07 August 2013
14 July 2010
Now I'm with the State. Craziness in a new form. Perfect examples:
We're an entrepreneurial organization. (Yes, I work for the State. Don't ask.)
Unable to meet your performance standards? I think you signed the document when you were hired, right? Well then, you agreed to me.
That's the way we've always done it. (See entrepreneurial comment above.)
As I said before, things can always get worse.
10 December 2008
That noise you hear is me laughing insanely and beating my head against the wall.
I won't get fooled again. No matter what the annual salary hit I'll take, I've had enough. In the meantime, cackle cackle whack whack.
09 December 2008
Today, I'm angry. Golf Pro and his father, a stockholder, are planning to suck up one of the clients the Pro has carefully cultivated over the years by neglecting. By the way, this is Pro's only client and one that existed prior to his employment. Pro foolishly believes this one client will provide him with the exorbitant lifestyle he's come to wallow in. In the words of Bob Dylan, it's a hard rain gonna fall.
Mr. Moneybags will no longer command his 6-figure income, nor will he have Crazy Land to purchase his vehicle. Owner is completely incapable of getting a job. Once we shut Crazy Land down, collecting outstanding debt will become vexing. However, Land's debtors will inside on being paid. Where will all the money come from to support Owner's grown children, his massive credit card debt and to support his own lavish lifestyle?
I'm at least realistic about the changes Crazy Land's demise will have on my life. I have not grown accustomed to unrealistic pay rates. (See previous post.) I have breast cancer. Money is not my highest priority.
I'm angry about injustice, I'm angry about stupidity and greed. Relentless impending doom, when it's not yet warranted, irritates me.
By all means, shut it down. Let's all try to find our way. Before the end, though, several people will need to clear their schedules for a final interview with Ggirl. You cannot imagine the fear and trembling that can evoke.
04 December 2008
I threw away my prosthesis Monday night and moved my wigs off of my dresser. I don't know why it's taken so long, nor do I know why there are still things I can't look at and can't get rid of.
I have several tote bags in my bedroom that I've used in the 3 years I've shuttled back and forth between here and M.D. Anderson. They're filled with insurance forms, bills, magazines, puzzle books...the stuff that accumulates while you wait. Waiting is an art in which I've become well versed.
I can't make myself go through it. I try now and then, but that chemo nausea returns like a ghost to remind me of how bad it's been.
I also carry a small notebook with me that includes, among other things, several pages detailing the physical reactions I had to chemotherapy. I agreed to participate in a study that required I keep track. I can't tear those pages out.
I remind myself that I've been through a lot. I got rid of the prosthesis, I moved my wigs. It's a journey of reconciliation. I'm not home yet.
03 December 2008
Rule Number Two: Remember that everyone here is suffering because of their own inability to let go of ego.
There's no need for anger or fantasies of sabotage. That self-indulgence merely leads me farther down the road into the Crazy Land wilderness where dysfunction flourishes. I don't do dysfunctional. I guess that would be Rule Number Three.
When I'm grounded in reality, I'm always free to offer compassion. And to be entertained.
01 December 2008
We have a minimal staff today--Golf Pro (wonder of wonders!), Mr. Moneybags, The Information Superhighway, IT Boy, Moneybags' daughter, Morose Owner and, of course, yours truly, the Festal Pig. Were it not for the constant jingle jingle of my bracelet, Crazy Land would be utterly grim.
Though it gave renewed temporary hope to Owner, virtually all of our citizens have accepted the inevitable demise of Crazy Land. Owner, the Founder and Caretaker of Crazy Land, is determined to see the company crumble. As far as he's concerned, it already has. His pessimism is living proof to the theory of self-fulfilling prophecy. Owner is depressed and gloomy. He's already destitute. The worst has already happened.
On the Pig front, I recently gained starling new information regarding salaries here and it's given me new impetus to seek a new, more fulfilling Crazy Land. Yes, boys and girls, it's out there. I will most assuredly find it and settle into a new, dysfunctional country of ego maniacs and eccentrics.
It turns out that Golf Pro isn't the only one who's raking in the cash. Looks like I'm last in line for the gravy train. If we weren't already halfway under water, I might be tempted to sabotage my victories in developing a more efficient analytical database. Mr. Moneybags would have to revisit the cost of building a new version. Reality can be a cruel and pricey teacher. We're two steps into the quicksand, though, and I'm not sure it's worth the trouble required to commit software vandalism.
I console myself with the knowledge that job offers for the wildly overpaid with similar big bucks will be mighty slim. I know none of these comforting thoughts falls into the holiday spirit mode. I make up for it in jingle, though. If my jingly bling irritates my fellow workers, all the better.
Jingle jingle, you buttwads.