Caterwauling

I love getting press releases, especially when they illustrate how to turn your child into a kiddie porn star.

When employers ask you what to write in a job posting when they know you are planning to go after that job yourself. It’s their way of bending you over and fucking you with your panties on. They want you to know that they will never consider you, yet they need your help in posting the job vacancy because you’re the only idiot on the planet who knows how to do the job. But just because you already work for them and also know how to do the job doesn’t mean that, in their eyes, you are actually qualified to do that job. However, they certainly aren’t opposed to having you TEACH the person who ultimately gets the job how to do it.

Demure didn’t even know what the software does, that’s listed in the job description. That was somewhat amusing, as we only have them purchase it for us. Duh! She concluded with a, “Who only knows when I’ll manage to get back to this.” Of course, why would they go through the expense and aggravation of the hiring process when I’m doing the job for free?!?!

Ok, when I left the house this a.m, it was clear and bright. Just looked outside and saw my clean little Samantha shivering under a thin layer of white snowflakey crap. Argh! I need a car condom or a garage or something for her.

Something else about work that irritates me, #1205

There is covered parking that is reserved for the executives. That really pisses me off, considering that when I was an exec at the old job, I had to park three lots away, deeper in the heart of the ghetto, as I was at the tail end of a long waiting list to get preferred parking. And I was OK with that, because I think it’s pretty shitty that the people with the highest salaries also get such perks as prime parking spaces, while there are many others who are working just as hard (or, likely, harder) who only get bird shit on their cars and executive shit on their spirits.