Friday, March 27, 2009

Detroit Green

What up, y'all? I was biding my time trying to gather my thoughts to post again. I have a lot of shit swimming around in my head. None of it all that urgent, but it's cluttered up there.

First off, I'd like to give a special shout out to one of my favorite (if not favorite) bloggers in the world, Aunt Jackie a.k.a. Ms. Ahmad a.k.a. The Glamazon, who graced me and TAD with her presence last Friday. We had a relatively short visit (why didn't you call, man?) but we got to laugh, break bread, drink and watch people. It felt like we've known each other forever and it's been about 4 blog years. We know blog years are longer than human years due to the level of disclosure we have online, so it was like eating with an old friend. I think we got a chance to witness somebody being relieved of their auto against their will, and that's always fun. We'll be in California soon, and we'll be wearing neutral colors.

I'm back in Satan's Anus still waiting on my reimbursement check and my rejection letter. Job hunting is hard, yo. I'm not looking right now. No other resumes have been sent out. It's sort of a weird time for me. Where I'm actually concentrating on "working" at my current "job". It's something I've never tried before. Also, I'm forced to think about where we are going to invest our forthcoming stimulus loot. Everybody with half a hustle has their hands out trying to get a contract with wth city to do a project that's not helpful or stimulating to anyone but themselves. I would personally issue a blanket "fuck you" to all comers, but of course my slack ass boss has made it my job to have meetings with these jack leg entrepreneurs as often as possible. Honestly, fuck this place.

I was driving with some co-workers to this Junior Achievement thing we were doing at one of the local high schools. Of course, I drive like I have some place to go, so that's really off-putting to native Anusites. One of my passengers was gape-mouthed because I sped through a yellow light. She asked me "Why didn't you slow down?" I said "Because yellow is a Detroit Green. It's a Satan's Anus Red." That's how I feel about this community as a whole. Mentally, I'm always trying to go and they're always trying to slow me down and keep me preoccupied with "the other" shit. I'm so sick of the other shit, but I'll do it until I can leave.


Tuesday, March 17, 2009

The Process

I spent Friday on airplanes (four of 'em), in airports (four of 'em) on a several hour tour (three of 'em) of a city I may or may not want to have a hand in redeveloping, and an hour (just one of 'em) trying to explain my suitability for a job I'm probably not suitable for.

I was asked to be in Western Massachusetts for a face-to-face interview. This was after a phone interview that I completely bombed. Why did they want me to come to follow up that performance? I pretty much said "Fuck it" and went anyway. It's a free trip (they're reimbursing me for it) and I might like it.

My biggest impression was "Wow, there are a lot of Latinos here!" I didn't imagine that there would be such a big representation of Puerto Ricans out in the middle of nowhere. The second thought was "Shit they need a lot of help". I'm inherently lazy. It's the reason I write a blog instead of writing a book. Instant gratification over a long, drawn out process. That's what I like.

So after the first part of the tour, I ate lunch with my potential staff, the department heads that would be below me. I'd like to take this time to once again thank Ba.rack, without whom the thought of me being their boss would be unbearable to most of them. I won't be their boss, but at least they would not get ill at the thought of it. I was my usual charming self, which means I once again fronted like I enjoy other people, and I got through lunch OK.

I finished up the tour of the city, and I was off to meet the mayor. He was decent dude, but I think somebody forgot to give him the memo about the phone interview. He asked me what I'd do to turn shit around and I told him it wasn't up to me to turn shit around. I'm a gotdamn facilitator. You tell me what to do, and I'll get it done. That's what I've always done, figure out how to implement someone else's vision. He beat the shit out of that dead horse, while I kept giving him answers he didn't want to hear. He thanked me for my time and had his aide take me to the airport.

Now I wait for the rejection letter and the reimbursement check.


Tuesday, March 10, 2009

True Life

"That pussy's all yours right up until after the wedding." -Wallace the Bartender

Nobody ever tells you anything worth a damn until after it's too late to do anything about it. People are glib and condescending right up until the the moment they realize the consequences are actually dire and the stakes are higher than they thought. I drink because I need to drink. I smoke because I need to smoke when I drink. I go to the gym every day because it's a habit now, not because I give a fuck about my health and well-being. It's the only socially acceptable place to be where you can actually people watch in the winter without being asked if you need anything every five minutes. Plus, zumba class is going on in a room with glass walls, so you got the perv factor going on, which is always nice.

But there is nothing that makes it easier being away from your woman. I love my wife, I love being in close proximity to her, even when we're on each others nerves. Quite frankly I'm not getting enough ass, which makes it even harder for me. I think she's OK with that, which is not OK with me, but that's another story. I think all my issues tied up with being in Satan's Anus tend to revolve around one central problem: my sex life sucks. It's been like this since I got here. I'd get dribs and drabs, but I've never fully enjoyed this place because since I arrived it's like I'm getting pussy rationed out to me. I will never apologize for loving sex. And I hate that this place has taken my one real pleasure in life and made it an occasional indulgence, like eating cheesecake or something. That's not the way sex is supposed to be. It's not the way life is supposed to be.

So I'm here, with an unsatisfying job, in an unsatisfying place, living like a gotdamn bachelor eating badly cooked meals, constantly reminding bitches I'm married, always alone, perpetually pissed off, and constantly horny, for reasons I've yet to figure out. I have always fucking hated this place, for what it is, but now mostly for what it represents.

I'm Out,

Wednesday, March 04, 2009

Nothing Much

"Go back to your fucking desk, sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up!"

That's what I'm aching to say after my secretary comes in to my office telling me she has some "positive news". "Positive" is their euphemisms for barely disguised cheap shot at one of their co-workers. "I got some good news! Jan didn't give me all the information I needed, so I called a couple of departments and I was able to track down everything you asked me for." Bitch, so what? As long as everything's there, I don't care how you got it.

I would never go into anybody's office with that load of bullshit, but they feel comfortable coming into mine. I looked at her like she was out of her mind and then told her "I don't really need to hear the story behind it, just as long as you got the information." She slinked (slunk?) out of the office looking goofy. Just sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up, just like I'm doing.

I've been a supervisor for most of my career. I thought it was due to my ability to intuitively figure out the best way to get a job done and to use that ability to lead others. Nope. I'm sure it's due to me leaving the higher ups alone and finishing a job without bugging the shit out of them. I'm sure that's the person I'd promote in a heartbeat.


Monday, March 02, 2009

Rational Vs. Irrational

I have an irrational hate of real estate agents. I didn't know I did until I just looked through my large stack of business cards and saw all these real estate agents. I hate their fucking pictures looking up at me on cards, smirking and shit. I fucking hate them because they got the same look on all of their faces: I'm a gotdamn shark, a motherfucking go-getter. Man, fuck a real estate agent. Lying sacks of shit, one and all.

In a fit of self-improvement, I decided everything that comes out of my mouth today was going to be positive. I'm trying to create a bubble in which I can will my life into a more positive realm by speaking it into existence. Though I'm still writing the most foul, horrid shit, I think that I can maintain being an upbeat and affirming dude. This experiment will last one solid week, from Monday to Monday. Is this rational or irrational?

Everyday I go into a job I hate and sleepwalk my way through it. I'm bored, uninspired and exhausted most of the time. I spend my nights preparing for the next day, preparing for shit I hate to do. I also spend a fair amount of time trying to find another job doing some shit I hate to do. Rational or irrational?

Does it make sense to penalize low paid, marginally compensated people, stressed out about their future by limiting the little escape they have from their daily drudgery? Does it make sense to base one's opinion on the productivity of their staff on anything OTHER than their output? And does it make sense to spend money on a entire department that sole purpose is to monitor and snitch on every other department, if you could easily eliminate the need for the monitoring? IT Departments are as useless as tits on a bull. Fuck 'em. Fuck 'em all.