So yeah. I was totally going to look over the initial version of my annual review tonight, but decided instead that I would rather not spend the evening all pissed off. I mean, I'm sure the review is probably fine, but I'm equally sure that it doesn't say that I "have demonstrated competence at walking on water." Since at this point I think that's a fair assessment of my skills, both the performing of miracles AND the constant dying for sins of others,I know I'm just going to be disappointed.
Further, I figured out today that even if I got a 10% raise (a patent impossibility, don't you think), I would still consider myself underpaid by many thousands of dollars. This made me laugh out loud in my cube in a manner that frightened my co-workers. As far as I'm concerned the entire exercise is pointless, but whatever. The boss people have to do that so that they in turn can be pointlessly reviewed and unfairly compensated in the future. It's the circle of life.
I do know that says is that I need to work on remaining more positive on the floor. I suppose that means it's time to up my medication and start douching with rainbows. JOY!
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Sunday, January 13, 2008
On Civility
It would appear that there are any number of adults out running around off-leash who need a refresher course in truth, consequences, and the art of the apology. I know, I know, it’s been a long time since Sandbox when this shit was all originally covered, but that’s why I’m here. Here follows a quick primer on . . .
Civil Interaction One-Oh-Fucking-One
1. Own your shit.
When you were a kid and you hit little Sarah Jane in the head with a plastic bucket in the sandbox, it is un-bloody-likely that Teacher let you off when you said, “I don’t know what happened.” No. You got The Look until you admitted the fact that you did just take a swipe at your little mate in the sandbox, which leads to the fact that . . .
2. Behaviors have consequences.
Or at least they should. Behave like a fucking douche, and expect to be treated accordingly. Using our example, when you clobbered little Sarah Jane with the plastic bucket, she cried and Teacher probably snatched you up by your chubby little kid arm and gave you a stern talking before positioning you with your runny little nose in a corner. After you had used that invaluable time to examine the architectural wonder of two joined walls, you were probably advised to. . .
3. Apologize for fucking up.
Returning to our example, it is likely that after you had ample opportunity to “think about what you have done,” you were told to apologize to young Sarah Jane. It doesn’t matter that young Miss S.J. has since moved onto a snack of lime Kool-Aid and graham crackers and has put you and your little plastic affront quite out of her head. No, your little stunt still warrants an apology. Further, the apology has a set form, along the lines of “I’m sorry I hit you with a bucket and hurt you.” Attempting a variation on “I’m sorry you made me hit you with a bucket,” would get your little snot-nose deposited right back in Asshole Kid Corner.
This, my friends, is really the trellis around which most human interaction ought to wrap itself. Look around, you’ll see these principles at work in the workplace, in the public, and in your personal life. Learn them, practice them, know them, embrace them.
Tune in later, when we cover advanced lessons, such as Cleanliness May Not Be Next to Godliness, But It Is A Helluva Lot Better Than Wallowing In Filth.
Civil Interaction One-Oh-Fucking-One
1. Own your shit.
When you were a kid and you hit little Sarah Jane in the head with a plastic bucket in the sandbox, it is un-bloody-likely that Teacher let you off when you said, “I don’t know what happened.” No. You got The Look until you admitted the fact that you did just take a swipe at your little mate in the sandbox, which leads to the fact that . . .
2. Behaviors have consequences.
Or at least they should. Behave like a fucking douche, and expect to be treated accordingly. Using our example, when you clobbered little Sarah Jane with the plastic bucket, she cried and Teacher probably snatched you up by your chubby little kid arm and gave you a stern talking before positioning you with your runny little nose in a corner. After you had used that invaluable time to examine the architectural wonder of two joined walls, you were probably advised to. . .
3. Apologize for fucking up.
Returning to our example, it is likely that after you had ample opportunity to “think about what you have done,” you were told to apologize to young Sarah Jane. It doesn’t matter that young Miss S.J. has since moved onto a snack of lime Kool-Aid and graham crackers and has put you and your little plastic affront quite out of her head. No, your little stunt still warrants an apology. Further, the apology has a set form, along the lines of “I’m sorry I hit you with a bucket and hurt you.” Attempting a variation on “I’m sorry you made me hit you with a bucket,” would get your little snot-nose deposited right back in Asshole Kid Corner.
This, my friends, is really the trellis around which most human interaction ought to wrap itself. Look around, you’ll see these principles at work in the workplace, in the public, and in your personal life. Learn them, practice them, know them, embrace them.
Tune in later, when we cover advanced lessons, such as Cleanliness May Not Be Next to Godliness, But It Is A Helluva Lot Better Than Wallowing In Filth.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
On New Years
Welcome to 2008.
In my lifetime, I've made two New Year's Resolutions that stuck. When I was 15, I resolved to quit eating meat. That one stuck--from the I was 14 time I was a lacto-ovo vegetarian for 14 years, and I still don't eat things that are warm-blooded.
Last year, I resolved to spend more time in bars. THAT one, I must say, has gone like clockwork. In the past year, I have passed countless perfectly good evenings in smoky bars only to wake the next morning reeking so of juniper scented-gin that squirrels followed me. It has been, I must say, brilliant.
This year, though, I don't have much in the way of resolutions. Oh, sure. I can stand some self-improvement. I could eat better. I could exercise more. I sure as shit won't resolve to drink less as that will undo all the hard work of last year, but that still leaves plenty of personal improvement possibilities.
2007, it turns out, was a pretty good year. Sure, there was the unmitigated horror of Corporate Happy Fun job, but at this point I've decided that god hates a quitter and I'm staying until the place makes me start burning myself with lit cigarettes. Sure, one of my co-workers apparently gave up reading for the New Year, but fuck it.
On December 31st, 2006 The Boy tried to chat me up. I was drunk, and felt kicked like a dog, and frankly? I thought he was just fucking with me. By December 31, 2007. I was sitting next to him at a wonderful dinner, waiting to kiss him at midnight. It was, I think, a fantastic turn of events, brought about in no small part by the aforementioned bars and gin, and the fact that when given the choice, I took the chance on turning "right to go make out."
So, maybe that's my resolution. Just as much gin, and more right turns.* Might as well take some more chances. They've worked out so far.
*No more making open spots on my make-out dance card. Don't cry for me Argentina, though. . . we're getting married.
In my lifetime, I've made two New Year's Resolutions that stuck. When I was 15, I resolved to quit eating meat. That one stuck--from the I was 14 time I was a lacto-ovo vegetarian for 14 years, and I still don't eat things that are warm-blooded.
Last year, I resolved to spend more time in bars. THAT one, I must say, has gone like clockwork. In the past year, I have passed countless perfectly good evenings in smoky bars only to wake the next morning reeking so of juniper scented-gin that squirrels followed me. It has been, I must say, brilliant.
This year, though, I don't have much in the way of resolutions. Oh, sure. I can stand some self-improvement. I could eat better. I could exercise more. I sure as shit won't resolve to drink less as that will undo all the hard work of last year, but that still leaves plenty of personal improvement possibilities.
2007, it turns out, was a pretty good year. Sure, there was the unmitigated horror of Corporate Happy Fun job, but at this point I've decided that god hates a quitter and I'm staying until the place makes me start burning myself with lit cigarettes. Sure, one of my co-workers apparently gave up reading for the New Year, but fuck it.
On December 31st, 2006 The Boy tried to chat me up. I was drunk, and felt kicked like a dog, and frankly? I thought he was just fucking with me. By December 31, 2007. I was sitting next to him at a wonderful dinner, waiting to kiss him at midnight. It was, I think, a fantastic turn of events, brought about in no small part by the aforementioned bars and gin, and the fact that when given the choice, I took the chance on turning "right to go make out."
So, maybe that's my resolution. Just as much gin, and more right turns.* Might as well take some more chances. They've worked out so far.
*No more making open spots on my make-out dance card. Don't cry for me Argentina, though. . . we're getting married.
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