Stop. Reverse.

Apparently there are some people in residence at work who have only the above referenced speeds. When you are the designated traffic controller, this makes for cube farm TURF RAGE.

I know we are under staffed, and over worked. I get it.
I know we have most of our resources overseas who work a different shift. I know that while those people strive to get the job done. . .  Most of the time this is a fail.

My issue is none of that. Or at the very least, that is a small portion of my rage generation.

The main cause of the rage is that I am aware that certain folks purposely drag their asses around and do the bare minimum in a day to prove a point. They want to prove that we don't have enough people to get ALL of the work done. The issue this creates for me is that I spend a great deal of time either moving at hummingbird speed, or asleep in the trees waiting for the sunrise that is my part of the task to occur so I can go back to flitting from place to place, generally accomplishing nothing and making me want to gouge some one's eyes out.

The compounding factor is that they are not stupid or rude or slovenly beasts. They are standing on their belief that if they can't get it done timely, well then that should send a message to the powers that be that something must change. And while I can't say I disagree with the desire to be heard, I can't afford to not have a paycheck. If it happens I will survive, but I am not volunteering at this time for that honor, thanks.

After several years of this, what I have learned is that what DOES change is the names of the co-workers. They become less and less familiar as they are shown the door and told ta-ta. And then the work they did becomes added to yet someone else's work load, and usually the inheritor has no idea WTH the other person did day to day. GOOD TIMES!

My heart is growing weary of 2000 bpm swinging to 60 bpm. It would be lovely if someone could do one more thing that the bare minimum in a day. Crazy thought.

Comments

  1. "Servile Servant" here. You pretty much described the status quo here. Other folks do less and less, which makes me need to work harder and harder, and then suffer cognitive dissonance enough to fight back and not want to do any more than is minimally necessary to keep up the appearance of productivity, as it's not appreciated, and essentially does not make a hill of beans worth of difference here.

    25% of our admin staff has been on medical leave on and off for going on three years; 25% is a total effing slacker who skims upwards of a 1/2 hour every day, sits at her desk painting her nails and uttering "that's not my job"; 25% is the work horse (not me) who acts like she's everyone's boss, because sadly our immediate boss retired 4 yrs ago and her position was moved elsewhere; and the immediate boss's boss due to alleged/suspected malfeasance was moved to another bureau or capacity; leaving 25% (me) to play the part of the office step-and-fetch-it and the cube farm equivalent of the village idiot.

    I loathe Admin. Ass. Day. Each year for the last four years, holiday acknowledgements have become pitiful, so much so to the point where I'd just assume they abandon the idea of acknowledging the holidays at all because of the paucity of give a shit. Ms. Wacha would have been so proud of my rudimentary grasp of algebra, because it doesn't take much to figure out how much the herd values you if say: 1. 6 VIPs chip in on the cheapest flower arrangement possible; or as in years past, 2. 2-3 (Other) VIPs chip in on a hamburger lunch (for me). Really? I can buy much nicer flowers for myself (and do, every Weds during farmer's market season); and I can buy my own damned lunch without 2-3 folks feeling like they're doing me some great favor, all the while every single VIP (minus bossman) talks to me like I am a loathesom moron they can boss me around, yet, think it's okay to do so because, yanno, they each chipped in $5 for some fucking flowers. Wanna give me the gift that keeps on giving? How about a non-snotty-elitist tone when asking me to do something, and how about a fucking THANK YOU?

    See also: My seething rage over the Xmas gift totaling $15 (divide that up between 5-6 VIPs).

    To date, it's been since my dad passed in 2008 since I actually mustered up any MINUTAE of give-a-fuck.

    Oh yeah. I cannot relate to this blog post in the least bit.

    NOT!

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  2. PS:

    So that's part of the back story of my seething rage. See also: Status update about former co-irker who insists on returning to the office to socialize. Aforementioned co-irker was the epitome of village idiot of the cube farm. Every time she comes here, it's like a tacit fuck you to me.

    I'm a military veteran. I'm a notary. I paid to go to secretarial school. Been in the workforce for 26 fucking years, and every last bit of give a fuck and professionalism I've held as a point of personal pride has been flushed down the shitter.

    I want to retire or go into semi-retirement at age 50. So that means unless I hit the Megaball or the opportunity of a lifetime lands in my lap, here I sit for the next seven years. FML.

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