The Dog Days

August 7, 2007

   August here is hot.  That cloying, funky,  sort of hot that gets into your head.  It takes a toll on your facuities, and limits your ability to act rationally.    Add in the difficulty of working in a foundry in this heat, and you have all kinds of hardheaded people working just this side of the line between sanity, and incomprehensible rage mullets.

    I was screamed at today at work by a supervisor.  Actually by an assistant plant manager.  He spent several minutes berating me for not doing what he wished for me to do.  When he finished, in the calmest voice I could muster in my “i -need-to- choke-you” state I explained that there was no way I could have done what he wished because it had been raining when I arrived at work.

   Shit for brains then said ”  I don’t care if there was a blizzard.  You should have done what I told you to do.”



So I replied   “fair enough, next time we have a blizzard in August, the short fat stupid guy shall get his wish.”

As I understand it,  there was some lighthearted discussion about my termination while the short fat stupid guy was in the room, and then general agreement that I must not be feeling well because that was an incredibly mild thing for me to have said after he left.

Either way, I’m still employed, and the short fat stupid guy is unhappy.

It will be hotter tomorrow.

and the day after that


Did not

July 26, 2007

   That’s my favorite comeback of the day.  A man in his thirties used that to rebut an argument.  I was impressed.  The reason there was no 6 a. m. hateful this morning was because I wasn’t up at 6 a.m.  I wasn’t even up at 6:30.  The power got knocked out, which killed my alarm colck.  It has this little compartment in the bottom where I could put a battery if I were so inclined.  My lack of interest in being the “always prepared boy scout” type stems from my desire to never be to dependable.  Dependability is a flaw most often taken advantage of by those who have no right to do so.

   So for the first time in about a week I was late for work.  I wouldn’t have been.  I was out the door at the usual time, but alas, my karma was shit city this morning, and I made the wrong choice as to the route I should take.  I chose the possible to achieve mach speed freeway route.  7 other people also chose this route, and I’m sure because it was raining and foggy failed to maintain there forward progression.  This failure was achieved according to the bass brain on the radio by slamming into each other, and thereby shutting down all of the westbound lanes of I-70.

   Even this would not have created my unbearable lateness of being.  What stumped me was the asswit in the green G35 that thought it would be cool to also block the shoulder so those behind him could not exit the freeway.  After waiting for 8 minutes for him to change his mind I walked up to his car and tapping gently on the window with a pipe wrench requested in a civil yet incredibly creative profane way that he either remove his vehicle or I would commence performing structural modification to the vehicle.

   I thought for a moment he was going to get out and slap me across the face with his doeskin driving gloves and challenge me to a duel, but somewhere deep in the recesses of his occipital lobe I assume it occurred to him that pansy gloves are no match for an irate pipe wrench, and he proceeded to move his piece of shit infiniti before I turned it into a yugo.  Judging by the horns honking around me I could quite easily have been elected mayor of this shitpit had the vote been taken at 7:02 this morning.   As I maneuvered past the posterchild for roadrage insensitivity he flipped me off. I waved and smiled.  I’m not an unnice person after all.

   Ever notice that when you’re late every redlight in the world is just waiting for your arrival?  I got stopped by a redlight at an intersection where the last car to use the crossing street was probably called “horse.” I got skipped at the redlight to get back on the freeway,meaning I had to sit through it twice, and then got nailed by one at the airport that was being manually controlled by the oldest living member of the human race in a policemans uniform.  I thought about going after him with my pipe wrench, but my father taught me at a very young age that a club is useless in a gunfight.   He was old, but he was packing, so I just sat there and ineffectually wore out my entire litany of cusswords, including the appendix labelled  “I stole this phrase from…” while I waited for the old bastards prune juice to kick in and give him the rush that was needed for him to raise his right hand 8″ and hit the switch that again allowed me to continue on my merry way.

   I intentionally left out the part where I called my boss and informed him I would be late as I was enjoying a liesurely sabbatical at the I-70 parking lot.   I was regaled with peals of laughter as I explained the pridicament, and it was a little ignominious.  His parting words were to the affect of “don’t worry about it.  You don’t obey any of the other rules no reason you should obey this one.”  It’s nice to be appreciated.  I sincerely believe that your job is only as safe as your relationship with your immediate supervisor.  This means I will never be fired.  I add joy to his life.  I’m quite sure tormenting me ranks right behind beer, and sex with whatever species is handy, in his hierarchy of needs.

   Anyway, I arrived at work 3 minutes late, 7 if you include my “nature calls” moment.  Well, not really calls.  My colon doesn’t call.  It demands.  When I walked into the office my boss looked up and stated with a big old smile “lets see now, late, unshaven, sleeves rolled up, shirt untucked.  Hell I could ring up enough points to fire you before break.”  I replied  “you could fire me for 3 uniform violations and an I don’t give a fuck, but what I need is a 3500 psi powerwasher, and the most powerful HVLP pump money can buy.”   Bosses are like women.  When you hit the top of the shit list send them shopping.  He was in a good mood all day.  Spent almost 8k, and had a target for his mirthful musings.

todays events

July 18, 2007

  These are not necessarily in any order.  Order is the ruination of mankind, and any little thing I can do in my own personal existence to advance the cause of chaos I do.  in other words I’m to lazy to put them in order.

1.  My daughter returned from her trip to the amusement park with her friends.  She brought me a gorilla.  it is 6″ high.  She said as she gave it to me.  Here’s your $100.00 gorilla.  Now I don’t owe you anything.  I call that daughter math.

2.  I have returned roscoes sheila to its rightful owner.  Mollie is upset from hell, but Roscoe seems to be taking it just fine.  Apparently he’s one of those “i got mine” fella’s.  Anyway, we’re going to get him a permanent mate this weekend since he didn’t eat this one.

3.  diet soda appears to be a stronger issue than i thought it would be.  At least to some people who obviously have dead taste buds, and a lack of full length mirrors.

4.  a buddy from work brought me a whole sack of homegrown tomatoes.  My yard does not face the right direction to plant them.  Is there anything better than a nice beefsteak tomato, thin sliced purple onion, and mayo sandwich on 12 grain bread?  Washed down with anything but a diet soda?

5.  It’s payday.  I only vote for Ron Paul on wednesday.  I like to imagine what my tax dollars are spent on.  This week I’m buying new knobs for the ladies senatorial washroom doors.  I hope them skanks wash their hands after.  The remainder of it Nancy Pelosi is going to siphon into a private slush fund and buy a half a bra with it.

6.  Khaled Abdul-Fattah Dawoud Mahmoud al-Mashhadani is really tom johnson, a truck driver from des moines.  he has no links to al qaeda but was arrested on July 4th .  It took two weeks for the Bush administration to beat him into agreeing to say he was khaled so that they can continue to link al qaeda to the war in Iraq. *my conspiracy theory for the day.

7.  I had to cut and paste that name…can you imagine having to spell that in kindergarten?  It’s no wonder these clowns grow up to be terrorists.  No, not Tom Johnson. you must be a pauliac.

8.   I filled the car with petrol.  I could’ve bought a hooker and a bag of weed.  Life blows.

9.  My boss was in a mood.  When I asked him what he would like me to accomplish today he said” go see how many more people you can piss off enough that they call me and complain about you.”  I got to 7 before he asked me nicely to cease and desist.

10.  on the way to work i saw one of those morris the cat looking cats that had been smooshed by a car…beside it was a sign that said I can beez cheeseburger.  (this was for the mullets that keep coming here from the i canhazcheeseburger schlepfest.  Never let it be said that I don’t try to please my readers.  

11.  Here are some things you should never do on a blog.  Talk politics. Talk religion. Talk diet soda. Talk cats. Talk animal sex.  Poke fun of stuff.

12.  If those are true this blog doesn’t exist, and you have been drinking way to much if you think you are reading this.

13.  My son has decided to joiin the Marines.  My first instinct having been one was to yell “I forbid it.”  “What came out of my mouth was “don’t sign anything unless I am there.”  Being a dad can suck sometimes.

14.  I finally asked you know who to marry me.

15.  Ok, that last one was hilarious.

no work for you

July 14, 2007

  Today was supposed to be a workday, but I blew it off.  Well, not really.  I got in my car, and you know how your car will do that rrr rrr rr thing when it’s cranking over, but has no real intention of starting?  Mine didn’t do that.  When I turned the key mine did nothing.  I was confused by this, because if there is one thing I’m good at it’s keeping a piece of crap car running.

   I’m not your typical male when it comes to cars.  I don’t much care for them.  To me they are like any tool.  they serve a purpose, and they aren’t worth investing yourself in them.  You use a hammer to drive a nail, a woman to have an argument, and a car to get from point A to point B.  I don’t tend to spend a lot of money on them, and I don’t mind that they usually require more maintenance than a Harley Davidson.  It gives me something to do with all the time on my hands. 3 kids, a rabbit, a dog, a job, this stupid blog, and more damn safety classes than I even knew existed fail to use up all 20 waking hours of the day, and the car is utilized for that left over time.

   I popped the hood, and lo and behold, something was amiss. To wit, my battery was missing.  Apparently someone needed a battetry in the middle of the night, and being thoughtful decided it would be impolite to wake me and ask for it. I don’t lock my car.  Theory being if I do they will just break the window if they want something.  So far that insidious “they” have stolen the floor mats, the stereo, and now the battery.  That still doesn’t equal the cost of one window, so my theory is winnning the +/- expenditure battle.  Pain in the ass though.

    I confess this didn’t cause me to miss work.  I have a battery in the basement, and they take about 5 minutes to install.  I would have been late though, and whether 5 minutes or 2 hours late, you lose a half a point.  I decided I might as well use the whole two hours, and went back inside to crash for an hour.

   That’s one of my talents.  I can sleep standing up, laying down, sitting on a cactus, you name it, i can sleep there.  Almost instantly too.  When I woke from my nap it occurred to me, since I’m losing a half a point, why not make a day of it, and lose a whole point.  What a fantastic idea my innner sloth said, and so I called in.

My boss is a wonderfully funny human, who took some delight in my tale of the absent battery.  He then said something along the lines of “you are so full of shit.  you just don’t want to work today.”  My reply was along the lines of “damn, you’re good, but the battery thing was true.”  So we made a deal that I would work tomorrow, and i would lose no points.

works for me. I like working on sunday because it gives me a good excuse for not attending church.  Like I need something better than I don’t wish to.

Has this happened to you?

June 29, 2007

   Nothing like  a friday at work.  It wasn’t excruciatingly hot, but it was moist.  Humid.  Go through 5 uniforms in an 8 hour day, wretchedly, odiferously, muggy.  It was also not to bad. I pulled off the perfect balance of renumeration/output, and managed to stir the proverbial pot.  There are few accomplishments quite as satisfying as ruining a day or three, and never letting on that you know what you’re doing.

    I’ll try and get you up to speed as briefly as possible.  We have an organizational structure that through the basic malady of promoting good workers as compared to good thinkers, and those good workers thinking they are good analyzers and planners, is incredilby top heavy. Each manager seems to have three asst. managers; each of them in charge of their own little corner of the aforementioned managers fiefdom.  I for instance have 4 managers that my burgeoning section reports through.  By burgeonig I mean me,  Until tomorrow.  when it will be me and my hireling. Bet I can talk them into making me the manager of my unit of 2.

    Anyway, all these managers of course believe that they will inevitably fill the only seat any of them feel is truly worthy of  their managerial talents; plant manager.  In order to become that, several of them would need divine intervention, and the others would all have to be perfect in their position.  That exalted chair is coming open soon, so the level of infighting, and territorial behaviour has become rampant.

   This is where yours truly steps in, cape flying in the breeze.  Keep In mind now, if work were a totem pole, I would be the fat little indian squatting at the bottom with a scowl on my face.  It’s a good place to be.  I have this project to start on monday.  i put the order in for whats needed to complete the first phase about 2 weeks ago.   Being aware that my manager was going to be on vacation I was exceedingly careful to ensure everything about this order was correct.  I then without them understanding that it was what I was doing managed to escort it through each phase of the order process.  first through one asst, then onto another assistant, and then even maaged to hang out while whatever the head guys title is.  i don’t even know  I have a shipping receiving manager, a purchasing manager, a scheduling supervisor, and a manager.  Then this guy.  Above manager.  Anyway, the above manager is a cranky sort, but i manage to engage his “excellence in brevity award winning” ass in conversation long enough for me to verify that the order made it out of our department exactly as I had written it.  He said something like “you may  leave the chambers of my exalted being at this time” as he hit the send key, and I wandered out knowing that once again the criminy factor had ensured a successful mission.

   It had, too.  up to the point it left my control.  I could possibly have rushed over to the next bosses office, but it was down a flight of stairs and into a second building, and I was winded.  You try to run between two buildings faster than a quarter of a MB of data can blip between 2 computers.  Granted they are not exactly experts with these funny little desktop tormenters, but I had managed it twice, and I really couldn’t come up with a reason to go by the third from the top bwana in the companies office, and wasn’t in the mood to rub someones feet while he was fed grapes by a concubine.

   He would ostensibly do his job to perfection, which was to read it, and click a couple of buttons and send it to purchasing.  Where of course it would be received by the relic that does that job; a fanatic for action novels, and capable of doing exemplary work while reading one.  Just ask him.

    My order arrived today.  It was close to right.  only wrong at a ratio of 4 to 1.  I took the P.O. to the above manager.  He grumbled, complained, bitched, and moaned, all under his breath and indistiguishable.  I stood quietly.  It’s best to stand quietly while great minds with pissy demeanors are ruminating.  I learned that back when I was one.

His input to the crisis was “go tell the purchasing manager to find out who $W^%$%& this up, and tell him to (redacted).”

Sure, no sweat.  I meandered over to there.  It was approaching lunch time, and my union meander was vsinglorious.  Arriving at this stellar leaders office, I was informed that it was Friday, and there was no way he could fix this in time to start the project.  I translated that to.  It’s friday, and I will flat be screwed up the anal orifice by a yak bfofre I will do one damn thing today.  He concluded that it was the shipping and receiving chiefs problem  He didn’t consult the usual 12 manuals to determine this. He knew he wasn’t doing shit today instinctually.  Thats good decision making right there.

   So I now toted my pathetic looking, droopy P.O. over to the shipping department.  It was heavy.  I slowed down.  it was still sweaty, but I was pushing lunch back farther and farther, which would make for a short afternoon.  It would also make the hoop that they had to jump through that much smaller to get my items here by monday.  My nefarious plot thickens. (twirls moustache)

    On the way there I ran into the goomba that I just didn’t have the stamina to run down and babysit on the day I placed my order.  I told him what was up, and he said if I couldn’t get it fixed bring it to him.  Chest was puffing out, and his head was trying to burst, but it set the stage, so I didn’t make any snide comments like…”yeah, getting it to you was a big help last time you reject from the idjit bin.”  I arrived at the shipping office.  here I was told, “you know, this isn’t really my purview.  Not my bailiwick.  Not my area of expertise.  you know its friday?  You’ll never get this by monday.”  For a record of what goes next read two paragraphs up.

   about here our heroes patience dries up.  I wander over to the one above the above managers office, and say.  “Ok, get this stuff.”  Now he and the one above the manager are in a turf war.  what I have just done is committed advancement suicide.  fortunately i want to advance like I want a wife.  Not so much.  I like what I’m doing, and don’t spend a lot, so I’m good.  which is a horrible situation for any company.  To Have an employee thats satisfied.  You just can’t get any leverage on me.  I can step out of line whenever I want, and about all you can do to me is fire me… Oh wait, union…not likely.

    the above the above manager smiles like the cat that ate the bird, and dismissed me imperiously from his presence.  He expressed the usual “I’ll get right on this” banality, and I scooched off to lunch.  At a decidedly laconic pace.  This is where the slow stroll came into play.  The above manager is off his ritalyn and can’t sit still.  I knew if I took my time we’d cross paths.  We did.  He asked me if it was taken care of.  I gave him that how the fuck would I know look, and he said “tell me.”  God i hate quotation marks.  Anyway I explained how I took care of the problem complete with proper ommissions of the dumbshit friday comments.  when I got to “so i gave it to the above the above manager”.  Watching the expression change from intensity to ice cold hatred was better than a no- rerun episode of The Family Guy.  You took it to who?  (insert ten minutes of vociferously rendered, incredibly unprofessional public ass chewing here that ends with the words “well, why didn’t you bring it to me?”    In an incredibly quiet and unperturbed manner the man who had just been reamed so dastardly and memorably While tuning him out and visualizing the hand stroking up and down motion in his mind replied “I did bring it to you. First. You said….”  I paused imperceptibally to give him time to interject “I KNOW WHAT I SAID.” Whereupon he stormed off to the one above the managers office.  The walls are thick, so I couldn’t here, but he stormed out exactly four minutes later with spittle flying and my P.O. clutched tightly in his about to have a coronary hands.

    I didn’t see the aftermath.  I did get my stuff five minutes before close.  The above manager wrote up  the shipping manager, the purchasing manager, and three heavy 3 heavy equipment  mechanics that did not bow and scrape quickly enough while he was pissed off.  I found the time to run into him again a couple of hours later (I can always find time when I’m on the clock) .  I apologized  in that same meek voice, and was informed that It had nothing to do with me.  I was trying to accomplish my “mission.”  Oh, I accomplished my mission.  I got entertained all afternoon, and I’m thinking probably made a couple of new fans.