Here’s some shmuck who just reviewed the latest effluent by those MSN cocksuckers who — on a seemingly hourly basis — ejaculate “advice” to the public on how to impress a prospective “boss” so that the latter motherfucker will “reward” the groveling dipshit with a “job” that features 40 or 60 or 80 hours of pointless boredom, all for pay too low to enable the sycophant to enjoy even a fraction of the “good life.”

If Mr. Bootlicker is successful in obtaining the position of, say, ‘jr. assistant manager’  at McMotherfucker’s, Toner Depot or BFD Technology, he’ll then be sure to heed the command to “follow the rules.”  He’ll comply gleefully to random urine, breath, saliva and feces testing; he’ll submit passively to body cavity searches, videotaping and microchip implants; he’ll be the first to volunteer for company “team-building” events.  He’ll never complain about the shitty pay, he’ll never steal paper clips or rubber bands, and of course — he will steer clear of “off-color” jokes, Internet porn beat-off sessions and “racist jokes.”

Leaders of the union Unite are to hold talks with Kraft over the US food giant’s rejected bid to take over Birmingham-based confectioner Cadbury…. From BBC News. Full story

This site may contain information about: food. The blog is also related to: food.

Sam couldn’t help but to stop and reminisce once they’d reached the hanging tree. It had been seven or eight years since the last time he’d been party to a posse. He’d had his first brush with death towards the end of that ordeal. A bullet had gone clean through his hat, missing his scalp by a mere two inches. It was one of those memories that are impossible to forget.  The kind that often come to mind at the most inopportune of moments. Of course, he’d heard the stories going the rounds, but he didn’t believe them for a minute. Sam was too ‘down to earth’ to entertain ideas that pertained to ghosts, or hauntings. “A bunch of malarkey,” according to him. He rather viewed the big oak as a landmark. It was the only one of it’s kind in the area, and stuck out like a sore thumb. When he dropped Luke’s rope down beside it, he explained to the men, “It’s weight is slowing me down. We may be in for a long ride.” That’s all he said. His men had to be wondering about that excuse, and we can imagine they thought he really did mean to hang the fugitive if they caught him, but they kept their mouths shut.

They’d all heard the reason he gave Luke for needing the rope. They thought that Sam had had a change of mind and plans from when he’d first questioned the Deputy. Perhaps, he’d come to his senses, they thought. None of his men really wanted to participate in a murder, and risk going to jail, or worse. They didn’t know what to think about Sam’s latest action. They didn’t know if they could take him at his word, although they wished to. Their job was their life, and it was in his hands. The men kept their reservations to themselves. Second-guessing Sam was never a good idea. It didn’t matter now anyway, Sam was already second-guessing himself. The winds of change were making themselves known.

Let me tell you about Sam. To begin with, he was a large man. He stood over six feet tall, and weighed somewheres around two hundred and fifty pounds. A good decade past his prime, he was to turn fifty years of age that coming December. He’d never been married, although he claimed to have once been ‘in love’. He wanted to go West, and she didn’t. End of story. When he was ‘in the mood’ for romance, which wasn’t all that often, he’d visit a lady friend who kept a room on the saloon’s second floor. Sam had never known his father. He’d abandoned his mother and himself when he was but a wee tot. Sam regretted the way it had all gone down when he left his mother back in St. Louis. He was thirty years old at the time. It wasn’t a good parting. He gave her one of those, “Woman, what have I to do with thee?” kind of things. She died of consumption before he’d procured the means to make his first return trip back home.

Sam was known to have been a rambunctious self-made man. He also knew the value of saving money. He was finally able to buy that dream ranch of his, and did so during the year of 1864. Sam was reliable, trustworthy, and loyal. He demanded those traits from his hired-hands, and for the most part, he received it. He wasn’t afraid to act on a hunch. Sam thought he knew where he might find the murderer, or at least pick up his trail, and that’s where they were headed. His was an educated guess. In the past, bank robbers, horse thieves, and other hardened criminal types were known to have hid themselves out in a small cave not too far on past the river. Sam had been there before on his previous posse mission. The way Sam figured it, if the stranger wasn’t there, and they saw no sign of his tracks, then he was probably headed to Mexico, and that’d be the end of the chase. “We did the best we could.” He imagined himself saying that to everyone. Nothing more would need to be said in the way of a justification.

Of course, everyone has fears, and Sam was no exception. He had his own private insecurities, but he never spoke of them, and would never have admitted them out loud. More than death itself, Sam feared losing the powers of his two-armed beast. One of those arms represented his position in society. Sam loved his hard earned success. He loved what he’d made of himself, and his ranch gave him the means to do good business. He had hoped to make a fortune from the land, and he was well on his way to doing just that. So, you shouldn’t be surprised to hear — Sam loved his money more than he loved speedy justice. Oh, he wanted to hang that sonuvabitch! Please, don’t get me wrong. The thing was…Sam had a business deal scheduled for Tuesday. He only had two days to play with, and then he’d have to be back. He didn’t want to miss that meeting for anything. Oh sure, he thought catching the bad guy was a ‘good idea’, but it wasn’t paramount. Not in his book, anyway. And his book was the one of financial security. Sam was somewhat content, but he thought he could handle more. He was sorely afraid of becoming poor and destitute somewheres on down the road.

The other arm of this fearful beast was the arm of physical prowess. Sam had been big and strong since he’d turned 18. He’d made a habit out of playing the ‘tough guy’. Men feared his very presence, and that bought him a peculiar type of respect. He could push people around without laying one finger on them. That’s the way he liked it, and that’s the way he wanted it. It provided him with an odd sort of happiness. Sam wasn’t ready to give up that respect. He wanted to retain his reputation. He was still a ‘bad ass’. This characterization gave him a heightened sense of self-esteem, and made him feel important. Intellectually, he knew it couldn’t last forever. His power of strength would slowly fade away someday, and he was just beginning to realize the nearness of that stage.

Sam had never necessarily intended on breaking the law. He couldn’t afford to. This excursion, and his role in it as the ‘leader of the pack’? That was his game. That was his hype. He was putting on a show, and Sam was a well-polished actor. He’d had lots of practice perfecting his — ‘Don’t mess with me!’ — persona. Sam could act genuinely outraged, and angrier than hell, when in all actuality, he wasn’t mad in the least. He put on a display, and assumed the posture of authority, which in turn acted as a deterrent, and an efficient one at that. Now that Sam and his men had been put on the side of the law, their choices as to what they could do were limited. If indeed they did end up catching the murderer, they’d have to bring him back alive, or kill him in self-defense. That was their only other choice, but it would work all the same. It was a plausible possibility. Most importantly, it could be carried out in complete compliance with the law of the land. Sam had enough witnesses to back up his story, if that’s how it all came down. He was ready and able to do just that, and prepared himself accordingly.

Tip #2 on being a Strong Boss from Steele Steadiman. Don’t ask a peon’s advice. More info at http://www.squishcreativity.com

Steele Steadiman is the humorous creation of Rick Highsmith, Regional Vice President, with The Leader’s Institute. Rick is available as Steele Steadiman for Keynote speeches. Contact Rick at rick@leadersinstitute.com

[Inspired by the sign-up thread on my kin forums]

Please game companies, do not give bosses silly names. When we sign up to kill them we want them to sound fierce. Also assume your players will abbreviate to the first name or a description of the boss.

Examples from LotRO:

• Nornuan – too much like Norman, we all just say ‘The Turtle’.
• The Mistress of Pestilance – sounds ominous until you get sign-up threads asking ‘who wants to come to the Mistress on friday night’ (seriously, one day I AM going to write Carry on Raiding)
• Zurm – an old Rift favourite, also known as Zurm the Worm, even though he isn’t ;p
• Narnûlubat – can’t pronounce it, so he just gets called Narn-thingy
• Thaurlach – a decent name, but will always just be called The Balrog. Until we have to fight another!

In general I’m very bad at learning names in LotRO, but that’s actually because Turbine have made the names Tolkeinesque so I approve. The Mistress just makes me laugh, and I hope we soon start to call her Miss Pestilence, MoP or something else. But let’s face it, the ‘giant slug’ will always be known as The Mistress.

I’d think of some from other games, but I didn’t raid in them much, any contributions gratefully received.

As you must know, I work in two restaurants. My lunch job is at Michael’s (high-end chain steakhouse). My dinner job is at Carney’s Corner (somewhat high-end Mom ‘n Pop prime steakhouse). Both restaurants have been hit by the receding economy the last couple years.

My personal stats on Lunch:

• I went from 4-5 lunch shifts a week, to 2-3 + an O/C.
• The money used to average out weekly to $100+ per shift; that’s gone down to about $75.
• Meantime, we used to run 5 or 6 servers. Now we go with 3 or 4.

Stats on Dinner:

• I used to have 4 shifts, now I have 3.
• We used to make a reliable $200+ weekend nights and $150 per weekday night. That’s dropped to about $160 and $100.
• Used to be 4 servers weekends, 3 weekdays. Now it’s 3 and 2.

At Carney’s the owners’ answer to falling business is to cut prices. And that’s their only answer.

I addressed this in abbreviated form a year ago in Hammer And All The Nails, wherein I observed and groused that Carney’s husband Harry had only one tool in his box: cutting prices. The title refers to the old saying, when your only tool is a hammer, eventually every problem looks like a nail.

Sadly, things have only gotten worse. The most precipitous decline in check average came about when Harry collected all the ‘bar plate’ specials (he used to drum up business by offering cut rate entrees for bar customers only – for instance, a smaller filet mignon, with mashed potatoes, and a salad, all on one plate for about half the price of the regular, larger filet) and put them on a special menu supplement – now to be available also in the dining room. Gone were the inserts of the ’specials’ and fresh fish that went inside the regular menus. Now there was a separate open-face ’specials’ menu, featuring about eight cheap entrees, and the fresh fish.

We all know waiters don’t like to sell cheap stuff. We don’t make as much money because we’re tipped on a percentage of the check. That’s why coupons, happy hours, and early bird specials are roundly despised by waiters. Yes, we recognize the need to keep customer traffic healthy. Yes, we understand that these lower-echelon diners will still be paying full price for other elements of their meals (booze, appetizers, whatever). And yes, we know that getting new guests to try the restaurant is a good thing that might yield repeat business down the road.

But damn it, I still have a problem with it.

First, let me grouse about the new ’specials’ menu at Carney’s. First, it’s an attention-hog. It’s like a sleazy girl with an okay body wearing a really short, tight dress. Even if she’s not your type, you’re not in the market, or you’re even a gay man, you will take notice and stare. Well, this menu is open faced, as I said. It is staring at the guest every single second. Whereas the ‘real’ menu is two pages book-style. It’s dynamite, loaded with things like Australian lobster tails, double cut rack of New Zealand lamb, New York pepper steak. But it’s closed. I can’t tell you how often diners don’t even open the regular menu. The ’specials’ menu is staring them in the face. The prices are 50-60% of the regular menu. Portions are smaller, but it includes a salad – usually a $6 add-on in the ‘real’ menu.

So, yes, I can hardly blame people for ordering from this special menu. But it does get worse. Everything on the specials menu is a cannibalization of impressive and superior entrees on the regular menu. The specials are basically half orders. The lamb? Just a single rack and already sliced into chops: half price. Pork loins? Sliced pieces from the same amazing thick-cut pork chop: 2/3 the size, half the price. And everything, incidentally, is prepared the same way as the regular menu.

The other day, Carney, herself, pointed to the ’specials’ menu and said to me, ‘You know, this is what’s saving us. This has become 70% of our overall entrée sales.’

Great. Just like when Coca-Cola’s marketing folk introduces five new flavors/permutations of Coke, and then brag about how the new products have become 20% of gross sales.

Well guess what? The pie hasn’t gotten bigger. It’s just been divided differently. And it’s your same pie, you idiots. And further, what you’ve ‘added’ to the mix are actually increased sales of the lowest priced and least profitable items.

Don’t know if you’re keeping track through the blog, but Carney’s does not advertise.

That said, I want to add this: I can’t tell you how many times regular, well-to-do Carney’s guests will sit down – prepared to order their Carney’s Corner favorites – and see this new ’specials’ menu and opt for a small filet instead of their usual 10 oz. baseball cut.

These are people who don’t need to be ’sold’ by lower prices. They are already here. They are here because they already like the traditional Carney’s fare – portion, preparation, price, everything. They are ready to order off the ‘big kids’ menu. But instead our owners just cut their own income in half by billboarding the specials menu.

Harry’s take is along the lines of shearing the sheep many times rather than slaughtering it once. Sure, wealthy people can afford the higher prices. But wealthy people are not immune to fear; they are looking to cut back where they can just like us normal poor people. Harry reasons (though he hasn’t said this specifically to anyone) if these frightened rich people see they can eat at Carney’s for $85 instead of the usual $120, then they’ll come back more frequently – maybe keep up their historical frequency of visits.

And it’s a fact that’s hard to argue with that, but that doesn’t usually stop me. Rather than rehash the argument I made in another post, I’ll just state here that without making people aware of this strategy (read: promotion and advertising) it takes too long to effect. We could well be out of this downturn by the time people are widely cognizant that Carney’s is quite reasonable for a ‘fine dining’ restaurant. But more on that day later.

Rather, for Carney’s my take – stipulating the reality that there’s no advertising going on – would be to have smaller, inferior, and different items on the lower-priced ’specials’ menu. If people are motivated by price, then let them take a flier on some of these items. Why not offer a Choice top sirloin (we serve only prime steaks currently) that doesn’t duplicate the filet, new york, and rib eyes we do serve? It’s a cheaper cut in the first place, it’s also a lower grade. It would still be a good steak. Just not prime.

Meantime, this strategy preserves the primacy of the signature dishes, the dishes long-time guests return for again and again. And they pay the regular prices for them.

Let’s move on to Michael’s, my lunch job. A corporate place, Michael’s has behaved like all the others. First there was the New York and Crab package special. Used to be a summer-only thing to boost business in the slowest months. Lately? I haven’t been keeping track meticulously, but I think it’s been running without cessation for the last two years. It is steak and crab legs and a salad and side item and dessert for each person for $60 per person. Yes, each person gets all of those things. Not shared. It’s more food than you’d know what to do with, at Michael’s quantities. It’s about $100 of food at normal prices.

I won’t lie. As a lunch server, this was a great thing. It was a massive up-sell over our $15-27 lunch fare. For dinner, it didn’t work so well. Mainly, though, I want to show the sign posts on the way to Michael’s self-fulfilling prophecy.

Next, we were dealt the Prix Fixe Deluxe at lunch. A selection from five normal-sized lunch entrees inclusive of a side, choice of soup or salad, followed by a dessert: $22. These items ordered a la carte from the lunch menu would run in the neighborhood of $38.

God bless them, Michael’s at least will promote when necessary. After a moderate media blitz, the Prix Fixe Deluxer’s (let’s just call them Prix) flood into the restaurant, ID tags dangling from their belts, the men in ill-fitting suits, the women wearing hair and outfits that have that ‘I woke up this morning at my boyfriend’s apartment and didn’t have a change of clothes nor the time to do my hair again’ –look.

Business ticked up for about a month, at least volume did. Of course, we weren’t making any more money. Remember Restaurant Overstaffing? Don’t get me started there . . .

Similar to Carney rationalizing the ’specials menu,’ our Michael’s pre-shift meetings featured a lot of talk about how all these Prix are people who wouldn’t normally be coming into the restaurant. And it was easy to agree with that. It was depressing to imagine how many covers we would have had some days without the Prix.

But which came first? The desire to go to Michael’s or the desire to get a good deal at Michael’s? In other words, what would have happened if the moderate media blitz instead promoted the fantastic lunch menu and high quality product and service? I kind of think we would have gotten a similar uptick in volume, and from our core-type guests: people with money.

Both my restaurants have created self-fulfilling prophecies by cutting prices then sitting back and noticing, ‘Wow! This program is really popular for us! It’s a good thing we did this, because it’s only thing people are buying!’

Well of course! And I think a $15,000 Mercedes-Benz sedan and a $75 Louis Vuitton hand bag and See’s Candies for $2.99 a pound would also be popular with their respective clientele. They’d find that quickly those items became the majority of their sales.

Congratulations! You’ve just destroyed your brand.

Which is my final point. Now that this new order has been achieved – Carney’s and Michael’s are successfully selling to more guests by lowering the prices and their profits, while still putting out the same quality – how do you re-convert your core guests once the economy turns around? How do you suddenly (or even gradually) take away these deals your guests have come to expect from, and even to identify with your restaurant? How (just one more rhetorical question, I promise) do you get them to feel good about paying $50 for a steak when they used to pay $30 and be perfectly happy?

The restaurant industry is in tread-water, stay-afloat mode right now. We’re all just trying to get through this till the seas calm down again. Unfortunately, what’s happening to many of the misguided and/or desperate places is they are making the wrong decisions and in the process disfiguring themselves. When they emerge from the economic storm, they will be unrecognizable to those wealthy whales [I know this metaphor has gotten out of hand, but just live with it, okay?] who are ready again to buy $100 lobsters and $200 bottles of wine. Meanwhile, their new ‘regulars’ will recoil when suddenly the ‘little’ menu is no longer available.

It takes some restaurants (Carney’s Corner) years to build up to a reputation of ‘high quality and expensive, but worth it’; and it takes others (Michael’s, who started out that way) years to entrench themselves in that position, able to fend off challengers because all those ‘qualities’ remain constant.

Now that I’m finished mangling my Stormy Seas, Bad Weather metaphor, let me finish with a new one. My restaurants will be like that unbelievable girl you somehow dated one time in high school. Then she appears at the 10 year reunion after too many years of clubbing, bad boys, cigarettes and cocaine. She doesn’t sound the same. She doesn’t look the same. She doesn’t have the same mojo. And even though you know you have a shot at her now, you’re really just not interested.

Late Saturday night when I opened my e-mail, I discovered one that made me think about writing notes on Facebook.

A friend sent me a cautionary message advising me not to make public some of the things going on with my work.

I agree with her totally.

This wide world web can catch you entangled in its sticky fibre and leave you out in the cold.

One should exercise extreme caution what to divulge in the public domain or such revelation can come back and bite you in the ass.

This made me think about what I write on my notes, although I must admit I’m already censoring myself.

Should I censor myself more heavily?

Perhaps censor is too strong a word. Often that word sounds dirty in the mind of free-speech loving people. And I being a journalist fall in that category.

Although I stand for free speech I also know there has to be some discretion and I’ve learned some lessons on that a number of times at these very pages.

Out of excitement one time, I wrote on my Facebook status that I was heading to Banff, not for pleasure but for work.

I immediately received a cautionary note from my newsroom about it.

I removed the status immediately.

But I think it was too late. Some folks on my list working for our competition already saw my status and probably told an editor. The assignment was too difficult to figure out.

I was still unfazed when I got to Banff the next day because I didn’t see anyone from our rival newsroom. Ah, but there’s such a thing as freelancers, that the competing media outlet used to get the important interview.

“Renato got slaughtered with that story,” the comment I heard the day after.

It was humiliating, but that also involved cunning moves from people involved in the story. 

The supposedly contact person made me go in circles while making me believe he was helping me. Meanwhile he made sure that the freelancer working for our competition got the interview.

I have no means to prove that everything worked against me because of a wrong move to make public what I was doing the next day.

At the same time, I have no evidence to the contrary.

The world of Facebook is fascinating with the way it connects people. 

But it can also be dangerous with its power to disconnect people.

One of my colleagues have repeatedly asked whether our bosses should be on our friends’ list.

It’s a personal decision that one makes, which also depends on what kind of relationship one has with the said bosses.

If the relationship is purely professional, why would you be friends with them in the first place. That alone qualifies whether your boss should merit a spot on your precious list.

And when you make the leap by allowing your boss to be part of that list, that means you’re putting yourself in a vulnerable place where they could find materials to use against you in the future.

However, they can also find materials that will help them better understand you and help you in the future.

So, if you can’t find even a hint that you’re friends with your boss, why include them on your list? 

“Renato, it’s Facebook, one shouldn’t take what people write in here seriously,” you may say.

Ah, but people do. People do take seriously what they see and read here.

While others commented that reading people’s status on Facebook is boring because they just say what they’re currently doing, such as spending time with their pets, baking cakes in their kitchen, celebrating a new car purchase or lamenting the loss of a loved one, this Internet tool has changed the way we socialize.

There’s no turning back. Millions of people have been caught in its web.

I see people with hundreds even thousands on their lists. That does mean they’re really friends with all these people?

I don’t think so.

Thus, I’ve always been leery accepting a friend request from anyone I just met.

As for divulging too much stuff, I don’t think I have dangerously exposed myself. 

However, a friendly reminder doesn’t hurt and for that I’m grateful.

Nov. 7, 2009

Tip #1 from Steele Steadiman on being a Strong Boss. Using fear to control the troops. More info at http://www.squishcreativity.info

Rick Highsmith

Well. It’s done. Woman “A” is no longer under our employment.

We’ve had to do this before. Sometimes with more cause than now. I know that it should be done at the end of the day with some privacy. Our state requires some paperwork and a paycheck (or the promise of one within a specified time frame). My partner took care of the paperwork.

Of course, he made me do the talking.

The other employees were out of the office and she was working quietly at her desk. I told her that we needed to talk as my partner took a chair somewhere behind me (probably to dodge any barbs or bullets). I told her that the behaviors we discussed had grown rather than lessened and unfortunately, we needed to move forward by letting her go. I made it short. I didn’t ramble. My partner took over and explained that we all had tried to tell her this at various times and yet there had been no improvement. I didn’t mention the comments of her co-workers.

She made eye-contact with me the whole time. When she first met my glance, she seemed curious as to what could be wrong. As my words came out and she realized she was being fired, her eyes became a bit doe-ish. I don’t think that she saw it coming. When we were done, she started to say something and stopped herself. She simply turned around and handed us her keys and access cards. She paused at one point. I think she had her head in hand trying not to cry or perhaps she was simply sighing. I couldn’t tell. She then got up and walked out the door to her car and left.

It was not contested. She didn’t really say anything. She needs this job (she works two of them) but the writing was on the wall. She simply couldn’t keep her mouth shut in any of those “the customer is always right” moments. I know she’s had bad days. We all have them but she couldn’t leave her bags at the door.

I’ve done this four times now and (even if deserved) it never feels good. That’s probably because I have a conscience. It needed to be done but it feels like a little part of you dies when you fire someone. She will be easier to replace than the other two people that she works around but I feel bad about just having done it. It feels “dirty”.

I have to keep reminding myself that it’s not personal, it’s business. I think that the worst part however was afterwards when my partner was trying to make light of the experience. He didn’t laugh at her but quipped that “divorce is easier”. He snickered about getting a beer and was insensitive to the fact that I was the one who did the talking. I was the one that this woman will forever associate with terminating her. I’m the one who had to look her in the eyes and then shoot her between them. I wish he would have just acknowledged how hard it was for me to do it. It would have eased the pain.

In the end, there was more than enough reason to do it and there were more than enough reasons why she couldn’t continue to work here but that didn’t make it any easier.

When you are young you find yourself waiting to be all grown up and on your own. I had my share of waiting for that too. To be a working adult, earning my own money and taking care of myself. And I am there now. And now I realize how important it is to have good bosses and like your work environment.

I have had my share of horror stories of hating the place I am working at and not liking the way it was run. The first place I worked at fooled me into thinking all work places are great. I was blessed with having the greatest of bosses who has overtime become one of my closest friend and confidant as well. I was in for quite a rude awakening after I left him and realized that all bosses aren’t like him and that work can be a real DRAG!

But at the moment I have no complaints. After a rollercoaster ride of not to be ever mentioned again places, I am happy right now. I had some good experiences and some bad ones in between. Learnt some, un-learnt some and forgot some. Learnt to get along, learnt when to ignore, when to compromise and when to put my foot down and say no (though Ravi will argue that I haven’t mastered the last one quite yet). Learnt to work fast, learnt to work well and learnt to complain my heart out.

But Blacksheep, was a blessing in disguise. I love my office and everyone working here. It is so important to like the place you spend more than half your days at. My bosses are people whom everyone would like to work for; sweet, fun, caring and genuinely nice people who give their employees all the freedom and flexibilities you can ask for. It’s no wonder my days don’t start with ‘Oh no’ these days… (Except when it is cold and I want to sleep more, but then I have a beanbag at work to sleep on). So here’s to great bosses who become great friends, fun time at work and lots of creativity.

SunSpray is Stateside this week, and we got together today for lunch. We seem too be having similar workplace experiences, including being told she is “negative”.

“Oh my God!” I said, slapping her on the arm. “You’re a boulder too!”

SunSpray said, “I know!!!” Then she told me how she was trying not to laugh when she realized it – in the middle of her reprimand.

I said we need to make a t-shirt with a logo that says Boulder. We could wear it to make fun of our principals but they wouldn’t get it. Then I thought we should just get t-shirts from Boulder, Colorado!

So I looked up boulder on dictionary.com and one of its 20+ definitions gave the word “obdurate” – check it out:

Obdurate [ob-doo-rit, -dyoo-]
–adjective
1. unmoved by persuasion, pity, or tender feelings; stubborn; unyielding.
2. stubbornly resistant to moral influence; persistently impenitent: an obdurate sinner.
—Related forms
ob·du·rate·ly, adverb
ob·du·rate·ness, noun
—Synonyms
1. hard, obstinate, callous, unbending, inflexible.
2. unregenerate, reprobate, shameless.
—Antonyms
1. soft, tractable.
2. humble, repentant.

I would say we are obdurate!

And how nerdy am I , I got all excited that there’s a new, free dictionary.com app to download for the BB. I might get it!

“The reward for a job well done, is usually a harder job.”
-Lois McMaster Bujold

For all of my supervisors’ shifting and sorting in order to keep me steadily busy (which, by the way, is absolutely impossible with police work: you’re either swamped or drooling on your keyboard while the minutes laugh at you as they snail on by) I still managed to finish my jobs months ahead of schedule and can now apparently recommence drooling undisturbed. 

Obviously, I’m having another bout of feeling frustrated by my job.  They come and go.  Each attack gets less vitriolic and more resigned, but the feeling still boomerangs, and probably will continue doing so until J.’s done with school and we move, I finally toss off all restraints and throw myself into writing professionally (bankrupting and starving us both in the process), or until I succumb to the idea that resistance to my fate is futile (never!).

I make this go away. You're welcome.

If ever I’m not outrageously busy, somebody wanders by and makes snarky comments about how they’re paying me and Hennessy to sit on our bums and do nothing.  Regardless of the fact that I do all of the department’s customer service, or whatever it’s referred to in police work, maintain all department records, do all the mindless projects they dump on my desk simply because they don’t want to do them, keep the office clean, maintain all of their schedules, have attended all the trainings and obtained all the certifications, skills, and accesses they’ve required of me, manage all our 150 student employees, work with courts, lawyers, and insurance companies constantly, and still do their bloody laundry three days a week!  I’ve also identified and fixed procedural problems of my own volition and been commended for it!

Click here to recieve your reward.

Obviously this deserves punishment, scorn, and snark from my co-workers/supervisors.

If I’m capable of keeping up my normal duties and still managed to clean, resort, restock, and reorganize our huge office supplies/police gear/self-defense class items/parking equipment storage closet in three days, rewrite the entire procedure manual in four, and set up Chief’s email contact sheets in ten minutes…shouldn’t that mean that I can go to the vending machines for a snack without someone getting in a snit?

I deeply apologize for being a fast and thorough worker.  I’m even considering stopping it.  Because apparently all it gets me is frustrated in the long-term, and lectured and punished in the short.

Several friends advised me not to say anything to Principal Pretty, and I didn’t. I’m sort of glad I listened to them, because I was a lot angrier than she was, because she wasn’t angry at all!!!  I think she had a lobotomy because she says angry things to people this year – in person and in notes – but then is all carefree and happy-go-lucky about it later.  It’s a little disturbing. 

So this morning I came in and my lesson plans were in my mailbox. You remember the lesson plan template that I didn’t get, right? That I had to have three teachers and the principal explain to me because it was too easy and I did not see how it could be useful? This week she decided to say, “Institutrice, in the future could you please write page numbers and the book titles?” I was like, NO, if you want that much detail then you can just look at my real plans! I am NOT writing the same thing twice! So I fired off an email telling her I had expressed my concerns about the lesson plan template, and how it doesn’t help me plan or teach, that I simply fill it in after I do my real plans. Then I said if she wants that much detail, I will attach a photocopy of my real plans to her template. I barely hesitated before I pushed “send” and thought, Screw it.

Her lobotomized answer? She doesn’t remember me having any concerns, and she just needs to know what story I’m on to have a heads-up, and if I want to copy my planbook for her that’s okay. Then she told me she made up the template because people weren’t turning in their plans, and now she’s getting 98% of them, and on time. (Somehow I don’t think it has anything to do with the template, especially when we were all asking each other, What does she want? But what do I know…)

All I can say is, it’s not worth it to get upset at someone who doesn’t even realize how angry you are.

I can’t say it to Principal Pretty, so I’ll say it here.

I passed out the stupid shirts. Once again I am disappointed by the lack of follow-through on school rules and student behavior. I am tired of being the bad guy for expecting my students to behave in an appropriate manner. The kids do NOT deserve the shirts. I had two boys get in trouble for the same thing at recess two days in a row, so I told the monitor to take them to the office. They were back, laughing, within ten minutes. Do you really think that is okay? Do you really think kids deserve the ticket for walking in the hall even though we practiced for three days and they couldn’t do it, and after five weeks they still can’t? I gave them the fucking shirts, but what message does that send? The rules are a joke – which we adults already know!!! And you’re gonna tell me those two boys know how to keep their hands and feet to themselves at recess? Well, I guess if you say so…

Popular Science Guy agreed to keep the guinea pigs for one week for you. That was all your doing; they already had a place to live. I am still disappointed and disgusted by the sneaky, underhanded way it all went down. You and Mrs. Asthmatic snuck into my room, even though I was in the building, to look at the guinea pigs and decide they had to go. You had already talked to the mother AND Popular Science Guy before you said a single word about it to me, as evidenced by you already having a place for them to go for the day AND two students to carry the cage when you decided to let me know AT 9:15!!! Fifteen minutes before an Administrative walk-through that YOU had been freaking out about!!!

You really need to work on your timing. Like when you came to reprimand me for 15 minutes in the middle of reading groups so that the kids start yelling and running around because they have no directions but YOU need to see me in the hall. Was this really the best use of instructional time? Which begs the question, is this a school or what? No wonder you sided with the aide who complained that a kindergarten teacher “treats her like dirt” because the K teacher doesn’t want to CHIT CHAT in the middle of class! [And when Pretty confronted the K teacher - with only half the story, of course! - the teacher's blood pressure went through the roof and she ended up leaving school with chest pains. She's been in the hospital for a week.] This school becomes less and less academic every year, and it is disgraceful. The first time you met me, you made a joke about how I teach until the last day; shame on any teacher who doesn’t!

Take this “good behavior” movie tomorrow – do we really have two hours for kids to sit around and watch some Disney crap? What about math! I’m supposed to give a quiz tomorrow, and the unit test is next week. But, oh, wait, I’ll lose another math class on Wednesday for the Phillies pep rally. Yeah, I’m glad they made it to the World Series again, but this is a SCHOOL, not summer camp!

But I guess that’s why I call you “Principal Pretty”, because you’re just here for the fun stuff. You do finally do RtI right (though not the best use of your people) but still have nothing to offer to get kids to pass the PSSA. A principal is supposed to be the instructional leader of the school. The only thing you’ve taught me is how to fake your busy-work lesson plan template. (Because you have no time to read through real lesson plans – or do you not understand them, Typing Teacher?)

You encourage a “tattle-tale” culture by allowing parents to go to you with concerns instead of referring them back to the teacher. Then you go off half-cocked with only half the information and start making accusations. But then, you make only half an accusation, and we are supposed to guess what we did a la Love & Logic. I almost didn’t know what to do this morning when a parent came in to complain that my use of Lysol on Friday gave the girl “asthma” all weekend. (Well, actually, it was the girl’s aunt, so I guess her hospital-ridden mother didn’t give her the DL on who to talk to.) You’re not my mother, or my teacher, or my sorority Big Sis – you’re my boss, so act like it.

Just let me do my job. That’s what you pay me the big bucks for. Stop micro-managing me and let me TEACH.

The bosses of Britain’s top firms have seen a sharp rise in salaries despite the recession, research reveals…. From BBC News. Full story

This site may contain information about: survive a recession. The blog is also related to: japan recession.

Dear Somebody at Work,

Don’t you see yourself?   You really screwed up today, by throwing that baby tantrum to the boss.  I mean, so you hate him, and he wasn’t doing your paperwork fast enough for you,  that doesn’t give you the right to be a big beeotch.

When he needed to go across the street and get papers signed for you and it was pouring rain and he told you that he would go when the rain let up… you said:  “I DON’T THINK YOU’LL MELT”  in a bitchy way… OMG,  I wanted to zzzrrrp! rewind it. 

When you didn’t think he was moving fast enough,  you clapped your hands together hard and said, “TICK TOCK!  WE DON’T HAVE TIME TO WAIT FOR THIS OR THAT THERES A SUSPENSE DATE.  Quit goofing around.” 

You know what?  In any other workplace if you talk to a boss like that….  and they were half a man, you’d be bye bye real quick. 

 I don’t care if you have been here for years and I haven’t.  Do you see yourself as beyond reproach? 

Do you think they can’t fire you, or write you up,  because you’ve been here so long?

  You treat people like crap because you think you can, and no one is going to question you.    But i’m going to question you. 

 You don’t give customer service.  You give “cuss” tomer service.  You have the worst mouth on an older lady I’ve ever heard.

 Almost everyday I see you, you are in bitch mode.  You slam the phone back on the receiver when you don’t like the call.

  You blame everyone else for everything.  No one can ever perceive the slightest hint of friendliness from you, not even those whom you gossip with.

  I have tried to get the lighter side of you to come out.  I have tried to get you to relax and be more even tempered.

But  today took the cake.  If I had a tape recorder and replayed how you spoke to our boss, (even if you do think he’s an asshole) not even I have the brave heart to speak to him like you did.

  Basically,  you did everything but tell him he’s a piece of doo doo. 

  I’ve been there working with you over a year now. 

 Have you any idea how many people have come in to talk to me, and asked me

 ”what the *beep*   is up her *beep* ?” 

 ”why is she so cold?” 

 ”why does she act so hateful?” 

    I’ll give you a hint.  I can’t count them on both hands. 

 First, off, stop cursing at everyone behind their back.  Would you like it? 

 Not everyone is a “dumb ass” 

 ”ate the phuck up”

or “can’t spell worth a shit” 

No one whom you are dealing with has hurt you personally…so WHY??? 

   You would find something wrong with jello

 and rainbows and puppies!    

 our office is not a gossiping hen house.  I don’t want you to discuss people’s skirt chasing,  people’s clandestine girlfriends, or anything else, especially when you don’t know if anything you repeat is true or not! 

 i could give 20 cents about it. The things you say about people are sometimes affecting my attitude toward them and I don’t like that. 

 I’m there to work.  I work hard for my 13 bucks an hour.  I go out of my way to be friendly, and nice and work beyond what I am supposed to do, eagerly.

  If you are this miserable…DON’T WORK HERE. leave. leave now, because you’re messing up my mojo.

 just sayin. 

  you have a soft side.  I know it, because I’ve seen it.

 Every now and then you let it slip.  every now and then I see someone who is wanting to reach out to someone.  No one can throw you a life preserver if you are bitching constantly. 

  I know you read my blog even tho you say you don’t.  So just so you know…I am here for you if you ever do want to talk.   Just so you also know,  I have taken up your side many times when no one else understands you!  I have defended you.

  your demeanor, you lack of caring about people, your sailor mouth in the office, and your general  indifference  is making our office miserable. 

 You know why I haven’t quit yet?  because I am loyal to something to the point of it being a fault.   If someone pisses me off, they will leave before I do.  Yes, I’m that damn stubborn. 

  If you can’t see how it affects the Soldiers who need us, then you are blind!   

  you’re dependable and kind only when it serves your purpose.   you’re attitude is  just YUCK. 

 If I’m wrong, then tell me tommorrow. work up the nerve.  Tell me that you read my blog and tell me what the hell is troubling you.   Life is way too short for this. 

hey www.  what if anything would you do in this instance?

I know, I know….I haven’t written in so long it is unforgivable.

There is a lot of things going on these days that I cant seem to find the strength or the ability to write. I guess this means “writer’s block”. But today I am a little free at my job and I thought, hey, why not find the time to update.

So here I am with my usual complaints!

I have had a problem with the job for a while, and everyone knows it. It really didn’t help that the whole week last week and the beginning of this week were bad…I could not come into work without a scolding or a screaming session and finally, because I became too emotional, my VP told me to suck it up, or F-Off.

Of course, the didn’t use those specific words but you know what I mean. So due to El Rey and I getting our own place in December/January, and the little bundle of surprise on its way, I needed to suck it up. I’ve been so upset that I haven’t given El Rey the time of his life either when he’s back and that kinda blows. I will find a way to make it up to him.

I could use the money. I cant afford not to have a job.

Come to think of it, I could take up an English (Hons) degree and be a lecturer while finally finishing my novel. I have been neglecting it watching Judge Judy during my free times.

El Rey has been very patient with me but not patient enough. Even still, I thank him for the huge amount of patience he has for me.

I hate that John and Edward are still in the X Factor UK 2009 competition. They really really suck. They’re so bad, it makes my ear drums break. Rikki Loney I never liked either. So it really doesn’t pain me to see him go, but to see him go before those stupid sounding twins are really annoying.

Kurt Nilsen, I cannot get enough of his voice. hear him in With or Without you by U2. He’s amazing. He can sing me to sleep anytime.

I would update more if I felt like it. Unfortunately, writer’s block is not fun.

I swear.  I can’t help it.  Not “lady-like” as most folks would say.  In certain cases, I could really care less… like the one I am about to tell ya about.

My last day with my company, Blood Systems Laboratory, is Wednesday.  I am taking Monday and Tuesday off for my birthday.  Haven’t worked on my birthday since I’ve been in the workforce since ‘02 and don’t plan on starting now.  Especially since I am moving forward with another position and company.  I was born and I choose to make my birthday a holiday.  Even if it is only me who celebrates it.  ANYWAY….

I was walking out of the breakroom to clock out when I encountered our director of operations.  He made a comment about me leaving BSL.  I asked how did he know and he said he knows everything including where I will be going and when I will be leaving.  (I knew he knew.  I made sure human resources got a copy of my resignation in case those damn women I work for try to start something.)  He decided to give me some advice.  I won’t say it was much needed or warranted either.  It was disturbing more so than upsetting.  He basically told me and I’m paraphrasing, if you just listen to what the people have been saying to me in the past few weeks.  Said he didn’t know how I was reacting to all the stuff going on but if I just listen to what was being said then I will go far in my new position.  Said I could have gone far with BSL had I kept my mouth shut.

Okay…  now I think I’ve made a post about what has been going on with BSL.  If I hadn’t then here’s the short version of the skinny. I was written up because I was arguing on behalf of a coworker but because he felt I was yelling at him, my “so-called” manager and technical director decided to investigate the situation without even asking me but going off on straight heresay.  I did it.  I won’t lie.  I told them that.  But it didn’t matter.  The warning was written up and basically ready for my signature.  I didn’t contest it but I was upset that they didn’t amend it to include my side of the story.  Then as time went on, I had to change shifts.  I was going to the principal’s office every two weeks for the process improvement plan they made for my behavior not my technical work but just how I deal with people.  I got tired and started looking for a new job.  I did and I bounced.

BUT for his ass to tell me to listen to the same people who pretty much threw me under the bus, I looked at him like he grew another head on his shoulders.  I was thinking all you’re going off on is what THEY told you.  He hadn’t even heard or asked to hear my side of the situation.  Ultimately, I am thinking, “Fuck these bitches!!! Let me do my time and get the fuck outta here before I end up cussing some muthaphucka out!!!!!”

Seriously.  You think by telling me to act like you want me to act which is like another slave on the plantation, you got me bent all outside and every which way you can think.  I am not your “yes” woman nor am I your bitch.  If I think it should be said I am telling you.  There are ways to handle stuff.  I won’t lie, I could have handled the situation better but when you are telling someone the same thing several times then how else do you get their attention?

So this is to those damn people at BSL…  Fuck you bitches!  Ya’ll just mad you didn’t get a chance to terminate my employment rather than me leaving on MY OWN TERMS!!!!

I leave you with a couple of quotes for Jay-Z

Feelin no remorse, feelin like my hand was forced
Middle finger to the law, nigga grip I’m a boss — Dirt off Your Shoulder

I got 99 problems, but a bitch ain’t one – hit me! — 99 Problems

I’m out for now…

“Happy is the man with a wife to tell him what to do, and a secretary to do it.”
-Lord Mancroft

Shades of this flash through my mind!

8:45 – Susie comes to my desk and says, “Chief would like to meet with you and Hennessy at 10, is that ok?”  C. blanches in panic and promptly dives deep into a pit of the horrors (I’m getting sacked, Hennessy’s getting sacked, We’re both getting sacked, NO!!!!, They can’t do this, Don’t they know what I’ve done for them, I’m too important, right…No, I’m expendable…AH!, Angst Angst Angst, etc.)  Susie assures her that nothing is wrong, but as you may imagine, this does little to help matters.

9:00 – Hennessy comes into work and receives the same message.  Panic escalates.  Circumstances are dissected during morning walk to turn in checks and cash to the accounting office.

9:30 – C. alternately tries cajoling and blackmailing anyone in the office for information.

9:45 – Bleak.  All is bleak.

10:00 – Chief is nowhere to be found.  C. is ”defibbed” as her heart succumbs to the stress and anxiety of worrying.

10:15 – Chief, Lt. Figaro, and Susie convene with Hennessy and C. in conference room.  Hennessy and C. sit at the far end of the table to give them more reaction time to the blow that is coming.  They are sternly asked to move closer.  They grudgingly comply.

10:20 – Chief reveals that the department has new needs, and needs to go in a new direction, so they need to shake up the ranks a little.

10:21 – C. and Hennessy clutch their chairs as the vortex of doom swirls around them.

10:22 – “So,” continues Chief, “we’re going to take you out from Figaro’s supervision and make you both subordinate to Susie instead.  Fun, huh?”

10:23 – “Vortex of doom” evaporates instantly leaving C. stuck with the amassed fear and anxiety that has plagued her for hours.  She feel oddly cheated.

Not exactly my boss. I'd like to think I could be this secretary (minus the dirty mistress part) but alas...

Anyway, this so-called shake up just means that Hennessy and I are now reporting…to the person I, at least, have been reporting to for months now.  Susie is pretty much queen of the secretaries: Joan without being social-climbing, manipulative, or sexually adventurous, just an all around decent person.    She’s also the administrative brains of the office and actually managed to pound it through our supervisors’ heads that we’d be much more effective as a secretarial pool rather than as scattered puddles.  Within ten minutes of us being under her command, I’d been given a list of both long and short term projects and assignments.

Unfortunately, since I’m a fast worker (or just possibly have nothing else to do) I’ve already crossed about half of them off.  No change there, I suppose.

Could be fun working for some of these colossal R-souls, if only for a day, just for the fun of looking them squarely in the eye and inviting them, stylishly and with exquisite control, to enjoy complimentary carnal congress with their own selected portals and egresses. I loved the vivid no-nonsense phrases ending the final entry for Faith Popcorn. Funny thing is, in a lot of cases, you can already tell right during the interview your prospective boss is going to be a grade-A jackass, but for some reason the thought of someday becoming, given the decadent succession presumed due the dunderhead diligent, Jackass II, acts as aphrodisiac in America’s favorite pastime, sucking up.

1. Say “Happy Boss’s Day” to your boss. Without irony, if possible.
2. If you have a problem on the job, do not bring it to your boss on this day without also carrying with you an appropriate solution. This will be a nice change for some of you.
3. If there is an issue that you know has been bothering him, do not bring it up. In fact, don’t talk to him about anything substantive at all. And if you know he doesn’t really like you very much, don’t talk to him.
4. Drop by and sit in her guest chair for a while without asking her for a single darn thing. Like, for just this one day make believe that there’s nothing you want from her except the pleasure of her company. Tomorrow will be here soon enough.
5. If you and Forbisher are at odds again, do not descend on your boss’s office asking for adjudication. Work it out between you, you big babies.
6. If you are the boss of a boss, do not pick this day to torture him or her about his or her expense report. No boss should do anything to any other boss today that makes them feel less like a boss and more like a piece of phlegm in the lungs of the corporation.
7. If your boss is on the road, call him and wish him many happy returns.
8. Why not ask him out for a drink after work? If you usually do that anyway, have an extra one “For the boss.” You pick it up. Do not put it on your company card, if you have one, or have trouble finding your wallet if you do not.
9. If his or her door is closed, slip a little card saying “I love you” under it, unless that violates local sexual harassment policies. If it does, change it to read, “I like you very much.”
10. Come on! Give him a hug! Doesn’t that feel good? No? Well, it’s not supposed to!

Hey all,

In Glory of the Empire you’ll find four new bosses. Here’s the basic information about them!

White Tiger

In ancient times the White Tiger was revered as the God of war and the harvest. According to legend, it can ward off evil spirits and bring riches to people’s homes. In Wonderland Online, however, the White Tiger has been cursed and is now controlled by evil forces that have used it to cause terrible disasters. The beast’s unbelievable attack power and high speed make it extremely difficult to defeat.

Phoenix

The Phoenix is a mythical bird that dies in flames and is reborn from its ashes, representing the constant cycle of life and death. It’s also the king of the birds. Though it is said that the Phoenix can bring people happiness, its tear can heal all diseases, and its feather can revive the dead, players will not have an easy time when they are sent to seek the proud bird’s help. It has lots of HP and can heal itself in a short time. To earn its aid, players will have to survive a drawn-out battle that will truly test their mettle.

Iron Dino

The guardian of the North is in fact two godly creatures combined: a great turtle and a powerful snake. In ancient China, the snake and turtle were a symbol of long life. It was said the Iron Dino was an envoy from hell, connecting it with the world of the living. In the game, the Iron Dino pair has great attack power and a variety of assistant skills. Fighting against other monsters may even make them more powerful.

Spirit Captain

The Spirit Captain wanted to earn a fortune by pillaging a mummy’s coffin. Unfortunately, he was cursed and perished on the journey home when his ship was sunk during a deadly storm. Overcoming the curse will be a tough challenge for all who dare undertake it.

Winged Bull

The Winged Bull used to be a guardian to protect the people and countries in ancient Mesopotamia. It’s the chimeric creature that has the combined strength of a bull, the swiftness of birds and the intelligence of humans! In many places, its stone sculptures were often placed as guards at gateways to palaces and temples. It’s a symbol of royalty. Legend says that the Winged Bull is the envoy of Apollo, and it will protect people and defeat all evil.

Cyclops

In Greek mythology, Cyclopes were the sons of Uranus and Gaia. They used to be imprisoned in the dark pit of Tartarus, but Zeus released three Cyclopes. They were good at creating weapons that they provided to the Gods of the Parthenon, which they in turn used to defeat the Titans.

Have fun with these new bosses!