Tuesday, January 03, 2006

It's like a bad joke

The good news is, I'm still employed.
The bad news is, I'm still employed at the same place.

Thanks for the friendly advice, everyone.

This morning, I went directly to my manager and said "Hey, sorry for the screw-up this weekend." He told me we'd discuss it later today.

Fast forward to 5:00pm, by which point I am CERTAIN I'm getting canned, as I was coldly greeted by my co-workers this morning, excluded from meetings, and the boss didn't talk to me all day. How do you fire someone? Wait until it's pretty much time to leave, and then drop the train on 'em.

So, my clock ticks over to five, and within seconds my boss says "Hey, Lucky, got a minute?" I think, "well, at least I'm having pizza for dinner tonight, " and go into the meeting. I wasn't fired, and we had a discussion that was FAR too calm and reasonable. After a weekend of tension, I wanted some apocalyptic release. I wanted to throw some damn chairs around, rip my shirt off, scream at the top of my lungs and fart, loudly, on my way out of the building.

I hate an anti-climax. In an embarrassingly petty act of rebellion, as I left for the night I totally raced out of the parking lot at an unreasonable speed approaching 40 mph. That sure showed 'em.

As I rode home today, the main thing I wondered was why we couldn't have had that discussion first thing this morning. Or on the phone at some point during the weekend. Or ANY time that would have set me at ease so I could accomplish something today besides figuring out how to live on $2 a week until I got a new job.

Well, anyway, that ends the job-drama for now. My job search now begins in earnest (behind the scenes), and I'll get back to writing about pizza and motorcycles.

2 comments:

Surly said...

Ironically, I got an email yesterday from another company asking me to come in for an interview. Kind of like playing vollyball-everyone rotate!

Wolfie said...

Dude, I'm telling you, piss in the important machinery, leave a big dump on the conference-table, fax Fearless Leader a picture of *your ass*, and leave the pole-polishing fucktards behind. I don't think that they're paying you enough to endure such misery.