Spleen Venting

It’s been a less than decent week for me.  I didn’t get as much done at work as I would have liked.  I spent too much time trying to figure shit out and not enough actually doing shit.  And too much time complaining about not having enough time because we don’t have enough people.  I haven’t been in a great mood all week.  Today was about more than I could take.  I do more than I need to do for less pay than I’m worth, not that I’m going to complain but so much about how much I get paid.  It’s less about the money than about the fact that I’m not exactly a grunt any more, and I should be compensated for that monetarily and with the deference one should pay to a supervisor.  I don’t ask people do to or not do things just for the hell of it.  When I ask someone to please not do something, please fucking not do it.  How hard is that?  And how many fucking times do I have to say that?  But then, given the experience I’ve got behind me, do I need to have the supervisor title in order for people to realize I fucking know what I’m talking about?  I don’t know.  It’s not just the work load/staffing issue that needs to change.  There are culture things that need to change, too.  I’ve got ideas on that, but again, does 12 years experience in this line of work afford me the clout to do anything more than bitch about it with my co-workers?

Also, can I work somewhere where the girls don’t panic when the printer stops working?  No wonder I think of myself as a man so often.  I have to be a man at work to deal with the prissy ladies.  Maybe it’s less a gender thing than a drama thing.  If something stops working, either fix it or call someone who can.  Don’t stand there and act like you’ve never seen a printer get fucked up before.  Of course, maybe the printer thing got to me this morning because my skin was already worn thin from the rest of the week.  Whatever the actual reason for my anger, it stayed with me pretty much all day.

Thus, spleen venting rather than brain dumping.

My parents will be visiting tomorrow, taking a break from the long drive up from Winter Springs, FL where they’ve been for my step-dad’s brother’s funeral.  It’s a long drive even to here, but that gives me time to clean the house before they get here.  I will be glad to see them, though, and I probably wouldn’t have gotten around to cleaning if they weren’t coming.

So, that’s my venting.  Now I’ll refill the spleen with Southern Comfort.

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3 thoughts on “Spleen Venting

  1. Empathy …so much empathy. And a little dark soul searching with some spatters and viscious matter. Supervisor title doesn’t earn you the help just some sharp tools aimed at your spine when you go to work. Been there done that…the T-Shirt is long forgotten.

    Girly girls don’t rock any work environment unless it’s clothing optional or reliant on tips. You may recall my calling ex-coworker IR (Idiot Receptionist) because not only couldn’t she do the job she was paid for but she had hysterics over all sorts of stupid things. *sigh* Don’t miss that job just the $$$ was better.

    Hope you getting some writing in soon. Miss your tales.

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