Well, against my better judgment, I’ve taken a job.
See, when your beloved (for more ways than one) place of employment goes bankrupt, and you burn through your severance, unemployment, and savings, it’s sort of time to go back to work even though you have no desire. It’s even worse when your lover is also unemployed and loving it, and enticing you to spend the day in bed more often than once in a lifetime. Though, I think it’s safe to say that I milked being unemployed for a long time. I passed up a few offers when the money or the job wasn’t right. Then it came time to get serious and just when I did that, I stumbled upon three opportunities. None were exactly what I wanted, so I had to suck it up and make the best choice I could with the information I had.
During the interview process with the company I chose, a few things raised my eyebrow. And I know what you’ll say. You’ll say, “Why the hell did you take this job when you are so well versed with a corporate-bullshit-o-meter?” It’s a valid question and here’s my answer: Because the money was too good to pass up.
But here’s another answer: Now I’m sitting here, halfway through a bottle of wine on a school night when I am a stickler about drinking, or rather, not drinking, during the week. It’s work, dogs, workout, sleep, work, dogs, workout, sleep from Sunday night to Thursday night. No fun during the week is what I need to do to ensure I actually wake up when that annoying alarm sounds off for the 11 millionth time. So why have I broken my rule and why am I sitting here, half in the bag, on a Tuesday?
Here we go. I interviewed with all parties on one day. After the interview they made a soft offer but the salary they tossed out wasn’t right and I said flat out, “No.” Keep in mind, I was a woman without a job. Technically I had zero negotiating power. But I wasn’t going to trade in my temporary job which was pretty laid back and easy, and close to home, for something that wasn’t close to right.
The offer letter arrived via email later that night with a better package but still not quite right. So began a long painful dance of back and forth negotiations. If I told you where I started, and what I ended up with, you would call me a liar, then you would call me for all your negotiating needs. Then I would refer you to Mr. X because he’s where I learned my diabolical method of negotiations. Once we agreed on it all, I said, “Okay, so you want to call my references?”
“No. We don’t need to. We did the background check.”
I’m sorry, but has anyone ever heard of this? How on earth does a company not check your references? I smell a Dupont sized Rat. So, I asked them to reconfirm some of the added issues in writing and they said they couldn’t because I don’t know what their reason was but it violated some policy. Now, has anyone ever heard of this? Christ, someone rip my tits off. I figured I had nothing to lose by taking the stupid job and if they decided to lie to me then I’d just quit.
In my first week of work, I was asked no less than a dozen times something to the effect of, “Wow, you came back today?” and “Are you overwhelmed yet?” and “Are you ready to jump out the window?” On my first day, I found out that my counterpart had quit in the time between when I accepted the offer and the day I started. They fired someone my fourth day at work. Then when my counterpart was training me she said, “My first week here they fired three people.” Yeah. That’s a little scary. Then she said, “I’m the third person in a year who has had my job and I didn’t make it four months.” They fired someone again yesterday.
So what the hell is going on there? I don’t know, but I guess I’m finding out. The place is like a fucking Vortex. You try to go to lunch and you get sucked into a meeting. You try to leave to go home and oops, you’re there for another two hours. No matter that I never want to leave for lunch. No matter that only one day a week I like to leave on time to make it to a class at my gym. It doesn’t matter. See, you get sucked into the Vortex, and you can’t get out.
One painful day at a time.
If I make it 15 months, I can re-qualify for unemployment.
In any case, I’ll try to find joy in the small things. Like how our VP is on a mission to crack some teeth by constantly jamming hand into mouth and grabbing at whatever’s ripe for the picking. Or how someone yawned all day, then suddenly “came alive” right after a suspicious white powder showed up on the floor of the bathroom stall. Or how people have major meltdowns at the rate of one per three hours. Or how I have to pop like 12 heartburn pills to get through the day. Or how I had to spend the better part of a day reviewing a document which is a listing of property uses. It included the following text:
“The parcel may not be used for any adult entertainment establishment, adult book store or establishment selling, renting or exhibiting pornographic materials or any drug related paraphernalia. As used herein, an “adult entertainment establishment, adult book store or establishment selling, renting, or exhibiting pornographic materials” entertainment establishment, adult shall include, without limitation, a store displaying for sale or exhibit books, magazines or other publications containing any combination of photographs, drawings or sketches of a sexual nature which are not primarily scientific or educational (collectively, “Sex Magazines”) (it being acknowledged, however, that “Playboy,” “Playgirl,” and “Penthouse” are not deemed to be Sex Magazines. ) ”
What I find most exciting about all this is that I haven’t had blog-worthy work drama since I’ve had a blog. Yeah. Exciting. Joy. I hear I66 is having a way better time at work…having to pick up the pieces of my once delightfully funny and relatively low-stress job. I did leave him some gems of entertainment though. Tell the story I66! Tell the story!!!
“If I make it 15 months, I can re-qualify for unemployment.”.. id soooo bet on you doing anything you set your mind to…and …well… you CAN quit if you hate it…and well… with all the a-holes in this town… maybe they just need to be whipped into shape..and maybe youre just the girl to do the whipping!!! break a leg (preferably someone elses!!)
I second the call for i-66 to tell the story…it is too good to keep to himself.
Hang in there…I have had the soul suck jobs. Ugh.
if anyone could be good at the whip it will be our velvet.
I wanna hear more I66 can be made to talk.
damn it. now I’m never going to see you again. damn soul sucking work.
I wanna hear the I-66 story too. My God, Velvet. What have you walked into? And I’ve worked with the white powder set. It’s funny you brought that up, because I was thinking about blogging about that little shithead the other day.
Blonde – Why thank you! Though jobs are scarce now. I’d say we’re more in a depression than a recession. Prices are going up everywhere. The deli on 18th just doubled their prices. My supplier of all things dog also increased prices 20%. It’s crazy. I suppose I should be happy and just suck it up.
I66 – Yes! Tell it tell it tell it! It’s sooooo good!
Lemmonex – Oooh, did he tell you? This story is just so hilarious. Make him squeal! It’s not like they can (or would) fire him.
Sexes – Hmm. Are you the cousin of Sixes?
MA – It’s looking bleak.
Cube – I’m not sure about the powder thing, but it was a damn funny coincidence. Even better was that it was still there the next day, proving that the “cleaning” crew doesn’t do it’s job either.
Sexes is Sixes–it’s her new lover’s nickname for her (Number 2).
I think now would be a good time to amass some silicone and start developing our own line of dildos for our sex shop, since the job market is making everyone go fucking crazy (pun intended).
“Though jobs are scarce now”
Tell me about it, though I do get my M.A. in about a month. maybe it will help.
Nothing helps. I temped for a YEAR before finding a pretty standard secretarial job. The market sucks. On teh other hand, nothing derails your career like staying in a job you hate that sucks the life out of you.
I temped at a company that seemed to fire someone every week. It was just like The Apprentice!
Okay…. I promise to tell the story. But for right now I’ve got a condo to unpack. Don’t worry. It won’t take long.
“I’ve got a condo to unpack” is that code for something? I guess it could mean you actually are unpacking a condo, but at this site you never know.
66 moved and has a condo to unpack AND a new baby…cute little Striker dog– chewing up everything 66 gets out of a box probably. (http://yeahsoim.com/) Striker has already declared the bed as “his.” That Striker is one adorable puppy.
You’re right, Keith…on this blog you NEVER know what unpacking a condo means, but it probably requires lubrication and hurts.
I checked in to see if Velvet was reporting from the front with cell phone fotos of white powder toilet stalls and a coworker getting fired. I hate to think of you working in such a sinking ship volatile place, Velvet. You’re too dedicated to be in such quicksand.
First off, yes I was literally unpacking my condo. I still have a few things to put into my storage bin and a new flatscreen to buy, but other than that I’m pretty much settled in. And yes, as Fairy GodCube says there is a new puppy. He’s acclimating himself well now that everything’s moved in finally, and he’s nice enough to only pee on the tile floor when he goes in the house. Now, on to this story that Velvet speaks of – and she actually may know a little more about this than I, since she was here first. Anyway…
I’m not precisely sure when it was, but an individual that was a tenant in a unit was found to be running hookers out of it. Presumably these ladies of the street were going in and out of the building, which is secure, as they pleased, because they acquired a code that permitted them access into the building. Velvet deleted the code when it became evident that that’s what they were doing. So the unit gets foreclosed upon, and Pimpsy McSmackaho gets evicted as a result. When I arrived here, there was a very strange, rank, vile odor coming from the unit. Think old wet garbage that’s been bathed in mustard and left in the sun… and then multiply that by 10. Velvet is convinced that there’s a dead body in there, but how would we find out? Nobody wants to go in there. I certainly don’t, though I do want to be standing behind the person that does.
It gets better. One day a couple of weeks ago I got a call from a bank. It seems Sixes & Sevens’ former flame had been bouncing checks on the regular, and the offended bank was calling me to try to see if I had any info on the guy. Of course my answer was no, since I’ve never even seen the guy. And then yesterday a call came in from a realtor. They want to try to sell the unit out of foreclosure and they want me to find out if dude is still in there because they have no idea, and he’d been evading them for some time. Well, since I have no desire to know whether he’s actually there, on the off chance that he’s been keeping his pimp hand strong, I’m not going over there. I joked that I’d ding dong ditch the place, but Velvet said if he was still there he’d probably just look through the peephole and not answer. I don’t think anyone’s (alive) in there because seriously… nobody could live with that smell. I doubt he’s there, but I’m keeping my eyes peeled.
Oh god that story was so good I need a cigarette now.
I definitely think it’s a dead hooker in there. The smell is just too horrible. The front desk has xerox copies of driver’s licenses of hookers who have been “banned” from the building by the cop. Hilarious. They are all men with wigs.
Pimpsy McSmackaho. HA! AWESOME!!
I’m sure if you told the police who sit outside the 7-11 all day eating Ben & Jerry’s and Pringles, they’d help you out right away.
The greatest part is that 66’s building isn’t that far from a police station (I live in the same area). So if a dead hooker falls in the forest, and there’s no one there to smell it, does it make a smell?
Clearly it makes a smell!
The question, of course, is as to how long it will be and how bad the smell will have to get for someone to grab the key and just go in. I say 2009.
Oh, and someone keep Gil Grissom, Warrick Brown, Catherine Willows and Nick Stokes (et al.) on speed dial.
I’m confused by this story. Was that two separate incidents or one large one? I read it to be saying that Sixes former flame was running hookers out of his apartment, is now gone, and there’s a smell. So either Sixes was dating a pimp, and a deadbeat, or these were two stories that I accidentally blended together. Please unconfuse this situation.
It’s one story. I don’t know for a fact that Sixes dated this man, but I haven’t ruled anything out. It’s just proof that she isn’t paying attention.
Excellent story. Is the water turned off in there? It’s guaranteed to be human waste.
I66 – In case you haven’t figured it out, when it’s not about Sixes, she doesn’t care. HA HA! It’s funny but it’s true…
Ummm, congratulations? Still, it’s healthcare, a paycheck and, hopefully, at least 2 weeks paid vacation. The 15 months will roll around before you know it.
I’m still impressed you managed not to get mugged at your former gig. Good luck with that, 66.
Not to ignore the story about the dead hooker apartment (which is awesome, btw), but I wanted to offer my support about the crappy job situation.
About 2.5 years ago, I got convinced to leave a job that I was very happy at for a big fat paycheck. I was there about a week when I realized that the toll on my life — not to mention my soul — just wasn’t worth it. (In fact, my misery is what led to me blogging in the first place.)
I left less than 14 months after I started. (For the record, I would have left even if I didn’t have another job lined up, but lucky for me I did.)
So now, no matter how bad my day is at my current job, I go home knowing that my life is so much better than it was at the old job. The only time I miss it, I suppose, is on payday. But even that’s not worth it.
I guess the moral of the story is that you should cross your fingers and hope something better comes along. Quick.
Ok, I was at the bar discussing with a friend what would make me desperate enough to hook up at the Ohio wedding this weekend. The jury is still out.
“So either Sixes was dating a pimp, and a deadbeat”. That “and” should be “and/or” and you have your story straight. I am not sure if the previous tenant/offender/dream boat is an ex or not…can you send me a photo…or DNA and we can clear this up.
Dead Hooker Unit. Wow, that has CSI:DC all over it. better yet let E and I come over and we can probably have that solved in 2 blowjobs and a wink…I’ll go in. I have no fears.
“So if a dead hooker falls in the forest, and theres no one there to smell it, does it make a smell?” Is the best line EVER on this blog. TOUCHE Shannon, I love you!
VELVET you ass, why did you delete the code?! Didn’t you foresee America’s Most Wanted in your future! Damn ‘HO!
What code? I’m lost!! You and E don’t want no part of these hookers. They are tranny hookers. And not cute ones either. Wait till I-66 has to order a fumigation.
Dara – I have an incredible knack for staying at miserable jobs for a long time. I don’t know what it is, but I’ve had REALLY bad jobs, the kind where your boss comes in at 5:30 p.m. after a day of lunching and errands and demands everyone stay till 10 at night with her, so she can get up and do it all again the next day, meanwhile you’re at work at 8:30 and she’s snorting coke off the pool boy…but I digress. THAT job I almost walked out of. The rest are a piece of cake. For the most part…I just don’t like how people treat other people there. It doesn’t bode well for the future. We’ll see though.
Dead Hooker Unit sounds like some “that’ll cost ya” sexual purchase. You want them dead? You pay more. Ripe? $$$. Wearing a stap on? We charge extra for that.
Look, I know I’ll ill, but 66 adores me.
*snorting* over Sixes dating a deadbeat pimp.
Velvet: no one sticks it out in a bad job situation more than me, trust me. It’s almost like a challenge.
Then again, Dead Hooker Unit could be playing at the Velvet Lounge over at 9 1/2 Street.
There was a big group of tranny hookers who used to hang along Massachusetts Avenue at 5th or something. There was a beauty supply place in Chinatown off H and they would show up at 8 a.m. in kittyprint buying their Lee press on’s and bulk muslin strips for waxing.
Um, excuse me cube, but I have never worn kittyprint and the muslin was for waxing my chatch, not my upper lip and beard. Psh.
I66- Do what all the Landlords in NYC do when they want to take a look in a unit to see if there’s a DB-Dead Body in there- Call 911 from a payphone and say that someone in that unit is having difficulty Breathing, or is in cardiac Arrest. EMS will respond with PD & have FD break down the door and search the joint.
As for Pimpsey, he knew the jig was up when his “girls” couldn’t get in the building.
Getting mugged? In that neighborhood? (I live across the street from the aforementioned building.) I’m female and tiny, and I’ve never felt unsafe there.
Then again, I did live in Colombia and Bosnia, so my viewpoint may be a little skewed.
Wild Bill – Your error is in the assumption that DC Cops are as diligent and effective as NY Cops. Wrong wrong wrong.
Shannon – All of my predecessors were mugged in that parking lot, as were 7 owners. Mugged, as in beat senseless and sent to the hospital. Yikes. I think it’s better now. Last mugging was Dec 2007.
Ah, I don’t have a car and therefore don’t have to deal with spooky parking lots.