Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Take This BLOG and Shove It...
“And I said, I don't care if they lay me off either, because I told, I told Bill that if they move my desk one more time...then...then I'm...I'm quitting. I'm going to quit. And, and I told Don too, because they've moved my desk four times already this year, and I used to be over by the window, and I could see the squirrels, and they were merry, but then, they switched from the Swingline to the Boston stapler, but I kept my Swingline stapler because it didn't bind up as much, and I kept the staples for the Swingline stapler and it's not okay because if they take my stapler then I'll set the building on fire... "
Stephen Root as Milton Waddams in Office Space
I was sitting here watching the snow melt today and I decided to write about my last few jobs....more specifically...my last few employers.
I actually wrote for about 20 minutes. 20 minutes, sadly, I will never have again. And as I was sitting there, staring at the keyboard, trying to decide if I wanted to use the word “asshole” or the word “tool” .....it came to me.
What the fuck was I doing?
Was I seriously going to waste any more of my time...my life...having anything to do with you? Hell no. HELL-to-the-no-to-the-exclamation-point! (But if push had come to shove, “tool” was really the better choice. Look in the mirror. You'll see what I'm talking about.)
I'm done. I'm done with you and I'm done with your shit.
I no longer have to breathe in your negativity and your paranoia and your insecurity. My lungs are clear. I'm breathing the fresh air of doing my own thing without being taken to task for doing the exact thing I was hired to do. I'm smelling the sweet aroma now of knowing that what I do is right....who I am is a good person...the confidence that I am a good manager and a hardworker and that people in my employ liked me.
I'm breathing in something you will never know. Confident satisfaction.
I gotta say...it feels good. REAL good.
I don't wish you any ill will. I really don't. I don't need to. You're gonna bring it down on yourself easily enough.
But I also don't wish you any good luck, either. You sucked all the good-will out me you could...right before you dumped me. There's nothing left for you any more. Bar's closed.
I'm gonna move on with my life and forget about you....mostly.
And I say mostly because it is important to remember the way you acted. And not because I want to live my life reliving the past. I want to put together a little data base of warning signs so that if I ever find myself in a similar situation, I want to be able to say "This isn't working. What's wrong? Let's work on this together." Instead of you coming up and saying "Thanks for killing yourself for my business-thanks for doing all those things I never could-thanks for making my customers happy and the place more efficient-but I hate you because-well-because I am petty and jealous and small-minded and irrational-and I just don't need you anymore. Get out."
I want to remember those things. I need to.
Because I will never work for someone like you again.
If I could leave you with any parting thoughts it would be this.
Stop what you're doing. You're lousy at it. You really do suck. Seriously. I mean s-u-c-k. You could fuck up a lemonade stand. In about a week. I mean they would take away your little wooden stand you made from old pallets you found behind UKROPS. They would take away your Dixie cups and your pitcher and your little jar of nickels and dimes.
Sure you would bitch and complain that it wasn't your fault. No. it was the guy who mixed the lemonade's fault. It was the guy who built the sidewalk and who didn't level the wet cement-thus creating a slant which threw off people's equilibrium thus creating an inner-ear discomfort which resulted in them not craving your watered-down, poorly marketed lemonade.
Your business-or rather-your lack of business-is a direct result of you. It has to be. And that is so sad, because the business itself is good. People enjoy it. They just don't enjoy YOU. And that really is sad.
It's a good product with a bad rep. And you know where that rep came from?
Time for you to stand in front of the mirror again.
Its kind of like putting the most delicious chocolate in a package-I'm talking countries would go to war over this chocolate-the Easter Bunny would keep it for himself good-damn good chocolate that melts in your mouth and taste like good sex, I'm talking really, really good chocolate....
And so...you got this great chocolate and you decided to put Adolf Hitler's picture on the package and then you let Hitler do his own commercials and be the spokesman for the chocolate and anytime people want to enjoy their chocolate, there's Hitler, with that stupid little mustache, being all crazy and shit and yelling and shouting and doing that thing with his eyes that makes you want to take him out back and shoot him like Old Yeller.
(Yeah. I know. Hitler's dead. That's not the point here, Genius. The point here is that I am comparing you to Hitler.) Harsh? Nah. I think it works. Not in the mass-murderer sense, but in the sense that you were crazy and a littl evil and trying to run your business like a dictatorship.
Pay attention. Put down the wine. Stop looking at your photos of....oh...I dunno....let's say your vacation to Mexico (how could you afford that, by the way, i'm curious...especially since you didn't have the money to pay me...Oh well...I'm sure you looked really fat in your bathing suit) Put down your copy of The Hopeless Idiot's Guide....to whatever...I'm sure you have several versions that apply to many aspects of your professional life.
Open your eyes and your mind and your heart. It's there somewhere, I'm sure.
Well, that's it. The last 6 minutes I will ever spend on you.
Ahhh......there's that fresh air again. Feels good. Can you smell it? Can you feel it?
Oh. That's right. You can't.
Too bad. How sad.
that's Jody with a “y”