Fuck the system
So, in light of my constant coughing, quasi-nonexistent voice, spiked temperature and general feeling of impending death, my supervisor suggested I go home early, which while enticing and possibly beneficial, comes with a catch...naturally. Though in the form of a suggestion, it's not. Instead, it's one of those gently worded, "Get your sick ass out of here" comments. What's worse, going home sick requires taking vacation time. I, technically, can't take a sick day unless I've been to the hospital. WTF people?!?! It's not just me, right? I know it can't be. This is insane. Since when did convulsing with cold chills, passing out at random intervals and seeing bright flashing lights become a vacation?
What's worse, is my supervisor wonders why I'm always sick. Well, Cayo-sensei, I'll tell you why I'm always sick. Besides the obvious, 'I work with five hundred kids on a daily basis' cop-out, no one in this country has heard of central fucking heating...or even central non-fucking heating, for that matter. I spend the better portion of my days curled in the fetal position fighting to maintain some semblance of warmth, a losing battle I do believe. Furthermore, I don't eat on a daily basis, I don't subscribe to Maslow's hierarchy of needs...wait, in fact, I'm almost positive I've successfully proven that his hierarchical pyramid can be inverted to form Maslow's cone of self-deprecation, masochism and assholes. And last but not least, you, Oh Wise Supervisor, find it fascinatingly funny, amusing, to cough on me while riddled with more communicable diseases than the CDC. I mean, I don't know...that last one's a shot in the dark really.
On the bright side, and there is always a bright side you non-believers, I've got that raspy, lounge singer voice going on...which is always entertaining, though never lasts long enough to be lucrative.
What's worse, is my supervisor wonders why I'm always sick. Well, Cayo-sensei, I'll tell you why I'm always sick. Besides the obvious, 'I work with five hundred kids on a daily basis' cop-out, no one in this country has heard of central fucking heating...or even central non-fucking heating, for that matter. I spend the better portion of my days curled in the fetal position fighting to maintain some semblance of warmth, a losing battle I do believe. Furthermore, I don't eat on a daily basis, I don't subscribe to Maslow's hierarchy of needs...wait, in fact, I'm almost positive I've successfully proven that his hierarchical pyramid can be inverted to form Maslow's cone of self-deprecation, masochism and assholes. And last but not least, you, Oh Wise Supervisor, find it fascinatingly funny, amusing, to cough on me while riddled with more communicable diseases than the CDC. I mean, I don't know...that last one's a shot in the dark really.
On the bright side, and there is always a bright side you non-believers, I've got that raspy, lounge singer voice going on...which is always entertaining, though never lasts long enough to be lucrative.
posted by Chishiki Lauren at 8:51 PM
2 Comments:
But, are they COLORED flashing lights? ...you should work on that... and Then it would be a vacation... sigh...
This is the same stupervisor whose exploits include serving Whale blubber for lunch; hacking a lung; and WWF smackdowns of adolescents? I think it's time for some good spirited fun at work. My favorites include, in no particular order:
- disconnecting the person's phone handset from the base unit. Unplug it just enough to lose contact, but not enough to appear obvious.
- Adjust their desk chair up or down just a little every day. I prefer down. I relish the site of seeing the target sit at their desk one day with their chin just above the edge of their desk.
- cover the mouth peice of their phone with tape.
- hide the phone handset in or near their desk
- remove sheets of paper from their notebook each day, starting at the back
Now since this is your stupervisor, you'll need to pick and choose these carefully, if any at all. Even if you don't do anything, it's fun to plot.
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