read CL and Friendster my ass into a whole new exsistence right here at my desk. Praise Jebus.
That's a start. Any and all recommendations welcome.