Constancy

May. 20th, 2014 05:20 pm
perzephone: (lunar phases)
Blogging does do one useful thing. I went reading back through my entries last night and discovered that,  back in 2011, Rob & I had the exact same conversation about my emotional depth. According to my journal, his reaction/response then was the same as it was a few days ago. I also had the accepting/changing discussion with myself. I can also see the upticks & downturns in my own depression. Rob said he thought a lot of my recent depression was because of my hysterectomy, but from my blog I could see that it was building up before my surgery, and that my surgery took place right around the time I was feeling like a failure for returning to the Excalibur.

I really need to find a new identity for myself that isn't so strongly linked to what I do for a living. Either that or I need to find a job that is closer to the identity I want to have.
perzephone: (corporate cthulhu)
PBX is opening a steady extra position. I'd really like to apply for it... I would probably get it, too.

However, being a steady extra for PBX means I'd have a high chance of losing my insurance from September to March every year, not making any money during those same months... and the current steadies have been steadies for 2 years now. PBX operators don't quit, or transfer.  They die on the job... eventually. We've got some really old PBX operators at the hotel, easily past retirement age, but not quitting their jobs any time soon.

So due to the need for insurance and financial stability, I remain a night auditor. Which I loathe. My particular Skinner box offers very little in the way of rewards.
perzephone: (bad ducky)
I'm having some trouble adjusting to the estrogen (I think). Or it may be the result of running out of Elavil. Or stress over losing my health insurance. Or holiday/gettin' older blues. Or or or.

Actually, I don't know what it is exactly. I'm in a funk. Not the good kind of Parliament-raise-the-roof-funk, either. Just a don't-want-to-do-anything-surly-black-cloud kind of funk.

I don't want to get any older. I've somehow turned into a gerascophobe. Usually I'm pretty good at dealing with things I cannot avoid. I push through them, I don't worry about them, and I move on. Yes, I will die. No problem. Death may be painful. No problem. Yes, I will have to work until I die. No problem - not the greatest way to spend my life, but I have to do it if I want to maintain my current level of electricity-and-indoor-plumbing/hot-water-availability dependence. Yes, the world is going to hell in a hand basket. No problem. But the closer to 40 I get the less I want to go past it.

I work (and I'm stuck all night) in an office full of old women right now, and that's a good portion of why I want to step down from auditing & go back to being a desk clerk. I can't take the old women conversations any more. Every thing they talk about exacerbates the feelings I have about getting old. Old age doesn't seem like a comfortable place to be. You lose your independence, your body betrays you in new & interesting (not to mention disgusting) ways, you become fearful and paranoid of everyday occurrences, you start to worry about the weirdest stuff - or worrying about weird stuff becomes magnified and overly important (like dryer lint - the mother-in-law calls us to remind us to clean the dryer lint trap at least once a week, because of dryer fires... and those other old women call their kids about it, too), your mind finishes going wherever it started to go when it started to go, and now, thanks to better nutrition and medical care, you end up being old for a really long time compared to the time you had when you were young. I miss the days when the average human lifespan was like, 50 - and if you lived to 50 you were fucking ancient.

It seems so ridiculous to worry about something like getting old. It happens to everyone, everyone probably shares the same concerns as I do, but it's inevitable. Whenever I see people on t.v., and one person is telling another person about how they're worried about getting older, the other person (especially if they are older) always responds with something like, "Don't be ridiculous, oh my God you're so shallow, oh, grow some balls, get over it, cry me a river, etc. etc." No one ever gets any sympathy for it. Fear and phobias aren't something that get much sympathy to begin with. Everyone seems to view a person who is phobic of something mundane is just looking for attention or being ridiculous in some form (unless it's snakes. For some reason, it's ok to be afraid of snakes. Except to herpetologists & snake fanciers, in which case, well, you're being ridiculous. Here, hold this python. See, he's not slimy, he's not biting you, he's not trying to tempt you with an apple... Hey, where are you going?! Come back! Look, he really just wants to give you a hug!!!)

I'm not a sympathetic person, I don't know why I'd expect some sympathy or understanding for me not wanting to get old. I feel like I can't even talk to anyone about it because I anticipate hearing the same platitudes as I hear on t.v. shows. I brought it up to the therapists I went to see, and they didn't even seem to acknowledge it or want to address it, and I felt like every time I'd try to bring it up, they'd want to move on from it. I felt like I was being dismissed. "Oh, we can't fix that because it's not a problem, you're just being ridiculous. Here, let's talk about why you're fat instead..." I know the Wellbutrin hasn't helped. If anything, by removing the constant desire to commit suicide, it's given my brain more space to think about getting old. And of course, the only way to prevent aging is to die. Hah hah, Wellbutrin, take that!

I know me stepping down from audit is a hassle to management. Having to train a replacement is a hassle. But I feel like I can't even talk to the management about why I want to step down. I can't even talk to Rob about it because he thinks I'm being ridiculous, too. I basically lied to them all, said I don't like the level of support we get from IT anymore, the general unavailability of management, lack of experience or knowledge of OPERA, wanting to have a different schedule so I could go to a concert or spend time w/people who may come to Vegas on an actual calendar weekend... If I was able to work in the manager's office, away from the old ladies, I'd stay night auditor because, eh, even though they are real issues, I don't really give a rat's ass about any of the other things. I just don't want to hear about being old anymore. But I can't exactly complain about the PBX crew, because they aren't doing anything wrong, they're not interfering w/my job, and I'm the one who has the problem.

I've even thought about hooking up w/people who are about 15 years younger than myself in an effort to 'get my groove back'. Then I talk to them a little bit, and feel even older. I don't think I'll be taking up residence in Cougartown any time soon.
perzephone: (bad ducky)
I think the Wellbutrin may be working - I have more energy (at least, I think that's what this antsy, restless sensation is). But there's still nothing to do with it, and the things I want to do I have no time to do them.

All I know is that I will be relieved when the system change is finally implemented. I've got a management class in the morning, which I shouldn't even have to attend because, well, I'm not management. But they cover night audit in the management class, yipdefuckingdoo. Then a reports class on Wednesday morning, which I do need. They've told the relief auditor that they're having me work on launch night, but they haven't said one single word to me about it, and I'm wondering what they can do if I say no.

Speaking of my relief person, she came to work last night w/photos of her 10-year old son, beaten black & blue. Everyone told her to go home & call the cops & CPS. If I had been there when she had done it, I would have called then & there. Why wasn't the kid in the ER? Why did she feel it necessary to show everyone in the vicinity photos of her kid's naked butt? She had already gone home by the time I got to work, and I know from experience that CPS is just as likely to go after someone for fraudulent reports as they are truly troubled families. I didn't see the photos & I don't know where this woman lives, so my hands were a bit tied in that circumstance.

Not trying to downplay the seriousness of child abuse, I'm starting to wonder if this woman has something similar to Munchausen's, because there is always something wrong with her or her kids, or a combination of illness & family drama. She has some kind of cancer in her back, now she has brain tumor(s) - sometimes it's one brain tumor, sometimes more. It tends to fluctuate depending on how badly she wants to leave work. It's kind of like Klinger on M.A.S.H., only without the cross-dressing. We've got an older woman on dayshift who acts the exact same way, only she's always sick & it's always illness for her daughter. When I first went to work at the casino, the daughter was a little girl, and is now a teenager who is still prone to things like ear infections, chicken pox, tonsillitis, etc. In other words, childhood illnesses that a 15-year old would have grown out of by now.
perzephone: Wednesday Addams as played by Christina Ricci (be afraid)
I just realized that I know more about serial killers than I do my own parents.

I first heard about the Son of Sam when I was 5... my dogs could talk to me, too, but they never asked me to kill anyone.

I really need a vacation. If I don't get one soon, I may make my real parents (Berkowitz, Bundy, the Menendez bros, Richard Ramirez... those guys) so proud of me.
perzephone: (userfail)
I looked up some OPERA stuff. Just because, you know, I wanted to see if I'd be losing my job in about 2 months.

Yeah.

I'm so screwed.

Movin' On

May. 29th, 2011 06:20 pm
perzephone: (fridaynight)
Why am I still at the Excalibur?
1) I need the money
2) I need the insurance

What can I do to get the fuck out of the Excalibur?
1) Pay off about $5000 in credit card debt
2) Find another job that nets at least $1000 a month (preferably with decent insurance benefits)
3) Get my hysterectomy & get my teeth fixed to eliminate two things that make me need insurance

I'm worried about the hotel system upgrade we're going to be doing over the next two months or so. The Excalibur has always resented having to have two night auditors - they've done their best to make it more like 1 1/2 auditors by changing things to a 5-day/2-day shift instead of 4 10-hour shifts (not that I mind, I like my 8-hour work days a helluva lot better than 10 hours). There have been rumors floating in the ether that the OPERA system may enable audit to be completely automated, thereby eliminating my position completely. I don't know if that means I'll drop to the last full-time hotel shift or if I'll get stuck in the middle of the extra board. Since the conversion is supposed to land sometime in late June, early July I'd probably get steady work for the first three months or so as a steady-extra, but they lay off in late September/early October. Which means I will probably lose my insurance any way. So I need to start planning for that hysterectomy. I wanted to lose some weight first, but it looks like that's not going to happen. I'll have to call my ob/gyn next week - getting the hysterectomy probably means another $5k in debt, but medical bills are interest free.

If I get the hysterectomy, and I can get into another job, making at least $1000 a month, I can cover a doctor visit every three months or so to get blood pressure meds for me & Rob. All our pills are generic now (fucking finally) so they're not that expensive any more. I've been afraid to lose my insurance mainly because of the PCOS - that yearly PAP smear/pelvic exam/ultrasound is expensive.
perzephone: (Tree of Life)
Eh heh.

The High Priestess is highly introspective. Ever since I brought her out & set her up next to my bed, and asked her to talk to me, I've been more depressed than normal. I also haven't been able to figure out why my depression has taken a severe downward swing. I've also been thinking about how isolated I am personally, and how even though I don't do anything about it, suicide is part of my daily thoughts. I mean, it's always there, somewhere, lurking, but lately it's been moving towards full-blown planning. Along with all this, there is the feminine archetypal receptivity which means I've been wanting to pick up random guys. Mixed messages - I'm down, I want to die, but hey, buddy, can you spare a good lay?

It looks like I'm going to be the full-time night auditor in a few weeks. I may have to put the High Priestess away before I'm 'done', so to speak, because I'm way too sensitive to my environment at work. Things I could normally ignore, like my coworkers, are needling me. Being night auditor 40 hours a week means sitting in an office, isolated from the people I normally see and don't mind being around at least 3 nights a week, and instead I'm stuck with people who annoy the living crap out of me (the PBX operators) in a stuffy little room with dark red carpet on the walls and no ventilation.

I keep making this comparison between the PBX operators and Goldilocks. Goldilocks was all, "this bed is too hard... this bed is too soft" but eventually she found the bed and porridge that were just right. The PBX operators? Noooooo. As I left for my weekend on Wednesday morning, one of the operators was complaining, and I quote: "My back has been killing me all night! This chair is too hard! This chair is too soft! This one is too tall! This one is too short!" I bailed before she finished & before I could bust out in brays of ass-like laughter. I laughed all the fucking way home.
perzephone: (il dottore)
When I went to see the urologist about my x-ray results & having more kidney stones, she had me schedule a CT scan (no big deal). She then had me schedule what I thought was going to be a routine follow-up/pre-surgery appointment. Instead, I got this letter in the mail w/instructions on something called a cystoscopy. Considering that I don't have any bladder/urethral symptoms this is a nasty surprise. A cystoscopy is an endoscopic examination of the bladder through the urethra. It doesn't seem medically necessary to me, and in fact, seems torturous. In the letter, there's a lot of emphasis on being given medications to prevent a bladder infection, which sounds to me like, "yes, we're going to do this thing to you that will almost certainly guarantee you'll get a bladder infection". I've never had one and I know that I don't need to add a bladder infection to my life experiences.

I called the doctor's office to cancel the cystoscopy & schedule a more routine follow-up. Three different nurses tried to persuade me to keep the cystoscopy procedure & I told three different nurses the exact same thing: "No! No means no! No touchy my urethra, no medically induced bladder infections, no way, ain't gonna happen!" If it turns out that my doctor feels a cystoscopy is necessary to proceed with a kidney stone surgery this time, well, I'm keeping my rocks, thanks.

In other news, the hotel's PBX department now shares our office space. There is a lot of strife and in-fighting among the PBX operators (to the point where all their calls are being recorded now). Notes have been posted about respecting one another and profanity has been banned. A guest services agent has already been suspended because the PBX operators reported her for racism (she said a certain area of town was 'ghetto' - yes, we do have ghetto areas in Vegas - I've lived in them and continue to live in one. I guess 'ghetto' is now one of those words only black people can say without it being construed as being racist, which means when I describe my neighborhood, I should correct myself & say 'I live in the fucking barrio' instead of 'I live in the fucking ghetto', although in reality it's a mix between barrio & ghetto... a gherrio?).

Anyway, I am certainly doomed to be the full-time auditor in the next coupla months, and I don't know if I can stand working with the PBX operators for 40 hours a week. One set of graveyard operators does nothing but complain all night long, and the other graveyard PBX operator just talks all night long. From the minute she arrives to the minute I leave, she talks. Continuously. Without taking a breath. I know her entire life story - her love life, her kids, her health, her pets, her clothes, nails, hair & shoes. Her daily schedule. Where she shops. It'd be different if it was an actual 'conversation', with input from other people in the room - but it's not. It's an 8-hour monologue.

It's not just me, either - I've had about four other people who've been exposed to her ask me, "Does she talk like that all night?" I left my headphones at home the past two days and that's a mistake I will not repeat. I may get a back-up pair so I always have one in my purse.
perzephone: (Default)
I am about to embark on a 12-day work week.

Why?

Someone has to take his vacation before it expires.

No one sent us a tasty desk clerk to mold into relief auditor Jell-O.

But hey, it's over Christmas, so what the fuck, right? I don't need my brain all that much.
perzephone: (Tree of Life)
I've still been working with The Fool, haven't forgotten about him. He's still sitting there on my bedroom dresser, a key to meditation and thought-processes.

Last night before I went to bed, I was trying to just send some calming waves to Rob. He's been getting the feeling that we're going to be robbed again, soon. Last night, some guy knocked on the door around 10pm, asking if we knew anyone who drove a Nissan Altima. We have neighbors on either side of us who have like, a billion cars, most of them parked overlapping our driveway - and most of our other neighbors are in the same multi-vehicular club, so the guy could have been looking for one of any of the about 20 people on our street. It upset Rob.

I was laying there, trying to center myself, breathing, but I couldn't get to it. All I could see behind my eyes were patterns of hatch-marks in bright crazy colors. I was trying to work up some protective energy to throw around Rob, but nope, nothing worked. I even tried using the net-like pattern as a net to cast over him, but it wasn't letting me throw it. Just wanted to stick there behind my closed eyes. Finally, I gave up, fuck it, it's not working, Rob's just gonna have to suffer & be all twitchy.

Then I saw the Fool, against the bright golden sky of some foreign clime, silhouetted on the precipice with his little white dog. He looked down, on the other side of the cliff, and began meandering down a rocky path to a distant city.

Obviously it's time for me to move on. I don't know if I've learned anything from the Fool this time around. I've gotten some new insights - the bindle and the courier's bag, for instance. There seems to be this huge gap between the Fool and the Magician. I mean, how exactly did the Fool get to be the Magician, how did he go from a greenhorn to a master? How long did it take, what kind of things did he encounter in between? I've always considered it to be the same guy, yanno? Maybe it's not - maybe the Magician is someone the Fool encounters, maybe the Fool is the Magician's apprentice at some point. Maybe it's who the Fool wants to grow up to be.

I've also had past problems with the Magician. I was a ceremonialist for a few years, and I resonated strongly to the power of ceremonial magic(k). Summoning and controlling spirits is a serious stroke to the ego. You truly get that feeling of being a God among men. Whenever I work with the energies behind the Magician, I turn into Crowleyanna.

Maybe I need a dose of that particularly strong medicine right now, because I am very out-of-control at work. The office that I called home for 5 1/2 years has been torn apart. They're moving PBX into it so they decided to sound-buffer the walls & replace the carpeting, and in the process they tore up all the desks & cubes, and it's been like this for almost a month now. We've been working out of the manager's office for the past two weeks, so I'm living in someone else's space, having to deal with all the clutter and chaos... and there's a shift-bid coming up in which I do get my 8-hour shift that I've been wanting, but it's not in the way I'd hoped it would be, which is typical for me.

I was talking to the graveyard supervisor about Who Moved My Cheese? and how it relates to the dismay caused by shift bids. Who Moved My Cheese? is one of those newspeak books that came out during a corporate empowerment movement, when everyone wanted to think outside boxes and change paradigms. From a managerial standpoint, it's a useful parable for dealing with employees who have a hard time handling changes. Go ahead, move their cheese - and tell them you're changing their paradigms to challenge them to think outside the box! From an employee's standpoint, it means that you just have to expect to be rendered absolutely powerless in the workplace from time to time, and you should just suck it up and deal with it. That's what office moves & shift bids are - managers fucking with your cheese, with very little warning.

I'm hoping that the Great Stomach Rebellion of 2010 is not related to the unexpected office move. I would like to think that I am somewhat more resilient than that.

Weather-wise, it's 50ºF outside, and 68º inside. I'm freezing my titties off!
perzephone: (revengeful)
My job has been in the process of moving our PBX operators from out of the dungeon (where they have a hoooooge office, mind you) and into Guest Services. For me, it mostly means I will have 2 - 3 people with me all night long (yay, whatever). There's been a lot of speculation as to why PBX is moving, along with speculation on whether that means Guest Services & Night Audit will move into a different office, and if we're getting new carpeting (probably not).

The bitch of it all is that they decided to put some ugly-ass burgundy carpeting on the walls. I get it, it's supposed to be a noise buffer. It makes our office look very tiny and squished in, it's made the room darker (we used to have obnoxious nicotine-yellow splotched wallpaper), and they've had to pull all the cubicles away from the walls to install it.

As a result, our primary printer/copier/digital sender is all unplugged. I'd plug it back in, but, uh... I'm not sure where that plug goes. The wiring at the hotel is kind of sketchy, and I imagine if I plug it directly into the wall, bad things will happen. If everyone goes to their rooms and turns on their t.v.s, which usually happens around 10:30pm, the power on the wall where the t.v.s are dies & Engineering has to go flip the breaker. If I attempt plugging the monstrous beast into the wall, it will probably start an electrical fire the minute I turn the power on. Either that, or it will knock out power to the entire front desk. Which might be lulzy, but in actuality it would be a tremendous pain in the ass. So I have to use the Bell Desk's copier/printer, which doesn't have a working digital sender. Back to copying hard paper backups, yay.

The desk we're set up on now has no front feet. The people doing the work have managed to break or bend the feet on every desk they've moved. I'm like, can't they pick something straight up a few inches & set it down? Do they have to drag big heavy-ass desks, which bends & breaks the feet, which are just rubber stoppers on screws? It looked like some kind of setup for the Winchester Mystery Mansion or a fun-house. Everything on the desk was tilted forward, and as I sat there, even the computer kept slowly inching its way towards me whenever I'd vibrate the desk. I gave up & stole the feet off another out-of-commission desk, tried to screw them into the bottom, only to find the holes where the feet screw in had broken screws in them already. So now the desk is just precariously perched on those two screws. One wrong jiggle & it's going to fall again.

Another thing they've done is broken the night audit desk. We had a corner unit, nice & big so we could spread all our paperwork out. It's attached to a 3-drawer cabinet on the right side, and a shelf-bracket on the cube wall on the left. First, whoever took our cube apart basically just dropped the desk onto the ground, tipping the drawers sideways. Thursday night was an adventure for me because, for the second time since I started the first time, I had to get all the crap that had slipped down into the bottom-most corner of the desk, behind the bottom drawer, to get a key to another set of drawers. My co-worker had a collection of t-pins in a drawer tray that also got flipped into the black hole o' doom. With the help of a supervisor, I got the bottom drawer out completely, but due to my arms being so short, I couldn't reach all the way to the back corner. I had to scoop stuff towards me using a duster we have laying around. Every time I reached into the fantastic pile of crap, I got stuck with the exposed t-pins. I felt like I was auditioning for a Saw movie.

I finally remembered that I had my old name tag in my purse, which has a magnetic back to it. I rubberbanded it to the end of the duster & used it to collect all the tacks, t-pins, paperclips, dead staples, foreign coins, some pens, etc. With all that crap out of the way, the only thing left was the non-magnetic key. I got all our crap re-organized & cleaned up. I just left the bottom drawer out. Fuck it, if they move the desk again, more crap will no doubt fall out of the remaining drawers. When I came in last night, they had moved the audit desk for the Guest Services clerks. They had propped it up on the other cabinet we use. I had attempted that Thursday night, but I noticed that the cabinet was just tall enough to either break the desktop in half or pop it off the drawers on the right side. Once again, whoever moved the desk was fucking lazy - now the top of the desk is bowed and it's pulled off the drawers.

To top my work week off, I found a mistake on our daily revenue report. There are taxes for a revenue center that haven't been on the report since mid-September, and the taxes for another revenue center have been wrong since then, and maybe even before. Of course, I had to be the one to finally notice this - no one else has found it, including the supervisors who are supposed to be checking our work. In a way I was relieved to see the mistake didn't originate on one of my work days - but then again, if it had, I might have seen it & caught it.

I'm so glad it's my weekend.
perzephone: (Tree of Life)
Rob's got a bachelor's degree in Criminal Justice - aside from working as a security guard for construction sites, he's never used it for anything, and it's never done him any good. I've got friends with degrees up the wazoo (along with student loan debts) and they all have 'jobs'. Not careers, but jobs. Not a one of them are using any of their education to do anything. It's pretty disappointing to spend all that time, money and energy on obtaining a piece of paper only to find out that it isn't good for anything beyond decorating an empty spot on the wall.

Everything kind of stopped for me after I quit my job at the County, and it stopped even more once I graduated. I went into school with a bindle full of preconceived notions of what my life would be after I got my degree. It's a practical degree, in computer information and technology. The information I gained during the five years I spent on it is useful to a certain extent. I know what a BSOD (Blue Screen of Death) actually is, I understand random errors... I can use Linux. I went into employment thinking I would receive tons of practical experience that would lead me into bigger and better things - like an internship with Google or something. I was a fool in the sense that I had no grasp of the reality I was about to encounter. I was star-gazing, not paying attention to the pitfalls in front of me. I also had some exaggerated ideas of my own skills and abilities. They had never been put to a real test. Just because I had more knowledge of computer operations than say, the mother-in-law or some of my coworkers at the casino did not mean I was ready for a job in a specialized IT department. I would have been better off going into a broad-spectrum IT department like the centralized County IT instead of at the District Attorney's office.

At any rate, I came out of the experience with a new outlook and some practical wisdom, and I won't be likely to make the same mistakes again. I'm The Fool on the other side of the card. I fell down, I got back up & brushed myself off. Somehow though I can't seem to get started again. I'm in that neutral zone between cards.

I did my best to notice
When the call came down the line
Up to the platform of surrender
I was brought but I was kind
And sometimes I get nervous
When I see an open door
Close your eyes
Clear your heart...
Cut the cord

Are we human?
Or are we dancer?
My sign is vital
My hands are cold
And I'm on my knees
Looking for the answer
Are we human?
Or are we dancer?

Pay my respects to grace and virtue
Send my condolences to good
Give my regards to soul and romance,
They always did the best they could
And so long to devotion
You taught me everything I know
Wave goodbye
Wish me well..
You've gotta let me go

Are we human?
Or are we dancer?
My sign is vital
My hands are cold
And I'm on my knees
Looking for the answer
Are we human?
Or are we dancer?

Will your system be alright
When you dream of home tonight?
There is no message we're receiving
Let me know is your heart still beating

Are we human?
Or are we dancer?
My sign is vital
My hands are cold
And I'm on my knees
Looking for the answer

You've gotta let me know

Are we human?
Or are we dancer?
My sign is vital
My hands are cold
And I'm on my knees
Looking for the answer
Are we human
Or are we dancer?

- Human by The Killers
perzephone: (revengeful)
Hmmm... one thing I do not see here on DW is a way to make a filter public. I don't know if it lacks the functionality or I'm just an blogger-tard. So I deleted a couple of filters, rendering those journals public - mainly my Dragon Cave dragon filter and one I had enigmatically titled 'General Pubic'.

There are a couple I am keeping - namely my porn & my health. If you read this & want occasional sex in yo' face, let me know. If you want to read about me pissing & moaning due to blood pressure woes, let me know that as well.

My job released a new edition of 'Policies & Procedures', with two pages dedicated to social media. I do occasionally like to act out in public, so no more listing my place of employment on there. I know it's probably archived somewhere, and if they want to dig, they can go for it. If you work with me & read this, you won't see public entries (other than extremely mundane crap) related to my job - sorry, no inter-office gossip for you. I'm also going to be removing my work association from my facebook profile.

For now, my morning plans consist of a nice cup of decaf and going to bed.
perzephone: (Default)
( You're about to view content that the journal owner has advised should be viewed with discretion. )
perzephone: (Default)
I think my ulcer is flaring up again. My tongue is sore, has swollen tastebuds and I've been acidy. Blegh. It's all work crap, too.

If I ask a simple question, I'm told to figure it out on my own.

But, whenever I make a judgment call, it's wrong.

If I try to go above and beyond what I'm asked to do, I'm wasting time.

If I do exactly as I'm asked, I'm not doing enough.

If something is over my head, I'm told to ask for assistance.

When I ask for assistance, I get no help.

I called one of the supervisors at the Excalibur today & asked if they were hiring steady extras. When she mentioned, "Oh, you've got perfect timing. W's wanting to get out of night audit whenever a full-time position opens up!", I didn't die inside a little or throw up in my mouth, or flinch or want to /wrists. Instead, I e-mailed one of the managers & asked, "Can I come home?"

This is from the WA website.

Twenty Questions: How Do I Know If I'm A Workaholic?

1. Do you get more excited about your work than about family or anything else?
I don't know if it's excitement, exactly, but it's definitely emotional.

2. Are there times when you can charge through your work and other times when you can't?
Yeah.

3. Do you take work with you to bed? On weekends? On vacation?
Yeah.

4. Is work the activity you like to do best and talk about most?
I don't exactly like to do it, but it is the only thing I have to talk about most of the time.

5. Do you work more than 40 hours a week?
Thankfully, no.

6. Do you turn your hobbies into money-making ventures?
Outside of WoW I have no real hobbies.

7. Do you take complete responsibility for the outcome of your work efforts?
Of course. This question makes no sense to me, though. Who else is responsible for my efforts other than me?

8. Have your family or friends given up expecting you on time?
Have they given up expecting me on time? No. Have they given up expecting me at all? Welllll...

9. Do you take on extra work because you are concerned that it won't otherwise get done?
It's not that I'm concerned it won't get done, it's that I know it won't get done.

10. Do you underestimate how long a project will take and then rush to complete it?
I'm just now having the opportunity to learn about project planning. Everything takes longer than I think it will.

11. Do you believe that it is okay to work long hours if you love what you are doing?
Yes

12. Do you get impatient with people who have other priorities besides work?
Yes. It's 2010, get off your asses & get back to work!

13. Are you afraid that if you don't work hard you will lose your job or be a failure?
More like I know I'll lose my job. Has nothing to do w/being a failure - I don't need a job to be myself.

14. Is the future a constant worry for you even when things are going very well?
No, not anymore.

15. Do you do things energetically and competitively including play?
Uh, no.

16. Do you get irritated when people ask you to stop doing your work in order to do something else?
Yes. Especially when it's their work.

17. Have your long hours hurt your family or other relationships?
In the past, yes.

18. Do you think about your work while driving, falling asleep or when others are talking?
I dream I'm at work.

19. Do you work or read during meals?
Not anymore. Slow food, baby, slow food.

20. Do you believe that more money will solve the other problems in your life?
I know money will solve a great deal of things in my life.

If you answer "yes" to three or more of these questions you may be a workaholic. Relax. You are not alone. Many have found recovery through the tools of this fellowship.

What I want to know is... How do you recover from being a workaholic? I mean, quitting cold turkey doesn't seem so viable. Where do these people hold their meetings? A freeway underpass? Out in front of Home Depot w/the day laborers? At the unemployment office? A cheap dive bar during happy hour? I mean, seriously. This isn't an addiction that can be solved by just not doing it anymore.

In other news, I tanked tonight & didn't die. I like not dying.
perzephone: (Default)
Why do I go to interviews for jobs I don't really want?

And why am I then disappointed when I don't get them?

Tired

Dec. 9th, 2009 08:58 pm
perzephone: (Default)
I'm whipped today. Just whipped. I waited around most of the morning to find out if I was being laid off or not. To my utter dismay, I found out not only am I not being laid off, but I am expected to justify every single minute of my day. I just don't think I want my job enough to do that. I mean, I need my job, and it would be nice to keep it long enough to get my hysterectomy... but this is going to get ridiculous.

I used to be a gore-whore. If it was sick, twisted, depraved and monstrous, chances are I've seen it. Suicides? No problem. Flaming martyrs? No problem. Obscure, graphic crime scene photos from the 20s? Torture? Animal experimentation? Zippocat? No problem.

One would think, with our department being the IT Help Desk, that we would not have much to do with the criminal cases that flow through the office at the rate of about 1600 per week. However, we have a great deal of exposure to the media behind the cases - surveillance videos, stupid people filming their own shenanigans, autopsy photos & video, crime scene photos and video, the criminal documents themselves. I watched a man with a gun hunt another man down in a grocery store. I've seen the autopsy of a small child that wasn't even recognizable as a human anymore, it was that badly beaten. The left overs of a home-made car bomb, or the occasional case of - well, suffice it to say, bad things happening to small people. Brutality inflicted on humans by humans is at my daily disposal, and at first I was titillated when I found the folders full of images of dead bodies, because I am somewhat of a necrophiliac. It just doesn't turn me on anymore. I thought all the years of gore sites like rotten.com, bangedup, ogrish & Stiles had hardened me to things like this. I thought I was immune.

I think it was seeing the crime scene photos of a lonely grave out in the middle of the desert. A woman's body, badly burnt, turned into a mummy, shrunken and unidentifiable, that did it to me. Someone had a CD full of crime scene photos & they couldn't get the CD-Rom to read it. I opened the disk, changed the view to thumbnails & the person I was assisting enlarged one of the photos in the top row, which just happened to be a close up of this woman. It was startling and unexpected, and every time I closed my eyes for the rest of the day, there she was in photo negative. She didn't continue to haunt me, but the setting did. There are a million places out here that look just like that grave site did - abandoned lots, construction sites, quarries, the vast empty wasteland of Nevada is full of sagebrush and windblown trash. There are so many places outside Nevada just like that, too, even in the most crowded cities are places where bodies can lay undisturbed and unnoticed. Within my beliefs, the shell we leave behind is just like that windblown trash - it's really of no use to anyone anymore. We slough it off like a cicada's husk when we die. To the living, though, that husk is the last vestige anyone will ever see of a loved one. The funerary rites are necessary to put ghosts to rest, necessary for the survivors to heal and move on. Every body forgotten and discarded in abandoned lots, quarries, dumpsters, the Great Big Empty, is a door that will never close.

I feel bruised and battered inside - every day I am exposed to more murders or assaults or kidnappings, and so much more... mankind's imagination when it comes to causing grief and harm seems infinite. I try to fill my off-time with playful things, captioned cats, comics, artwork, news articles that highlight the weirdly funny instead of the weirdly malicious. It's the things that creep out on the sidebars that nail me - like the pit bull yesterday or Monday, or the man who injected his wife with his own HIV-infected blood so she'd fuck him again - and someone trying to defend him because apparently enforced celibacy makes men do things like this & they should be excused for their actions. I think about some of the work I've been doing on myself regarding becoming more compassionate, meditations, protective and healing mantras I'm learning, and then another day at work makes me wonder why I'm trying to be more sympathetic to the human plight. We, as a species, are not all that worthy of compassion and sympathy - but I suppose, simply because of that, I should be all that more determined to open myself to those feelings. When I pray for one, I pray for all, and when I pray for all, I pray for myself.
perzephone: (Default)
I opened up the back door tonight to hear cicadas. It's kind of a relief, considering last year the cicadas started in late May. El Nino has come back to us, bringing the seasons back into balance. It's starting to get blisteringly hot, right when it should be. It hit 120º in some parts of town yesterday, and it's humid on top of it, just like it should be. I bask in it leaving work - Rob parks in a metered lot a block away from the building when he's picking me up, so I get a short walk to the car. Today the air conditioner at work was audibly laboring to keep the place cool - we've got all the computer equipment, so normally we freeze, and it's nice to walk out of the cool dark basement into the scorching heat of July. Last year, though, I was walking into the scorching heat of July by mid-May. Not a good thing, especially since it didn't cool down til late October.

Boss comes back to work on Monday... hopefully I'll get a verdict on my future employment with the County soon. If her vacation was a test, I failed miserably because I spent two weeks on facebook screwing around with my coworkers. We received an updated Policy & Procedures notification that specifically mentioned 'facebook and other social networking sites' as being in direct violation of the P&P... but did that stop the intrepid FarmTowners of the IT Department? Noooooo. Ah well. I don't like this job. I've decided that I do not have a future in the exciting world of IT. I will probably be a pencil-pusher for the rest of my life, which I can accept. I am a very good pencil-pusher.
perzephone: (Default)
I had a flash of inspiration this afternoon. I'm going to become a notary public & go around to all the casino business centers w/my business card & advertise myself as an 'After Hours Notary'. Evenings & weekends, baby. Who says you can't get anything notarized after 5pm on a Friday? The whole process will cost about $150, but not all at once. The application is $35, the class is $45, surety bonding starts around $40, & then you have to get your seal/stamp & journal.

If anyone's interested... Step by Step Guide to Becoming a Notary Public in Nevada

I figure at the very least it will add to my marketability.

Profile

perzephone: (Default)
Rainbow Serpent Woman

August 2014

S M T W T F S
     12
3456789
101112 13141516
17181920212223
24252627282930
31      

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 21st, 2017 08:33 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios