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Saturday, Nov. 23, 2002 / 1:24 p.m. ~The One In Which I Note My Playlist and I Ramble Endlessly About MyJob~
I'm listening to my Playlist on KaZaA, and no, I don't feel like noting exactly what it is. I'll just say it's eclectic and it's in the beginning stages. I just discovered I could rearrange the order. Duh. I'm kind of slow sometimes.
The cats are very confused. We slept on the sofa last night. We never got up to get into bed, which feels really weird. I haven't NOT slept in my bed for maybe at least three years (?).
There was a really pretentious 'art' film on Sundance, "Beyond the Clouds", I think, some Michelangelo Antonioni crap. Really stupid, really bad, even the nudity, just stupid. I fell asleep, and I stayed asleep. The cats stayed, left, ran around, woke me up, tried to get me to go to bed, tried to get me to be 'normal', but I wasn't budging. I stayed, they returned, we all slept happily, the TV on, tuned to Sundance, waking to hear someone talking in Chinese, then finally this morning that filmmaker who made the Kurt and Courtney documentary. It might even be called just that, "Kurt and Courtney". I've seen it before.
The computer on. The lights on in the kitchen, the living room, the library. They're only lightbulbs, I thought to myself. And every time I was conscious I was thinking about work, about Kukla, about the 'new boy' (Kennel Boy) telling me he heard all about it.
I went to him, asked, "Let me ask you something, how is it when you tell Kukla she's a 'bully' and she's 'mean', she laughs, and when I say it she jumps all over me?". He said it's because she thinks he's joking, it's all in the way he says it. He says he's listened to us all, he's studied us, he knows how to talk to each person to be the most effective. He says that's why he wants to be a psychologist.
Hmmmm. I see his point, but I don't necessarily think he would be any better at it than I. I told him part of it is that he's a man. Women respond differently to men. Period. Throw a man in the mix and the whole dynamic shifts.
I asked if he knew, if he heard, and oh yes, he heard all about 'the fight' between Kukla and me. He heard that I told Listerine she did something wrong and I did this and I did that and Kukla and I had it out. I asked who told him, and he would only say several people. He said he knows everything that goes on, between what people in our department tell him, behind my back, and what his fiancee hears in her department. He has his finger on the pulse of our little company.
I sat in my cube almost the entire day. I couldn't figure out when people had had the time to tell him anything. When?, I wondered, Who?, I wondered. But he wasn't talking. I have no idea what's been said, but I know it's skewed.
Poor Listerine (yes, I said poor) wasn't talking to anyone either. She had told D. that I asked her if she knew how to perform a certain procedure when D. asked about an error that occurred. Listerine didn't start it. D. is the one who thought I was usurping her authority. She is the one who started all of it. And I don't believe she was about to cry yesterday morning, not at all.
"Stop, you're gonna make me cry, no, I'm serious" (removes cats' eyes glasses, eyes dry as a bone). Unh huh.
I keep wondering if I should write it all out, and give it to the Site Manager, if I should just go visit him, if I should call him when I decide not to show up. I mean, do I let anyone there know just how fucked up it all is, and why valuable employees like myself feel there is no choice but to walk out, or do I let them all gossip and wonder?
Oh, the gossip. Intense. Insane. I told Quincey, just the two of us at the FAX machine, "I know what you guys said about me yesterday, D. told me, I know what you told her." "I didn't say anything! I don't have a problem with you at all. I didn't say anything." "Yeah, I know, she told me."
She lied right to my face. Kukla wouldn't even look at me. Who is scared of whom?
The 'new boy' and I talked about it, sort of, cubicle to cubicle, me not even trying to be quiet or secretive. I told him how ridiculous I think the gossip is, considering what a small group we are, and how close we sit to each other, and I speculated that people must've been talking about me every time I got up to go to the bathroom. When else? He just laughed.
He asked if I was going to the dinner in honor of D., the farewell dinner at the restaurant where I'd gone with Penelope and Shawn, where I paid for half of Penelope's dinner, when NO ONE ELSE in our department would go, to celebrate Penelope's Birthday, and I said, "I wouldn't go if you PAID ME!" Then later I said, "You know, no one invited me, I only heard that they were going." It was Kukla's decision for everyone to go back there, to that restaurant I recommended, the one I took them to, Kukla, Listerine, later Penelope and Shawn.
Late in the day, Veronica saw me sitting with my feet on my desk, my legs outstretched, feeling really cocky and defiant, asked me if I was doing alright, probably because I ignored her when she said Good Morning, probably because I am filled with such anger and hatred that I won't talk to anyone but the 'new boy', and I said, "I'm feeling GREAT!!! I am SO GREATTTTTTT!!!!!!", and I said it with anger. She said, "That's great that you're great, you stay that way, that's good for you." It was funny really. She was picking up something, but she has no clue what.
It's like being really nice to someone with your words, but what you're really saying is "I hope you rot in hell". You're saying, "I'm great, how are YOU?" but you're not saying that at all. And the person you're saying it to is really confused. I loved it.
I just don't know what to do. I know I shouldn't care at all, but I don't want Kukla et al thinking they chased me away, thinking I'm running away crying, too upset, too scared to come to work. I don't want them to think I've gotten fired because suddenly I'm no longer there. I want to leave in a fluorish of some kind, either tell them they suck and they deserve to stay there forever, or write a detailed and very explanatory letter to the Site Manager, cc to the HR Manager, my Manager (M), and D., the Supervisor. But what would I say in it?
Right now what I've been told is, "But you said this, and she said you said that, and why did you feel it was your duty to do this, when really it wasn't your place at all? And if you felt this you should've that, not this. You were wrong, you are bad, you should just sit in your little cubicle and shut up." How do I combat that attitude?
The Manager (M) is even worse than D., the Supervisor. The Site Manager seems decent, and I can picture him looking me right in the eye whilst I tell him all the gorey details, but what good would it do? Don't I want to leave and let them all suffer through the bullshit? I don't want to help them figure out how to manage, no, I want out, no explanation. I just want them to know I'm quitting, that I wasn't fired, and that I never want to see any of them again.
Oh, and they should know that Karmic Retribution will befall them, and I only wish I could witness it. I do not love my enemy. And I do not mind having enemies. I'm not afraid of these feelings. I don't begrudge them, I feel I'm perfectly justified. Not one person defended me (as I told D., "No one stook up for me", and I heard it, realized it wasn't right, but didn't correct myself - stood up, took up, defended, whatever, stook is a good word for it) against Kukla's irrational wrath.
It's funny to think that it's all over the site, the 'incident', that everyone knows, that when people look at me they're thinking about it, but of course everyone is suddenly very silent. Veronica asking me if I was doing okay was the only communication I had with anyone besides my morning discussion (laughable at that, but it surprisingly made me feel better) with D., and my afternoon goofing off with the 'new boy' (my alliance with the other member of my tribe).
It's hard to get past it all, it really is, because this time it feels like it's nothing that can be swept under a rug, it's not like I can go back and read my EWs, my free weeklys, my books, listen to my Walkman, and answer the phone when it rings. It's more than that now. It feels like a desperate situation now, like I MUST leave, really, really soon, like I should not come back after my vacation in two weeks. But financially, I have no idea how to do that. I don't want a lateral move, I don't want to go to another office filled with black women wearing hooker shoes and tight pants gossiping behind each other's backs every time they're turned.
And I can't afford the pay cut inherent in retail. I don't make much now, you think I can make even less? I'm 41, for chrissakes! You crazy?
I don't know, I really don't, and this is not a time to relax. I can't relax. I'm tense, I'm nervous, I'm confused, I'm focused, but I lack direction. I know change has to be imminent, but how, where, when?, and I have no answers.
Gladys is sitting on the PC tower on the floor, watching me type with the keyboard on my lap.
We're listening to "Simple Things, Part 2", by Dirty Vegas.
Get this!!! I just looked at the 'traffic' report on KaZaA only to see that someone is uploading this very song from me!! Right now! Wow.
Okay, here's my first KaZaA playlist, it's called "Eclectic":
"Walking On the Sun" - Smashmouth One thing that really sucks is trying to edit the details for the meta description of the tracks - a separate window opens up and it's too tall. It has two tabs for the details, one says 'general' and one says 'more. Either I have the main window smaller and the new window opens so I can see both tabs, but then I can't click on 'okay', nor 'cancel' at the bottom, because they're not visible, or I have the main window enlarged and the new window opens so I can't see the 'more' tab at the top. I can edit the 'general' info, but not the 'more' details. It sucks and I played with it last night only to realize I can't do a damned thing really, aside from getting a new monitor. I tried to enlarge my viewing area, I tried to use the 'mouse keys', but nothing is working. It means I'm rating my tracks as 'excellent', but really they're not.
Either way, a lot of people have been uploading from my folder and my participation level has increased from 38 to 62. As I write that, someone else is uploading "Simple Things, Part 2" and another is uploading the Smashmouth song. I like KaZaA so far.
Hey, I distracted myself there for a minute. That was nice.
I need to call the one who is in town for the weekend, but I'm really not in the mood to hang out with someone I don't even know. Puts me in an uncomfortable position because I told him I would call him, and he wants concrete plans for this evening.
Sandy and I were going to go to the hockey game last night, to see Super Mario Lemieux of the Pittsburgh Penguns slaughter my Thrashers, but he canceled sort of last minute. He has a cold, he knew it, said he wanted to go anyway, then decided he's too sick. Fine. I got email from him, email he wrote last night at almost 3:00 in the morning (!) saying he wants to know if I'm going to the CNN demonstration tomorrow, and he wants to go, hoping he feels better. Blah! Don't think so. I'm feeling highly intolerant of crap now.
Sort of an "I hate the world and everyone in it, so don't even try to fuck with me" kind of an attitude.
Someone's uploading "Indian Summer" now. Cool. I love that song, it's very simple, very lovely. I sing the "I love you, the best" part to N and G all the time. Because I love them equally, I love to pretend I'm telling each I love her more. And because they don't speak English they have no idea what I'm saying anyway.
Keep uploading, people, you increase my participation level.
Last night, people were all uploading the software for the KaZaA desktop. Over and over again. If you don't have it, and aren't too afraid or paranoid about viruses, I recommend it. I'm taking a chance, but all of life is taking a chance, so there.
Oh, no, my Playlist is through. Time to download more music. And figure things out. All things.
Hopefully, on Monday, we'll have our new Supervisor in training, we'll know what's next, what we're up against, or whom. And I can make my final decisions then. Meanwhile, I've got to get my resume back in order, bring some fancy paper to work on Monday so I can make copies with the printer there (I have no printer at home). I have to do this. I've been saying it for too many years.
Gladys just brought me her giant mouse. Silly girl, she wants me pay attention to HER, um, NOW! She must wait just a minute or two more....
When I took my job I was desperate. I was selling heirlooms to pay my rent, my own brother turned his back on me, wouldn't help me out. His wife lent me money to file bankruptcy, it was hard times, man, hard times. I was happy to be working, to be making $10 an hour. But it was bullshit all the way around. I was always the only white person, I was treated like an outcast, I was ordered around, I was told to shut up, to stop speaking out, to do my job or else. I stayed, things changed, people left, new people arrived, the only people still there from that begining are Kukla and Veronica. Even Kukla's sister, the master of Nepotism herself, our Manager (M), wasn't our Manager back then.
I got raises every year, a few cents an hour, I got paid regularly, no freelancing, steady paychecks. I got weekends off, and paid vacations, I could go home for lunch every day if I wanted. All I had to do was button my lip, not wear jeans except on Fridays, and be nice on the phone, get a good audit.
I got quarterly bonuses, heavily taxed of course, but I got them. I became financially solvent. I could go to hockey games, get takeout several times a month, get new tattoos (!), life was okay, if I didn't think about how much it really sucked. I put the suckiness out of my mind. Swept it under the rug.
There was the racial harrssment incident, the lynching photos. There was the crazy Listerine saga, and we all ganged up on her. I feel so sorry for her now when I think of it. She's been right where I am now.
Through it all I've said I'd leave, I had to, something would happen to take me away, but it never did, I interviewed, I submitted my resume, but nothing. Now this proverbial last straw.
It's crazy, this portion of my life. It feels like it's aged me, like I'm not even who I was, a part of me is just gone. I want to reclaim me, I want to live, to be happy, but I am responsible too, I have bills to pay, rent, I can't not have money. It's all about the money. It's why I've not walked out a hundred times already.
Saturday, and I'm thinking about work, because right now it's the most important thing. And he wants me to make 'plans', so he will be occupied while he's here. This is all very hard.
Perhaps I should stop writing and move on?
Cost of the War in Iraq
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