And why does my arse hurt so much?
I'm tired of my job. That's putting it politely. To put it coarsely I'm sick to fucking death of the place.
A while back I used to gripe fairly freely about work, but honestly I started feeling a little bad about it. Not about dogging the company I work for (there's not a chance of me damaging a Fortune 500 Best Small Company with my few words.) I felt bad because I was raised not to bite the hand that feeds not only me but my family. So, I stopped. Like a good American Male I simply bottled most of it up, letting vent only when the pressure was at eye-ball bursting point.
Consider this a little occular strain reduction.
For those of you who just joined the incredible three-ring party that is Q: What's Large, Grey and Doesn't Matter, the blogger known only as Vulgar Wizard used to be my boss. That's right boys and squirrels, Used To Be. She finally got out, you see. Bravely enough she jumped out of the airplane without a parachute of any metallic hue whatsoever. And yesterday she landed a cherry job. For the State. Yeah girl, you go. State benefits, retirement plan, and it's nearly impossible to get fired. Damn, how could you ask for more?
That move I think was the straw that broke this irrelephant's back. It gave me the strength of will to get up off my own large grey arse and get moving, get looking seriously. Thus far I've put out about eight applications/resumes and been turned down by the Kansas City Southern railroad company re: my application for a "Foreman General JA10437" which surprisingly doesn't involve a sharp uniform or an aide de camp but does involve driving one of those pickup trucks with the optional steel wheels along miles of railroad track checking for abnormalities, damage or willing vestal virgins.
Hey, hope springs eternal, right?
Tonight at some point I get my hand steady and finish filling out my SF-10 and stick in all the pertinent info like my last seventy jobs and my college hours earned and how many times I've robbed Quick-E-Marts and been caught, then sneak that bad boy into the office and make about a thousand copies to send off for what the State calls Series 7333 jobs--office, clerical, admin. M-F, 8-5.
Oh, and one to the DOT for that Heavy Equipment Operator job they've got open. I could drive a dozer. Yeah boy!
It's time for a change, kids. I thought this new boss was going to be the firm hand on the ship's wheel we needed. What we got instead is a captain who is such a control freak that when she tells you to scrub out the heads she wants to tell you how to hold your mouth while you do it. To add insult to injury she's busy filling the office with her cronies, little sycophants who are perfectly willing to squat under her shadow and be her puppets. Nooooo, not for The Kid, thanks. I'm outta here.
The best part? People asking me "Are you looking for another job?" with that sort of probing, 'is there hope you'll stay and suffer with me' look. I look them straight in the eye and say "Oh no, not me, I'm here for the long haul" with all the sincerity I can muster. See, I know that my absence as a person won't be grieved for long, but I also know that I'm even now in the process of destroying the tons of operational paperwork I've painstakingly gathered to help even a blind chimp to do my job. When I leave it'll be with all of my formidable knowledge of my job in my head and not passed onto another employee and all the carefully gathered paperwork shredded or burnt: let THEM struggle to find it like I had to. One week's notice is going to be plenty for me, you see, if I give them that much, and the only other person in the office who does the 'same' job as I is a lazy slacker who isn't making any effort to learn now, so why should she later?
When VW left the office it crippled our administrative operations for weeks; the boss' fault for not training someone during the three-week notice that VW gave. When I leave I hope to have at least that much impact if not more. I hope the Xian god she so loves to call on helps her out of this one because it's certain that I'm not going to, and I'm going to toss her in the deepest hole I can dig before I walk off with a smile.
Kick even the most loyal dog enough times and it'll draw blood before it leaves your ass.