Special Sauce

A mish-mash of twisted thoughts from a fevered ego. Updated when the spirit moves me, contents vary and may have settled during shipping. Do not open towards eyes. Caution: Ingestion of Special Sauce may cause hair loss, halitosis, and a burning sensation while urinating.

2.08.2005

Must. Control. Fist. Of. Death.

You know, it still holds true...

If I tell you we don't have something, and you call me the next morning and ask if we have it, the answer's going to be no. If you call back and ask again, the answer will still be no. If you call back to ask if it's in the filing cabinet, I'm going to tell you no. When you grill me on how many we had, and who I gave them to, it still doesn't change the fact that we. Don't. Have. Any. More. Auction. Books. When you come out to my office, and look through the filing cabinet, you're not going to find anything, and you're actually going to really, really fucking piss me off.

Why?


Because I told you yesterday that we didn't have it.

I didn't magically make one in my colon overnight. I wasn't hiding them, and I wasn't just telling you we were out of them for the sake of seeing myself type. I also can't go back in time to last year, and put them into a safe place where you won't lose them. Part of being a responsible adult is not losing shit.



The Sauce. She is updating her resume tonight.

I think this place has a lot of potential, but as it is, there is no structure, and no hope of getting any soon.

I pride myself on the fact that I'm organized, learn shit quickly, and am pretty damned efficient and independent. I don't ask for something unless it's pretty feckin' important. I ask here, and I get nothing. Or part of something. Or I ask, and I'm told "I'll take care of it". And it manages to get put back on me, usually immediately before the deadline. I know. Welcome to the real world.

I hate job hunting. And I know right now the market is tight. I've got an assload of experience. I have always assumed more responsibility than the average bear at every freakin' job I ever had. I'm not stupid. I also know that not having a degree shafts me. (OK potential employers, while kids my age were getting degrees, I was managing a store, interviewing and training new hires, and opening new facilities. Oh yeah, and then after that, when kids my age were getting settled in at their jobs? I was getting promoted in 2 months from receptionist to admissions director at a retirement home, and was responsible for 70 residents, tracking their meds & doctor visits, and hiring and scheduling and counseling staff, oh- and touring and admitting new residents too. And somehow helped the administrator get a 100% deficiencey free inspection in there too. Among other shit.) It's not like I sat around at ate cheetos while everyone else went to college.

I also hate not working up to my potential.

Anyway. I'll quit whining, and keep you posted.

4 Comments:

Blogger Special Sauce said...

Oh yeah, and one thing I forgot to add, because damnit, it makes me feel good. When I left the codger corral for the first time (before coming back as an activities director type) it took TWO people to replace me.

Yay me.

And damn if Ben Folds "The Luckiest" isn't one of the best songs ever... someday. Someday.

3:44 PM  
Blogger parcequilfaut said...

ET, ET. They just don't appreciate us.

I got the manager I had for the first year at SATH to send an email to the person doing the hiring for the job I'm looking for, so I'll just add another stick of incense to the Ganesh tonight for my twin, huh?

Here's a random question: do you put cheese in chicken noodle soup? I mentioned that I didn't want to eat the soup I have w/o cheese to my DesignSchool Homie and she acted like I was putting in shredded babies.

Kisses. You'll find something. And if not you can come down here and be a production coordinator. You can do more in five minutes than most of the people we've got on the floor right now....

8:09 PM  
Blogger Memphis Word Nerd said...

Ever thought about getting into mental health? No, no, I mean as an employee. Yeah, sure, I know that's what you meant, too. :-)

If you ever get bored with the whole working for a crazy person thing, you might enjoy moving to Memphis and working WITH crazy people. Except not. Because you have Way. Too. Much. Sense. For. That.

I'm sorry to hear that you aren't getting the adulation that you deserve. One of these days (soon!) I'll mail you that book and you can tell yourself "See? At least one person belongs to the Special Sauce Fan Club."

11:52 PM  
Blogger Ghost of Goldwater said...

The whole management here at school is going abroad for a couple of days, so we're pretty much running ourselves. Did I mention I have a great boss? *angelic smile*

5:18 AM  

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