Friday, June 23, 2006

Vote out all Incumbents.

The Bloodshed & Collateral Damage
9/11 - before, during, and after
Afghanistan
Iraq
Guantanamo
Abu Graib
Haditha
Falujah
Emedded Reporters

The Photo Ops
My Pet Goat
Mission Accomplished
Hurricane Katrina
Clearing Brush on the Ranch
The Thanksgiving Turkey
Back in Iraq

War on American Citizens
Patriot Act
Homeland Security
Secret Wiretapping
Sneak and Peek Searches
Free Speech Zones
Terror Alerts
Two Tiered Internet Bill
RIAA/ MPAA

Political Cannon Fodder
Enron
Haliburton
Media Compliance and Suppression
Downing Street Memo
Wilson - Plamegate
Women's Rights
Religious Right
Gay Marriage
Stephen Colbert

And last but not least

The lies. The god awful lies.

The reasons for the war.
Shock and awe
They'll Greet us with Flowers
No or few civillian casualties
WMD Threat
Saddam must be removed
We must establish democracy
This has nothing to do with oil and everything to do with freedom.


The Republicans lie and the Democrats bide their time and meanwhile trying to figure out why they can never lie as well as the Republicans.

I'm sick of them all.

Vote them all out.

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

To Live With Fear

Photo link goes to a fan site for Little House on the Prarie simply because one of my favorite Little House episodes is called "To Live With Fear" however this post has absolutely nothing else to do with Little House on the Prairie.

I was going to write a long drawn out saga about my last job but I have changed my mind because there's no need to write a three part story regarding something that can be summed up in one paragraph. Things started well, I was treated very badly, subjected to bullying by supervisors, racism and just plain ignorance and when all was said and done my health, mental and physical were poor indeed. Had I not been so stressed, I just may have taken better care of myself, I might not have lost my baby and I would not be the sadder but wiser person I am today.

The fact is I just don't care enough to summon up the righteous indignation I once had regarding that old job at PNG. There are so many other things to do without whining about a job I don't even have anymore.

I recently left my job that I previously described as having the perfect boss. She was perfect and the job was wonderful but I need a job with more money so we can save a little to buy a house. So I said goodbye to my low paid utopia and re-entered a more corporate workspace.

My new gig is for yet another non-profit organization. It's well known and just by saying girls and cookies in the same sentence is probably enough to get me fired by writing about it on my bog.

I really can't see myself working there long anyway. One of the first things I noticed walking in the door was the fear in the eyes of every single person I passed. Next it was the tippy-toe quiet exacerbated by the silent crunch of eggshells everyone seems to be stepping on.

Other things of note that let me know this just may be a white collar sweat shop:

They have an hour for lunch.
No one but me left the building during either of the two the lunch periods

Quitting time is at 5 p.m.
There was damn near a stampede to the door even though one of the worst thunderstorms of the season was taking place as my first day came to a close. Regardless of wind, rain, and howling winds, not one person hesitated a single step when it was time to leave. I got the impression that had there been a tornado and lightning striking cars in the parking lot at random intervals these folks would have risked it just to be out of the building.

The first task I was given was logging in evaluations of different events the girls, oops, I mean, the clients, are taken to. They were asked to rate their experience by answering various questions on a scale of 1- 5 with room for comments. Most of the answers were garden variety compliments and complaints like "The instructor was really nice," or "It rained that day and we couldn't do the outdoor stuff."

However this one kid made my bleary eyes water with amusement instead of data entry blur. She wasn't having any of that "Camp Rox!" or "I loved everything" crap. Here are her responses to part of the questionnaire (misspellings and all but that only made it more adorable).

Q. Was your challenge course what you expected?
A. Yes

Q. Why?
A. the soulless slavery to Giant Booger Beings

Name of your instructor
Giant Booger Being #2 helped by Dana

Do you have any additional comments?
Daddy long legs really don't taste good (neither does posin ivy).

It has been confirmed to me (surreptitiously) that the fear and tension I see in everyone's eyes is not imagined but real. A recent major restructuring in addition to a crack down on all "privileges" in the office that were being abused (i.e., the privilege to wear blue jeans and too much non-work related email) have left the office a bit shaken and people wondering what will happen next. It seems that instead of singling out the guilty parties, they decided on group punishment instead. In addition to not being allowed to wear open toed shoes anymore there is also a moratorium on talking about anything not work related unless you are on a break or lunch which leaves me wondering what kind of white collar Nazi hell have I really stepped into? How long before my freedom loving soul morphs into one of "them" or will I decide (as I think I already have) that this type of daily existence is exactly that: existing, not living.

Well at least I know where I stand now. And unless I want to find myself as a subservient soulless zombie enslaved by Giant Booger Beings, I need to start planning an exit strategy.

And it's only my second day.

Thursday, June 15, 2006

The Saga of PNG


Part I

A short while ago on a Wednesday, I walked down my driveway to my car, heading for work. There was a furniture delivery truck sitting in front of the house one door up and opposite my own. The driver was holding a map and the other looked at me. They exchanged a few words and then stared at me for a second after which the guy in the passenger seat motioned for me to come over.

I figured they were having trouble finding the right house and I walked over and was greeted with a familiar, "Hey," instead of someone asking for directions.

I blinked at his familiarity and then my eyes grew huge with surprise and my face crinkled into a big grin, reflected by the back of the shiny rearview mirror.

"Nate!" I squealed and broke into a run. I scrambled up the step of the big truck and I nearly fell backwards but he caught me easily with one of the strong arms I remembered and returned my hug through the window.

I leaned back and took a good long look at him. He hadn't changed much. Even sitting down, you can tell Nate is wrestler material. Blond hair, cool blue eyes, built like Stone Cold Steve Austin and an easy rakish smile to match his laid back devil-may-care attitude. Behind his back at work we used to call him "Bix Sexy". Unoriginal but apt. Nate is the kind of guy that can make women of all ages blush, a flirt without trying.

We looked at each other for a long moment, the way you do when you haven't seen someone for a while and you're noting the small ways the other person has changed since you last saw them, reading their story without words. He smiled and I smiled and finally I spoke.

"My Niggah!" I finally said in a satisfied tone, in one word, telling him that I found him nearly the same only better and could see he thought the same about me. His driver co-worker looked a bit shocked but Nate just laughed. That was all that needed to be said, really. Not much had changed except that he was no longer my boss. Despite my overall experience there, he'd never been one to treat me badly, so there were no hard feelings between us. I was genuinely glad to see him.

I knew without him saying it, that he'd already heard I didn't work there anymore and why. Since I could see what his day job was, I told him about my current job and I how I had started my own desktop publishing gig on the side. His farmers tan, a healed scar that hadn't been there when I last saw him, and the fact that he was in great shape told me he was still working as an aspiring wrestler despite his day job as a delivery guy. He looked happy, relaxed and we both grinned over the unspoken fact that neither one of us missed our old jobs.

I said it for both of us. "Fuck PowerNet Global!"

He laughed and said, "Exactly!"

I hopped down and they drove off with a parting wave.

I sighed happily and got into my car. Nate's appearance had sparked a wave a memories. I put the key in the ignition and said to myself, It's time to tell the story of PNG.


This past Wednesday, as I headed to my car, there was a furniture delivery truck sitting in front of the house one door up and opposite my own. The driver was holding a map and the other looked at me. They exchanged a few words and then stared at me for a second after which the guy in the passenger seat motioned for me to come over.

I figured they were having trouble finding the right house and I walked over and was greeted with a familiar, "Hey," instead of someone asking for directions.

I blinked at his familiarity and then my eyes grew huge with surprise and my face crinkled into a big grin, reflected by the back of the shiny rearview mirror.

"Nate!" I squealed and broke into a run. I scrambled up the step of the big truck and I nearly fell backwards but he caught me easily with one of the strong arms I remembered and returned my hug through the window.

I leaned back and took a good long look at him. He hadn't changed much. Even sitting down, you can tell Nate is wrestler material. Blond hair, cool blue eyes, built like Stone Cold Steve Austin and an easy rakish smile to match his laid back devil-may-care attitude. Behind his back at work we used to call him "Bix Sexy". Unoriginal but apt. Nate is the kind of guy that can make women of all ages blush, a flirt without trying.

We looked at each other for a long moment, the way you do when you haven't seen someone for a while and you're noting the small ways the other person has changed since you last saw them, reading their story without words. He smiled and I smiled and finally I spoke.

"My Niggah!" I finally said in a satisfied tone, in one word, telling him that I found him nearly the same only better and could see he thought the same about me. His driver co-worker looked a bit shocked but Nate just laughed. That was all that needed to be said, really. Not much had changed except that he was no longer my boss. Despite my overall experience there, he'd never been one to treat me badly, so there were no hard feelings between us. I was genuinely glad to see him.

I knew without him saying it, that he'd already heard I didn't work there anymore and why. Since I could see what his day job was, I told him about my current job and I how I had started my own desktop publishing gig on the side. His farmers tan, a healed scar that hadn't been there when I last saw him, and the fact that he was in great shape told me he was still working as an aspiring wrestler despite his day job as a delivery guy. He looked happy, relaxed and we both grinned over the unspoken fact that neither one of us missed our old jobs.

I said it for both of us. "Fuck PowerNet Global!"

He laughed and said, "Exactly!"

I hopped down and they drove off with a parting wave.

I sighed happily and got into my car. Nate's appearance had sparked a wave a memories. I put the key in the ignition and said to myself, It's time to tell the story of PNG.

I started work at PowerNet Global, the way I'm sure most people start out on any job. I was full of hope and promise and gung ho ready to go the extra mile to prove myself. I was happy.

At first.

It took nearly three years, but working there quite literaly almost killed me. All the warning signs were there right from the beginning and the end result was that I lost something so precious, they could never repay me for the agony I suffered.

(continued tomorrow)