No, seriously--I'm still working there, but I've already started applying at other places. I'm done.
I decided yesterday, after the usual Tuesday afternoon deadline panic, that I was fed up with being thrown to the lions with inadequate training and still being expected to give a shit about anything. Let alone put up with any number of dysfunctional personalities. So I put a resume in at some other place last night.
And after this morning, I am even more convinced that my time with my current assignment is extremely limited.
Most mornings, one of the other billers (a recent hire)brings a Timmy Horton's coffee in for Teeth. I don't know why, but when she doesn't, one of the managers (the guy who hires all of our drivers) does. As a result, yesterday Teeth ended up with two coffees. Not surprisingly, this morning, she failed to receive even one. Did she laugh?
NO.
Teeth actually blew a hype so big that the manager left the office and fetched her a coffee from Timmy's at 9:00 a.m. And let's review: not only is there free coffee in the lunch room, the stupid bitch passes a Timmy's on the way to work every morning.
This brings to mind an incident that occured about three weeks ago. I pulled into the parking lot to discover that Teeth's spot was empty. I never know if she is going to be absent or whatever, so I pulled in. Mulan was being dropped off at the same time.
She said to me, "You cannot pahk dere!"
"Why not?"
"Dat's Teeth's spot."
"Her name's not on it, Mulan."
Mulan's response was to click her tongue and shake her head. Inside, in front of the Biller I Like and Princess Anne, she pursued the topic.
"You haf to move yo cah," she said.
"I'm not doin' it," I replied.
"One time, Sylvester pahked in her spot and Teeth made her move."
"Well, she can try it," I said.
But she didn't, because Teeth has hopefully learned by now that it will be a frosty Friday before I indulge her in any of the crap she so liberally dishes out to other people.
And at this point, I can't even blame Teeth anymore. Sure, she's a douchecanoe of the first order, but other people let her get away with this bullshit. I don't know what they think will happen if they tell her to get stuffed, but my experience was: NOTHING.
Which is about as much loyalty I have to this place anymore. It's not just Teeth and Two Clowns; it's the lack of organization and a bunch of other small things that add up to a general sense of dissattisfaction.
So I'm looking around.
Wednesday 27 July 2011
Monday 25 July 2011
Swingin' From the Rafters
First off, let me start by saying that although Springsteen assures me that plans to hire me full-time permanently are in the works, they haven't done so yet. It's been eight months on August 6, and I am still not getting benefits, vacation time or sick days. And yet, they give me challenging new tasks and responsibilities, so I know my job is secure.
But today, I am starting to wonder if I shouldn't ask the temp agency for another assignment.
You've all read the stories of Teeth and the WalMart Girls. You know they're a unique bunch. In the past, I have found Teeth's neuroses intrusive enough to change my break times in order to socialize with the other pod. Teeth seems to have forgiven me my defection and last Thursday appeared at my cubicle to bond with me over health issues. I applaud her efforts to take care of herself and was quite willing to listen to her recount the success she's had bringing her blood pressure down (here's a hint, my little polo pony: stop worrying about where you park, your ass OR your car) and resolving her digestive issues.
I was less enthusiastic to learn about the diarrhea she had over the weekend, the constipation that followed and her haemmorhoids. Yes, Teeth actually stood there and told me about the varicose veins in her anus.
Fucking awesome.
I wish I could say that this was the most inappropriate thing to happen at the office last week, but I'd be lying. At least Teeth is more or less my peer. It was, in her own warped, controlling and over-sharing way, an attempt to make contact with me (which is essential, because I remain aloof and have stolen her thunder as the "funny one").
But that was nothing compared to the tarot reading I gave to Two Clowns on Friday afternoon.
Two Clowns has told me in the past that her grandmother was married to Bailey (of Barnum and Bailey's Circus) and when he died, gypsies taught her how to read playing cards. And of all her grandchildren, Two Clowns was the only one to inherit "the Gift." (Insert wanking motions here.)
So when she suggested I do a reading for her, I was reluctant, but what the hell, right? It's $40.00 I wouldn't otherwise have and I thought I might glean some comic gold. I even considered calling her on her shit by throwing down the spread and saying, "Well, you're the one with the Gift; go for it. I'll be in my pod if you need me."
But, no, I was professional about it, which is more than I can say for Two Clowns. I can't divulge what her reading was about, but what I can say is that at the end of a tortorous thirty minutes, Two Clowns went off on a tangent about this other biller in my pod.
Now, this biller has never appeared on this blog because, out of all of them, she's probably the most "normal". She hardly ever says things that are retarded. She has never said anything racist. She has what appear to be nice, positive, healthy relationships with her friends and children. She's bright and a good conversationalist. She pulls her weight at work. I rather like her. She invited us to go camping with her and a group of her friends and, had the weather co-operated, we would have gone, which is not something I can say about anyone else in that office.
The only thing out of the ordinary about this biller is that she belongs to a swinger's club. She does not talk about this at work, although it is something well-known about her. But she knows that work is not the place to discuss such things, and so we find other topics. Appropriate, right? Professional. Mature. Adult. Well-adjusted. All things that Two Clowns is not.
Because guess who else frequents this club? Mr. Ex-Two Clowns!!! And although they have been divorced for three years, Two Clowns can't get past it. It's apparently eating her up inside. She went into quite a bit of detail (that I didn't need or want) about how the club is furnished, what happens with whom, right down to various positions.
It is, as far as I'm concerned, grossly inappropriate for a manager to be giving someone like me (not even a permanent employee, a temp!!!) such deeply personal information like this about one of my colleagues (one who I like and respect, even). This is proof that Two Clowns is unhinged in some significant way.
She said to me, "I don't know if you've sensed it, but I can't bear to be in the same room as (the other biller)."
Well, no, Two Clowns, I haven't sensed it, because you still take your breaks with us. When I had an issue with someone, I changed my break time. I think you just like to pick at the scab. And you need to grow up.
So between Two Clowns's revolting display of immaturity, Teeth's haemorrhoids, Princess Anne saying "Paki" all the time, and racist emails going out from one of the other managers (emails that would be deeply embarrassing should one of our Islamic drivers see them), I am considering requesting another assignment.
Because I don't think Springsteen can do anything about Two Clowns (I mean, that woman needs counselling) and I don't really want to put up with too much more of this weirdness. Besides, I can't say anything to Springsteen without violating the confidentiality of the tarot reading.
What do you guys think?
(PS: I had a totally blogworthy weekend and will write about it over the next couple of days, but I need to download the photos first, so stay tuned. I had to get this off my chest first).
But today, I am starting to wonder if I shouldn't ask the temp agency for another assignment.
You've all read the stories of Teeth and the WalMart Girls. You know they're a unique bunch. In the past, I have found Teeth's neuroses intrusive enough to change my break times in order to socialize with the other pod. Teeth seems to have forgiven me my defection and last Thursday appeared at my cubicle to bond with me over health issues. I applaud her efforts to take care of herself and was quite willing to listen to her recount the success she's had bringing her blood pressure down (here's a hint, my little polo pony: stop worrying about where you park, your ass OR your car) and resolving her digestive issues.
I was less enthusiastic to learn about the diarrhea she had over the weekend, the constipation that followed and her haemmorhoids. Yes, Teeth actually stood there and told me about the varicose veins in her anus.
Fucking awesome.
I wish I could say that this was the most inappropriate thing to happen at the office last week, but I'd be lying. At least Teeth is more or less my peer. It was, in her own warped, controlling and over-sharing way, an attempt to make contact with me (which is essential, because I remain aloof and have stolen her thunder as the "funny one").
But that was nothing compared to the tarot reading I gave to Two Clowns on Friday afternoon.
Two Clowns has told me in the past that her grandmother was married to Bailey (of Barnum and Bailey's Circus) and when he died, gypsies taught her how to read playing cards. And of all her grandchildren, Two Clowns was the only one to inherit "the Gift." (Insert wanking motions here.)
So when she suggested I do a reading for her, I was reluctant, but what the hell, right? It's $40.00 I wouldn't otherwise have and I thought I might glean some comic gold. I even considered calling her on her shit by throwing down the spread and saying, "Well, you're the one with the Gift; go for it. I'll be in my pod if you need me."
But, no, I was professional about it, which is more than I can say for Two Clowns. I can't divulge what her reading was about, but what I can say is that at the end of a tortorous thirty minutes, Two Clowns went off on a tangent about this other biller in my pod.
Now, this biller has never appeared on this blog because, out of all of them, she's probably the most "normal". She hardly ever says things that are retarded. She has never said anything racist. She has what appear to be nice, positive, healthy relationships with her friends and children. She's bright and a good conversationalist. She pulls her weight at work. I rather like her. She invited us to go camping with her and a group of her friends and, had the weather co-operated, we would have gone, which is not something I can say about anyone else in that office.
The only thing out of the ordinary about this biller is that she belongs to a swinger's club. She does not talk about this at work, although it is something well-known about her. But she knows that work is not the place to discuss such things, and so we find other topics. Appropriate, right? Professional. Mature. Adult. Well-adjusted. All things that Two Clowns is not.
Because guess who else frequents this club? Mr. Ex-Two Clowns!!! And although they have been divorced for three years, Two Clowns can't get past it. It's apparently eating her up inside. She went into quite a bit of detail (that I didn't need or want) about how the club is furnished, what happens with whom, right down to various positions.
It is, as far as I'm concerned, grossly inappropriate for a manager to be giving someone like me (not even a permanent employee, a temp!!!) such deeply personal information like this about one of my colleagues (one who I like and respect, even). This is proof that Two Clowns is unhinged in some significant way.
She said to me, "I don't know if you've sensed it, but I can't bear to be in the same room as (the other biller)."
Well, no, Two Clowns, I haven't sensed it, because you still take your breaks with us. When I had an issue with someone, I changed my break time. I think you just like to pick at the scab. And you need to grow up.
So between Two Clowns's revolting display of immaturity, Teeth's haemorrhoids, Princess Anne saying "Paki" all the time, and racist emails going out from one of the other managers (emails that would be deeply embarrassing should one of our Islamic drivers see them), I am considering requesting another assignment.
Because I don't think Springsteen can do anything about Two Clowns (I mean, that woman needs counselling) and I don't really want to put up with too much more of this weirdness. Besides, I can't say anything to Springsteen without violating the confidentiality of the tarot reading.
What do you guys think?
(PS: I had a totally blogworthy weekend and will write about it over the next couple of days, but I need to download the photos first, so stay tuned. I had to get this off my chest first).
Friday 8 July 2011
The Return of Two Clowns
This blog has been almost eerily quiet because there has been so little going on at work. Teeth has been extraordinarily well behaved and Two Clowns has been very busy working on negotiations with some drivers that were on strike. I don't think she was in charge of the negotiations, since she can barely navigate the four corners of her own office, but she has been noticeably absent from breaks and lunch hours.
But now that the strike has been resolved, Two Clowns has unfortunately reappeared. With her usual elan, she showed up at Yvette's cubicle yesterday to offer her support following Yvette's mother's death on Sunday. Yvette, who was very close to her mom, naturally looked wan and pale; her eyes were puffy and it was amazing to me that she was in the office at all.
Two Clowns poked her head over the cubicle wall and asked, "How're you doing?"
Yvette shrugged. "I'm alright," she said unconvincingly.
"Jeez, Yvette, you look like shit," said Two Clowns and walked off.
Nice going, bitch. I'm sure she needed to hear that.
That was just mean-spirited and thoughtless, but the other story regarding Two Clowns illustrates how fucking clueless she is about life in general.
Apparently, she received an email from some guy in the UK, telling her that she has won several hundreds of thousands of pounds in a lottery run by one of the banks. She has been directed to send a certain amount of her own money to Western Union in order for the guy to post the money to her account.
Two Clowns sent all of this correspondence to the RCMP and Scotland Yard, and the RCMP are looking into it. Despite their warnings, she has spoken to the alleged fraudster, who she says has a strong Middle Eastern accent. The cops have told her that these people can be very dangerous and that she should avoid contact with them.
Naturally, Two Clowns is undaunted.
"They can bring it!" she reportedly told the cops. "But, maybe you could give me a weapon!"
"Uh, well, we can't actually go around arming our citizens," the cops supposedly said.
"Too bad," replied Two Clowns, "cuz I'd make this guy afraid."
Yeah, I'm pretty sure these wealthy, well-connected con artists would quake in their sandals if they knew they were dealing with an assassin from Canada's navy.
I don't for a minute believe that she presented such bravado to the cops; given the consuming insecurities that cause her to be such a fucking liar in the first place, I'm sure the conversation went more like this:
"OMG! These people know how to contact me!! Can't you put me in protective custody or something??? Can't you give me a gun? Or mace??? ANYTHING!!! Hell, I'll even take a stapler at this point!"
But the fact that she tells this story around the office just makes me roll my eyes. I can't for the life of me figure out how she can be so completely unaware of how ridiculous she seems to the rest of the office. She seems blissfully unware that she is universally considered a lying asshole.
I suppose she gets away with it because we are a co-operative society, which is proof to me that this co-operation thing is very much over-rated.
Anyway, I'll keep you posted, but of course, the outcome won't bear any resemblance to reality (which is the appeal of the on-going story, of course). The cops will look into it, the guys will elude capture and/or detection and the whole incident will fade away. Except that when Two Clowns tells it, these people will visit her house to demand her money, and the whole situation will culminate in a blazing shoot-out where she appears on her roof in a wife-beater and camo pants with an AK-47 strapped to her arm for the salvation of Western civilization.
Can't fuckin' wait.
But now that the strike has been resolved, Two Clowns has unfortunately reappeared. With her usual elan, she showed up at Yvette's cubicle yesterday to offer her support following Yvette's mother's death on Sunday. Yvette, who was very close to her mom, naturally looked wan and pale; her eyes were puffy and it was amazing to me that she was in the office at all.
Two Clowns poked her head over the cubicle wall and asked, "How're you doing?"
Yvette shrugged. "I'm alright," she said unconvincingly.
"Jeez, Yvette, you look like shit," said Two Clowns and walked off.
Nice going, bitch. I'm sure she needed to hear that.
That was just mean-spirited and thoughtless, but the other story regarding Two Clowns illustrates how fucking clueless she is about life in general.
Apparently, she received an email from some guy in the UK, telling her that she has won several hundreds of thousands of pounds in a lottery run by one of the banks. She has been directed to send a certain amount of her own money to Western Union in order for the guy to post the money to her account.
Two Clowns sent all of this correspondence to the RCMP and Scotland Yard, and the RCMP are looking into it. Despite their warnings, she has spoken to the alleged fraudster, who she says has a strong Middle Eastern accent. The cops have told her that these people can be very dangerous and that she should avoid contact with them.
Naturally, Two Clowns is undaunted.
"They can bring it!" she reportedly told the cops. "But, maybe you could give me a weapon!"
"Uh, well, we can't actually go around arming our citizens," the cops supposedly said.
"Too bad," replied Two Clowns, "cuz I'd make this guy afraid."
Yeah, I'm pretty sure these wealthy, well-connected con artists would quake in their sandals if they knew they were dealing with an assassin from Canada's navy.
I don't for a minute believe that she presented such bravado to the cops; given the consuming insecurities that cause her to be such a fucking liar in the first place, I'm sure the conversation went more like this:
"OMG! These people know how to contact me!! Can't you put me in protective custody or something??? Can't you give me a gun? Or mace??? ANYTHING!!! Hell, I'll even take a stapler at this point!"
But the fact that she tells this story around the office just makes me roll my eyes. I can't for the life of me figure out how she can be so completely unaware of how ridiculous she seems to the rest of the office. She seems blissfully unware that she is universally considered a lying asshole.
I suppose she gets away with it because we are a co-operative society, which is proof to me that this co-operation thing is very much over-rated.
Anyway, I'll keep you posted, but of course, the outcome won't bear any resemblance to reality (which is the appeal of the on-going story, of course). The cops will look into it, the guys will elude capture and/or detection and the whole incident will fade away. Except that when Two Clowns tells it, these people will visit her house to demand her money, and the whole situation will culminate in a blazing shoot-out where she appears on her roof in a wife-beater and camo pants with an AK-47 strapped to her arm for the salvation of Western civilization.
Can't fuckin' wait.
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