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When the only way to be a good employee is to be a really, REALLY bad one

Written by on June 23, 2011
Filed Under My Job

The software I used at my job is finally being upgraded after decades of use. By monkeys apparently, because it is one of the most ill-thought out, illogical, ill-conceived pile of mouse droppings I have ever had the misfortune of using in all my 30+ years on planet Earth. It makes Windows ME look downright competent in comparison.

So basically a task that once took me 5 minutes to complete now takes me 3 hours. Yes, really.

There were few precious accomplishments I could boast about having made at this job, one of them being the ability to keep our massive workload up to date. The people before me couldn’t do it, but somehow I managed, with luck and much toiling (and much crying too.) By keeping things up to speed I was able to keep the caseload at a manageable level and work at a more leisurely pace.

Well, that’s all crap now. Instead, if you let things slide for one day you can literally fall 3 weeks behind. Then there’s dealing with the new system, which inexplicably will delete work, crash without warning, create errors where no errors should occur, and generally screw with the keys on your keyboard so that if you press the number 5, it actually thinks you pressed the escape key.

Even better is dealing with the people who implemented it, a bunch of cronies who like to pat themselves on the back and fondle each other for a job well done in completely hosing us over, then arrogantly suggest that perhaps the reason the new system is not working to our liking is because, gosh darn it, we’re just not brilliant like they are.

So what can a cog on a wheel like me do? It occurred to me that the harder I worked to keep this virus of a new software afloat AND also keep us from falling woefully behind, the less incentive they would have to actually fix the massive problems the new system was causing us.

So how about I just let it all go to hell instead?

Imagine that the only way to make any progress is to actually SABOTAGE (albeit in a passive manner) the work I do. I really don’t know what other option there is, but the reality is that my job has now become absolutely impossible. And yet nobody seems to care.

That’s why in a perverse way I’m actually hoping I get laid off. I can’t function in an environment in which I have no autonomy and where hard work is punished rather than rewarded. Where bad eggs get promoted while good eggs continue to stagnate in the same position for years and years.

Something needs to change.

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Furlough = More Time to Travel! WINNING!

Written by on June 2, 2011
Filed Under My Job

In addition to getting my wages frozen, there’s now talk of a furlough that might take place beginning in July. Either that or layoffs, and while I’m pretty confident I won’t be one of the ones to get a pink slip due to my supreme and total awesomeness, there’s still a chance that life will once again bite me on the love wagon.

I’m actually rooting for a furlough, because currently I only work 4 days a week now due to using a flexible schedule that allows me to work longer hours in exchange for an extra day off. With a furlough I would in essence only be working 3 days a week for the rest of the year.

BRING. IT. ON.

Thank God for this blog’s income, which would absorb any loss of income as a result of a furlough, and while I wouldn’t be able to save as much money as I usually do, the added time off could grant me all kinds of new opportunities to jaunt around the country.

To be honest, that’s probably also the best opportunity to kill to birds with one stone too. New York is circling the drain faster than California is, and it’s only a matter of time before the manure starts flying and we hit Mad Max territory. The more frequently I travel, the more likely I might be able to find an ideal place in the country to migrate to and escape this madness, even if it means working at Wally World as a weenie wally man for a while.

Of course, if I get laid off, I might soon find myself living in another state before the summer even ends…

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It’s ok to lie, as long as you don’t get caught!

Written by on December 1, 2010
Filed Under My Job

Yeah I know I just posted a few minutes ago, but I’m testing a caching plugin which seems to gag on itself every time I blog more than one post in an hour. So I shall bless you all now with another post in quick succession. :-D

Since I’ve been applying for federal jobs lately, and given just how madly entrenched OPM (Office of Personnel Management) is in the depths of nepotism, I decided I was going to… shall we say… level the playing field a bit.

There are hundreds of jobs to apply for at any one time, and the amount of time it takes to apply for each one is absolutely absurd, especially when the chances are good that they already lined somebody up for the same job you just spent an hour of your life applying for.

You know how some of these applications require you to fill out a 5 page multiple choice survey to gauge your qualifications? Used to take me 30 minutes or more to do, but now it’s easy peachy for me. Without bothering to read through the questions thoroughly, I just pick whatever answer makes me look teh awesum.

“Do you have 10 years experience and expert knowledge of logistics systems analysis, and have you trained people in that regard?”

Why, you betcha!

Do you have extensive naval experience in underwater sea warfare, and have you successfully overseen more than 10 military campaigns?

For darn tootin’! *checks answer*

And so on and so forth. It just reached the point where I got so fed up with the laborious process of filling out these pointless applications that I now I answer flippantly just to be an annoying jackass. I don’t even know what I’m applying for half the time because of all the politically correct government-speak. My strategy though has merit: I’m going for quantity, not quality. You fill out enough job applications, and sooner or later somebody’s bound to give you a phone call. It’s sort of like dating in a way. Ask enough ugly women out and somebody’s bound to give you her real number! :-D

Yes I know, I’m going straight to hell.

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My Job Is Out To Get Me

Written by on September 27, 2010
Filed Under My Job

Ok, it’s official. My job (and I don’t mean my coworkers) is a living, breathing evil sentient being that has made it its number one mission to destroy my sanity until all that is left of me is a drooling shell of a man cowering in a corner at the looney bin humming Archies tunes.

Five days left before I undertake the biggest road trip I’ve ever done in my life. And in that five day stretch, my workload has suddenly decided to increase by tenfold, inexplicably. Plus I have to do field work all week long, and of course the weather forecast is rain, rain, pouring rain, more than the rains on the plains of Spain… while the world’s turning circles running round my brain…

And some of my coworkers have taken the next few days off too.

Yep, my disgustingly evil and self-aware job has seen it upon itself to inflict as much pain and agony on me as possible for daring, DARING to take some time off in October.

But if anyone can withstand the violence that is my dead end worthless crap of a job, it’s yours truly. Yep, only a man’s man of a man like this man can take the pain and say, “Thank you, may I have another?”

… … … you are my candy girl!… And you’ve got me wanting you…

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My name? Sure, my name is *hangs up*

Written by on March 26, 2010
Filed Under My Job

I hate it when people demand to know my name every time I take a call at work. I don’t like giving my name to complete strangers when for all I know they could be cracknuts crazypants, and now they not only know where I work, but they know my name too. Sure I’m a little paranoid, but just because I’m paranoid doesn’t mean they’re NOT out to get me. :-D

So once again I get another call and the woman on the other end demands to know who I am.

“Um, Ghee.”

“What?”

“That’s my name.”

“Ghee what?”

“Ghee Buttersnaps.”

“… what’s your real name?”

“Sorry, it’s Longhorn Spankypants.”

“Stop %*#-ing me around, who’s your supervisor?”

“Candy Stripes Knick-Knacks.”

“… *click*“

Hmmm, hung up on me. Was it something I said?

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