Shame and Disgruntlement
One of my husband's best qualities is his interest in encouraging me to be a better human being. The fact that such encouragement sometimes takes the form of triple-dog dares does not detract in the least from the altruistic nature of his prodding.
The thing is, part of the reason we even had these blogs to begin with was to keep up with and entertain each other. Now that we live together, we have the eternal joy and ecstasy of each other's company all the time. Blogging just seems redundant. So I've been slack about updating because I hadn't yet come up with a reason to blog outside of making inside jokes, and reminding my darling significant other about the deaths of people who matter (or, as he puts it, "You and your fucking calendar.").
Today, however, I find myself in need of expressing annoyance and hostility. These are directed at my co-workers, and, quite frankly, Zander is weary of hearing me bitch about them. But my blog? Ah, sweet blog, you never tire of my effusive emotional rants! So, without further ado, my Letter Never Sent:
Dear Co-Workers,
I received an email from one of you letting me know that the printer near your desk is running out of toner. I'm sure you received my reply reminding you that the box of toner is right next to the printer, because not 3 minutes later, I received another email from YOUR supervisor asking me to change the toner. Now, why am I expected to perform this task? I sincerely doubt it's because of my helpful nature and because I'm an all-around nice person. It's probably because I'm an admin. But not just ANY admin; I'm your department admin. Or am I?
See, when the company decided not to have a holiday party this year (no money in the budget for that sort of frivolity -- thank God we still have enough money to give the executive officers 100% bonuses!), I thought to myself, we should still plan a department luncheon or something. I was actually walking through the cube farm, delivering mail to the folks in my department and contemplating a small holiday get-together, when I heard the two senior members of the department talking about having just such a get-together, and which restaurant to pick. Satisfied that the planning would not fall to me, I smiled to myself and went about my rounds.
And then came the day that one of the senior members e-mailed me, reminding me that she was leaving early, and to make sure that I finished the work that she had to sign off on before she left. No problem. I'm a team player like that. Later that day, however, I walked the 15 yards from my cube to the department group's cubes (my cube having moved when the Big Bossman moved a couple of doors down, and he's not secure unless he can see my cube from his office), and discovered no one around. Computers off, chairs pushed in. I queried someone from the next cube set over, "Where IS everyone?" "Isn't today the day they were having their holiday luncheon and then leaving early?" came the reply.
Ah. I see. My department had a holiday luncheon, all right, but I wasn't invited. Not only was I not invited, I was told to get my work done early so that they could go and not miss their party.
Now, having been a secretary/admin for a number of years, I've experienced some rude and downright dehumanizing comments and behavior from co-workers and supervisors. I would have to say, though, this little incident is probably the most hurtful and made me the most angry. Maybe that's because I've been here longer than all of you (except you, Crazy Cat Lady) and I trained half of you to do the jobs you're doing now. Or maybe it was because I fooled myself into thinking that we were kind of Work Friends. I kept it together for the rest of the day, but I cried all the way home. I. Fucking. Cried. That's weak, yo.
I haven't said anything to any of you about this because it would make me look petty and petulant. So I changed your fucking toner.
But two weeks from tomorrow, I'm leaving, and you won't have Ilse to kick around any more. Have fun fending for yourselves, bitches. What's that? You can't figure out that journal entry from 18 months ago, because the system changed and no one else there has that sort of institutional knowledge? You can't find the 900 account files? You don't know what things need to be done when? Sounds like something your admin would know, if you had one. I bet she had all kinds of procedures written up, templates for recurring items, detailed files...huh. Shame about that, innit?
Fuck you,
Ilse
There. I feel better now, and my blog is updated. Bonus!
The thing is, part of the reason we even had these blogs to begin with was to keep up with and entertain each other. Now that we live together, we have the eternal joy and ecstasy of each other's company all the time. Blogging just seems redundant. So I've been slack about updating because I hadn't yet come up with a reason to blog outside of making inside jokes, and reminding my darling significant other about the deaths of people who matter (or, as he puts it, "You and your fucking calendar.").
Today, however, I find myself in need of expressing annoyance and hostility. These are directed at my co-workers, and, quite frankly, Zander is weary of hearing me bitch about them. But my blog? Ah, sweet blog, you never tire of my effusive emotional rants! So, without further ado, my Letter Never Sent:
Dear Co-Workers,
I received an email from one of you letting me know that the printer near your desk is running out of toner. I'm sure you received my reply reminding you that the box of toner is right next to the printer, because not 3 minutes later, I received another email from YOUR supervisor asking me to change the toner. Now, why am I expected to perform this task? I sincerely doubt it's because of my helpful nature and because I'm an all-around nice person. It's probably because I'm an admin. But not just ANY admin; I'm your department admin. Or am I?
See, when the company decided not to have a holiday party this year (no money in the budget for that sort of frivolity -- thank God we still have enough money to give the executive officers 100% bonuses!), I thought to myself, we should still plan a department luncheon or something. I was actually walking through the cube farm, delivering mail to the folks in my department and contemplating a small holiday get-together, when I heard the two senior members of the department talking about having just such a get-together, and which restaurant to pick. Satisfied that the planning would not fall to me, I smiled to myself and went about my rounds.
And then came the day that one of the senior members e-mailed me, reminding me that she was leaving early, and to make sure that I finished the work that she had to sign off on before she left. No problem. I'm a team player like that. Later that day, however, I walked the 15 yards from my cube to the department group's cubes (my cube having moved when the Big Bossman moved a couple of doors down, and he's not secure unless he can see my cube from his office), and discovered no one around. Computers off, chairs pushed in. I queried someone from the next cube set over, "Where IS everyone?" "Isn't today the day they were having their holiday luncheon and then leaving early?" came the reply.
Ah. I see. My department had a holiday luncheon, all right, but I wasn't invited. Not only was I not invited, I was told to get my work done early so that they could go and not miss their party.
Now, having been a secretary/admin for a number of years, I've experienced some rude and downright dehumanizing comments and behavior from co-workers and supervisors. I would have to say, though, this little incident is probably the most hurtful and made me the most angry. Maybe that's because I've been here longer than all of you (except you, Crazy Cat Lady) and I trained half of you to do the jobs you're doing now. Or maybe it was because I fooled myself into thinking that we were kind of Work Friends. I kept it together for the rest of the day, but I cried all the way home. I. Fucking. Cried. That's weak, yo.
I haven't said anything to any of you about this because it would make me look petty and petulant. So I changed your fucking toner.
But two weeks from tomorrow, I'm leaving, and you won't have Ilse to kick around any more. Have fun fending for yourselves, bitches. What's that? You can't figure out that journal entry from 18 months ago, because the system changed and no one else there has that sort of institutional knowledge? You can't find the 900 account files? You don't know what things need to be done when? Sounds like something your admin would know, if you had one. I bet she had all kinds of procedures written up, templates for recurring items, detailed files...huh. Shame about that, innit?
Fuck you,
Ilse
There. I feel better now, and my blog is updated. Bonus!
posted by ilse at 12:56 PM
8 Comments:
Hey Sami!
Somebody updated your Bloggy thing!
I know it sounds cliche, Ilse, but I'm gonna say it anyway.
Mean People SUCK!
Those selfish inconsiderate assholes, they don't deserve you!
I hate that they made you cry
Fuck Them!
( you should think about maybe blogging something sometimes, you know, just for the people who don't live in your house)
Good riddance to them. You're moving on to bigger and better things. And hopefully much better people.
I agree. The folks not living in your house need to read your blog....
But no deliberate sabotage, sweetie. It's all the sweeter to think how fraked up they'll be despite your best efforts...
And you won't have to cross that fraking bridge twice a day either, yes?
And your squiggles require me to type fowzer. Cool.
What assholes! If they had any sense, they would have been bringing you gifts and asking to lick your toes on break. Bastiges!
Yo, Dot-eye, can I lick your toes?
Oops. Hi, Ilse.
No. But I'll watch while you lick Ilse's toes.
My understanding is that you'll be free in the middle mornings for a bit? Happily, my schedule also lines up that way -- we should get together and hang out, maybe play some Civ4, or yahtzee-of-cataan. It would be great, and I am sure it wouldn't bother Landru. At. All.
:)
Good ferya, and lets do lunch!
for $5K, I know people who could take care of the whole lot for you. Just say the word.
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