Is It Safe to Scream?

I know. I am getting a little redundant by repeating the same thing over and over again.

But.

I am truly tired of my job. I am tired of it. Sick of it. If it wasn't for that little (okay not so little) thing called money, I would have quit months ago. Mrs. NHJ is more of a bitch and I just can't take it anymore. Can't. Take. It. Any.More.

Oh I just want to get into the house so that I no longer have to worry about a mortgage company wants a 2 year job history.

I need a career change. I need to get out of the oil business and move on to something much better.

I never have been the type of person who liked listening to other people. I guess deep down I have always known that I would only be truly happy working for myself.

I have a few more months to decide about this career change.

Bitch Boy, Pot Stirrer, and Shit Talker

I have given yet another nickname to a co-worker. Bitch Boy. This goes to our new "safety manager." First, he is not above nor below me in status, he makes more money, far more money than I, but that does not mean he is better than I. Second, his boss doesn't even work at this facility so he doesn't even seem like an actual employee of my workplace. and Thirdly, I hardly ever see him, he does not have a company phone, and there is literally NO way (other than e-mail) for me to get a hold of him. This fact alone does not bother me in the slightest. What does bother the living fuck out of me, is that Bitch Boy does not provide his contact information to his customers or vendors so that they can follow up with him AND he gives out the company phone number to these people so that they can "contact" him. However, he is completely unreachable by this number.

Bitch Boy is not the only person I have this problem with. Shit Talker (yes, another new nickname), is also in a separate office and not reachable through the office phone. However, HE has a company cell phone and I give out that number openly and freely. There is another one out of these three that is also unavailable by land line, we will call him Innocent By Stander, because I LIKE him, and he is always more than willing to help me out. Plus, he has almost no authority, much like myself and can't control not having a cell phone (because Shit Talker and Shit Talker's management took it away).

So, we have Bitch Boy, Shit Talker, and Innocent By Stander (IBS).

I have the luxury of being yelled at, rudely spoken too, and hung up on on a daily basis because "our company needs to get their shit together," "I am lying," or "Bitch Boy told them he could be reached at this number." Well, a few weeks ago I was fed up with it. I e-mailed Bitch Boy and asked for his contact information so that I can give it to these people when they call. He responded by saying that the people who needed it already had it, and he doesn't want to deal with anyone else.

My response. Well, I guess they are SOL.

Flash forward to yesterday morning.

I finally had enough. I was yelled at by one person too many. This time, the phone call was in regard to IBS; however, I had enough of it.

I sent out another e-mail to all 3 of them stating, and I quote:
"When you do business with someone, please make sure that you give them the needed information in order to get back a hold of you (Other than the main office line, as you cannot be reached via this line). This would be great as I am tired of being hung up on and bitched at because they can’t reach you.

Thanks!
Christie"

So, I realize that I probably could have worded it differently, but I was pissed and BITCHED was the word that best described what was happening to me.

Bitch Boy, decided to ignore my e-mail and pass it on to Shit Talker, in which he basically said that I was a horrible person, employee, and should "have a talking too." Now look here... Don't tell someone I need a "talking to." And second of all, if you had a problem, the first step is to confront the person you have a problem with. Isn't this what we learned in Kindergarten through that whole problem solving shit where you start off stating how you feel and by the end of the damn exercise you are hugging the person who you punched in the face after they put wet sand down your pants?

Anyway, more anger arises from the fact that later that day my boss comes to me and says we need to talk. Now, my boss doesn't talk to me. No really, he doesn't talk to me. Only every now and then to ask a question, in which I answer directly and he leaves my office. So, we he starts off saying we need to talk, I flip and start racking my brain of WHAT THE FUCK I possibly did wrong within the last month.

Then, he calls in Mrs. No Holey Jeans, and we go to the conference room for a "meeting." Umm... Well, he takes longer than he should to get there and all I can think about is the "big wigs" that are coming into the office the next day and how they just had all this budget meeting shit, and OH FUCK they are getting rid of my position! Then, my eyes swell with tears and I get a fucking toad in my throat (kind of like what is happening now, because the thought of loosing my job upsets me soo soo much!) and I have to choke everything back, because I will not let Mrs. No Holey Jeans see me cry. And will my fucking boss just bring his ass in here and get it over with already. I'm going to cry. Not only am I going to cry, I am going to bawl, and there will be snot and mascara running and I don't see a box of tissues up here.

Finally! My boss comes in and hands me a piece of paper. AHAHAHAHA! It's my e-mail! And Bitch Boys e-mail to Shit Talker and Shit Talker's boss, Pot Stirrer's, response to my boss and my bosses response to all of them. WOW! Wait! Shit Talker sent this to Pot Stirrer, but Shit Talker's response is not included in this e-mail. Pot Stirrer DELETED IT! OH! I get it.

So, first. It was funny that even Pot Stirrer (who gained his name for other reasons as well) took my side by simply saying, this is not a matter of who is right or wrong. This is a communication issue and maybe you 3 (meaning, Shit Talker, Bitch Boy, and IBS) need to have a meeting to resolve it.

My boss, Teddy Bear (I am naming him this, because I was told once that he was a big Teddy Bear) then told them all that he would talk to me, but communication was important, this was the first he had heard of it, and if they have a problem contact him directly next time and he will handle it.

First, Teddy Bear is a great boss. He sticks up for his employees, even when they could have done something differently or approached it in a different way. AND he explains things to said employee *cough* HOW she can handle it differently, and that it might be better to just go to him (even though some times Teddy bear scares the shit out of her) and he will put them in their place. This makes me happy. Really happy, that my boss cares, sticks up for me, and doesn't back down.

Also, I think Mrs. No Holey Jeans needs to start taking lessons from him, because I really can't stand her careless attitude and Bitchiness! Fuck her! Although, she seems to tone it down, is much more helpful, and polite when Teddy Bear is around (also her boss). Imagine that!

Planning a Party?

You know how we all dream. Well, I have been dreaming a lot lately. I have officially extended my budget out until the end of 2014. That's right, it's a five year plan. And if I follow it correctly I will have about $54,000 saved up. pppsshhhh. I have mentioned before that I am incapable of saving... I am still incapable of saving. It will be interesting to know how much I have saved up at the end of 2014.

That is one of the day dreams I have been having. The other is getting out of the job I am in now. It is not secret that I hate my job, in large part because I have to spend it with Mrs. NHJ (No Holey Jeans, in case I have any new readers). Part of this career change, includes how I can do something fun, that involves a random schedule of which I choose and when I choose it, being able to sleep in and cuddle with the love of my life, spend more time with is beautiful daughter Baby, interact with people, use my degree, and more importantly use my brain! Uncanny right? What job is going to offer all of this? Should I mention that I did not even note benefits or a 401K?

Basically, I have came to the conclusion that I would have to work for myself. But, what would I do? Howe about plan parties! My family... We know how to party, and we have thrown some pretty good ones, that aren't too pricey!

My dreams came to a crashing halt for a few reasons. One, starting a business costs money. Maybe not the one I am wanting to start, because I don't need and office, e-mail is free, and I can do my own marketing. But, there is advertising, business cards, and who the heck wants to hire someone who doesn't have a website in this economy. A website and references are a must. Two, I'm almost positive I would have to quit my job to do this. I can't quit my job. My job is steady income that I need to pay the bills. I can't leave steady income for "I don't know when the hell I am going to get paid" income.

Maybe some day, in 5 years, after I have the $54K saved up, then I can quit my job and start planning people's parties! I mean, I know all the vendors, I have people skills, and it's something I enjoy doing! *sigh* How I love to dream.

But really...

Would you hire me to plan your wedding, birthday, company party, holiday party, funeral? :O

Mondays

I've read many articles about productivity. You know when you're bored at work and have nothing better to do? Then, you start to Google shit about productivity so that if your boss ever asks you why something isn't done you can quote some random study that says smart people surround by bitchy *cough* Mrs. NHJ *cough* employees have trouble getting stuff done. I digress.

Anyway, this particular study that I read said that employees are MOST productive on Tuesdays. Really? Hmm... I think that might be, because we have to catch up on work that we "didn't feel like" doing on Monday.

Today is Tuesday, and I can guarantee that it is not going to be my most productive day of the week. Yesterday, I got a lot of shit done and today I plan on catching up on my other blogs and playing Twitter. I would be playing on Facebook, but the IT department has that blocked right now. :(

It's Tuesday and feels like my Monday.

Cold Hearted. Warm Blooded.

Mice. My fucking workplace has mice! Technically, we only found one mouse, but those fuckers NEVER travel alone. What. The. Fuck! Someone needs to tell me what my damned rights are, because I don't do rodents! Reptiles, bugs, and rodents are a no fucking go for me.

I get to work this morning and head straight to the kitchen to put my lunch in the fridge. I look down and see one of the cockroach holder/sticky things. My office has these throughout the offices too, but they also spray for bugs and I have never seen any bugs. Other than that one instance we had with an angry hive of bees that wouldn't let us outside, so we had to call the Bee Man and it took him like an hour to kill those damned things and get the Queen.

Back to my story. I look down and see the cockroach stinky thing. I think hmm... that isn't suppose to be there. Until I see it. AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!! I take that back, I felt the vile things heinous tale hit the top of my pinky toe before I saw what it was. AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHAAA!!!!! Stuck. The fucker was stuck in the thing. Eww! Eww! Eww! I cried. My make up is ruined, my mascara is smeared on my face, making it appear that I was punched the night before, and I am no longer wearing the eyeliner I had on at 7:59 this morning.

I come to find out that this place has had a problem with mice/rodents/vile, disgusting creatures in the past. Luckily, 2 stray cats made there way over and we started feeding them for at least 5 or 6 years. Well, the cats died (they were run over) and the fucking mice are back. I want a cat! I will go pay to adopted one and have it inside (I won’t be satisfied with an outside cat) if I have to. I mean, I will do it the right way. I want a cat, I NEED a cat. I don't do mice.

A co-worker of mine (not Mrs. NHJ) doesn't like mice, but was sad that fucker was "suffering." Fuck that! I don't feel bad for the disease carrying infestation! At this point I am kind of happy that Mrs. NHJ is around, she is a bitch. More importantly, she is bitch that doesn't like mice/rodents. This means, that something is going to be done. Cause if the Bitch ain't happy, nobody is happy!

Mrs. No Holey Jeans

Recently, I mention Mrs. No Holey Jeans (or Mrs. NHJ) in a post and thought I should explain how said co-worker developed this name.

Now, I work in the oil industry. No one ever comes to our office and when they do they look like a homeless person due to the oil/dirt/grime he or she is covered in. So, there is no need to dress in the business casual attire. Plus, the company does not have a dress code established. Therefore, I see no need to "dress to impress."

Before you Baby Booming judgmentals get on my case about how us youngsters are destroying the work environment and all that jazz, here me out.

I would never come to work in shorts (even though the summer days in Arizona are unbearable). I would never wear sweatpants or anything that looked like a work out uniform. I ALWAYS wear my hair down (only on rare days so I wear it in a bun). I would never leave my house without make-up on. My point? I don't look like some trashy girl. I look presentable and appropriate - not to mention comfortable. Mon-Fri I wear a "business casual" top and never wear T-shirts (unless the company logo is on them AND it's a Friday).

I don't feel comfortable in dresses or skirts. So, I would never wear those to work. Heels are uncomfortable and ruin my feet, so I always wear flip flops and I always wear jeans or capris.

On Fridays, I don't see anything wrong with coming to work in a tank top and "stylish" pair of jeans. You know those jeans that you can buy anywhere, and they have the strategically places holes in them? The ones that you buy that way? I love holey jeans! They just look to worn and comfortable.

Now, it had been a year that I wore a pair of holey jeans on Friday. The Republican, Baby Boomers at my company laughed, but never told me that it was inappropriate.

Then, Mrs. NHJ, who always has to put her nose in everything told me that I was not allowed to wear these jeans to work anymore. *ahem* Excuse me? Yup, The Bitch told me, after a year or my wearing these jeans to work, that I COULD NOT wear them.

Who the fuck is she. Oh! AND to top it off, she told me that my boss (still calling him Ray) agreed. Well, that is funny Mrs. NHJ, because I believe it was just last week that he was joking with me about them and even gave me a pointer on where I might find some more, for a cheaper price. I'm on to you, Bitch!

That, is how said co-worker established the name of Mrs. No Holey Jeans almost 1 year ago today.

This co-worker gets on my nerves, is unreasonable, HAS to have things done her way (even when she isn't the one doing anything in regard to what you are doing), always has an opinion which she thinks is better than everyone else’s, complains that her Coach reading glasses holder is too big, AND lives in the richest, most snobbiest place in AZ.

I finally found out why this old hag was so damned ornery... She used to work for Enron. Which means that she most likely lost most (if not all) of her retirement and will probably be working until she dies. Plus, she's never had kids, been in the oil business FAR TOO long, doesn't like me (even though I have done nothing to her) AND... is the sole reason why I dread going to work every morning.

At one point, she even had the nerve to make a comment that I probably made more money than her. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Bitch please! She was serious. I don't know where she gets that shit from!!! She makes AT LEAST double what I make in a year, including tuition reimbursement. She is like 61 years old and been in the oil industry since she was 18. Like a 20 year old makes more than her. UGH!

Dream #2

There are two relevant points in this dream:

1. I pushed my boss.
2. I told Mrs. No Holey Jeans (I'll explain later) to "shut up and listen for once."

An operator and myself were on our lunch break, and for some reason we decided to toss a football back and forth. Now, under no circumstances would be company be okay with us tossing a football back and forth on company property for safety and ass hole reasons. In this dream, our Safety Supervisor (let's call her Laura) was in town. her normal office is in a different state, thank gosh, because I don't know how much I could handle of her fake friendliness. Oh, it is most definitely a fake friendliness; she will jab in the back with a knife faster than you can say OSHA.

Now, Laura happened to see us tossing the football back and forth and came out to write an "incident report" (meaning you fucked up and put yourself or others in harms way) about it. My problem is that she was only going to write the incident about ME. She claimed that the operator was standing in a safe position, but I was not. Laura then went on to show me the several different places I could have been standing that would be safe.

Well, me being me. I choose to argue with Laura because not only was her reasoning completely UNreasonable, but she literally pointed out a safe spot to stand that was not more than 2 feet from me. Now, I was not arguing with her that she was wrong. I was merely asking for an explanation on WHO chooses safe versus unsafe spots? If she had a company policy regarding such issues? And the difference between Spot A and Spot B?

Are you following along? Good.

Now, this dream I was viewing via 3rd person. So, I had my "real life" mind with me and was only watching the events unfold. Kind of like, watching a documentary, of myself.

All of a sudden, my boss (let's call him Ray) and co-worker/bitch (let's call her Mrs. No Holey Jean or Mrs. NHJ) showed up and sided with her! How dare they! Then, the argument on safety all of a sudden turned into an argument of credibility where my opinion was no longer being considered. I felt like I was being treated as 1/2 of a person. The reason I was no longer "credible?" I didn't "dress up" for work. Laura started to make that a safety issue, and Mrs. NHJ was agreeing and my boss was threatening to fire me if I didn't start dressing up. In the middle of all of this I was trying to speak, and say that if they wanted me to "dress up" then they should give me a budget for it, because they don't pay me enough to buy "nice clothes." At some point I think I even asked for a policy.

I couldn't get a word in between Laura and Mrs. NHJ so I finally turned to Mrs. NHJ, looked her square in the eyes and told her to "SHUT UP AND LET ME TALK."

She responded with a hand on the hip, a movement of the head similar to a "oh no you did.n't" motion, while saying "excuse me." At which point, Ray grabbed my wrist. Yea! Grabbed me! At this point, I must have been thinking my job was finished so I pushed Ray away from me and walked off while threatening a law suit.

I only assume that I was going to my office to grab my purse and go home for the day, because I woke up as I walked into the building.