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.

3.25.2005

*eyeroll*

Dear Bosslady,

It's Good Friday. Easter's in 2 days. You know, that holiday where Jesus rose from the grave, saw the easter bunny's shadow, and managed to slip some bottles of Iron City Beer into my basket of eggs. Even my brother, who works at a factory, has today OFF. I thought I'd not push my luck, and ask for a half day, especially because you're leaving for vacation today. You ignored me.

In fact, you just called me and asked if I would "be around this weekend" because you need me to do shit for you that's not related to work. And the Press Kit, and press releases you've been up my ass to do since Monday... the ones I've had done since Wednesday, and were ready for your review (you know, that thing), you STILL haven't edited yet. So now, you're going to take them on your trip, and call me from the airport tonight, and make me do the changes over the phone. To say nothing of the fact that your parents are renewing their vows this weekend. You've known for at least 3 months that it was happeninig. You volunteered to assemble the scrapbook for your parents. YOu can't fucking start that 2 days before you leave, and expect to finish. And when you tell me that you need me to "perhaps" put what you write into a pretty format, so you can finish it on Saturday, I am going to be really, really fucking pissed. I have plans for tomorrow. Just like I had plans for this afternoon. I'm not waiting at home by the phone for you to call.

And lets get on to the other thing you called about.

You know what, it is really hard to run your own business, and keep your family life straight. However, crying at me that it's "so hard" and telling me that you want me to take more "ownership" isn't going to cut it. I'm NOT "taking ownership" of this place for $10 bucks an hour and no health insurance. I know that your strengths are schmoozing, and it's "really hard to write, when I've got all these other responsibilities", but you know what? YOU ARE THE EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR. YOU HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS OTHER SHIT TOO BECAUSE THIS ISN'T. MY. BABY.

It's not like I'm asking you if I should use 4 squares of toilet paper to wipe my ass, or 8. I'm asking you legitimate business questions. Because. You. Are. My. Boss. And if I ask you how the business plan is coming along, and you ignore me, I'm going to get pissed. I think your ideas are wonderful, but we have. No. Structure. And I have seen what happens in a nonprofit when there's no structure. It fucking collapses, and it's not fucking pretty. When I ask you legitimate questions about how you want things done, don't give me the "ownership" speech. Because I am not as vested in this as you are. And I'm not GOING to be, untill this thing is stable, because I don't want to waste my fucking time.

If this is going to be a business, fucking act like it. If it's your hobby, or your way to make yourself feel good - so you can say "oh look, I'm helping people with disabilities"- when you're not doing a fucking thing, You need to tell me. Because I want a job, not somebody's fuckin' hobby, OK?

Sincerely,
One fucking pissed Sauce who wanted to dye easter eggs, bake, go to the gym, and get some groceries this afternoon with her Saucemomma.

5 Comments:

Blogger Memphis Word Nerd said...

Your boss raises my blood pressure. I can only imagine the effect that she has on you.

3:07 PM  
Blogger Special Sauce said...

Thanks, MWN.

G. Monkey and I ended up going to the Indian Buffet for a late lunch, and she's coming over tonight (to dye easter eggs, eat junk food and watch horror movies). She doesn't know she's getting press-ganged into grocery shopping with me. We've got a good tomorrow planned too. It doesn't include me sitting by the phone for boss-updates.

In more upsetting news, Evil has a vet appointment on Monday, because the thing on her side just isn't healing, and it's squicking me out. I was petting her belly this afternoon, and found what can only be described as a giant easter egg in her little flap of belly. I feel like the worst cat mother ever for not having found this before. It's fucking HUGE.

Thank goodness she's going to the vet Monday. I hope it's a cyst, and not something malignant. Cross your fingers.

3:26 PM  
Blogger parcequilfaut said...

Crossed.

You know, I was going to log in and bitch about the fact that they changed our commission schedule in such a way as to create a 4-week pay gap, with only 2 weeks notice to tell everyone I owe money that they have to wait longer, but as that's on top of what I make, and after reading the adventures of my ET, I don't think I'll bother.

Happy full moon, ET, and a late-but-blessed Ostara. And Bosslady? Fuck off.

7:07 PM  
Blogger Memphis Word Nerd said...

I hope your Indian buffet was good; I may do that tomorrow. Today has been one of those lovely lounge-around-the-house kind of days.

I was thinking about Evil and hoping that she's doing better. I'm sure that the thing on her side is nothing but it's scary when your baby is hurt and can't tell you what's wrong!

I was in a rather limericky mood tonight so I wrote a couple to cheer you up. NO LAUGHING ALLOWED! :) I never claimed to be a talented writer, just a devoted cat lady and concerned friend.

Attempt #1:
‘Evil’ is a naughty little kitten
With whom Sauce is completely smitten.
Kitty behaves like she’s possessed;
She’s maniacal at best
But she’s so cute that her way she keeps gettin’.

Attempt #2:
Sauce’s kitten acts like demon spawn;
Yet her furry expression says, “C’mon,
I may be a handful
And somewhat demand-ful
But I know you don’t mind these goings-on!”

1:14 AM  
Blogger Steph said...

for the love of elvi everywhere, does your crazyass boss know mine? perhaps they sit online for hours thinking of ways to torture us? bitches............

3:29 AM  

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