July 24, 2003~~2:21 p.m.
Bitter, Party of One, Your Table is Ready
I suppose that in anticipation of my daughter�s impending birth, (coming up in only 2 short weeks) I should limit my sarcasm and bitterness and try to think more positively about the world. You know, to maintain a positive aura for her. But positive auras are not funny. So, here is the latest diary entry about people who piss me off. I really hate those people who walk diagonally across the parking lot. It really irritates me when you are poking along, trying to get to a spot and the old guy with the cart doesn�t get the concept of hastening his travel between the rows to allow cars to pass. I am all for pedestrian right-of-ways, but people who take liberties with their walking patterns deserve a good fist-shaking. ~~~ A few weeks ago, at my Lamaze class, we were given a short break wherein I went to the restroom. The building my classes were in is a building that has two classrooms and a large main room filled with cubicles and file cabinets. To get to the restroom, you must go through the large working area. One could choose to go on the outside of the cubicles or, as a shortcut, could walk down a row between some cubicles. This is the route I chose to take. Evidently, it did not suit one of the other instructors. I was walking slowly and was obviously lost in my thoughts, not touching anything or pausing to look at people�s desks or acting otherwise suspiciously. When I was halfway back to the classroom down a row of cubicles, she said to me rudely, �Could you please walk AROUND the cubicles? When you walk THROUGH them, it�s like walking through people�s offices.� I stopped and stared at her, dumbfounded that she had the gall to even MAKE such a comment. I mean, it�s one thing if people walking through her friends� cubes is annoying to her, and it�s another to actually VOCALIZE such a reprimand to an obviously tired and fatigued young pregnant woman who was not bothering anything. And anyway, the walls to the cubicles are not that tall. Walking around the cubes would not prevent anyone except Mini-Me from seeing over the wall and into someone�s �office.� And as we all know, I have my own opinions about cubicles as �offices.� If these people, who very well know that there are several classes held in the building at night during the week, choose to put valuables or other private items out on their Westinghouse desks, they deserve to have their things looked at and invaded. I, however, would never touch something on someone�s desk and just simply stopped walking, took a hard, disbelieving look at this woman with a bad red-dye job and thinning hair and just stood there. I quietly turned around, backtracked, and went around the cubicles back to the classroom. I was so angry that she had even made the comment that I hadn�t had time to fabricate a snotty response. And that, my friends, is the true tragedy of it all. ~~~ I had to call the hospital where Elizabeth will be born to get a pre-admission form to fill out. I spoke with a woman in the admissions office and she was going on and on about some packet that I could pick up at the hospital. I explained that since I work 30 minutes away from the hospital, it would be convenient for me if she could just fax over the one-page form I needed to fill out. When I told her the city I work in, she said, �Well, you could just go over to the hospital there and pick up a packet� basically implying that walking her ass over to their fax machine was far more work for her than a.) arguing with me about it and b.) not worth the energy it would cost ME, a pregnant woman, to DRIVE to a hospital I didn�t even know existed (and thus, have no idea how to get to), find the admissions office there, fill out the form, etc. Finally, she agreed to fax it to me, and never did. I had to call the next day to get another copy. What the hell was THAT? Thank you for making my child�s birth a pleasant experience. I wonder what she says to the heart surgery patients. ~~~ Art. I don�t believe I have met a more parsimonious and passively irritating man in all my life. His patriarchal ways are really grating on my nerves. He has this dastardly habit of calling out to people (women) from his office like he needs to speak with them, and then just doesn�t say anything until YOU appear in his doorway. I work about 10 feet away from him and he never bothers to come to MY desk to have a discussion. He also has decided that I am his personal assistant. I do not recall my job description changing to reflect this. However, of late, I have been receiving little �duties� to complete that are more the job of a personal assistant. And considering how stringent the Scientologists are to order and lists and the �right way to do things�, I am surprised that he has ventured across the boundaries of my job description. Speaking of lists, Art has a problem making his own. In fact, being incompetent as he is, Art has many problems. But most recently, Art decided that he really needed help. He talked to the Bitch in Charge of Personnel and they came up with a plan: Art would add to this woman D�s job description and would make her his temporary organizer. Not a personal assistant, exactly, although you wouldn�t know it by listening to Art, but just someone to help him get and stay organized and to keep tabs on him. Kind of like a wife or a mother. Last week, I heard Art call out from his office, �D! I need to add something to your job! Every night or morning, please remind me to update my battleplan!� Battleplan is ScieNtoLOgy for �to do list.� Yes, D was supposed to remind Art that he needed to update his to do list. This is the person in charge of our portion of the company. He cannot even remember to update his fucking to do list. And instead of thinking of a way to remind himself, he asked his stand-in wife to do it for him. I guess his real wife is too busy being a �teacher� to his kids (as he calls it and takes liberty with the definition of �teacher� and home-schooling) to remind him of all the stuff he has to do at work. He is also cheap. Not when it comes to changing a flight for a trip of his, at the last minute though. No way. We can spend the extra money on HIM, but not on anyone else. So if you want a raise, whether or not you get it depends on who ELSE he may have hired for the department during the past few months. If a new hire has recently come on, there is no snowball�s chance in hell that you will get any more money. Now, should I have to pay for the fact that you needed another person to help out in the sales area when I have put in my time at this company and appeared in your doorway when you annoyingly called my name? No. I didn�t think so. My boss wanted to hire a long-term temp for me while I am on maternity leave (I haven�t told them that I�m not coming back to work after my leave, but whatever), and Art wanted to just disperse my duties to other people in the department to work on while I�m gone. He was being too cheap to hire help during the busiest time of the year. He finally caved, but not before a strong fight. I think the convincing argument was that he might have to book his OWN travel if nobody was here to take my place. Art only tells us when he is leaving the office if it is for a valid appointment of some kind, i.e. dentist or doctor or picking up his kids. Otherwise, in the case of leaving early to go waterskiing or other such fun, he just disappears. And upon his return, he begins his daily badgering of the sales team about how many sales contacts they have made that day and whether or not they are applying the �danger formula� to their work. The sales team has been deemed in a �danger condition� which is ScIENtoloGy for �not doing well.� The Sci's luckily have a plan for that, though. It is to �do something different than you were doing before.� No joke. Oh L. Ron. The world indeed lost a genius when you passed� So they are supposed to be applying the �danger formula� to their area, and Art comes by about 10 times a day to see how that is going. Which only serves to annoy them and make them less efficient, of course. The fact is, the sales team is not selling shit because there is too much shit to sell and so we have to look really busy selling shit RIGHT NOW or maybe risk losing their jobs, which they won�t, because nobody will work for Art in their place for more than 5 minutes. Meanwhile, those of us outside of the sales team are not allowed to chat or pretty much acknowledge the sales team while they are in �danger.� And the sales team has been told to attend a course with The Praying Mantis each day for half an hour. So basically, instead of working, they are down in the courseroom taking a pointless class and wasting time. Make sense? Nope? Well, nothing here does. And speaking of The Praying Mantis, I had to deal with her to set up my maternity leave, and it turns out that e.Sci has again hired someone completely incompetent and unknowledgeable about their job for her position! She knows not one iota about human resources and benefits, so it was like the blind leading the blind to figure out my maternity leave and disability pay. I am so done here. I only have 6 working days left. The Mulleted Receptionist has called me �Little Momma� so many times that now she just says it in a bored way, like it has always been my name and she feels COMPELLED to say it, but no longer wants to. But I know she does. I know it makes her feel cool and �in� like we have this little �thing� between us. And Mrs. MacGyver? Today is her last day, but no announcement has been made about it. That�s how they do things around here. They just don�t say anything so that the rumor mill can go to work. Our guess is that she was �gently� encouraged to get the hell out. They would never fire her because she�s a Sci and they take care of their Own, of course, but her incompetency could be denied no longer. Goodbye Mrs. MacGyver. Goodbye to you and your yellow patent leather flats. Goodbye to you shaking your head, laughing and telling me every day that the baby has �dropped and it going to be arriving at any moment.� Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.
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