Tuesday, October 13, 2009

This is why people go postal

posted Wed, 06 Oct 2004

This is the sort of day it’s been. The bossy micro-manager controlling obnoxious annoying project manager for my division’s SAP implementation got on my nerves at our weekly staff meeting this morning, as usual. He said that “as a point of etiquette, we should not be working on our laptops during the meeting.” He was right, which makes it even worse, but he is just such a poopyhead.

He and I got into a big argument yesterday. He wanted a meeting to discuss my data cleaning project plan. I had tried to set up such a meeting not once but twice in September. Both times, he was the one who couldn’t make it, even though his calendar showed him as available. (We use Lotus Notes scheduler here, which is the greatest tool – but it only works if you actually keep it current.) He always wants to be in my bidness, so if I am talking to one of the managers in my division, he wants to control the meeting. Well, he does not have to be involved in everything. He is not the boss of me.

Anyhow, in this meeting yesterday with my boss and my boss’s boss and the micromanager, I handed the micromanager the project plan and asked, “What do you want to know?”

“Is that how you want to start this?” was his snide reply.

Well, yes. You are the one who insisted we meet during lunch. It couldn’t wait. You are the one who wanted to see the plan. Here it is. Now what?

So I had to see him first thing this morning. Not a good start to the day. And of course my boss won’t ever stand up to him because my boss hates conflict of any kind, even the creative kind, which is absolutely necessary when you are designing completely new business processes, but that’s a different subject.

Then I got a headache that still has not gone away. Now that I am keeping a migraine diary, I am starting to see a clear connection between meetings with the micromanager and my headaches.

Then when I got to the gym for my lunchtime workout, I realized that my t-shirt was too short to cover my butt. Usually, I wear bike shorts with a big, long, baggy t-shirt that goes to my thighs, but this one barely covered my waist. I really don’t want my big, saggy, bike-short-covered butt on view for the whole world to see.

After working out, I noticed that they still have not cleaned the locker room showers. The same hair has been on the shower wall since Monday. The same mildew has been there for months. I have been complaining about the showers at the JCC for three years now. The answer I get from the staff is that the cleaning crew is paid hardly anything – what can you expect?

I can expect them to do their jobs, dammit. I have literally – and I use “literally” properly here – cleaned shit for minimum wage. (See “Gentlemen Prefer Redheads.”) What on earth does wage have to do with whether one does a job or not? If you accept the wage, you agree to do the job. It’s not like I’m asking them to develop a unified field theory.

Then when I returned to work, I discovered that the two main people I needed for a meeting I set up for this afternoon A MONTH AGO had canceled. (Which is why I have time to write this now.)

I want to go home. I want to go home, crawl into bed, and eat chocolate.

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