Thursday, 12 January 2012

A Punch In the Teeth

This afternoon, I was cordially invited into the office of Head Office Boss Lady, who is in town to go over our billing procedures and productivity issues for year's end. I began our interview by announcing that I am actively seeking other employment. Not surprizingly, she had already learned of this through the grapevine. She asked me if I felt comfortable discussing my reasons why and I availed myself of this opportunity to describe in harrowing detail every single one of Teeth's transgessions over the past few weeks. I began with "Caucasian" and ended with the "retard" email and especially highlighted her need to make Princess Anne her scapegoat just prior to New Years.

I explained that the incessant and vapid giggling that emanates from the staff room at during breaks, the outrageous flirting with drivers over the phone and the double standard around work (she can goof off on the phone, but when the rest of us do, we are quickly reminded that there's filing that needs doing) do not exactly inspire confidence in me regarding Teeth's supervisory abilities, and that I am anxious to get the hell out before the real fireworks start.

Head Office Boss Lady wrote everything down. She took copious notes and occasionally made a face as if I had just kicked her in the box. When I had finished my litany of complaints, she said that, while Teeth describes herself as a "gutter girl", this is not the kind of attitude that can be taken seriously in a supervisor and she's going to need Teeth to "step it up a notch."

My diplomatic response was that, to my mind, Teeth lacks "an innate or instinctual understanding of the qualities a supervisory position demands." SUBTEXT: don't hold your breath, honey. If she needs this shit explained to her, she's not gonna get it.

So then HOBL asked me if I minded should she wish to share my observations with Teeth and I heartily encouraged her to do so, indicating that Teeth "could probably benefit from the feedback." Then she asked if I would mind meeting with Teeth and having a discussion, just the two of us, and I said I didn't mind at all (although secretly, I will hve to constantly remind myself to say things like, "I don't feel that I can perform optimally under your particular management style," instead of "Why don't you lick my pussy bald, you fucking slitch").

And I'm not the only one coming forward with complaints. So if Teeth thought that stepping into Springsteen's shoes was going to be a cakewalk (sorry for mixing my idioms), I have no doubt that her interview with HOBL tomorrow afternoon will leave her humbled. HOBL is hoping that once Teeth and I sit down for a chat, hopefully I will be less inclined to walk away.

But seriously, I'd be idiotic. Teeth's behaviour IS Teeth: she's not going to change, and hanging around hoping she does is akin to a victim of domestic abuse thinking, "He promised he wouldn't do it again." I should stay in what is essentially an abusive relationship for the sake of a paycheque?

Oh, I don't think so.

So stay tuned, kids, cuz there just might be some kind of showdown tomorrow.

Monday, 9 January 2012

And THEN...!

As if any of you need further proof of Teeth's utter lack of professionalism (but here goes anyway...)

On Friday, while I was at my highly successful job interview, Yvette was talking to Jacques, who had stopped by her cubicle. During their brief conversation, Teeth came up behind Jacques and grabbed his ass with both hands.


And so I explained to Yvette that sexual harrassment is in the eye of the beholder; if she was offended by Teeth's behaviour, she can complain about it and earn Teeth (yet another) very strict talking-to about her inappropriateness. It doesn't have to be *her* ass that was grabbed. Yvette was unaware of the way in which sexual harrassment policies work, but she might be talking to Head Office Boss Lady when she visits ths week.

Or she might not. That office functions the way it does due to ignorance and apathy.

The temp agency actually called me today for my first assignment, but it was only for a single day, so I declined it. Still, I hope this is a sign of things to come.   

Sunday, 8 January 2012

Salaam, Mohammed!

Wow: the year 2012 is looking up already. Not only did I have an excellent job interview with a temp agency on Friday and can expect to leave Teeth and the Women of WalMart far behind within the month (without giving two weeks notice, since I am owed vacation time): but as I sit at the dining room table and gaze out onto the front street, I can watch Mohammed moving out. That's awesome. Fuck off, buddy, and take your spitting and your garbage and your urine-bedewed vehicles with you. ALL of them.

Oh, and by the way, for those of you who have been following this particular thread: Mohammed is his actual name. Just before Christmas, I noticed a piece of paper taped to his front door. Hoping it was an eviction notice, I walked over to read what it said. It was just a notice from the landlord upstairs, giving Mohammed 48 hours notice that he intended to enter the premises, and Mohammed's name was clearly written there.

I feel pretty smug.

So does anyone have any experience writing letters of resignation? I've never had to compose one before. How much information is it customary to include? I have no intention of sending it to Teeth (that would actually acknowledge her authority, which I do not), just to Teeth's supervisor. Do I include my reasons for leaving (i.e. Teeth) in the letter? After all, I do not anticipate having the luxury of an exit interview, since the lady in charge of HR at our branch actually works in Calgary. I mean, I realize I don't owe them any explanations, and if they've made the blunder of promoting that stupid slitch despite every conceivable indication that she is wholly unsuited to the job, my very humble opinion is scarcely going to cause them to reconsider. And perhaps I have a tendency to overshare.

But it somehow seems inadequate to write:

"Dear Head Office Boss Lady,

Please be advised that effective (date two weeks hence), I tender my resignation and will be taking the holidays to which I am entitled until that time.

Hugs and kisses,


Yet perhaps writing more simply indicates that I give a shit. And although I like and respect Head Office Boss Lady, I don't give a damn about anything that happens in or to that office. My strong suspicion is that they gave the job to that odious Stink Mitten because she would do it for less money than they would expect to pay someone who was, say, competent. Someone who, when booking hotel rooms for drivers coming in from out of town, wouldn't offer to "swing by the hotel for a good time". Someone who doesn't drop by your cubicle to discuss her hemorrhoids or send emails celebrating the wholly fictional "Retard Day". Someone who doesn't snigger audibly in the presence of a gay employee when someone else mentions that the staff room smells "fruity," because another employee heated up a poptart.

But I think I am justified in believing that Head Office Boss Lady, in trying to save the company a few dollars in wages, will shortly discover that she will pay for it in other ways.

UPDATE: Mohammed apparently had trouble getting his truck to work. So he put three litres of oil into the engine and left the bottles in the street right in front of my house. He even drove over them, before he pulled a u-turn in the middle of the street, driving onto someone else's lawn to do it. So I went out, collected the bottles and their caps and dumped them on his front step. If he wants to have words, he'll find me ready for them, the fucking asshole.

Thursday, 5 January 2012

The Tooth, the Whole Tooth and Nuthin' But the Tooth

Below is the text of an email sent to me by Teeth this morning:

"Not every flower can say love, but a rose can. Not every plant survives thirst, but a cactus can. Not every retard can read, but look at u having a go! Today is International Retard Day. Please send an encouraging message to a fucked up friend, just as I've done. I dont care if u lick windows, interfere with farm animals or occasionally shit urself. U hang in there cup cake, you're fucking special to me, you're my friend!:) look at u smiling at ur phone!"

Yes, gentle readers, this precious gem showed up in my inbox this morning, sent by my immediate supervisor, the woman who my company feels best exemplifies the values of professionalism and managerial competence!

I can't, for the life of me, figure out if this is a passive-aggressive slap at me, or genuinely clueless attempt to be my buddy. Either way, SOMEONE HASN'T BEEN PAYING ATTENTION.

Wow. Just wow.