Sometimes a rider leaves her room key on purpose. Or so I assume. This wasn’t that time.
Actually, Eric the fuckface inspired the title. This asshole decided to hoard work. He checked out 25% of the remaining work in a project. No one else could work it. Then he took a break because “fuck you, I got mine.” This after we all got an email saying once your batch is done, you’re done. So, the people wanting to work hit the road, and selfish Eric milks the clock.
Fuck you Eric. Continue reading “Wanna Make $14 the Hard Way?”
What a difference a year makes, huh? Thanks for the 2 a.m. conversation and the advice. And for testing the claim and finding it without merit.
That someone had been in your house while you were out?
I felt like Goldilocks yesterday. Front doors were unlocked. WTH? Dogs acted like they were looking for someone else to be there.
I assume it was DHS thugs following up on some 4th Amendment violation they committed with some ongoing due process violation. Or someone even less welcome.
EDIT: To compound the weirdness. I crashed ()in my own bed while chatting with Bella Friday night. Saturday morning, I woke up and heard voices in the next room. “Who the fuck is in my house?” I wondered to the dogs, through the wall.
It was the TV, on CNN headline news, a channel I never watch. Weird, huh?
10 years ago, +/- a few minutes, my wife wondered out loud in bed whether we should get a divorce. I said yes, relieved that she was thinking what I had thought for a while. That was all I needed – to not be the bastard imposing this change on her. Now it was “our” idea, not just mine.
Sorry, kids. Mom and Dad need to be shortsighted and selfish for a while.
Ten years ago today was a Sunday. A watershed, threshold, punctuated equilibrium Sunday.
Sorry about your spine, Mr. Camel. (No, not him.)
in a weird sort of way…
I have a hard job. The pay is low for the qualifications they require. It is also an exempt position – no overtime,
no breaks on the clock [Ed.: recently changed.]. They only pay for time they can bill to someone.
That’s all fine. Where it went off the track is last night.
I was sitting around a rectangle of tables like the ones where I work. Steven was there, Amorette, others. We were having our weekly meetings, right out of the Jonathan J. Shithead business planner.
God I was bored.
Then Ron came back in the room to tell us we were going to go over the briefs we were supposed to write. I was happy to help Steven – again. But I hadn’t written mine. I hadn’t even started. I wasn’t even aware of this assignment, so I spent furious minutes thinking of why this oversight was not worth my head on a stick.
Then I woke up, and it was just a different version of the one class left and one test before I can graduate dream. NBFD, except for the failure to keep the real work world out of my head.
My question is simple. If I have to dream about the real world, why can’t it be living out the “how you doin‘ ” banter of a couple of phone calls from this week?