There are no bad owners, only bad dogs

2006-09-29

Bad karma.

Karma? Can I just tell you? Schadenfreude? Hello? God, itís me, Margaret.

Anyhoo, all day today people kept telling me how bloodshot my eyes were. This was due to a profound lack of sleep last night Ė a long and significant visit from the Insomnia Fairy. I spent an hour or so last night at the home of the greggers, who is currently in Florida, probably masturbating. I have been taking care of Kittyboo, who is (but isnít) the greggersí cat (abandoned at his house so many months ago by the Traveling Retirees ((his parents))), so I had to hang out with her for a while. When I left, I was very tired and figured Iíd just hit the sack and drool for a while. When I got home, I was still tired, but puttered around for a moment or two, as there are always a bazillion small tasks to accomplish Chez les Chiens Mechants. Then I went to bed and tried to sleep and couldnít. So I turned on a movie, but that was counter-sleepative. So I read. No help. So I watched Six Degrees, which had been Tivoíd. Eventually it was 3 or 4 am-ish, and I finally was rocked in the arms of Morpheus. Who turned out to be quite a little bitch.

Then the nightmare started. I was with the Captain and several other EduMart dignitaries. They were all insisting that I perform a task that is un-doable in our industry (edit operational items, for those of you in the bizzz). I argued that that was not doable, and that if it were done, heads would roll, the earth would open up and swallow the innocent, and the terrorists would win. I was told to just DO IT, but not in that motivational Nike way. So I argued, knowing that doing this terrible thing would be the undoing of us all. So, in my dreamworld, the Captain fired me. She fired me for doing my job. In the dream, this was devastating to me and I groveled and begged for my job back. This went on for freaking ever in dream hours. Eventually, I was reinstated, but not allowed to actually do my job. I was instead relegated to cleaning the cat box and babysitting.

I was finally awakened by the early arrival of the garbage truck. This was bad because a lot of the time I donít put my trash out til morning, due to possums, raccoons, and Buster. All of these creatures can tear open a trash bag in an instant.

So, la di dah, I woke up, walked the doofuses, showered, and went off to the heb, because today was the captainís going-away party, and I was committed to bringing punch. Bobby Flay had given me an interesting recipe, although I could not follow it to the letter because Squirt is not available in all markets. Doo de doo. At work. Typey, typey, as my job is essentially to be a writer. I was typing. As is my wont. And the HR asswipe was in the Capínís office, doing what is traditionally termed an ďexit interview.Ē Talky talky. When he finally left, Gail and I went to work with the decorating, cakes were being frosted, crepe paper was strung. Because a lot of people donít like the Captain, and there would be no lame-ass party-ette for her on my watch, because that would mean (again) that the terrorists had won.

Her ex-secretary was there, talking LOUDLY AND ENDLESSLY about cakes and blah blah and I donít know what else. Blah de fucking blah.

So I told them all, as they had asked, just why my eyes were red. Lack of sleep. Nightmare. Ha! we all said. Weird what your brain does when youíre sleeping.

Then the captain asked to speak to me. And I went into her office and closed the door and then she fired me. For doing my job.

Not fired me, exactly. Itís a RIF. Reduction in force, you know. So I get a package. But there are, as always, complications.

Complication one: In July, I made a typographical error in a timesheet. This led me to accidentally charge one or two hours of vacation time that I had actually worked, because I had clicked on the wrong code. Then the next week, I copied that timesheet and changed the hours to reflect what I had done, but didnít change the codes, because, duh, why would I? So for half of a year, I copied and changed, copied and changed, and somehow managed to charge away all of my vacation an hour at a time, in spite of the fact that I didnít take any vacation time this year, nor did I use any of my optional holidays or personal days because I HAVE A BIZARRE AND SICK WORK ETHIC. So I should be getting a month of vacation pay, but due to the stupid and shit, they think I have only 5 days left. I argued, they capitulated. Four weeks, not one.

Plus, I invented something. I invented something that could make EduMart a buttload of money if they could figure out any fucking thing. When a patent that you originate while in the employ of EduMart is accepted, it belongs to EduMart. Work product. But you get a bonus. The patent was accepted three weeks ago. EduMart has three months to pay all of the fees and file the paper work. That means that they wonít do so for two months and one week. So they laid me off before the fees were paid. The bonus isnít paid til after the fees are paid. Are you following? They are trying to fuck me out of FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS, yíall.

So, severance pay. Vacation pay, gonna be fixed. An extra month of pay. But I will not let the patent go. I invented something beautiful and fantastic, and it would help people if used for good instead of evil. They will not make millions and screw me out of my money.

Plus? Yes, thereís more. We are in the middle of something on my project. We have cracked the eggs and added the baking soda and the other dry goods, and weíre stirring. And EduMart is on the hook to deliver some baked goods, but no one else knows the recipe. So they have to either contract with me to finish the batch or let someone else, someone who has never entered a kitchen, finish the deal.

So in essence, it sucks to be me today. I will be working for the eccentric millionaire soon. Oh, please, oh, please. But this has been a horrible time. Itís like being in a bad, abusive relationship. I donít want to be in it anymore, but fuck you for dumping me.

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