AND NOW, FOR SOMETHING DIFFERENT...

OK, so I've bitched quite a bit about my last job. But there were aspects of the job I really, truly loved: The people. No, not just because they were so damn sexy (although, that was a plus) but because they were so cool. I met plenty of amazing people working in the porn industry--I'd have to say I was blessed.

WHACHU' TINK U KNOW?

Posted by: zippersparks

WHACHU' TINK U KNOW?
THE FOLLOWING WAS POSTED TO THIS SITE, ANNONYMOUSLY:


"Dude, are you on crack? 'Six months'? He was out of the office for about seven weeks total. Check your calendar or HR... seriously."

I'D LIKE TO TAKE A MOMENT TO ADDRESS THIS, IF I MAY:

1. If you actually READ the post, it implies that he was not there for a TOTAL of six months of my first YEAR, meaning that when you add ALL the time up, he wasn't there for the majority of the time.

2. The seven week period where he was out, was only for the ACTUAL surgery -- that doesn't include the time off for the first procedure, OR the time off for appointments.

AND FINALLY:

No, I am NOT on crack -- what a RUDE thing to say. Even MORE disturbing, is the fact that you obviously know who I am, but don't even have the B@LLS to identify yourself, you damn, ignorant stoner.

Sheesh

PART TWO:

Posted by: zippersparks

PART TWO:
"And for my next trick. . ."

OK, so let's fast forward past the inevitable: The fact that the process of revamping the magazine is a horror (nobody helps, it turns into a big mess, my boss comes back from his surgery and totally f*cks with everything I've spent the past three months on), the fact that while my boss was away, everything went haywire, that they made me go to therapy (for tardiness) and the fact that over half of the staff is gone. Yeah, let's just jump right past that, to the part where my boss gets back and (over the course of several weeks) makes the following comments:

"I never thought your writing was very good."

"You don't seem to be able to do you job, on a day-to-day-basis."

"Look, that's the way it is. I have the bigger office so I make the rules. You should be smart enough to recognize that."

"Is that what you're eating?"

So now he's back (which I had been waiting for, thinking that once he was back, the job would be 'worth it' again, or at least the hardship would be bearable), and proceeds to completely change my work behind my back, and present it to the Pres/Pub as my work (she caught on, but didn't do much about it), and generally treated me like a second-class citizen. When I asked him why another employee got better treatment, his response was, "Look, So-and-So does his job REALLY well. . ." and then, realizing his mistake, he stopped.

So there it was. I mean, he was right, I should be smart enough to figure it all out. But it wasn't a matter of my intelligence. If things really were as I was lead to believe (that everyone else had their sh!t together, and I was the lone screw-up), I'm smart enough that I would have recognized that.

OK, so I got more of my shit together. But that still didn't help. I did everything they asked of me, no matter HOW ridiculous, including changing how I dressed (only on the days we had meetings). But none of it worked! I'll give you a classic example:

There were complaints (I was told) that I wandered around the company too much -- that I was in other people's space/face too much and that I was too loud. So, I sat at my desk, and if I needed to speak with someone, I used the intercom system. Only thing is, if this person was in the same room, they would freak out. Apparently, they thought this was weird, and even MORE annoying than when I walked around.

So, the chatter became that I was weird. So, I walked around, only when absolutely necessary, and spoke very quietly, kept my hands at my side and my eyes down. Which made people assume there was something terribly wrong with me (illness, drugs, they assumed everything -- even that I was related to the Pub/Pres!).

Bottom line: No matter what I did, people just liked to bitch and moan. And the Pub/Pres took all the office gossip as fact, and managed based on what "the grapevine" had to say.

It was never, "So, tell me what's going on with So-and-So," but, "Why can't you get along with So-and-so?" or, "So I hear you're annoying So-and-so, could you knock it off?"

I mean, everyone just complained to throw attention off of what they were doing (leaving for 3 hour "lunches", bringing their dog to work and keeping it under their desk, or showing up and hour late every day, just to name a few). And it was like management couldn't function unless there was someone to string up, and, well. . . I'll let YOU finish that thought.


MY PART
OK, so I have to take ownership of a few things. First of all, my reactions to everything I just mentioned ranged from unacceptable to psychotic, I'll admit that. I flew way off the handle a number of times, and never really gave it much thought. I didn't always have my sh!t together, either. And after a while, although I followed every order, I would bitch and moan about it, or do it with clenched teeth and fists. Not exactly a model employee, I know. I'm not going to blame anyone else, or point the finger. I was a SH!THEAD, no two ways about it.


SO, NOW WHAT?
Things were chugging along, disaster after disaster, and I started to wonder where it was all going. I shared my concerns with the Pub/Pres and the VP of HR, both of whom asked me to "hang in there" because "things were going to change in a major way" but they couldn't say how or when.

Then, things changed.

[to be continued]

I MAY NOT HAVE A JOB...

But I have a good time,
With the boys that I meet
Down on the line.

Said, I don't need you,
So you don't approve?
Well, who asked you to?

-from "Wham! Rap" by Wham

Man, I am really FEELIN' this one right now...

AND SO THE STORY GOES...

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WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, WILLIS?

My goddamn rock solid ghetto shiznit name is Munchi Cwac Cwac.
What's yours?
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