I have complete writers block. I'm sitting here, staring at my blog, waiting for some pearl of wisdomosity to form that I can bestow on you, my dear readers. And I've got...
So, I decided to just start typing, and see where my brain takes me. And, GO.
(Insert theme song from "Jeopardy")
Hmmm, ok. Let's start with work. I'm due to return to work in T-minus three weeks. This was a positive thing up until a week ago, when my former supervisor informed me that he has no positions available within his department. See, this is the beauty of Canadian Maternity Leave. Your employer has to hold a position for you, but it does not necessarily have to be the one you vacated when you left. Ergo, whilst when I left I wrote training and procedural manuals, when I return I could be a file clerk. Or a mail distributer. Or a human resource manager. Or a personal assistant. Or a fabricator. Or an installer. The possibilities are endless, really. My money is on the file clerk, though. I'm CHOKED.
I wrote a very kindly worded email (with gritted teeth) to the general manager reiterating about a thousand times my STRENGTHS and PREFERENCES, even though I know that they won't make one iota of difference. It has come to my attention that companies are run solely by power-hungry egomaniacs, and the peon that dares work in anything short of management should be beaten down and condescended to at every turn. However, my intent was not to give them a piece of my mind, but to get everything down in black-and-white. My company, in particular, has a nasty little habit of saying "that never happened/was said/was sent to me/blah blah blah" and well, I'm wilier than that. Here's a bit of crucial advice to anyone surfing the interwebz who has pull in a company of ANY kind. Never try to fuck with someone who is smarter than you are. They'll realize when you're trying to blow smoke up their ass, and more than likely you'll end up eating it plus interest in the form of bad publicity/legal action. Now, I'm not smarter than all the higher-ups in my company, (I speak better english TO BE SURE) but I discovered a long time ago that it is far harder to argue with written evidence than it is to argue he-said/she-said. Ergo, a completely documented and colour-coded copy of all correspondence betwixt myself and my employers has been maintained, by me, and sent, by me, to any and all people I can think of would possibly need/want/get a kick out of one. Because I'm an ass like that. My boss, his boss, the president and CEO, the human resource guy, the general manager, and a few other buddies I have there just for fun. Argue with THAT, suckas. I can't take all credit for this though, it was all Dear Hubby's idea. Because he's an even bigger ass like that. ;)
So, Monday June 2nd at 7am, I shall either be unemployed (and seeking legal action) or doing something for a company that wouldn't know it's ass from it's elbow if handed a map. I've oh-so-politely requested that somebody, anybody, contact me to tell me which position they've "found" for me before I show back up on my first day. Because being assigned field duty would really be a bitch in my standard uniform of tight pencil skirt and icepick heels. Plus, as any fellow curly-haired gal can attest, hard-hat-hair is sooooo not sexy.
Please tell me your company is full of secret hidden evil agendas and run by a handful of power-tripping assholes who would sooner sell you down the river for their mistakes than aknowledge your own validity.
Or don't, because if the whole world is this pathetic I might just check out now.
Sorry for being the Bitter Betty, y'all. I'll think of something so utterly blogtastic you'll all forgive me tomorrow. That, or I'll just slip you all Xanax. That's good too.