Pettiness and bullshit shouldn't be a part of the work place. That is, unless you work in a call center, or, more specifically, Corporation X. I don't want any part of your drama or shit, so leave my name out of it. I'm not there to be your friend; I'm there to do a job, and so are you. So shut the fuck up and do your job. If you're the kind of person who has to be miserable all the time, or has to make others miserable, get the fuck out and get another job where you can be miserable somewhere else. I'm tired of your lies and back stabbing. Really, we have better things to do than to chase conspiracy stories and babysit your whiny ass. Wear big-kid pants or go the fuck home. Seriously.
And speaking of your home life: Just because it's miserable (sensing a theme here?) doesn't mean it's OK for you to have a "work spouse" you can tell secrets to or whatever it is you do. No one fucking cares. Grow up. Or put on your big-kid pants and shack up. Better idea: Tell someone who gives a fuck.
To the pathological liars among you: Take your drama into the corner with the work spouses. Tell them your lies about what a great couple they are, or how you used to be an astronaut and can beat up the "real" Luke Skywalker. Or how you single-handedly rescued 69 nuns from a burning train and they thanked you by breaking their vow of chastity so they could fuck you, their hero. I wish I understood why people felt the need to lie. I guess if it's pathological, they can't help it. By all means, sterilize these assholes so they can't fucking breed. Fuck.
To the dumb cunt in the FP parking lot this afternoon: Yes, I used the cunt word. But really, how hard is to to part between the lines and not hit a vehicle? Should be easy. Should be a no-brainer, right? Nope, not for that bitch. She swung her piece o shit Buick (with no front plate) into the space and managed to scrape her front right bumper on the tire of the Nissan Pathfinder next to her. She got some nice, black marks for her ineptitude. Neat. Then, realizing she was stupid, she backed out and proceeded to scrape the shit out of the Dodge Durango on her left. She could barely get out of the car. And saw the fucking scrape on the Durango. And acted like nothing happened.
Stupid whore, I know you had 1A plates. But deep down, you're a foxtrot tango from the 2C. You probably love the NASCAR as much as you like it in the ass.
It would appear I'm pretty bitter for someone who is supposed to be heading into a new direction after reading Zen and the Art of Happiness. But the bottom line is, I'm pretty fucking happy. Everything happens for a reason. A situation doesn't become favorable until you adapt and make it so. This is for my benefit. These phrases are never far from my mind. They've helped me get through situations that would have driven me into a murderous rage in the past. Now, I just sit back and laugh. Mostly.
The danger of sitting back and laughing is when you do, shit sneaks up on you. Maybe that's the way things are supposed to go, but I'd rather be vigilant. It's more of being aware of what's going on around you than anything else. If you know where to expect bad shit, it's easier to deflect it.
The unexpected isn't a bad thing. I've had quite a few unexpected moments in the past two weeks, mostly in the form of support from our agents on the floor. I know of four agents who have actively tried to get me fired. But I know of at least three times that many who have voiced their support -- to me, or to the higher ups. This isn't about dividing the project, or who's wrong or right. I'm at Corporation X to do a job and support products I'm passionate about and have used since I could use computers. I understand our agents and our customers. I don't sugar coat and I don't kiss ass. My intent is to be true to myself and encourage our agents to do their best. I have high expectations for myself, and for my team. Catering to whiners or falling for brown nosing isn't me. If that rubs folks the wrong way, buck up and get your shit done. Even at my worst, I'm a much better boss than the worst bosses I've had the displeasure of working for. At my best, I'm right there with my mentors and the cornerstones of my working life. Take me down. You got nothing. Not even this blog, which sure as fuck doesn't mention any employee names, or company names. Bring it.
There will be tattoo pics in my next posting, assuming I'm able to move my right wrist when all is said and done. I'm not sure what Jon has worked up for me, but I'm excited. Let the birthday week celebration begin.
And as for the whole "OMG, I can't believe you got an APPLE! OMG!" responses, you need to look at it this way: Folks get Harley-Davidson tattoos all the time. They love the product, they live the lifestyle. It's the same with Mac folks. Believe me: My Apple addiction was in full effect long before the iPod and the MacBook. Apple is a cult brand, just like H-D.
It's a damn good cult.
P.S. Fuck you Micro$oft for releasing Vista on my birthday. I don't care if your shit is out before Leopard. It's taken you how fucking long to catch up to OS X 10.1? Tards.
balanced
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