Today's Office Is...

Both owners are away, the manager has been at a training session for a new site all day, and the inmates are beyond running the asylum. Radios up so loud that I have turned my music off because it is not worth trying to compete, extremely loud declarations of all sorts, like "I know THAT'S right!" and "You got JOKES!" (who these statements are directed at is beyond my limited scope of knowledge since I am keeping my face straight ahead in my cubicle and not turning around for ANYTHING). Plenty of walking around, and a number of exclamations of exasperation regarding everyday work tasks that are suddenly so cumbersome that they must be addressed to the world (I know for a fact that Moms Mabley "Ain't doin' no more appeals!" - quoted verbatim - and Doo Wop has decided to regale everyone within the sound of her voice - a voice that can cut through the din so effectively that she could be used as the Emergency Broadcast Signal - all about Jill Scott's weight loss and whatever else is happening in the world of celebrity gossip. Not to mention the Nigerian Nightmare's singing what-the-fuck-ever song she is singing - off key and thick accent equals profit? - and you have the general idea).

I am going to start keeping a bottle of scotch in my desk drawer for days like this.

I Am The Repeated Story About Jack's Pubic Hair

At this point I do not know what the fuck to say about anything here. Not only was the HR person here again (she just left), she brought her (and by extension her brothers, the owners) mother with her. And sure enough, as soon as Jim left the conversation went to the son's / grandson's pubic hair...

On a side note, if I ever even THOUGHT that my grandmother was talking to people about my growing pubic hair, let alone sitting in a PLACE OF BUSINESS laughing and joking about it, I would probably have disowned her. Full stop.

So anyway, for reasons that I cannot fully comprehend (other than that the HR person has the worst concept of "acceptable workplace conversations" EVER, the next thing I know the HR person, her mother, Shanelle, and MARGARET (aka Gaza Strip Club and Moms Mabley respectively, but at this point I am too disgusted by this damn place to give a shit about cute nicknames and if anyone complains I think I have one hell of a counter argument) are all talking about sex toys, their favorites, their hiding places, professing their love for them, and to top it all off, talking about going to the sex shop and trying them on / modeling them for each other (in the case of HR and mom).

Really? THAT is okay? Fine. I am getting out of here with the quickness, and I will accept pretty much any job that allows me to stop working here. But until that sweet day arrives, I am going to live by their rules. If they don't like hearing about my jock itch or ball sweat once the summer hits, that is just too fucking bad. In fact, I am thinking about cultivating a nice case of jock itch JUST so I can talk about it.

Put your tough actin' Tinactin on THIS, bitches.

I'm Here To Help

Here's a simple formula for you to use to see if something is potentially offensive / racist.

Replace group identity being referred to with your own group identity. If you think it is offensive, it is.

For instance:

Let's say one of your co-workers is Hispanic. And let us further speculate that you have asked that co-worker to speak to a patient / client because the patient / client speaks Spanish and you do not. You need to meet with the patient / client. Your Hispanic co-worker is going to be going with you since you both perform the same general task, but this time your specific skill set is needed. He / she will be able to help with the generalities, but you are needed for the specifics just as the co-worker is needed for translation / communication. As the co-worker is on the phone making arrangements for you two to meet up with the client / patient, you start making comments asking where the meeting is taking place because you don't want to get mugged by the co-worker's "people".

Let's stop there for a second. Now we will boil down the comment in question. As has been established, your co-worker is Hispanic. You are African-American. So taking a look at the comment

Where are you telling him to meet us? I don't want to get mugged by your people!

Breaking the sentence down into it's components, "I" is a black person, "your people" are Latinos. So what you are saying is "I don't want to get mugged by the Hispanics". Implying that the Hispanic people are known for and have a reputation of mugging people.

Now if we reverse that, and your Hispanic co-worker says to you "I don't want to get mugged by your people", that would translate to "I don't want to get mugged by black people, because black people are known for and have a reputation for mugging people".

I am not speaking on either generality, nor am I speaking on the veracity of said statements. I am merely commenting on the fact that "black people mug people, so I am afraid to go into their neighborhoods" could be construed as racist. Therefore "Hispanic people mug people, so I am afraid to go into their neighborhoods" could also be construed as racist.

Next time on "I'm Here To Help": When you ask someone to translate for you because you don't speak the language of the person you need to communicate with, it is advantageous to not accuse your translator of telling the person they are speaking to on your behalf to "stop telling them to rob me, I don't know what you saying over there [sic]".

Tune in, won't you?

Yeah, it's been a while

But I have been trying to grow the Twitter feed and the sports blog, so I have my reasons.

Anyway, before you continue reading, be forewarned that this post is all about me bitching about my job and will contain crude language.

Un-FUCKING-believable.

So not only is the health insurance in this POS job of mine ACTUALLY GETTING WORSE (which I didn't think was possible), the HR manager has been sitting here for the last 45 minutes (while I am trying to eat my fucking lunch) talking about her son starting puberty, telling her other sons not to try and take a peek at his growing pubic hair, explaining how she and her husband discussed blow jobs while driving with all the kids (and used the word "blowjob" at least half a dozen times), and then went into an expose all about her first period and how she wore the "big bulky" pads for 30+ straight days (I can only hope that she changed them at some point).

NONE of that is made up or even exaggerated. Not one bit of it.

I have been trying to get something going business wise for a few months now. And in a week and a half I have a big meeting that will hopefully get this thing off of the ground ASAP. But no matter what happens I have to get out of here. This is officially a hostile work environment, but since the HR "manager" is the sister to the owners not one fucking thing will be done about it. So I will be getting out of here, sooner rather than later, and if it were to happen at 2pm today (it is 1:53pm right now) it would not be soon enough.