Polite drivers? No way.

What is this new thing? The slow driver in front of me pulls over onto the shoulder and waves me around. And then so does the guy in front of him. At a stop sign, everyone looks around, smiling, and waits patiently for me to make the first move. They all laugh as we figure it out. The checkers at the supermarket smile and actually make eye contact as they hand me my receipt, after first commenting on the lovely weather (it is) and how they hope I’m having a good day (I am).

What is this strange place!? Evidently, all the hostility and frustration that forms smog clouds over cities evaporates up into the cloudless sky here. That weirds me out, man. Even the waitresses are polite and really mean for me to take my time ordering, and don’t mind the 5th or 6th refill. They bring it before I ask. And that’s just the crappy eating places. This ain’t no four-star.

What next? Some guy will tell me I left my lights on in the parking lot? Yep. They called around and matched up the bumperstickers to the car make and tracked me down.

I knew country folk were nice, but man. Even the drivers? That’s like finding out your mom is a robot. Has some ups, but mainly is just creepy and disconcerting. Sorta mainly. I mean, you could overlook the mom-robot creepiness in light of the upshot of reprogramming and hibernate button, but nice drivers? There’s no getting over that creepiness.

Worst boss ever, Exhibit E

Has an annoying habit of rolling his eyes during conversations, most especially and surprisingly while he himself is speaking.

Aren’t annoying habits the hallmark of a bad boss, like Lundberg from Office Space: “mmmm yeahhhhh… I’mmm gonna have to ask youuuu to come in to work Saturdayyy, kayyyyy?”

I wish I could see that his eye-rolling was the tell for his lies, but he does it all the time. Rolls his eyes, I mean. Come to think of it, as far as I know he lies all the time, too. Maybe it is his tell!! Must think more on this. But not outside of work. Not. Worth. Time.

Nothing like a mother’s love

So where in our relationships do we come to the point where, oh let’s pull an example out of the air… YOUR MOM can say so frankly to you, while patting you on the spare tire, “Well gosh. Do you even exercise?” Even my best friends aren’t so open and helpful about my weight and diet. Golly gosh, mom, I’d have never thought to exercise. Thanks for that insightful tip! Do you think maybe if I changed my diet I might see results, too? I know that’s completely far-fetched, but hey, thought I’d run it by a guru like yourself. And here I thought just sitting in one place and clapping my hands would whisk me away to Neverland, where Tinkerbell would lead step aerobics in my dreams, and the Lost Boys would perform liposuction on me, all the while feeding me bon-bons.

Urge to kill… mother.. rising…

So, which is more offensive to hear coming from your mother?

a) No, you don’t look fat in this pict– oh, yeah you sure do. [bursts into uncontrollable laughter]
b) You can’t have Indian in your bloodlines. They’re not as hairy.
c) [Looking at pictures] You sure did get Gradma’s nose. Man was that thing huge and rubbery!!
d) How I think of you is “queen arrogance”.

Now, note that these were actual words, not interpretations. If I were to interpret, the phrase “I thought I’d take you to the airport today to get an earlier flight” (a week before the actual flight) would have been written like “You must go away and never enter my site again, oh horrible one. How you sprang from my loins I shall never fathom. You are a beast of unimaginable shame to me…” and so on; and “I’d like to come visit you, but who will take care of my animals?” would be “If you grew fur and a tail and moved a thousand miles closer I might like you.” Well, evidently more fur.

Oh, but my favorite is this.
Me: Well, I call you when I’m angry or frustrated and just need to vent. … Can I still call to vent to you?
Her: Sure, you can eVent or iRant or whatever you call it. I just don’t want to hear it if it’s unjust or slanted or unfair to the other person.

Ok, so pretty much never. Got it, thanks! I now hereby dedicate my new category: my mother.

Worst boss ever, exhibit D

Refuses to do or learn about any of the rest of the department’s work. Texts underlings during big meetings to get better details.

As evidence of the first statement, the very day I met the guy, the VP of the department, he asked if I had any concerns about my boss leaving and him coming in new. (Right, like I’ll bite at that.) I told him the other guy had covered for me when I was out. He was my “backup”. “Noooooo,” says new guy. “You don’t want me touching your stuff. I’ll mess it up in a heartbeat. I don’t know anything about it.” The short of it is that we’d have my “team” back me up. But my team was all fired. What happens in the interim. “You don’t have a back up then.”

Uh. K. My stuff isn’t the kind of stuff that you can just leave alone if I’m gone for a day or fourteen. And God forbid I take a decent vacation.

Well, when push comes to shove, he doesn’t learn any of our jobs. He knows so little about the daily goings-on that during big meetings with his bosses, he has to text someone on my team to fill in details. Fill in normal but just-below-thumbnail-sketch details of how things work.

Whatever, man. At least pretend to try to learn. Pretend to have a passing interest. Pretend you consider me something more than just a person you “manage”.

No rant??

Nope. Nothing to rant about today. Should I even post? Well, I can rave sometimes, too. But this isn’t a rave. How about iMarvel? Because it’s a marvel that I don’t have a complaint. I had to drive to work today with wet hair, but it’s warm out. In the 70’s!! While the northeast is buried in snow, I’m not so much having winter. I don’t even need my jacket. HA HA. Jokes on you, northern dorks.

Oh wait. I forgot my water bottle. Noooooooooooooo! How horrible. Doesn’t it figure. Boy water fountain water sucks. Tastes like someone is soldering my tongue.

No, my heart’s just not in it.

Self-fulfilling prophecy, or just normal travel these days?

I called it on Friday. And sure enough, Saturday came in a wave of bad travel. Three flights, two prop planes and a regional jet. Total time for travel, six hours. Total layover time between each flight, half an hour. Actual time for travel, thirteen hours. Actual layover time between flights (total) seven hours.

Here’s the breakdown: my first flight was delayed, and although I asked about my half-hour connection, they assured me they had already looked into it and I was going to make it. Ok. Sure enough, in flight they realized I wasn’t going to make it an re-routed me for my next flight. But lo! I’m the airport-sprinter you see dashing by you, determined to make my flight, destined to wait no longer than required. I made that connecting flight with minutes to spare, even if they had been on time. So there I was, boarding my scheduled second flight, which turned out to be an hour late itself, although most of that was spent under the de-icer. Ok. Still no problem.

I get to my secondary destination, Memphis, and go to the appointed “I missed my flight” station. They had our new tickets ready and were, I must say, completely on the ball. Except I wasn’t on their list and there was no ticket for me. Turns out I was supposed to be in Houston, per my first-flight re-route. Except…. no one told me this. I am guessing that the way it works is if you make your first flight, fine, but if not they’ve got you covered on a second flight. I surprised them by making the first flight, but, … wouldn’t they know to expect me in Memphis?

Well anyway. The short of it is the next flight to my destination was in five hours, and any connecting flights would only get me there later. Normally I’m fine with such snafus, but I had someone else picking me up at the airport, someone who can’t drive well at night. Grr!

What scares me is the idea that either I got onto a flight that I wasn’t ticketed for after all (I’d printed my boarding pass the day before) or that the computers didn’t realize I had actually boarded (judging by the snafu in Memphis). Either way, I’m concerned! Shouldn’t they be keeping up with passenger manifests? I mean.. what about no-fly lists? What about accidents? If that plane had crashed, would anyone have notified my family, or would I be the unidentified victim?

One big laugh out of this was “Mr. Karma” who was dropping F-bombs the whole time. Oh, did I mention our flight out of Memphis was delayed because the crew’s flight arriving to Memphis was late? Anyway, Mr. Karma couldn’t stand the idea of waiting an hour more than the five he’d already waited, and so left. No sooner had he left than our crew arrived and we boarded the plane. I was hoping Mr. Karma would be left behind, but no.

I did get a first-class seat out of the deal at least.

Pre-travel ramp-up rant

I’m just prepping myself in case of travel woes.  Oh, they’ll be there, all right.  I have three flights (!!) for my stupid little boy-wasn’t-this-cheap airfare.  Well, I’m sure I’ll get what I pay for.  As a preview, each flight has a layover of only 30 minutes.  That’s actually my longest layover.  Here’s to hoping the airports I’m hopping into are tiny (all the flights are regional jets, a tiny folding-step above puddle-jumpers) so I can make the transfer.

I ranted about not checking bags, and I still stand by my carry-on bag being right-sized for carrying-on.  But at the same time I get a little thrill thinking of how the defeat of waiting in vain at the luggage spitter and then the horror of waiting in line in the baggage claim office will be offset by the joy of not having a bag to lug around in the airports during my transfers AND the rapture of making airport personnel find my house in the boonies to deliver my bags.  And let’s not forget how much I delight in describing directions based on how many gates you pass and which dirt roads to turn on.  I truly love the befuddlement on the faces when I describe such a journey.

Simple joys.  We’ll see.

More on work sucking

Or perhaps, “Moron:  work sucky.”  Way more fitting for my colleagues.

What I’d love to say, more than anything else in the world to these guys, is not “it was broken when I got here”, which I know they expect to hear because they would say it, but “I have never been responsible for that and have no idea how it works.”  Which is true.  Well, they’re both true, but the latter is more to the point. I really don’t know how it works or has worked in the past. I have worked here and have a cursory idea about how things happen, but if some process ain’t workin’, I can’t help ya.

No, really.   Go do your job.  You fired everyone without getting any sort of knowledge transfer, so you figure it out.

How did I fix this other thing?  I’m not telling, because as soon as I tell you, I’m out of a job, too.  Choke on it, dillhole.

Worst boss ever, Exhibit C

Reveals vast “secrets” and swears department to secrecy when in truth there is no secret at all.

This one really gets me. In order to endear himself to us, or perhaps to engender trust, the ol man will say something in a meeting, swearing it to secrecy withing this room only, and make us really feel like we’re learning the secrets of the universe.

Then, approximately 5 minutes after release from the bonded room, someone from ANY other department will mention the same thing, in passing, as if known to all. And.. in fact… it IS know to all, with no secrecy pacts, no blood rites, no swearing. Well, I of course swear at that point, but it’s the promise of a different sort of bloody secret.

This guy is the worst. THE WORST. Before I was saddled with him, we really did learn dire secrets that would rock the company if they were known. Did we blab? Of course not. I had trust in my boss and respect for his confidence. This guy… eff him. Ever heard how the untrustworthy are the last to give their trust? Bingo. He knows he’s a total scamp, and so consequently believes the same of us. 100% bastige.

We hates him, we do!!!