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time for this week's job hate
July 17, 2008
HATE.
HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE.
HATE.
Here's what set that off: I have a project where I'm facilitating some data-gathering for another department. I'm not doing anything but sending out requests for the info, consolidating 200 responses into a comprehensive worksheet, and forwarding it to the department that needs it.
And there is nothing in the world that sucks more than that middle position--because people will blow you off and ignore you completely.
Or won't answer until you've provided them with in-depth answers to their 759 fucking stupid meaningless questions.
OR--they just flat--out refuse to answer, coming back at you with responses such as the one that set me off: "I don't know what you want, and frankly, I don't have time to figure it out."
Well, what I wanted yould be the answer to three questions. ALL OF WHICH could be answered with a simple YES or NO.
This from an officer of the company, no less. Charming. But--this is my lot in life now. I hate it with the hot heat of a thousand suns, but I have a mortgage.
So, anyway. Every day is a battle. And yesterday, I was losing. I was "closerthanthat" to just breaking down and crying for most of the day. And I don't have the fucking foggiest idea why. Sometimes, I just feel like an open wound.
I've always felt like "normal" people have a natural pair of rose-colored glasses that allows them to filter out at least some of the awfullness of life, permitting them to be occasionally happy. And I don't.
Anyway, that was only one piece of yesterday's hellishness. I got two more projects dumped in my lap, for the same reason I get a lot of projects dumped in my lap: The person originally assigned to them simply blew them off untill there was a deadline looming, and then my boss gave them to me, so that they would get done quickly and correctly. AND--she also sucker-punched me with the declaration that even though it was a completely different department's responsibility to create a project flow for one of my assigned projects, she expected ME to do it.
I don't even HAVE the fucking Visio app. Because...you know--that's a completely different fucking department.
Is it any wonder that my entire evening got swallowed up by stress exhaustion? I stretched out on the bed to listen to a podcast at about 7:00 last night. Next thing I know, it's 10:30.
Reading: "Sad Cypress", by Agatha Christie.
Beading: On Hiatus.
Surfing: No particular one link, just a lot of news sites. What's Sadie got to bitch about? She IS out of prison. A hospital bed is NOT a prison cot, and I'm sure she'll be made more comfortable at her deathbead than Gary, Steven, Sharon, Jay, Abigail, Wojciech, Rosemary, or Leno were...
Listening: to my heart tell me that everything about my life is totally wrong and fucked up.
At Random: click here
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