Caterwauling

Riptide Crab Room, Fells Point, Baltimore

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Well, I *was* missing D.C. till that lil event involving the debt ceiling crashing those earthquake-y things yesterday. Yoi and double-yoi.

Life’s the same at the ol’ roach motel here. I shudder to think I’m going to miss these days when they’re gone, because all I want to do is rip my skin off in frustration (and stuff down that feeling with copious amounts of whatever the uber ultra overextended space alien from Mars has baked that day).

I realize I haven’t made any witty observations on leadership in awhile. Here are two just from yesterday:

1. My new boss read an e-mail aloud to me over the phone in which someone used the word synergy. Then she declared, “I fucking hate that word. I am deleting this idiot’s message. We are NOT working with him based on that alone!”

(I think I just fell in love a little!)

2. So at this other job that isn’t so good about paying me, the CEO likes to send out e-mails. A lot of them. That don’t usually make any sense. So I delete them on principle.

Her new trick is to send out messages WITH THE SUBJECT LINE IN ALL CAPS. Sure, I *see* the e-mails, since she forgets something in each of them and hits “reply all” till her incoherence is thoroughly displayed. But I don’t answer them.

I just don’t think it’s fair how she introduces new projects (with no context or way of explanation about what’s expected), punctuated with, “Who’s going to own this project??????”

I imagine I’m not the only one who sends their invoices into the ether. I do the bare minimum because I have other things to do that sometimes DO warrant a paycheck.

One of these days I’m going to “fallopian up” (thanks Tom, for that phrase!) and say listen lady, you pay, I’ll try. Or … maybe I’ll just sit here and be grateful that I don’t feel the need to jump to do a project that no one, least of all its creator, understands.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Another day, another hope of a dollar. I’m having fun or, at least, trying to. But I’m reminded of a lady my mom met at Publix last night, who works there.

Apparently the gal was very friendly, and kind of sad. She’s in her 50s, like my mom, in a lot of pain and just trying to make it. Hmm, yep, they could be soulmates.

Anyway, the lady was saying how she thought by now she’d have a man, have a retirement fund, and basically just have it easier than she did her whole life. That she’s made it over the “hump” and it should be smooth sailing into her ultimate decline from here. And yet, she’s working harder than she ever has and there’s nothing left over for herself.

I was already depressed but THAT did me in. Cripes. You mean there may NOT be a good man at the end of this stupid road? (“Good man” is defined as one having a boat. Things like a steady job and adequate sexual ability are slowly sliding off the “must have” list because, well, YOU try finding that out there. I’ll wait.) And if I’ll be dealing with bozo CEOs forever, too? Shit, I should have tossed some razor blades into my buggy. For all of us!

This entry was posted on Wednesday, August 24th, 2011 at 6:41 AM and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.