Shirking for the man
I work at a post-production facility in Hollywood. We help crime dramas get on TV & we help student films get to the "rejected" pile at film-festivals. And I hate every nanosecond of it.
It wasn't always like this. I used to work at another, similar job, just down the street. I had worked my way up from delivering videotapes in a goofy-looking company car to supervising the account-executives at the company's corporate headquarters. I had been the employee of the month, & employee of the year. It could've been a lot worse.
But then we were bought out, & a new CEO, CFO, & some other SOBs were brought on board. I had a new boss, new staff, & new responsibilities. I hated all of them. %99 of my friends at wwork were fired, one ofter the other. My job started keeping me up nights & making me not much fun to be around. Yeah, yeah, we all have jobs we hate, I know...but this is my blog, so keep your problems to yourselves until I'm finished, please. Anyways, it got to be where I wanted out so bad I would take a paycut & work shitty hours if it meant getting away from that awful place. And lo & behold, a friend who worked here (where I'm at now) put in a good word for me, & got me an interview here. Well, I totally tanked the interview but I guess no one else applied, because I got a job here. The day I found out, I gave notice. Then I decided to give them the same notice they gave my friends, & that was it. I told my new job I could start in a week, & took that week off. I slept in & watched Columbo. It was fun.
So my new job was ok, I guess. Same pay, which was good, & the hours were decent. It didn't exactly give my life meaning, but I was able to pay my bills & still have enough to take my girlfriend to El Coyote on the weekends.
And then?
And then the same bastards, the same human paraquats, they bought this place out too. Can you fucking believe it? Now I gotta answer to them again, & work with that ship of fools I bailed out of last year. Sometimes it gets me down, like when they lay a bunch of people off on paydays, but what can you do. They haven't let anyone from my department go yet, but I don;t have any illusions about it, I know I'm the low man on the totem-pole, & I'm ok with it. That's why I blog at work! Anyways, I'm half-hoping to get laid off so I can be done with it, & half terrified of not being able to pay my bills & still take my girlfriend to El Coyote on the weekends.
Every day, more e-mails on new policies, which are prompyly revised, rejected, & forgotten, usualyy inthat order. Everyday, more motivational jargon & capped smiles. And every day, I care a little less. That's not true...a lot less. That old addage about 100 monkeys trying to type "Hamlet" is as close as I can describe it to the unanointed. Luckily, I can see the humor in it so I usually don't get too riled up. I'm also counting down to February, when I'll get my certificate form the Nick Harris Detective Agency & Academy, & can find some work that won't zombify me the way this psyche-ward does.
I'm not going to lie, I considered trying to get fired. Could I say, "I would prefer not to," whenever someone asks me to do something? The only snag is, these guys know how to screw disgruntled ex-employees out of their unemployment checks. At least that's what my friends who were fired have told me. Dammit. I guess I'll be back here tomorrow morning after all.
Ah, Bartleby...
It wasn't always like this. I used to work at another, similar job, just down the street. I had worked my way up from delivering videotapes in a goofy-looking company car to supervising the account-executives at the company's corporate headquarters. I had been the employee of the month, & employee of the year. It could've been a lot worse.
But then we were bought out, & a new CEO, CFO, & some other SOBs were brought on board. I had a new boss, new staff, & new responsibilities. I hated all of them. %99 of my friends at wwork were fired, one ofter the other. My job started keeping me up nights & making me not much fun to be around. Yeah, yeah, we all have jobs we hate, I know...but this is my blog, so keep your problems to yourselves until I'm finished, please. Anyways, it got to be where I wanted out so bad I would take a paycut & work shitty hours if it meant getting away from that awful place. And lo & behold, a friend who worked here (where I'm at now) put in a good word for me, & got me an interview here. Well, I totally tanked the interview but I guess no one else applied, because I got a job here. The day I found out, I gave notice. Then I decided to give them the same notice they gave my friends, & that was it. I told my new job I could start in a week, & took that week off. I slept in & watched Columbo. It was fun.
So my new job was ok, I guess. Same pay, which was good, & the hours were decent. It didn't exactly give my life meaning, but I was able to pay my bills & still have enough to take my girlfriend to El Coyote on the weekends.
And then?
And then the same bastards, the same human paraquats, they bought this place out too. Can you fucking believe it? Now I gotta answer to them again, & work with that ship of fools I bailed out of last year. Sometimes it gets me down, like when they lay a bunch of people off on paydays, but what can you do. They haven't let anyone from my department go yet, but I don;t have any illusions about it, I know I'm the low man on the totem-pole, & I'm ok with it. That's why I blog at work! Anyways, I'm half-hoping to get laid off so I can be done with it, & half terrified of not being able to pay my bills & still take my girlfriend to El Coyote on the weekends.
Every day, more e-mails on new policies, which are prompyly revised, rejected, & forgotten, usualyy inthat order. Everyday, more motivational jargon & capped smiles. And every day, I care a little less. That's not true...a lot less. That old addage about 100 monkeys trying to type "Hamlet" is as close as I can describe it to the unanointed. Luckily, I can see the humor in it so I usually don't get too riled up. I'm also counting down to February, when I'll get my certificate form the Nick Harris Detective Agency & Academy, & can find some work that won't zombify me the way this psyche-ward does.
I'm not going to lie, I considered trying to get fired. Could I say, "I would prefer not to," whenever someone asks me to do something? The only snag is, these guys know how to screw disgruntled ex-employees out of their unemployment checks. At least that's what my friends who were fired have told me. Dammit. I guess I'll be back here tomorrow morning after all.
Ah, Bartleby...
posted by I. P. Frehley at 6:46 PM
1 Comments:
I dont suggest getting yourself fired. Ye olde HR director in the HW facility was the one who was kniving and did what she could to fuck you out of anything good (like unemployment) Try slipping and hitting your head on the concrete stairs. Try jumping on a paticulartly weak spot of the back deck (the part the termites have chewed thru.) try getting bit by the rat in the office. Try getting food poisoning from the poorly cleaned yogurt machine. They cant feel that bad about giving you cash if they have maimed or almost killed you. Above all DONT SLEEP WITH ANYONE THERE! They might make you president of the company.
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