I wrapped my fear around me like a blanket. I sailed my ship of safety till I sank it. I'm crawling on your shores. - from the Indigo Girls' Closer to Fine
I found LINZ's workplace rant most entertaining. Seems she finds herself in an untenable position, so much so that one wonders why she doesn't just bolt and pursue her music career full-time. The answer is facile: She has bills to pay just like the rest of us tone-deaf losers.
The bad news is that it can only get worse---far worse. Father Time will inevitably impose an ever-tightening noose of onerous responsibilities, obligations and accountability to others. Exorbitant mortgages will replace rent. Heartless utilities will make good on their threat to cut off service. Ingrate children will demand daily meals when they're not, to cop MG's phrase, Winona Rydering your OxyContin stash.
It's called following the path of least resistance, or your ship of safety to use the Indigo Girls' mtaphor. This revelation came to me the last time I was prostrate on the frozen sidewalk with my arm down in the water-meter hole, turning a wrench to reactivate service. Now they threaten that if I do it again, they'll rig it up so it's impossible. Econo-Lodge, here we come.
With that said, I'll trot out my list of workplace grievances. First off, I resent all this constant focus on arbitrary "measurement" of inherently subjective "performance indicators." None of which ever bear even a remote relationship with bottom line result or impact "customer service." Why not simply hire a competent workforce, pay them accordingly and trust them to use their best judgment? Why stifle creativity and squander countless person-hours with all this feckless tail-wagging-the-dog inanity?
Secondly, there's the matter of being under constant scrutiny. Management can and does literally count your keystrokes. They know what websites you visit, how often and how long you linger (ahem, LINZ.) Calls are monitored not to ensure "optimal customer service" but to eavesdrop on problem workers. Today's employer is to employees as tyrannical AG John Ashcroft is to ordinary citizens/enemy combatants.
Hence, gone like Dana Carvey's career are the days of a benevolent employer and its gaggle o' slavishly loyal drones. This global village ain't no company town. Fact is, the company couldn't give a rat's ass about you and the feeling is mutual.
Lastly, my annual salary amounts to a meager .5% of what the typical fat-cat CEO rakes in. That's no disparity, folks, it's a freaking obscene chasm. Not that I'm bitter or anything.
Anna, you picture. Naked. Perky, yes. You you. Pic shower? Yes. Pic doctor office? Yes. Pic stranded flat tire desperate will do anything please help please help perky girl? Yes. Pic peeing? Yes. Pic shaving armpits? Umm. Hmm. Ok yes. You. Pics. Thank you. (Now.)
by Eviltom at December 4, 2002 9:02 PM
Look, Tom, I'm glad you've finally decided to acknowlege my presence here. As for the pix, I own a digital camera that remains in its box awaiting word from my kid on how to operate it at all let alone post the shots you desire. Once he does get around to it after all these years, I'll email you the aroma of my armpits after a ninety minute soccer match. Or more.
by annna at December 4, 2002 10:10 PM
Tom, you're welcome any time.
by annna at December 4, 2002 10:16 PM
Anna, it makes me nervous how you capitalize my whole name. Anyway, I am totally not under surveillance, I am very lucky.
Totally concerned too about this trend of trying to mathematically quantify human behavior on the job! It's so 1984, Brave New World-esque! And it's happening so stealthily that most people don't even realize it. I had a friend lamenting that in a few generations, people won't even realize that they could rebel against a paralyzing system in place to which they surrender any iota of privacy. I wonder if he's right.
by Linz at December 5, 2002 9:17 AM
P.S. I played that song at a gig last night for the first time. Granted, I screwed up a few times, but by that hour everyone was too drunk to notice.
by Linz at December 5, 2002 9:20 AM
Linz, I once had a slavedriver of a boss who penned all his memos in bolded caps. He's since joined the ranks of the dearly departed. I had nothing to do with it. Really. Well, maybe a peripheral role.
by annna at December 5, 2002 5:17 PM
pls send a nukeds pic
by rawad at April 24, 2005 6:26 AM