Fuck your fucking face uncle fuckers

It is time, no it is past time, to bitch once more about the dreadful ceaseless hole into which i have been tumbling these past six months.

things i have learned about my company today:
1. Staff vacation accrual has been cut from 8 hours a month to 6.
2. The office is suddenly open and to be fully staffed the day after Thanksgiving.
3. There will be no cost of living increases nor "merrit" raises this fiscal year. *note- we have never received merit increases in this office.*
4. Staff must take vacation overage at times set forth by the company.
5. All employees are to report (even the suspicion of) non compliant behavior by any other employee of the company to our annonymous company "tip-line".

i would rather stick hot, rusty needles under my fingernails while floating in a barrel of salted lemon juice than remain in the employ of this increasingly satanic big brother organization.

sigh.

You have got to be smoking crack if you honestly think this is a good idea. I mean really, did little brain eating gnomes tiptoe into your ear as you slumbered your bossly sleep in the night to munch munch munch away any semblance of grey matter you had previously developed? Because let me tell you something, what you want – the idea of a “senior” admin assistant in the position in lieu of an office manager – the idea that someone will do all of the work and take on the stress of a manager only to be paid on an admin scale – will send anyone with a shred of remaining sanity to the highest of hills.

You, my numskulled pal, have got to be planning a coup. That is the only logical explanation for your seemingly insane scheme. Perhaps you are not a total moronic pin head of a man. Perhaps, you are vying for the downfall of our office, you crafty stretched devil you. Did you buy stock in another firm? Or perhaps some insider trading is the vaguely masked cause of this sudden and inexplicable change of plan. As there is no way a sane and non masochistic person would come up with this proposal. That must be it! You are begging for the office to fail. You must be waiting, fingers terse and tented, for the call from corporate to lock the doors for good. Because if you follow through with this utter epoch of buffoonery MORE of your agents will soon succeed from our union gleefully running arms agape like rats from a burning building away… far far away… from our office and our company.

If you are not scheming for destruction, I cannot fathom your reasons save this: you want to save money. You want some asshole to take on the burden of drudging tight this rickety cart you call an office under the weight of ten thousand screaming infants while being corporally whipped until bleeding and foaming at the mouth all the while having to count pennies to feed their stomach and soul.


Well listen close as I do not want to repeat myself… I am NOT the asshole for which you yearn. You may well believe the job can be done by any fifth grader with the knowledge to tie ones own shoe but no… NO… you had that already. Remember? She was drunk, left her leg in the office, her heart at the bar, and peed on the furniture. Are you longing for the bygone days? Do you miss the smell of vomit and whiskey with your morning report? If you do, then by all means, continue down this path of sticky self destruction. Your actions bode well for that future. Organizational and mental health death is afoot. It is what is bound to occur.

fugfugfugfuggers

-wow- who knew it was possible to go from normal mood to i hate the world in less than ten minutes.

evidently i haven't been giving myself enough credit because i have made it to bitch and back faster than the speed of a prom night erection.

and i'm none too pleased about it.

why you ask?

wait... you don't ask. there is only one person who reads this stoopid fucking blog.

i'll just call her instead.

bitching, about one's job? how original.

so it is apparent, quite evident in fact, that i am not good with a secret. wait, let me make a small amendment to that statement. will i run tell when someone confides a bad case of crabs? nay. i keep others personal items in the close comfort of my warm bosom. also, am i one to blab about and spoil a surprise party? no, i would not tell if it would ruin a fun time as i am quite the fun time gal. what i am lacking in regards to secret keeping is the ability to hold gossipy secrets close. of what i have been harshly made aware today, is that i am not the best at keeping work gossip especially in check. i am also not good at keeping the fact that i am irritated a secret. does any of this make sense? probably not. so i shall expound.


me beloved boss, my office manager/college friend extraordinaire, is putting in his notice today. BOO i say! i love him, have known him for years n' years, he keeps me sane at this place of insanity. sad-weep-sniff-tear-cry. as mournful as his inevitable departure is, a possible upside exists to his leaving. the silver lining to this event is i will perhaps/likely be promoted to his position. that would mean an almost doubling in salary and the ability to make some positive changes in the ol' real estate office. now, you may be wondering, what is the problem with this news? why is discussing these details something about which i should bitch?


because i told an agent (who is cool, who gives no reason nor historic president, of sharing this news) about the departure and possible promotion BEFORE me boss told the top boss in our office (hereto referred to as "Big Boss" though there is probably nothing big about him... ahem) . the background goes a lil sumptin likea dis...


big boss promised mac (the agent to whom i spilled the beans) that if mac would return to our company, he would have a personal marketing guru (ie me). mac returned, i worked on his items. mac was heartily pleased. however, some of mac's items were subsequently assigned to others in the marketing department. mac did not care for this as said items were delayed/a lil fucked up/crowded with the endless amounts of other work the marketing chicks must complete/in other words not-a-personal-marketing-guru. so mac went back to big boss and said, if procrast the great does not get promoted to do all of my marketing & more money i will once again leave the company. to which big boss replied, well, that sound like a splendid idea. i'm sure we can get that fixed. as a matter of fact, i'll write down some notes for further review.

big boss's notes as follows:
boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies. oh! i hear an airplane outside! stewardess stewardess stewardess with boobies boobies boobies.

then me boss finally told big boss his plans. big boss says to me boss... well, i believe procrast will be great for the job and i know mac and the other agents will want her, but i think it will be a challenge to have her manage other people who have been here longer. to which me boss replies, i can see it would be difficult, but she's up to it. she knows the issues at hand, she's not a total rtard. big boss then added this gem, "well, i think it would be best if we opened the position to all of the staff and hold interviews."

now... this sounds like a fair idea, no? would it not be pertinent to allow those with higher seniority to toss their hat in the ring? of course it would!!! that is... under normal circumstances. the problem with big boss' idea is the disorder and general mayhem which is bound to ensue within the coming months both angers and frightens me. you see, we will hold general elections, there will be hanging chads, there will be recounts, supreme court rulings, et all. and during the tornado of applications/interviews/interviews with corporate/ blah blah blah, i will have to do me boss' job sans me boss' pay. i will likely end up with the job and the salary increase but only after fifteen rounds with every waiting dick in the wings. and the rest, the rest rests in time and tenacity. do i know what that means either? no.

the only thing i do know for certain, is that i talk about work too much for my own good.

salut me boss
salut me old job
salut me splinter of remaining sanity.

bonjour annoyance.

Typically, titanic treatment of tagmemics tampers tonicity.

An astronomic amount of alliteration abjures for an avalanche of Advil.

So there are a few agents in my office who feel the need to "write with flare" when marketing their real estate. I just wrote up the following description for some craptastic, overly priced, cookie-cutter, high rise, piece of garbage. And it goes a lil' something like this:

This beautiful two bedroom, two bath, unit in the bountiful Palmolive, boasts all your buyer desires. (notice the rhyme? yeah.) Staggering upgrades include: Chef's kitchen with stainless steel appliances, stylish Grohe fixtures, stunning slate tiles, solid granite counters, superior double oven and more! Great open floorplan, generous room sizes, grand 10' ceilings, gleaming hardwood floors, glorious stone spa bath. Master suite with massive walk-in-closet, mamoth built-in's modified for the latest technology.

There is more but I cannot force myself to continue with the debotchery that is "marketing". Excuse me, won't you, while I immediately induce illness and remove all ingurgitated and/or imbibed items.

Vom.

I refuse to admit to my irrelevance.

Let me preface this rant with a short excerpt of “Things Procrast Already Knows”.

1. I am not a great photographer. I will never be known as a photographer. You will not hear my name along side Ansel Adams, Imogene Cunningham, Nan Goldin or the like. Photography, for me, is a joyous tidbit; a fulfillment to capture and manipulate a visual image. And in embracing my love of photography, I have also embraced my lack of painting talent. To hell with you paint, I shall photograph! So there it is.

2. I am not a great poet. I am, however, slowly becoming so and do not doubt my name could be known along side the greats. If only I could get some real publications under my belt. If only I could get some recognition by my true peers. If only….if only…if only….Sorry for the dramatic trail off but you know there are so many “if onlys” that I feel it would serve only to push the dagger further into my gut to list them. So there that is.

3. There are other people in the world who are now and will always be
a. Better at poetry/photography/everything than I.
b. More successful within the field of poetry/photography/everything than I.
c. More successful yet possessing less talent than I and on…and on…and on…

That all ‘round and about being said, I come here to this tableau of bitchery to vent my furious frustrations aloud to my one reader. OH READER! WHY HAST MY WORDS FALLEN ON MANY A DEF EAR? Rather, onto no ears at all? Well, I will tell you why. It is so because everyone who reads a book now and again feels they can write poetry. See? I have a good vocabulary, I can write poetry. SEE? I can rhyme too! I’m gonna muck up the postal service with my endless submissions to myriad lit mags with my deep, gothesque, emo, buffoonery.

Now, what angers me most, well most as of this moment, is not that the general half literate populous feels they can write poetry. No. Words are for everyone as poetry should be for the masses. I want everyone to write poetry. If anything, I think writing poetry, journaling, drawing, singing, art of all kinds, releases a bit of that pent up aggression/sadness/fear within us all. Art allows a bit of the cancerous bile we keep pocketed up in our squishy inner thoughts out and away from our person. It is good for everyone to write poetry. What is not good, however, what is the utter epoch of anti bueno, is the fact that these idiot editors at these hack lit mags keep PUBLISHING THE EMO BUFFOONERY! And what to my wondering eyes should appear, but this little gem on McSweeny’s Internet Tendencies: Sestinas (from which “Night Police” was rejected)

THE LIFTINGS AND THE FALLINGS
-by some dude
Grandmother, how I long once more in the gloaming
to hear your voice. Voicelessly, it speaks
in whispered sighs, the wind: statelessness.
With each daguerreotype I touch, a shroud
of darkness falls. I recall the breast pump
you gave me, how we gazed at the wainscoting

together, listening, how the wainscoting
echoed, a halcyon of sound, how the gloaming
enveloped the liftings and the fallings of the breast pump,
its capacious stillness immeasurable now. It speaks
to me in a voice I cannot hear, through a shroud
of silhouettes, bracken, statelessness.

Revenant, appear! Your statelessness
malingers in the chiffonier, the wainscoting's
absence, in the veil of dreams, the shroud
of sleep, the sidewalk of meaning, in the gloaming
of hunger, the chifforobe of chance ... One speaks
of incandescence, of what is needed, of breast pumps,

of fields which are no longer. Your breast pump
murmuring cantilevered statelessness
quells each ceaseless passerby, speaks
the language of grief, recombinant—such wainscoting
was not easy, such corridors— in the gloaming
of our hearts, as once they were, this shroud

forever flowering. Osterlind, our shroud,
undreams the unknowable. Breast pumps,
two fluttering ghosts, dreamless, undo the gloaming
in the leaves of dawn. Such statelessness
was not easy. With tenderness, the wainscoting
sings a song that you used to sing, speaks

with your voice, Grandmother. Persephone speaks
through you, in a tremolo: loud shroud.
Wrong song, for now, my heart demures ... The wainscoting
fades. The day is ended. Lost are the breast pumps
of sunlight. All is gone. All is statelessness, ruin. I sit alone, in the after-gloaming ...

And yet, in this post-gloaming, something speaks
to me of statelessness, then lifts the shroud
from my eyes: your breast pumps hang from the wainscoting.

Really?
Could you be anymore glib? Could you have used www.thesaurus.com more obviously? Could you have been listening to Radiohead on repeat more loudly?

So there. I just had to share with all of you the joyless boobery that was published in lieu of my work. And for those of you unfamiliar with my tired o’ft drug out piece “Night Police”, well then, here is a link to it. It is the last poem in this collection:
http://kathleen.marshall.googlepages.com/asinglemigration

Urg.

Pout.

I know I have to but why? Why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why?

Ok, back to work.

Common Work Faux Pas as presented in letter form.

Dear Madam,

As you have worked in the professional world for some time, you should already be aware of certain norms and customs of the professional world. However, I have had myriad complaints regarding your performance. I feel the time to address concerns is past due. I apologize if any oversight or lax communique has lead to this unfortunate and uncomfortable situation. Please allow me to remedy this error and explain correct behavior in an efficient, numbered list.

1. It is unclear at this time if you have attended/finished any secondary information. Until we at the company follow up on this point, please remember the following grammatical tips for every day use.

• Verb Tense-- Present perfect tense: I have seen. Simple past tense: I saw. There is no tense which would allow for the use of "I seen" under any circumstances. Please discontinue use immediately.


• Double Negatives-- Sadly for both lovers of Shakespeare as well as famed psychedelic rockers Pink Floyd, double negatives are not used in modern professional language. For example, "we don't need no education" though thoroughly acceptable as a song lyric, is not appropriate under business and professional standards. Please discontinue use of phrases such as, "I don't got no..." and/or "I don't need nothing". From this point on, please use the tense agreement in conjunction with the single negative phrasing such as, "I do not have any..." and/or "I do not need anything."


• Contraction vs. Preposition-- Would of and would've are not interchangeable. In fact, there is no correct time to use the phrase "would of" to construe present perfect simple tense. Please desist.

2. Bathroom etiquette is something of a coarse subject but is, evidently, a subject we must breach. Please leave the bathroom in the appropriately clean condition in which you found it. Paper towels need not litter the floor, nor water be left splashed about the sink and vanity area. Additionally, a lidded trash receptacle, power exhaust fan, and air freshener are always available for use. We encourage the latter most fervently.

3. One is free in a casual corporate environment such as this to use parochial language within a private conversation among friends. It is not recommended to use such phrases as, "The only pussy I like is my own." openly within a professional setting. It is easy to forget oneself and blurt out inappropriate thoughts. It is much easier, however, for a listener of said thought to take offense and subsequently file suit. Sexual harassment comes in many forms. At present, we do not carry enough insurance to cover further complaints.

At this time, I shall refrain from listing any further grievances. I do not want to bog down your psyche and/or already lackadaisical work performance. Please read, study, and review this list. I will discuss your thoughts on this subject during out next meeting. Until then, know these concerns have been aired only out of duty and the inability to fire you. Please also remember that due to your length of employment, regardless of your odoriferous malcontent-ed idiocy, still make more money than I.

Sincerely and with a full lack of respect,

The Woefully Underemployed

BitchingAloud-- Manifesto?

Oh to bitch. Oh to complain. Oh the joy of it all.

One of my favorite things to do when I'm upset/angry/irritated/bored/(insert your favorite descriptive predicate here) is bitch. I adore letting out the little annoyances that fill my day, piling up like so much dirty laundry. I feel stymied without the sweet release of a detailed description on how i was wronged, my desires ignored, my very person slighted. I want to share my bitter utterances with those around me. It is cathartic in so many ways.

The only problem with the need and passion for complaint is with the listener. Sometimes you want to complain about a friend and their dumbass boyfriend to another friend. But what if that other likes the dumbass boyfriend? What if your listener values your friend and their position (ie relationship with said dumbass) above your own? Is your desire to ventilate your bubbling steam worth creating tension? I say nay. One must have an outlet for these feelings and concerns.

Stop hiding! Away with feeling there is no public outlet for your fury and utter frustration regarding friend/family/coworker/reality television joe. You too can bitch! Rise up against the politically correct, the white lies of civility. Bitch Aloud to All Who Stumble Upon Your Words.

Share the joy.

Join me, my brethren, join me in my quest to bitch.