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Refuge for the rational.
Saturday, January 08, 2005
duh-duh-Done With all the fuh-fuh-Fucking Around
Shrink-wrap is the bane of my existence. It would seem that no matter how much I gnash and bite and claw at the fucking thing the little “tear here” strip simply will not allow itself to be utilized in its intended way. Face your destiny…I simply cannot take this ad-riddled “classic” jerk-off rock radio station anymore. It doesn’t seem to bother anyone else who works here, but I was so gripped by my desperation that I went out and bought a CD that no one would consider too “weird”. The college radio station was certainly too much to take, and then the classical station was dubbed too “boring”, so this is the resolution (yes, you can listen to whatever you want to at your job - and we’re all proud of you - but have you ever considered just how much of a wanker you are?) I hate my fucking job. All in all, it’s just a bad environment for me. If you’d like a list of reasons why, feel free to read all about the delightful office Christmas party HERE. What this amounts to is a basic and fundamental clash of values. No matter how much I try, I simply cannot see the world in black and white, with dollar signs preceding everything and with a mistrust of my own perceptions. There is no joy in cell phone sales, there is nothing creative and nothing pure. I don’t care how they work, and I’d rather not even own one. It seems like such a tirade – my faithful departure into a mental and creative vacuum from nine-thirty to six, five days a week. Is this not incongruous?
Valiant steps have been made towards a less abrasive outlook on the world, towards something more fulfilling. It seems like every time I decide to abandon my usual cynicism someone has to go and fuck it all up. Case in point: I spent the last month doing yoga and eating properly, sleeping well and reading more. Things have improved, slightly, but there is still something standing between myself and the Zen state of mind I so desire. I’m very disturbed by the fact that I could ever hate anyone as much as I hate my boss. And I don’t use the word lightly as I used to be prone to do…I mean bold, underline, italic…I HATE my boss.
Debbie, (and this may be passive-aggressive, but I only call her that here because she hates it so) has a mop of crazy, frizzy, bleached hair, is in her mid-forties, has fake nails, and wears clothes that I suppose may be somewhat stylish to someone. She has a dozen children (or, at least she would have you believe that by the way she complains about the “army”) and a husband who, so far as I can tell, does nothing but hang out at the office and get in the way of my work. She often complains about being broke in order to excuse her workaholic tendencies despite the fact that she makes at least two-hundred grand a year. She is one of those people who thinks that she knows what the finer things in life are has staunch standards. What this means is that she likes painfully consistent and uninteresting restaurants, moderately priced alcohol, has a housekeeper come over once a week, spends a lot of money on things that really aren’t up to par, but doesn’t know that a liberal self-professed snob such as myself finds her completely and utterly absurd. Simply put, she embodies everything I claim to resent. When it comes right down to it, she’s like everyone else who comes into the store – a redneck with money.
Most of our customers work in construction of some kind. I’m sure somewhere in the mix there is a lone worker who feels isolated and lonely because he finds the humour of his co-workers strident, their hygiene disgusting and their intelligence lacking, but as of yet I haven’t come across any and therefore I grant myself the unfair liberty to speak about them in rash generalizations. It’s incredible how naïve I used to be. I used to think that the average person wasn’t racist, sexist, etc. What I’ve come to discover through a series of painful conversations with the aforementioned persons is that this is quite untrue. I’ve never been treated so belligerently as I have been at this job. This is probably the root of my hatred for Debbie. These uneducated, arrogant fucks come into the store and Deb goes out of her way to cater to their every desire…yes, she’d probably do that if they paid her enough. Everything is funny and is accompanied by a desperate cackle that tries to ask “can we pretend we’re friends?” This would only be a minor annoyance if it weren’t accompanied by an expectation that I do the same. I don’t and I won’t. I only have two arms and I’m already doing the job of two people since she hasn’t bothered to think about replacing the employee who left three weeks ago. She also has no qualms about blaming others for things that go wrong.
This entry was hard to write. I thought I had writers block but now I realize that it was just because I don’t care. I don’t want to hate or even dislike anyone. I just want a little peace, I want to spend my time doing something I actually care about. Why do we do this to ourselves? I need to eat, so I’m in the midst of looking for something else, but going to another job I hate seems like a complete waste of time. So, I plan on taking a huge risk. That’s the only way to recover from this torpid period. If there are any of you out there who are having a similar experience, I urge you to think about how you will remember the time you had when you are old(er). It seems somewhat suicidal to just let it slip away.
Valiant steps have been made towards a less abrasive outlook on the world, towards something more fulfilling. It seems like every time I decide to abandon my usual cynicism someone has to go and fuck it all up. Case in point: I spent the last month doing yoga and eating properly, sleeping well and reading more. Things have improved, slightly, but there is still something standing between myself and the Zen state of mind I so desire. I’m very disturbed by the fact that I could ever hate anyone as much as I hate my boss. And I don’t use the word lightly as I used to be prone to do…I mean bold, underline, italic…I HATE my boss.
Debbie, (and this may be passive-aggressive, but I only call her that here because she hates it so) has a mop of crazy, frizzy, bleached hair, is in her mid-forties, has fake nails, and wears clothes that I suppose may be somewhat stylish to someone. She has a dozen children (or, at least she would have you believe that by the way she complains about the “army”) and a husband who, so far as I can tell, does nothing but hang out at the office and get in the way of my work. She often complains about being broke in order to excuse her workaholic tendencies despite the fact that she makes at least two-hundred grand a year. She is one of those people who thinks that she knows what the finer things in life are has staunch standards. What this means is that she likes painfully consistent and uninteresting restaurants, moderately priced alcohol, has a housekeeper come over once a week, spends a lot of money on things that really aren’t up to par, but doesn’t know that a liberal self-professed snob such as myself finds her completely and utterly absurd. Simply put, she embodies everything I claim to resent. When it comes right down to it, she’s like everyone else who comes into the store – a redneck with money.
Most of our customers work in construction of some kind. I’m sure somewhere in the mix there is a lone worker who feels isolated and lonely because he finds the humour of his co-workers strident, their hygiene disgusting and their intelligence lacking, but as of yet I haven’t come across any and therefore I grant myself the unfair liberty to speak about them in rash generalizations. It’s incredible how naïve I used to be. I used to think that the average person wasn’t racist, sexist, etc. What I’ve come to discover through a series of painful conversations with the aforementioned persons is that this is quite untrue. I’ve never been treated so belligerently as I have been at this job. This is probably the root of my hatred for Debbie. These uneducated, arrogant fucks come into the store and Deb goes out of her way to cater to their every desire…yes, she’d probably do that if they paid her enough. Everything is funny and is accompanied by a desperate cackle that tries to ask “can we pretend we’re friends?” This would only be a minor annoyance if it weren’t accompanied by an expectation that I do the same. I don’t and I won’t. I only have two arms and I’m already doing the job of two people since she hasn’t bothered to think about replacing the employee who left three weeks ago. She also has no qualms about blaming others for things that go wrong.
This entry was hard to write. I thought I had writers block but now I realize that it was just because I don’t care. I don’t want to hate or even dislike anyone. I just want a little peace, I want to spend my time doing something I actually care about. Why do we do this to ourselves? I need to eat, so I’m in the midst of looking for something else, but going to another job I hate seems like a complete waste of time. So, I plan on taking a huge risk. That’s the only way to recover from this torpid period. If there are any of you out there who are having a similar experience, I urge you to think about how you will remember the time you had when you are old(er). It seems somewhat suicidal to just let it slip away.
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