I'm So Done...

I had a small epiphany today. While I was busy negotiating over the phone and typing up reports (i.e. reading sports blogs and closing/opening Outlook to create the illusion I was doing work), I realized I have to keep writing. Too often I come onto the computer after a long day and after eating some bland dinner (you'll never see me cooking anything exotic beyond beef stir fry...and even that comes with instructions for the most part) and catching up on the various blogs I actually can't check at work (stupid firewall), I just troll around until it's time to shower and sleep. That is a really bad existence. Which brings me back to writing. It was, no, is, the one thing I actually still have going for me. Granted, I don't see myself writing the next great American novel (I wouldn't be bad at the whole James Frey thing though, I think...just because it only requires a vivid imagination and a really convincing stare), but I know I am capable of putting words, thoughts, ideas, on paper that people can relate to and maybe even laugh at. My goal when I started this was to be about the daily happenings at my job, to highlight the absurdity and terribleness of it all, and also to keep me half-sane in knowing that maybe somewhere, someone, could understand what I was dealing with, and how it seemed like I was slowly losing my fight with the darkside. But, after thinking about it, I knew that I wasn't. I was winning, because while most people I worked with would go home and wait for the next work day, I was at least doing something I still enjoyed. And who knows? Maybe someone will read this and think to themselves, "This kid may be onto something. Let's give him a million dollars and all the women he wants." Or, more likely, it'll go unnoticed in the general blogosphere, right in between Lonelygrl15 and any blog about Twilight. Either way, I need to keep on this. Someone remind me. Or just not read. Most tend to take the latter anyway.

The biggest news at ye old working hole (does that work? Didn't think so) is the reshuffling of management. They can't hire anyone new because their budget deficit is something like (puts pinky to side of lip) OVER 500 MILLION DOLLARS. So there's just no money to promote some other outside person and convert them into the cubicle zombie they crave. It's much easier to just take one of the already programmed drones and put them into another undeserved place of leadership.

Now, I'm actually happy with the movement being done in my department. A lot of people have taken this early retirement program (I call it "Cash for Clunkers") and will cash out their mountains of sick time, vacation time, overtime, and personal days along with receiving a cap of $20,000 on top of that. It's pretty ridiculous when you think about it. Other companies give out sick time likes it's gruel for Oliver Twist, and you have this company issuing a sick day a month. Vacation is also laughable; after less than 10 years I believe you move up to about five weeks of time off. Really? And while you would think most people would take this time and, oh I don't know, NOT BE AT WORK, most just bank it and wait until retirement so they can cash it out. Then add in personal leave days, floating holidays, days off because you have an A in your name, and the amount of money this place will be paying out to these dinosaurs would make you cry. And it's not even going to make a difference. This will cover what, a 100 grand? Wow, great plan, now you're only about $500 million short of your goal! And I have to worry about a paycut...

But I digress. The one person in my unit accepting this generous offer will be known as Leatherface. She also has been lovingly nicknamed "Gator" by me due to her rough exterior and actual resemblance to an actual alligator. She was introduced to me on my second day or so, when she threatened another co-worker who was in her second week with "taking her into the backroom" and teaching her something. I felt immediately welcomed into this warm environment. Her punishment for such an egregious act? Suspension without pay? Termination? Sat on by the 700 pound man with the mailorder wife? D, none of the above. Her desk was moved, to, get this, the other side of the victim's partition. It's equivalent to a mugger moving in next door to a jogger he just robbed. Because you see, at this wonderful place, they don't cut the cancer out, they just put a band-aid over it and hope it heals.

At least she is leaving. She tended to play by her own rules, obviously. Wore whatever she wanted (a favorite piece of clothing was a Black Dog t-shirt, something I referenced before). Sawe her on numerous times yell at her superiors, and them backing down like a battered wife who just can't put up a fight anymore. What I'll remember most about her is her weirdness, as if that wasn't apparent already. For one, she never ate any sweets. We used to have these ridiculous parties for people's birthdays within the group, which consisted of mostly awkward banter and cake, and she never partook in anything, always coming up with some strange excuse as to why she couldn't eat it, like her teeth would fall out or that she was full. It was really annoying; I paid like $10 minimum for these annoying little get togethers, and the least this woman could do was take something back to her desk. Throw it out, give it to someone, do whatever, just at least do something. Going out in public for lunches was even worse. She wasn't the only perpetrator here, but she was definitely one of the biggest offenders. It got to the point I was highly embarrassed to be around this woman. The funny thing was, as much as she was basically, a bitch to everyone, she loved me. Always gave me supplies (her one ounce of responsibility--in charge of supplies and creating a purchase order distribution list) and also notarized any document I needed, no matter how many copies and how fast a timeframe I needed them in. I don't even talk to her anymore, only if I have to. Safe to say, I won't be lining up for her retirement party anytime soon...mostly because she won't be having one. That's another thing, she hated attention. Even telling her happy birthday elicited her claws and bared teeth. It was like she wanted to keep some shroud of mystery around her, and didn't want to let anyone in. All I knew was that she lived in Harlem and worked part-time at Carnegie Hall, ripping tickets (as her resume on the network server stated). Maybe the retiring will enable her to turn that into a full time gig. Maybe even get her to Broadway one day. I assume that's the major leagues of ticket ripping.

The best part of all of this? Her "retirement flyer," a disturbing memo created by some simpleton within the unit showcasing that after "X amount of years and doing nothing else in their spare time, so and so is retiring! To do more of the same!" Most flyers looked like a lot of time was put into them. This one was arguably the best of all of them: Leatherface wearing said Black Dog t-shirt, glasses perched on bridge of nose, NOTARIZING. Yes, I said notarizing. She refused to have any acknowledgment of this (even turned down a free lunch), so all it said was that maybe we'd "see her in the Vineyard" one day. Out of all of the posters I've seen, and I've seen at least 50, this was definitely the worst offender of all time. I bet I know who put it together too. I can't believe she even collected a paycheck there. Oh wait, yes I do. Civil service=can't be terminated. God I love this job.

The other retirees are just as undesirable, or as one employee said, "washed up" (though he actually was referring to himself). Probably the most eccentric, after the 'Face of course, is a man who at 62 almost had to be forced to retire. A nice man, for all intents and purposes, very helpful, always there to lend a helping hand. But since being cheap is a prerequisite here, he takes it to another level. He lives fairly far into the annals of Long Island (at least that's what I visualize this vast stretch of NY landfill looking like, an area that gives New Jersey and Staten Island a solid triple threat in douchebaggery) and could easily get into work in under two hours by taking the LIRR to the MTA trains. But no, that would be too easy, friends. So let me sum up his sojourn from one nightmare into another, via bullet points:

• He leaves his house roughly before 6am, and walks about a mile to two miles to the bus station.
  
• From there, he hops on said bus and then rides that for about an hour to a MTA train heading into Manhattan.
• From that MTA train he must transfer to another train to get downtown to work.

And why is this? For the sheer fun of commuting? He has a fascination with long trips? Nope, he is just too cheap to pay for it. He doesn't pay for a Metrocard, so why pay for the LIRR, even though you make over $100,000 a year? And when you retire, you'll walk away with 80% of your salary, not counting social security. There's a real thin line between cheap and excessively cheap, and he toes that everyday. But if you knew the man, you'd realize this is just the tip of the iceberg with his eccentricities. So where do I begin? From the eating of scallion and onion sandwiches daily (and the reusing/recycling of all the tin foil used to wrap said sandwich), to the dissheveled appearance (I lost count of the number of days I saw him with ink stains in his pocket protectored front shirt pocket) and the fact that I heard his wife has "wild" eyes and appears to treat him worse than the pet dog they own, I guess I'm not surprised he leaves the house that early, only to go from one disaster to another. It's kind of tragic, but after awhile, you stop feeling sorry for people that put themselves in situations like that. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that he also used to carry about two large bags full of newspapers and who knows what else into work everyday. I once gave him two bags to keep these articles in since he was only using grocery bags, and he acted like I just gave him the Holy Grail, he was so appreciative. His gifts to his workers tops that; as he once gave the same girl who was verbally assaulted by Leatherface adorable salt and pepper shakers that were potentially given to him as a free gift for ordering something, potentially. Can't say the thought wasn't there. He is incredibly whipped by his wife, as is most men there. If you weren't single, you were in a relationship with no kids, or unhappily married to someone worse than you. The men there made you never want to tie the knot, they were so miserable. God knows what their wives must look like (shudders). They will never divorce or stand up for themselves, because that would require moxie or strength, common characteristics severely lacking in most people there.

The other ones are pretty odd too, if you couldn't guess already. There's the Haitian with the odd knot of hair on his head who is a "sex therapist" who released multiple r &b love song albums and wears the same two thin shirts every week, the Italian immigrant who's been here for 30 years and still had to have someone else record his voicemail messages because he can't speak clearly, the hippie burnout who can't remember what he did the week before and makes Ebeneezer Scrooge look like King Midas, and of course, the old hearing impaired moron who practices his golf swing in his cubicle and in empty stairwells. What an all star cast of people who worked at one place for far too long since they lacked any discernible skill or intelligence and will now enjoy their remaining golden years not doing anything before subsequently dying. As morose as that sounds, that's really what everyone there does. Work, retire, die. Nothing in between.

I'm not going to this party though. I thought long and hard about it and decided I'm done with participating in these ridiculous get togethers that make The Office's parties look like Studio 54. They are awkward affairs, mainly consisting of people with limited to no social skills interacting in a small room for an hour trying to think up things to talk about that aren't work related. I guess it's similar to putting monkeys in a room together and seeing if they'll play with each other. Usually the food is bad, the company is worse, and it's a huge waste of time. But I didn't even get to the fact that they always want money for these dreadful affairs. And a lot of it. If I had to count up the amount of hard earned cash (and, as you have read, it's very hard earned) I've had to give for retirement parties, birthday parties, lunches, colonoscopies (not literally, but I wouldn't put it past this place) it'd definitely be over $100 for everything. And that doesn't count the donations I've had to give for someone who had a child, had surgery (since everyone there is broken and not physically or mentally healthy) or just needed money. I used to donate it, no problem, figuring it was for a good cause. But after seeing the $30 price tag on this retiree lunch, I said "Enough was enough" and put my foot down. I have my own money problems, these people are getting a lot of money, what is wrong with this picture? My boss, after hearing I wasn't going to the last full scale party for the Vice President of the company, told me it was "politically" smart for me to attend these, regardless of money. As if I want to impress these people or need their help in the future. I want to be able to leave there and not be remembered. I got out of those parties, I opted out of the ludicrous Wednesday bagel club I was a part of ($1.00 a week that went up to $1.25 and then $1.50 due to a "cream cheese" fee) and just recently said goodbye to the lotto racket that I had been a member of for probably close to a year. It may only be a dollar as everyone told me, but one to two dollars every 2-3 days adds up very fast. And I'm pretty certain we will never win. I'd be willing to put my entire life on it. So you read it here first: if they win when I got out, I'll jump off my roof. It wouldn't even be that much since there's like 30 people in it. Certainly not enough to leave that place with and go on a two month trip to Europe, that's for sure. If people are going to start paying for me to attend these functions, so be it. But until that happens, I'm done. At the end of every month I should add up the amount I saved and buy something...maybe a beer. All I know is I won $50 on a scratch off, so boo yah! More than any of those people ever win or will win! FTW!

The guy organizing it is also a big reason I'm opting out of this shindig. A tall oafish fellow with horribly red eyes due to the 3-5 cats he owns (apparently his wife took them in and he just accepted it, like the good drone that he is) and a weight problem, he always appeared to be on the verge of tears everytime you saw him. He also had a very creepy and disturbing laugh, when coupled with his strange moustache, made him appear to be a pedophile or a peeping tom. He also had an odd fascination with me, like most men there do (for another time). He used to ask me about Korea since I visited there (which was the talk of the floor for a week or so, since no one else ever did anything of interest), asking if I was from North Korea (c'mon, who asks this anymore...it's like asking a Russian if they are from the U.S.S.R.) and if my family worked on the railroads (actually said to someone else and relayed to me). He had wanted me and a few of my co-workers to go up to the cabin he owned in upstate NY to hang out a few summers ago. Initially I was for it, thinking it'd be a real "man's weekend" where we'd do nothing but eat, drink, laugh, and be merry. However, after giving it more thought, I remembered who I was going with (a brain dead 30 year old idiot who made you repeat yourself every two seconds, and a guy who has committed petty arson) and who we would be visiting (the aforementioned "oaf"), I quickly realized this would be a weekend I'd surely never forget, for all the wrong reasons. I had dreams of me being sacrificed to the natives, as the oaf was a devout Catholic and adorned his cubicle with images of the Virgin Mary and various crosses everywhere, effectively spitting on the whole separation of church and state thing. Or being forced to drink kegs of beer to compete with the arsonist, and then having to haul the 250+ lb. moustached weirdo back to his cabin. It had too much of a Jason Voorhies element to it, so I kept postponing the trip farther and farther until the fat guy forgot about it. Couple in the fact Tubby also had some type of hearing problem, and that he had the social capabilities of Robert Deniro in "Awakenings", and I knew not going was one of the smartest decisions I could ever make. If his party planning was going to be anything like what I expected in the woods (just writing that makes me wonder why I ever thought going would be fun in the first place), then oh boy. I'd be in for quite a show. It's like the $10 they want me to give for Leatherface's gift, a stupid photo album I have to write in. What am I possibly supposed to write to this creature? "Thanks for notarizing my documents, even though you were required to. Also, thanks for not attacking me." Not only is it a dumb gift, the process leading up to it was even worse, with the e-mails going back and forth of what to get, the nebbish woman in my unit complaining we weren't buying a cake, and me retorting back that 'Face doesn't even eat cake, to finally deciding on this album (not me, of course). I'm not giving money for this, and I hope someone questions me about it. I'm done with the whole "happy go lucky" part of me there, they've sucked any happiness or joy out of me. Numerous people always ask me now if I'm ok since I just keep my head down and don't talk to anyone anymore, and honestly, I've never been happier. They're not getting the nice guy anymore, they're getting the angry, deflated one. But as soon as I leave, I do transform back into happy guy (not to be confused with "Happy Dude," the friendly lotto store around the corner who always greets you with a smile after you give him $100 of your earnings for non winning lotto tickets). There may be a lot I'm happy about, but it's certainly not work. Ugh, it's already Sunday afternoon and I haven't done anything and have some awful training session tomorrow that will be worse than a day of work. At least I'll get some good pizza after.