The I hate my job chronicles…..
Yes, folks, this is a bitch-fest at it’s finest. Before I start this foray into my mind’s eye and give vivid details about why I hate my job, I will start with this post.
I’d like to call this “you know you can’t fucking stand your godamn job and are proud of it” post. With that said let it be known that I am at that point in my life where I only care about .012 percent if someone were to see this post that I work with (my boss in particular). And seeing as though I am about 194% positive she’ll never read this…who really cares anyway??!
O.K., you know, I have always acted like the good little negro worker who never started shit, who never said how they really felt no matter HOW bad shit was or how much I hated my boss. I would just go on my merry little way and find another job to go to. I believe this comes from my mother’s teachings. My mother is my hero not for the reason of being my mother but for teaching me the right’s from the wrongs and the good from the bad. I, however, believe that she should’ve been a lot more militant in certain situations.
For example, when I was like 6, I was terrified of this girl who said that she was gonna beat me up. I mean, terrified, like about to piss in my draws, ‘bout to pass out if my mother DARED to make me go to school scared. So, of course my Mom figured the whole thing out because as a 6 yr old, I had no “faking” skills. So, once the truth came out, I was promptly taken to the school and my Mom proceeded to tell my 1st grade teacher what the deal was. I was mortified. I remember thinking “DAMN, now I’mma get beat for SURE now!” The teacher listened and understood, but don’t you know that after my mother left and sometime during that day, she called me & this little girl to her desk and paddled (with a ruler) BOTH of our hands for being at each other???? I was mad as hell. But I dared not tell my mother. Hell, I’d just seen what happens when I tell her some shit…..bad things maan, baad things. LOL
You see, my mother was DEFINITELY of the old school of you respect EVERY one of your elders (which is contrary to many of my friends parents who said “you respect them until they DIS-respect you…then fuck it, it’s on”). She made sure I called grown ups by their last names ONLY. The only exception was her boyfriend Jesse. I called him Jesse. But other than that, it was Mrs. Washington, not Ms. Kelly or Ms. Jennifer. My mother was EXTREEEEEEEEMELY overprotective of me as well as I was her only child (hell, I’m surprised I didn’t lash out by doing drugs, wrecking the car, etc…….nah, no I’m not… my mother had me SCARED shitless….I was terrified from just a dayum LOOK that seemed to say “I will strangle every fucking breath out of your body if you ______”… so I didn’t test limits too much).
Sounds pretty boring, huh? Nah…..I did do things that other kids did, like going to amusement parks, kissing boys under the steps, and going to the movies and making out with boys, and lying (almost to an obscene level) to my mother.
Anyway, back to the lecture at hand. What lecture? How much I fucking HATE my job and my boss. I think that I am using this as therapy…. So come…..take notes and let me sit on the couch and tell you allllll about it…….(through the wavy-foggy dreamy mist we are taken back to 4 years ago….)
Since the 2nd WEEK here I have hated my job. Why the 2nd week? It was then that I realized that my boss was an asshole at BEST. She had me doing this project that was way too inane and childish for someone who she hired to be a manager, Me. And so basic that the admin could have done it, but the purpose was supposed to be to help me learn people’s names and who they report up the chain to. So she takes this phone list which is like 40 pages long (with about 8-9 people per page on it because it has work addresses, phone, cell,etc. on it) which is organized by division. Now, the divisions highest person sometimes does and sometimes does not report directly up to the person on the list that you would think they do. O.K.. so I start on this dumbass project and soon find that due to the set up of the information, the task is proving to be pretty confusing. Needless to say, I did not know who reported to whom and her direction on how to figure it out was , uh….shall we say….clear as mud? So I went to her not once, not twice, but 4 times (to make sure I had gotten it correct) and on the 4th time, she says to me in an exasperated tone with that fake ass Suzie Cream Cheese smile, while trying to remain “nice” , “O.K., how bout this…would you like to play a little game?”
STOP. Hold it.
WHAT IN THE HOLY FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME???? (sorry to use holy and fuck in the same sentence)
I AM A PROFESSONAL, NOT A GAHDAMN CHILD !!BITCH IF WE DO PLAY A GAME, HOW ABOUT RUSSIAN ROULETTE AND YOU TAKE THE FIRST SEVEN TURNS?????!!! YOU STANK ASS BITCH !I was floored, mashed , done fer. You see, even by TWO WEEKS in, I’d seen her utter fake brown-nosing kiss ASS ways, and knew I was in trouble. Kinda like when you realize that as you are putting your foot down, that there is a GIGANTIC pile of dog shit under your foot, but you CANNOT avoid it…it’s simply too late…..that’s what my moment of clarity was like when it came to what I’d just gotten into. Now, I had just LEFT an obnoxious, HORRIBLE job and when I came her thought I would make a new start (cuz the bitch fooled me in the interview and though I could see the fakeness I think I was so ready to get out of the other situation that I would’ve jumped into the next job just as Morpheus jumped out that damn window into Neo’s arms…..The only difference? Neo caught Morpheus and he was saved…… my ass jumped and fell much like Neo did when he tried to jump building to building for the 1st time. While not dead, that fall didn’t feel good for me either.
Which brings me to today….I am still here. Why? Because the benefits are HELLUVA and in actuality my work load is VERY reasonable, I mean....
VERY REASONABLE. I like EVERYONE in this office except my boss and this other muthafucka I work with. You see, there are 4 people in my department. Me, my boss-the Bubble, Odie or O.D. (named such because my boss is a director turned V.P. and she ALWAYS treats him as if he were the “Other Director”, not MY EQUAL. He is my equal ya’ll….SAME grade level, just performs a different function and he’s been here longer), and my girl L. Me and my girl hate the two of them baaaad and it’s so obvious on most occasions. I mean, when we’re FORCED to go out for some gay-ass department lunch (the 4 of us that is), they talk to each other about their dumb-ass work shit and we talk about …..well….nothing. Because we DAMN sure don’t want them to see inside our black world and know any of our personal bizness. And it doesn’t help that they’re white and in their 50’s and we’re both black in our 30’s…..L is the admin. asst for our group and honestly, my boss and Odie treat me like I’m a damn admin. most of the time. They talk to each other, I hear shit 2nd hand, they make decisions (I don’t make shit, but plans to cuss them out upon my exodus) and they are dry ass, uptight, “we’re ½ way scared of Detroit and the people there” types of people while claming not to be.
A moment in black history:
Get this…WHYYYY did my white-ass boss detail by no prompting from me that she “used to date this black man…..and she really liked him until he started sleeping with one of her co-workers….” . Hmmmm… and all this while she was working at the Civil Rights Department. Don’t make me vomit bitch. You are such a dickwad (isn’t that a gay ass term?) that it isn’t even funny.
Moment over. But like I said, the quagmire that I find myself in is whether to leave such a gravy-train like cushy position or deal with a bitch and a dude I HATE every-fucking day. My husband says to leave. Honestly, I probably should because I do recognize that I complain almost EVERY day about her in some form or fashion (even on the weekends) because of the sheer loathing I feel towards this woman.
I am typically a very caring, loving person, but due to this woman’s insidious ill-natured, ill meaning actions, I have become more cynical with her and at work and probably in general. One of these days…I’m gonna blow… I can feel it.
Coming up.....
- The Lie: Busted and Shamed
- Petryness: It should be a crime
- Other’s people’s experiences and assorted drama
- Road Rage
. No lie ya'll..... the nigga's hair was the SAME color as this birds.......where's a camera phone when you need one!! And the nigga was ALLLLL of 65 years old. The nigga also had the "wish-I-had-good-hurrr" plastered in waves on top o' da head, the 1/2 shaded sunglasses and the pinky ring ta boot. Now, he's on the cell phone talking to this (obviously ) a woman and it seemed like he was checking her. This nigga was CHECKING somebody!!!! Now I couldn't totally hear the convo, but minutes later he was on the phone with ANOTHER bitch....dayum playa.....
