How Many Lights Do You See?

Before I get to the lights, let me tell you a little story.

You see, it’s been quite some time since I have written anything and the thoughts and reasoning behind why I’m back will be after the story when I will try to tie this all together and probably end up with a ball of knots. Anywho, for reasons to be explained later, I’m back. Usually, when I fall off and then show back up, I change the look and feel of the blog. It gets me kinda excited about writing again, or at least about looking at this page. Off I go to WordPress.

I’m not really picky with what I want the site to look like since there’s all of maybe five of you reading it and I’m not quite concerned enough to go do some CSS work. Proceed to downloading! First theme I didn’t really care for since it didn’t want to embed videos and videos are often quite related to the point I’m trying to make. The second theme looked good. I installed it. My site died.

Now, not to the point where if you just went to the site, it gave you a pretty 404 or anything. The Internet taught me that I basically had the white screen of death. Broke-ded-ed. Shit. Ok, well, I’ll just go change the theme from my dashboard. Ohhhhhh, FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDGE! But I didn’t say fudge. Because I’ve got the WSOD on my dashboard. I can’t access my site. Sad face.

Lucky me, y’all. I’m a bright star when I wanna be and I know how to use dem dere dubbyas. Also, lucky me that I remembered how to actually access my account where this madness is hosted. And I know basic stuff. And FTP-ing. Yeah. Fixed. And damn if I can remember the name of the theme that killed my site, but if I do, you better believe I’m gonna complain.

Moving right along….

It seems that, as of late, I’ve had some anger management issues. Ok, they’ve probably always been there, but I maybe have letting it slip out a little bit lately. Pretty sure that my attitude has been THERE ARE FOUR LIGHTS! complete with the ‘get off me’ arm shake. Because there were four lights. You were right, Captain. Four. Fucking. Lights. Unfortunately, the Enterprise isn’t coming to get me and being right isn’t getting me anywhere except straight to the land of frustration.

What’s changed? What’s changed? Still working for the man. Still working out. Still getting my ommmm on. Ohhhh, hey, remember back when you used to write all the time? When you published gems like this or led congregations like this? Remember when you were funny? Like, regular funny, not I’m laughing but man is that chick a bitch funny. Remember when you could turn your anger to funny? Remember when you could let go of shit? Let it literally flow through your fingers and into the webiverse? You gotta get back there. And that’s why I’m back again.

I probably won’t ever go into specifics about anything because it’s 2018 and this isn’t private, but I’m sure that I can get back to funny me. I can shake em off like Picard, but those Cardassians we’re shaking off, they’re all the frustrations of the Corporate Federation. BUT I’M STILL THE CAPTAIN OF THIS MOTHERFUCKING STARSHIP! On this ship, it’s still a motherfucking party. It’s like a mullet. Business when we’re on-screen, party when we’re off. Right, Number One?!?!

Aaaaanywho, it’s Monday and does anyone else get an obscene amount of junk email in their work inbox related to other jobs?!?! It’s total madness. Dear Spam Emailers, I don’t make decisions! Leave me alone. Ok, I do make decisions. I’m the Captain, after all. And I’m back.


Evaluate This!

If you're a slave to corporate America, you know that it's just about that time of year for reviews and (hopefully) raises.  While perusing the net this morning, I found this well-crafted letter that I'm sure many people would just LOVE to give to their bosses.  Enjoy! (This letter and other gems can be found here.

This Year I'm Mailing in My Performance Review, Literally


Dear Boss,


Every year we perform the same ritual of sitting down face-to-face and review my performance in the year gone by, pretending that you care about my personal development, me pretending that I give a shit about this company.  This year, I'm taking a different approach, which I have neatly outlined below to highlight the differences between this year and years passed.


      My Goals – Some years you tell me that while I met my personal goals, the organization did not, so unfortunately there will be no bonus.  Other years, you tell me that while I was eligible for a bonus, only a select few high performers will see a bonus and for this year anyway I'm not one of them.  Let's cut to the chase here.  I suck as an employee.  You know it, I know, and HR knows it.  If not for the litigious society that we live in today, you would have fired me long ago.  Luckily for me, I'm black, Jewish, a woman, and handicapped.  That's right, the perfect storm of equal opportunity and affirmative action.  So how about instead of apologizing to me for not giving me a bonus, I'll agree not to sue you and I'll be on my way?


      My Development – You usually spew some BS about learning other people's roles, or sitting with a senior manager to understand what their day is like.  Let me clue you in to something – I couldn't care less about my own job, much less someone else's, so save the manure for the pig farm.  Aside from that, I was diagnosed as being functionally retarded when I was 10, so forget about development and count your blessings that I'm potty trained.


      Teamwork – Every year you drone on about mission statements and how we all need to help each other out, because there is no "I" in the word "team".  Well guess what? There may not be an "I, but there is certainly an "M" and an "E".  And along those lines, my team can kiss my cellulite-filled handicapped ass.  In case you haven't noticed, work around here is passed around faster than an STD at a frat house.  Between you and me, I don't give two shits about how the work gets done, as long as it doesn't involve me.


      Other Crap – There is some other jargon that you use every year to justify screwing me, and to be quite frank I tend to zone you out during that portion of the review.  Instead, I wonder about things like if you take Viagra, if you know that your daughter is a slut, and what it would be like to get you in a head lock and give you nuggies.


In closing, I would like to reiterate that I do in fact hate my job, and my life for that matter, so going forward let's not put a silk hat on this pig of a job and pretend it's a beauty queen.  I hope the business tanks so that I can collect unemployment, and will continue to pray that you fall down a flight of stairs so that I can get some free cake at your get well party.


Warmest Regards,

          Milton Waddams


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