An Intelligent Brother, a Marvelous Boyfriend and a Stupid Boss Walk into a Bar

It’s like they know.  It’s like my job knows when I’m having (or will have, if you look at the links) a spectacular weekend.  My job knows and plots on how to best piss me off come Monday morning (or whatever day I happen to be returning [or leaving]).

Of course, I had a fantastic weekend.  IP was in town, visiting and joining in on my brother’s birthday celebrations (M is 16–what the hell, where did the time go?  Soon he’ll be off to college!).  I tell you, this lessened distance between us is sweet.  Hop on a plane and you’re smiling at each other in an hour or so?  Nifty.  That’s not to say I don’t want to close up the distance–I’m trying my hardest to do that–but planning a trip out west is a much more deliberate, slower process.  This one, given a good airfare and a free weekend, can happen at the spur of the moment.  Woohoo!

Anyway, IP and I spent the weekend calling each other jerks, having a pillow fight in front of my siblings, eating my little brother’s extremely fattening but extremely delicious cake, and dozing.  I personally voted for Sunday mornings, once we’re living in the same area, to be our dozing day.  We sleep in until whatever the hell time we feel like, getting up at whatever the hell time we feel like.  IP then mentioned that I would have to get up at some point to make him mole (that’s pronounced moh-leh)–which I don’t know how to make, by the way.  Overall, it was a great weekend–unfortunately (or not, depending on your point of view), I ended up with a new tagline for the blog that tells the reader the magnitude of my jerkiness.

Yet, work intrudes.  It was a day when we had to go into the office, so I secured a car and did so.  I waited for my tape to show up because, on weekends before the days we go into the office, my boss assigns my project to another person for recording.  When we’re not going to meet, I get it, but he always gives it to someone else the weekend before a meeting at the office.

But guess what?

. . .

Yes, that’s right, he assigned it to me to record but failed to send me the fucking assignment sheet.  He never sends me the sheet, in fact–I always have to remind him that I’ll be recording my own projects during weekends that aren’t followed by meetings.  Seriously, how absentminded is this man?  Scratch that, I don’t even care.  But it’s these types of idiotic actions that always affect me and make me feel like I’m not even an employee of my goddamned company.  I’m always the last to know these types of things because I’m never included in the emails.  I’ve requested that I be informed, but has that ever happened?  Nope.  I was pissed and made sure the whole office knew it.  The apologist and suck-up in the office said, "Maybe he just forgot" to which I snapped back, "Yeah, like every single week."  I don’t care if my bitchiness gets back to my boss (who was out today, by the way)–I’m sick of being treated like I’m inconsequential except the times when he thinks I’ve screwed up somehow (and 9.999999999 times out of 10, I have not screwed up at all because I am very diligent with my clients’ projects).  When I finally get the opportunity to quit and I go through an exit interview and I’m asked if, knowing what I know now, would I take the job again, I’ll say no.  One of my reasons (there are many) will be that I never felt like a part of the company and was always out of the loop.  There are major communication issues and I hate working for a company that can’t connect on some level unless I ask one billion questions that my boss can’t even answer.

Okay, deep breaths, deep breaths.  While I’m angry, I’m not clawing at the walls like other times.  The first thought after expressing my absolute disdain for the man?  That soon, through some hard work and determination, I will be spirited away from this place and this job and will be in a position that’s better suited to my talents.  And making more (that’s a no-brainer since I need the money to live in the new place).  And waking up on pleasant Sundays at noon with my head resting against IP’s shoulder.  Deep breaths.

That’s better.  Like I said, I’m angry, but I’ll live and eventually gain my freedom.